SERIES: Always Prepared

UNIVERSE: Always...

AUTHOR: Missy

EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: NC-17 (Adult thematic material, M/F sex, language)

PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; R/S; F/E

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Myself  so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

 

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: California, Post-I Do, I Don't

SEQUEL TO: OldTimeFan's Ever After, Always A Bridesmaid

Spoilers For: OTF's Ever After, I Do, I Don't, Always a Bridesmaid

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Shirley and Carmine return from their honeymoon with a few secrets to reveal

NOTES: Please read OldTimeFan's Ever After first, then "Always a Bridesmaid", or this won't make sense.  Second in an open universe.  To apply, send along story idea or fic sample to my email above.

 

***

 

"So then love walked up to like / and said 'I know that you don't like me much' / let's go for a ride..."  - Tori Amos, "Cooling"

 

***

 

Shirley Ragusa leaned heavily against her husband's strong chest as she tried to catch her breath.  Ever-so-slowly, she remembered where she was and why it wasn't exactly proper for her to be making out with this man in broad daylight while they were expected within, even after two weeks of marriage.  She grinned into his neck and, for the first time in her life, didn't really care.  Her willingness afforded Carmine enough time to duck his head and begin nibbling on her neck, and her head thunked back against the door at the pleasant sensation. 

 

She shivered as her skin puckered with goosebumps - simultaneously a blessing and a relief, no matter how "used" to his touch she should be by now.  It was the relief that always struck the deepest chord in Shirley, who had always feared, somewhere in the back of her mind, that once the two of them had consummated their relationship his ardor for her would cool.  Worse, that she would never be able to live up to the long wait she'd put him through.  

 

Shirley had proven herself, thankfully, wrong.  While their first encounter hadn't been perfect, Carmine had spent the entirety of her wedding morning coaxing her beyond maidenly fear, tutoring her in how best to please herself - and him.  After calling Laverne, they had made love once more, had lunch, and slept in satisfaction.  Much of their honeymoon, she recalled with amusement, had been similarly slothful, but she had no regrets.  The part of marriage she had always feared, deeply though subconsciously, worked.  Wasn't that always what she had dreamed of?

 

Unfortunately, now was not a time for passion.  Much as she loved what he was doing to her, Shirley needed her wits - and Carmine, distracted as he might be at the moment, would need them too, for they had come to a conclusion between them - one of the many they'd had between bouts of loving during their long two weeks together.  They needed to have a long, serious talk with Laverne before they decided where to bed down for the night. 

 

If Shirley had any guilty feelings at all about running off with Carmine, they were focused on having left Laverne behind.  Her best friend had been her other half since kindergarten, and she had never imagined she would marry without Laverne in attendance.  Then again, she had been there for the first "ceremony".  Memories filtered back to Shirley; Laverne, trying to stall for time, tap dancing with the boys to "The Lullaby of Broadway".  Somehow, she would have to show them all a debt of gratitude.  Especially Lenny, without whom she'd have no marriage at all.  Good Lord - she owed her future to Leonard Kosnowski.  The silly realization made her stifle a giggle in Carmine's neck and he, naturally, assumed it was a reaction to his poking tongue.  In response, the mouth began to descend toward the prim Peter Pan collar of the pink and white striped day dress she had picked out during a rare excursion from the Palm Regency to a strip mall in a teeny suburb of Las Vegas called Snake Gulch.  There they had spent the last of their pooled money on souvenirs for their friends and casual clothing to properly preserve their wedding garb.  She groaned softly - if his lips went lower, she would be lost.  With the future in mind, she gently tried to push away from her husband of two weeks.  His resultant beetle-browed scowl made her giggle.

 

"Carmine," she panted, "remember all the time you spent on hypnotism courses back in Milwaukee?" Her words brought him back to the past and amusement to his gaze.  "You wasted your money.  All you had to do," she said softly, "was what you've been doing for the past," she checked her Mickey Mouse watch, "fifteen minutes."

 

He frowned.  "We've been out here for fifteen minutes?"

 

"Yes." She wiped the corner of her pink mouth with the tip of her index finger.  "And if we keep doing this," she continued, "I won't be able to speak a single sane word to Laverne."

 

He grinned cockily.  "We could go see her tomorrow..."  His hands went up and down her back in a way that felt soothing and yet somehow arousing.

 

"Mmm..." she breathed

 

"...you know I got an apartment a few steps away...with a big, empty bed..."

 

"Please don't tempt me," she moaned. 

 

Carmine searched her face - somehow able to pick up the conflict in her features, he released her.  "You really think Laverne's pissed off at us?"

 

She winced at his language, but didn't correct him.  "Not us.  I think Laverne's angry with me.  After all, I excluded her from one of the biggest days of my life - and we both know that's something I never planned to do."  Carmine couldn't help but give a little roll of his eyes - he had known all about Shirley's dream wedding, even before Lenny arrived to claim him that fateful Saturday.  Afraid of stirring guilt in her husband, she reached across the gap.  "What I've got is better than any silly dream," she whispered intimately.  She felt a phalanx of goosebumps raise up across his arm as she stroked it and was satisfied.  "But I really don't know how Laverne feels about us.  She was so brief with me on the phone the last time we talked."

 

"But we didn't leave her out," he pointed out.  "She was there for the first wedding."

 

"That's what I've been telling myself," Shirley said.  "Maybe it isn't even about the wedding.  Maybe she's angry because, for the first time in almost eleven years, we're going to be living separate lives."

 

Carmine shrugged, and Shirley muffled a frustrated sigh.  He and Laverne had always had such a turbulent relationship - more turbulent than she liked to remember, as she recalled their errant and aborted love affair with a wince.  "Yeah, so?  Laverne'll be able to pick up more sailors," he said insensitively.

 

Shirley gave her husband and arch glare.  "She's not very good at being alone," she explained.

 

"Oh, right - hey, waitaminute - you said you cured her of her monoglobia."

 

"Monophobia," she corrected gently.  "I thought I did - but she's never had an apartment by herself before.  The strain of being single every day might bring it back."

 

Carmine had never really believed that a girl like Laverne could be monophobia - of course, he barely understood the term 'monophobia' in the first place, and ergo Shirley wasn't surprised by his slightly quizzical look.  "Are we talking about the same Laverne?  Laverne DeFazio?  The girl who hit me in the frank n' beans with a Louisville Slugger last summer?"

 

Shirley snickered.  "You should have knocked."

 

"I was trying to surprise you."

 

"And you did an excellent job of that." She swayed a little closer to him, rubbing her skirt against the front of his khakis.  "I'm ever so glad there wasn't any permanent damage..."

 

"You and me both," he choked out.  The sound of his voice made her whole body tip toward him, and Carmine made a noise like a starving man in response.  He lurched forward and grabbed her left breast, like a drowning man to a buoy.  Shirley surrendered to his touch for a moment, until he backed off on his own.

 

"Yes," she finally said, her voice thick as molasses. "Nevertheless, you don't get to see the vulnerable parts of her, Carmine - Laverne can be very delicate when she's scared."

 

Carmine clearly didn't seem to believe her - but before Shirley could give her argument more weight, he scooped her up into his arms.  She yelped her surprise, but couldn't resist favoring Carmine with a grin.  She clutched the paper sack of souvenirs and wedding clothes against her belly as he leveraged her legs up his forearms.  "Sometimes, you gotta bow to tradition," he explained, then reached over with his free hand and rapped out his special knock.

 

Nothing.

 

"You think she's out?"

 

"I called Laverne yesterday and said we'd be home by seven." Shirley glanced at Mickey again, continuing, "It's seven sharp right now."

 

"You got your keys?"

 

Shirley unzipped and picked through her purse.  She had a half-pack of Dentyne, ten cents for a pay phone, her wallet, driver's license and ID, their marriage certificate, and, at the very bottom, the diaphragm Edna's gynecologist had measured her for three weeks before, snuggled beside a prescription tube of spermicidal jelly.  She closed the bag quickly.  "I think I left them in my other purse."

 

Carmine grinned, and she knew he'd seen her birth control hidden in the dark recesses of the bag.  "Next door don't sound too bad, does it?"

 

"PLEASE don't tempt me," she traced his lower lip with her right pinkie.  "Tonight," she reminded him, tripping her fingers up and down his chest in a parody of the final half of her "sexy walk", "we'll be all alone...in a room of our own...and we only have to have one itsy bitsy little talk with Laverne..."

 

Carmine kicked the door sharply and bellowed, "LAVERNE!  WE'RE BACK!"

 

Rustling.  Frantic whispers.  Tartly, Carmine noted, "oh, I should've figured..."

 

"Hush," Shirley swatted him gently on the shoulder and was nearly dropped on the floor for her efforts.  "I suppose we have time to kill.  Maybe you should start singing 'Rags to Riches'..."

 

"I'm saving my voice," he reminded her.  She grinned in response - they hadn't told anyone else yet, but one of the conclusions they had arrived at involved his career - one he had made by himself, and one she happened to agree with completely and intended to wholeheartedly support. Much more seductively, he added, "I think I can find something better to do with my mouth, anyway."

 

The front door swung open, interrupting their kiss as a wild-eyed Laverne occupied the threshold.  "Shirl!"

 

"Vernie!"

 

The two women screamed, and Carmine was pressed between them in a huge, high-volume hug that went on and on - not long enough, in Shirley's opinion.  After a minute, Laverne released her best friend and stepped aside, allowing Carmine to carry Shirley over the threshold and down the dimly-lit landing.  The overhead lights flickered on as he placed his bride gently on the floor.

 

Shirley surveyed the apartment with careful eyes.  Nothing seemed too terribly amiss - though she noticed a few new stains on the rug.  The balloon she floated on refused to land, and so Shirley chose not to pick on Laverne about such a minor thing.  "Oh, the place looks wonderful!"  She spun around to capture her best friend's eyes.  Funny, Laverne seemed a little flushed - the left strap of her red cocktail dress drooped down from her shoulder, and her hair, which had apparently once been tied back in a bun, spiked out in honey-brown strands from the back of her head.  "Are you all right?"

 

"Fine!" Laverne said quickly.  "Couldn't be better!"  She began to quickly re-arrange the hair back into a proper bun.

 

Shirley smiled, reaching out for her friend for life.  "I'm so happy, Laverne," she whispered.  "Please don't be mad at me.  I wanted everyone to be there but..." She looked over at Carmine and sighed, really not knowing if anyone else could possibly understand.

 

Laverne gave her a bright grin, pulling away from her hug and punching her gently on the left shoulder blade.  "Nah - I ain't mad at you at all.  Sometimes, things just work out the way they need to."  Her hug felt somewhat sweatier than before, but remained incredibly comforting. 

 

"I've got so many things to tell you!"  Shirley said.  She began digging in her purse for her wallet, where she had stowed their wedding day Polaroids.  "As you can see, Elvis missed his calling as an Olin Mills photographer..."

 

Laverne was already moving toward the landing.  "I'd love to see your pictures, Shirl, but we can catch up tomorrow.  Tonight, we gotta get to Cowboy Bills - I had reservations for all of us for eight - a little welcome home dinner, my treat..."

 

Shirley met Carmine's eyes across the room.  After two weeks of take-out and greasy diner grub, he didn't seem any more eager than she to leave the sanctity of Laurel Vista.  "But we had plans!  I thought we'd spend tonight talking alone..."

 

"We can save that for tomorrow.  My tummy's getting real grumbly, and you know what I'm like when I'm hungry..."  Her best friend's expression was alarmingly shifty, but Shirley decided to ignore her worries.

 

"Our Laverne is a real bear when her stomach's empty," said Shirley to Carmine.

 

Carmine had begun flipping through a stray copy of Look, perched awkwardly in the end chair.  He nodded his head, his discomfort in being a third wheel in the girl's conversation visible to his wife.

 

"Hey, Laverne!" Shirley jumped a mile as Lenny Kosnowski's voice whinnied its way down the stairs.  She turned to see him hopping down the stairs leading to their bedroom, coming to a stop on the landing.  It was then that Shirley noted he wore Carmine's tool belt tied rather low on the hips over the serious-looking brown suit he wore.  "I fixed up that leak in your toilet."  Suddenly, he seemed to notice the married couple - more stagily, he added, "Shirley!  Carmine!  Why, what a pleasant surprise!"

 

Immediately, Laverne began to jibber, "Thanks Len!  I forgot to tell you - Len's been here all day helping me fix...stuff."

 

Shirley felt a surge of pride for Laverne touch her heart.  "That's so responsible of you, Laverne!"

 

"Yeah, that's me!  Responsible ol' Laverne!" she said over animatedly.  "Well, why don't we get going?" After grabbing her handbag from the couch, Laverne finished her dash up the landing.

 

"Waitaminute!" Carmine said, tossing his magazine back onto the coffee table.  He stood up and studied Lenny, who tried to stand a little taller under his scrutiny.  "I didn't say you could use that tool belt..."

 

"It was an emergency!" Lenny blurted, his hand going protectively to his midsection.

 

"Yeah!" Laverne said.  "I didn't want the bathroom carpet to get wrecked, so I had Lenny break into the utility closet.  He was gonna fix it with his pocket tools, but..."

 

"All right," Carmine relented.  "The plumbing's got enough problems.  All I need is you sawing up pipes with a hacksaw!"

 

"Well,  you don't gotta worry about that.  I fixed what was wrong with a little Krazy Glue."  For some reason, the phrase 'Krazy Glue' made Laverne giggle like a schoolgirl.

 

Carmine groaned.  "Just put the belt back where you got it."

 

"Okay," Laverne stepped between the two men, pushing gently at Lenny's chest.  "Why don't you go warm up the ice cream truck?"

 

"All right," Lenny said, moving toward the door and opening it.  "Hey Shirl, I was wonderin' if I could talk to you about something alone later on?"

 

Shirley frowned.  She and Lenny rarely spent time alone, though why she couldn't precisely pin down.  He was a nice enough boy - certainly nicer than Squiggy, she thought wryly - but he could be so slow...it drove her to frustration sometimes.  "Sure, Len," she said.

 

"But not now!" Laverne said brightly.  "We REALLY need to get to Cowboy Bills'.  SOON." She practically kicked Lenny in the shin to jog him into movement.

 

"Oh yeah!  Let me get the truck going..."

 

"Don't you wanna take off the belt first?" Carmine wondered.

 

Lenny's smile was oddly pained.  "In a minute.  First I gotta start the truck.  Start the truck in the nice cold night air..."  He disappeared through the door.

 

"What in the world could that mean?" Shirley wondered.  Carmine's expression of amusement and Laverne's gaze - focused intensely on the closed door - divulged nothing to her beyond the fact that her husband understood Lenny's odd rigidity better than she.  "You know something!" she accused Carmine.

 

"So!  Tell me about the wedding!" Laverne intervened briskly as she opened the door.

 

Suspicion pricked Shirley's senses, but she chose to ignore the puzzling situation.  She patted Carmine's hand as he came around to hold the door open for them both.  "It all started at Las Vegas General..."

 

***

 

"...And then Elvis turned to us and said..." Shirley paused and turned to Carmine as they walked the gravel sidewalk leading up to Cowboy Bills, being trailed by Laverne and Lenny.

 

Carmine already knew his part in the grand tale of their wedding.  "By the power invested in me by Nevada, I now pronounce you mamma and man." He then enacted an Elvis-like swivel of his hips, perfectly imitating their officiant. 

 

Shirley girlishly clapped her hands at Carmine's impression.  "Doesn't he do that so well?"

 

"Yeah," Laverne said lightly.  "LEN!" she hollered over her shoulder.  "You got the blindfolds?"

 

"Blindfolds?" Suspicion raced through her.  Suddenly, her friend's odd behavior made sense.  Shirley came forward and whispered to her best friend, "Laverne, I think a wedding shower is a little unnecessary.."

 

"It ain't a wedding shower."

 

Shirley felt a vague stab of disappointment.  "Are you sure?"

 

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Laverne said, as Lenny handed her a red bandana.  She tied it around Shirley's eyes and, before the bride was blinded, she noticed Carmine had received the same treatment from Lenny.

 

"Okay," Laverne said, gently pushing Shirley forward.  "Keep walking you guys...keep walking..."

 

Shirley stumbled forward, trying to feel the way with her outspread hands.  She heard the door squeak open, then noticed the difference in lighting.  They were inside Cowboy Bills...going past the waiting area...around the corner...she felt for the swinging double doors with both palms and pushed her way through.

 

"Hey!" A sharp, nasal voice cut through her concentration.  "When's this surprise party gonna get rolling?  I ain't had anything to eat for an hour!"

 

The world abruptly flooded with light.  "SQUIG!" Laverne protested behind her, stomping around Shirley's form to confront Squiggy with murder in her eyes.  "You moron!"

 

Immediately, the shorter man was on his feet, challenging Laverne.  "Who're you callin'a  moron, banana nose?"

 

"Banana nose?!"  Laverne was winding up her fist.  Abruptly, Lenny was between them, holding Laverne against his chest.  Gradually, she relaxed.

 

"Easy, Laverne - Squig, why don't you go help Carmine?" 

 

"I ain't your slave!"

 

"Squiggy...you're wearin' a nice new suit - I don't think you wanna get blood on it."  Lenny's darting eyes and antic expression tried to get it through Squiggy's head that it wasn't his best friend's fists he needed to worry about.

 

Squiggy threw up his hands.  "You do somethin' nice and all you get is the noose!" he reached up on his tippy toes and yanked Carmine's blindfold off.  "Surprise!" he said sarcastically, then stomped back to his seat and began shoving iced, divinated shrimp from a serving dish to his waiting mouth.

 

"Surprise!" shouted everyone else in the room, with varrying degrees of enthusiasm. 

 

"Happy Wedding Party!"  Lenny added awkwardly, going over to Laverne - who was in the process of browbeating Squiggy.

 

"Whatt're you doing!  You ruined the party before it started."

 

"I didn't ruin nothing!"

 

"It was a SURPRISE party!  You sucked the surprise right outta the room!"

 

"It's all right, Laverne," Shirley said firmly.  She couldn't tell Laverne that the biggest surprise was still to come.  "Oh, you all did such a wonderful job!"

 

She took in the richly-decorated scene before her.  White-and-grey streamers were twisted and taped up around the interior, matching balloons drooping down from the jukebox and over the booths.  On a double-wide table sat a mouth-watering feast and a big cake - and around that table sat Rhonda, Squiggy, Frank and Edna.  Shirley felt her face flush in embarrassment - she and Laverne really hadn't made many friends in California, had they?  A few acquaintances danced through her mind - people she barely knew and who couldn't give two flying figs if she had married or not.  Did Carmine have friends outside of their group?  She recalled a few fishing buddies, and reasoned that Laverne didn't know any of their numbers.  Oh well;  the party would be intimate and cozy, and all of the people who mattered were there.  She caught sight of a banner draped over the kitchen railing and felt a thrill run through her, its carefully-painted words glowing in silver and black - Congratulations, Shirley and Carmine! 

 

Her groom came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist.  "I told you no one was mad," he grinned, kissing her neck.  She sighed and leaned back into his embrace, brushing his forearm with her own, feeling a great satisfaction and love all at once.

 

Taking the couple's smiles as a go sign, the guests began to get up from their places and congratulate the Ragusas.  Before she could manage a welcoming sentence, Frank wrapped Shirley up in a bear hug and began squeezing the life out of her little body.  She returned the embrace as Edna began hugging Carmine. 

 

"Hey, you be happy," Frank urged fondly, stroking her cheek with his meaty fingers.  Shirley barely resisted the urge to cry - receiving a blessing from him was akin to receiving one from her own father.  Daddy still doesn't know - he was one more person to get word to over the week - along with her mother.  Suddenly, Frank's supportive arms were very important.  "Be a nice influence on Laverne," he suddenly whispered, very conspiratorially.  "Show her how good marriage is!  I WANT GRANDCHILDREN."

 

Shirley smiled at him through her clenched jaw, the comfort she took in his presence suddenly waning.   She really didn't want to get involved in that overlong debate between her best friend and father figure over Laverne's as of yet non-existent children.  Shirley didn't have the heart to tell Frank that she had a feeling Laverne was going to stay single for a very long time - of the two of them, she seemed to enjoy what life in Burbank had to offer the most.  "We'll see what happens," she said blandly, then turned from Frank.  "EDNA!" she called out joyously, gently pushing Frank toward Carmine.

 

The stylish older woman moved toward Shirley and gently embraced her.  "I'm very happy that the two of you managed to figure things out after all," she pulled back and studied Shirley's face.  "And I see you took my advice."

 

Shirley blushed to the roots of her hair, remembering that she had gone to Edna during her week of furious wedding planning and forced herself, through shy lips, to ask many a nervous question about what one did on one's wedding night.  Edna understood that subject was probably the only thing she couldn't discuss with Laverne - she had, as far as she knew or wanted to know, no experience in the subject - and thus Edna had been excessively patient with her and answered every question.  She had also set the young brunette up with her gynecologist, who helped her select a birth control method.  Shirley felt another abrupt wave of relief at the memory.  Sadly, she knew they couldn't afford the babies she craved yet, and their plans would make parenthood inconvenient for the next two years.  Once they were ready, she figured that diaphragms, jelly and condoms were much easier to come off of than an IUD or that brand new wonder of medicine, the pill.  Shirley tousled her dark brown hair and smiled nervously.  "Can you really tell the difference?"

 

Edna smiled saucily.  "I can, but don't judge by me.  I have an awful lot of experience with virginity - I lost mine three times on two different shores." She glanced over at Carmine and her husband.  "I'd better get Frank in the kitchen, before he breaks your husband."

 

Frank was in the middle of giving Carmine a playful lecture, his smile facile but his hands entirely serious as they pressed down upon Carmine's tee-shirt clad shoulders.  From the corner of his sparkling brown gaze, her husband sent a silent distress message.  The bride masked her amusement and did not heed the call. 

 

Once more, it was Edna to the rescue.  "All right, Frank - we need to check on the main course before the pizza burns."

 

"Pizza?" Shirley trilled.  Of all of the things she missed about Milwaukee, she missed a Pizza Bowl-style thin crust pie the most.

 

Frank's eyes flashed annoyance.  "You ruined the other surprise!" he accused, pointing a playful finger at Edna.  "Now they don't got anything to look forward to tonight!"

 

Edna shook her head, smirking.  "That's not true.  I hope," she grinned, and Shirley blushed again before the older woman could make her escape.

 

Shirley's spine stiffened as the next guest approached - Andrew Squiggman.  "Congrats Shirl," he leered.  "Hey, Carmine - you mind if I give the bride a little 'welcome to a life of connubial bliss' kiss?"

 

Carmine's jaw tightened, and Shirley already knew what his response would be- but it was Rhonda Lee who looked up from the hug they shared and gave Squiggy a piercing glare.  "Andrew, be a gentleman," she said.

 

"Yes, dear," Squiggy said meekly.  Then he seized Shirley's right hand in both of his and dragged her forward, planting his damp lips in a quick peck against her knuckles and releasing her just as abruptly.

 

"'Yes dear'?" Shirley quoted.  "Andrew, aren't you going to wail and cry that I just ruined your last chance to marry a short woman?"

 

"Eh, short girls are everywhere.  Now tall ones..." he drifted off and looked balefully at Rhonda.

 

Of all of the horrors she'd envisioned on seeing Squiggy after marriage - horrendous scenes that she'd shared with Carmine and laughed over - the last thing Shirley expected was enforced politeness.  She wheeled on Rhonda.  "What's all this about?"

 

Rhonda smiled over Carmine's shoulder.  "It's a long story - and not one meant for mixed company."

 

"I can close my ears."

 

Rhonda patted Carmine on the shoulders.  "Rhonda meant that it's not fit for the ears of men."

 

"Oh, well..." Shirley noticed Squiggy's besotted look, the very obvious goosebumps on Rhonda's bare arms, put two and two together and felt a thrill of nausea.  "Oh my."

 

"Rhonda will tell you everything later." She released Carmine and sauntered over to Shirley - nudging Squiggy over to Carmine.  Rhonda gave the new bride two "Hollywood Kisses" - barely touching her cheeks.  "I hope you have a long, healthy marriage, Shirley."

 

"So do I, Rhonda, so do I." she grabbed Rhonda by the shoulders and steered her close.  "What in the world is going on between you and Squiggy?  Are you crazy?"

 

"Sometimes, Rhonda wonders that herself," the blonde said absently. 

 

"All right!  Enough hugging!  Let's make with the grub!" Squiggy shouted, ambling over to the banquet table.  Shirley's stomach grumbled as the scent of the food wafted over to her - as much as she had wanted to avoid the public and restaurant food, everything looked wonderful.  For once, she took Squiggy's advice and seated herself at the head of the table.  Carmine took a folding chair at the opposite end - Lenny and Laverne sat to Shirley's left, Squiggy and Rhonda sat at Carmine's right.

 

Carmine picked up the goblet of shrimp cocktail and passing it to Lenny.  She felt an almost childlike gratefulness toward the blond boy for helping her finally achieve one of her greatest dreams, so she glossed over the napkin stuffed down his pants and the blue tie he wore, which featured a naked woman wrestling a dragon, an expression of ecstasy on her face batiked to the front.  When he passed the goblet to Laverne their hands touched briefly - that event was common enough between them, but what stunned Shirley was the small smile and light caress Laverne gave to him as she turned back to the plate.  How oddly they were behaving - very oddly.  If she didn't know better of her best friend, she would suspect...

 

"Shirl!  You want some shrimp?"  Laverne asked loudly, waking her friend from her reverie.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry - yes." She took the dish from Laverne and plucked two pieces out before handing it to Squiggy.

 

"Sorry - I'm spoken for," said Squiggy gaily, taking more shrimp and a large dollop of cocktail sauce before passing it along to Rhonda.

 

"Spoken for?" Shirley asked, her brow arched.

 

Squiggy once more looked to Rhonda.  "Would you like to tell them, my one-and-only?"

 

Rhonda seemed a trifle disturbed by Squiggy's choice of words.  "Andrew and I have...an understanding."

 

"She means that we get sweaty together every night.  You know, in expression of our truest of loves,"  Squiggy responded, his voice overflowing with sentiment.  Rhonda's antic expression showed arousal and disgust in the same minute.

 

Shirley chuckled.  "Andrew, I'm sure that what you and Rhonda have is...very special.  But I'm sure it's not definable as love..."

 

"Now, Shirl - don't be jealous.  I know what you got with the Big Raccoon ain't as magical as what I have with my little sugar tart..."

 

"I'm sorry, Andrew, if the words 'magic' and 'Squiggy' used together make me think of cardboard wands, not true love." She turned to the heavily made-up blonde sitting beside her.  "Anyway, how long have you been...seeing...each other?"

 

"Two weeks," Rhonda admitted, with some reluctance.

 

"Two weeks?  How can you be so conflicted about this after only being with him for two weeks?" Shirley gestured toward Squiggy, and noted from the corner of her eye Laverne and Lenny's suddenly stiff appearance.  Damn it, what was going on?  "I meant," she added, more softly, "that it's a little early for the two of you to be so serious about one another."

 

"Waddya mean, too early!?  We're serious like a buncha priests at a funeral, is all!" Squiggy stood up, taking his empty mug with him.  "I gotta get a refil," he reached out with his free hand and began massaging Rhonda's shoulder as he passed by.  "Get me a big chicken wing, my little lump of golden love."

 

Shirley stared at Rhonda in blank amazement as the blonde's eyes fluttered and rolled at Squiggy's slightly rough touch.  When he strutted over to the nearby beer keg, Rhonda seized her glass of wine and drained it, gasping for air; then, like an automaton, she grabbed a chicken wing and deposited it on Squiggy's plate.  Only after this did Rhonda finally noticed Shirley's bald-faced stare and rasped out, "he does things with honey!"  The horrifying mental image made the little brunette squealed, covering her face with her hands.

 

"Geez, what got up your nose? Here, drink this!"

 

Shirley opened her eyes and looked down into the bright-red glass Squiggy held beneath her nose.  "What in the world is that?"

 

"My new invention - Beer 'n' Bosco.  Have some."

 

"Your invention?" Laverne asked archly.

 

"Laverne..." Lenny warned.

 

"No thank you," Shirley said coldly.

 

"You don't know what you're missing." Squiggy walked over to his seat and sat down, swallowing half the glass with great flourish.    "Mm - fortified with vitamin a and makes all the world's dames look hotter with one little swallow!  I'm gonna be rich!"

 

"I'm sure you will be," Shirley rolled her eyes.

 

"Hey, I don't know - that don't sound too bad,"  Carmine admitted, eyeing the concoction

 

"Carmine, are you insane?  The combination sounds absolutely repulsive!" Shirley uttered.

 

"It was my idea!" Laverne whined.

 

"Yep.  Your roommate over there was having breakfast with Len one morning when..."

 

"Having breakfast with Lenny?" Shirley studied Laverne's evasive expression.  She'd better not be leading that poor boy on again....

 

"Geez!  You got married and your manners are already flyin' right down the toilet!" Squiggy sighed.  "As I was saying before I was so rudely abrupted, she and Len were havin' breakfast together, on account of me and Rhonda using my breakfast table for something other than eating..."

 

"Please get to the point," Shirley winced.

 

"...as my roomy over there says, he was squirtin' Bosco into his milk, and Laverne was drinking her beer and she was havin' a little upset tummy problem or something..."

 

"Yeah, I was kinda urpy," Laverne added.

 

Squiggy rolled his eyes.  "So, she says to him - 'you ever had beer and Bosco together?'  And he asks him 'you ever had beer and Pepsi'...."

 

"Once.  Didn't work out too well," Laverne shrugged.

 

Squiggy smacked his palm against the table.  "You wanna tell the story, Kukla?"

 

Laverne glared at Squiggy and went silent.

 

"So she says no, and she grabs the bottle of Bosco and squirts it in the beer.  She takes a drink, gives it to my roomy over there, lets him drink.  She says 'whatya think'?  And he says..."

 

This part, Lenny, Squiggy and Laverne recited together.  "It's so good I ain't blind!"  Then they all shared a hearty laugh.

 

Shirley stared at her roommate, wondering to herself if she had somehow lost her mind while she had been gone.  "What do you have to do with any of this?" Shirley responded.  "I don't think they owe you any money at all, Squiggy."

 

"Shirl, Shirl, Shirl - ya poor, naive dope!  You're forgettin' about this..." He dug around in the breast pocket of his loud yellow suit and picked out a stained, torn and wrinkled piece of paper. 

 

"You still got that?" The anger and high color in Laverne's features made Shirley go tense.  She knew that expression too well - and nothing good could come of it.  "That's why Len says he wants you to get something out of this!"

 

"Why else?" Squiggy rolled his eyes.

 

"You told me," Laverne said, glaring at Lenny, "that Squignowski was going through lean times..."

 

Squiggy glared at Lenny.  "You told me Laverne losted her pay stub in the tar pits!"

 

Lenny shrank down ineffectually in his seat, looking miserable and conflicted. 

 

"You dirty rat," Squiggy snarled at Laverne.  "Tryin' to horn in on our business like a...a...shoehorn!"

 

Laverne began to climb around Lenny, shouting, "you dirty little fink!  Lenny don't owe you nothing!" 

 

"Laverne..." Lenny started nervously, but she had reached out with both hands to grab the paper.   Squiggy swiftly pulled it back, nearly falling out of his chair and onto Rhonda.

 

He snickered contemptuously as the blonde pushed him back into his chairs.  "Boy, do dames get dumber when they start gettin' regular meat injections or something?  Shirl, La-"

 

Squiggy suddenly went quiet.  Shirley nearly choked on her wine as she saw Rhonda, quick as a wink, ram a pig-in-a-blanket between her boyfriend's jabbering lips.  "Chew, Squiggy," she ordered.

 

That violent act was quite enough for Shirley.  "Stop it!  What in the world is wrong with the five of you?"

 

"Chew it slowly," Rhonda ordered.

 

"Why, it's as if you've all been overcome by base, cheap, animal lust!"

 

"Just like they taught you at the mental hospital," Rhonda finished savagely.

 

"Don't pick on Squig!" Lenny cried out.

 

"I think you'd rather I picked on Andrew," Rhonda said, her tone meaningful.  "After all, I don't have any experience in street brawls, unlike Laverne."  Lenny abruptly quieted.

 

Frank and Edna entered into the tense room, carrying between them a gigantic pizza.  He took a look at the hard expressions around the table and said, "Naughty boys and girls don't get a Pizza Bowl Special for dinner."

 

Suddenly, the room filled with apologetic murmurings - everyone but Rhonda knew what they would be missing out by rejecting a rare opportunity to eat like they had in the old days.  The pie was placed at the table's center, where Frank busied himself running a pizza wheel over it's bumpy surface.  Picking up a pile of paper plates from the tray, Edna scooped up each steaming, stringy slice and deposited it onto the surface, dripping toppings onto the center of each hearty slice before handing the concoction in turn to Squiggy, Rhonda, Carmine, Lenny, Laverne and Shirley.  The last two slices went to she and Frank, leaving half a pie left  - and by the time they reached their spots beside Lenny and Laverne, Squiggy was already reaching for a second slice.

 

For twenty minutes, the gang abandoned itself to the past.  Shirley tried not to roll her eyes back at the delicious taste - caramelized onions, sweet pepperoni, green peppers, olives, onions - not her favorite kind, but appealing to her, and to every taste around the table.  When she finally looked up from her pie and at her friends, Shirley noticed that everyone seemed to be in a similar ecstasy - even Rhonda, who had peeled the cheese off of her slice and ate with big bites what was essentially a trencher of tomato sauce and bread.  For what seemed like the millionth time, Shirley wondered why Mister DeFazio had given up the Pizza Bowl.  His heart had always been in the pie and sauce of his pizzas, and among them he was a magician -  not so much with corporate-raised, flash-frozen, done-the-same-way-in-fifty-other-Cowboy-Bills-locations ribs and burgers he served up now.

 

As Shirley contemplated life and reached for a second slice, Carmine rose in his place.  "I'd like to propose a toast!" He held out his glass to her.  "To my bride - and to all the other brides here, future and past!"

 

"To brides!" Frank enjoined him, staring down Laverne as she gulped her beer. 

 

"Forget brides!  How about chicks?  I propel a toast to chicks," Squiggy grinned.  "And  hey, why not?  To love, too -" he gave Lenny a too-meaningful glance and added, "even the kind no one talks about."

 

Lenny glared at Squiggy.  "Yeah, to love - all kinds - and finding the right time to talk about it."

 

Squiggy's voice became a thousand times stronger.  "To love!  And pickin' the right dame in the first place!"

 

Lenny rose to his feet.  "Shirl, I really need to talk to you...."

 

"To love!  And -" Squiggy cut off on a gasp.  Rhonda had pitched a glassful of beer on his lap!

 

"Oh, excuse me, darling," she purred.  "I've just been so clumsy lately...let me make it up to you..." she bent over and began whispering in Squiggy's right ear.  His dark eyes became larger and larger as her voice became lower.  Trying to be oblivious to their intimacy, Frank and Edna busied themselves with their pizza, Laverne leaned forward to catch a hint of gossip, and Lenny walked over to Shirley.

 

"Now.  Please?" he begged her.

 

She put down her napkin.  "All right.  Excuse me, everyone..."  When she hesitated for a moment, Lenny grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet -Instantly, Carmine rose up to defend her - a typically macho gesture, but one that was unnecessary.  "I'm fine," she said quietly.  "Finish your pizza.  You have a long way to go to get to the pepperoni - you've barely started on your green pepper!"  Carmine shot her a look of mingled wariness and understanding - after many dinner dates, she was used to his alphabetical eating habits.

 

"Okay," he said, shooting a glare at Lenny, who instantly let go of Shirley.  Without conferring with her, he began to walk from the banquet room, and Shirley followed two paces behind.

 

By the time she exited the dining area Lenny had settled on a blush red leather waiting couch in Cowboy Bill's vestibule.  It was customary for customers to wait there when the restaurant was especially crowded for their reservation to be called.  Frank had gussied up its plainness with a small end table, white vase of flowers, and a stack of old magazines.  From above, through the loudspeaker she had often used to bring forth a party to the dining room on nights where she played hostess, an amateurish rendition of the Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" played.  Among all of these aural and visual facets, the most noticable thing about the room was the rank and omnipresent scent of cigarette smoke.  Ignoring it, Shirley perched herself at the opposite end of the couch where Lenny sat, fiddling with the end of his blue tie.

 

She smiled.  He smiled back.  The atmosphere reminded her, absurdly, of a very awkward date.  "What did you want to tell me Leonard?"

 

"About what?"  She groaned.  "Oh..." he jumped to his feet, marching over the limited but well-trod floor.  "You know how I've known you girls for a long time?  A real real long time?"

 

"Yes, I think I recall that."

 

"And we've all been friends since kindergarten.  BEFORE kindergarten.  We've been friends forever.  Since before forever!"

 

"Leonard..."

 

"You know how sometimes you've known a someone for a real long time, and you don't think anything's gonna happen ever?  But then it does, and you don't know what to say, like when Sister Mary Jane catches you reading a Playboy Magazine during CCD class even though you've been readin' it for six months 'cause you don't get the joke on page nineteen..."

 

"LEONARD!"  She grabbed him by the shoulder to make his dizzying pacing stop.  "Please get to the point!"

 

Robotically, Lenny jammed his hand into the right front pocket of his suit.  After a few quick tugs a tiny, dove-gray box emerged, and he held it between his palms like a fragile artifact.  Holding it low against his belly so that Shirley could see it from the couch, he flipped open the lid.   She gasped at what was revealed: a silver ring crusted with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds.

 

"It's Grandma Kosnowskis' - the only thing she didn't sell after she got here on the boat from Poland.  Been  in the family longer than my boots, too - you know she told me Great-Great Grandma Kosnowski got it from a Russian Tsar before the Revolution?  He wanted to marry her and she said no, but he gave her the ring anyway - said it reminded him of her eyes.   Anyway, I asked her for it last week on the phone and it just got here in the mail today."  Lenny stood awkwardly as Shirley gaped avariciously at the stones.  "You can touch it, if you want."

 

Very gingerly, Shirley plucked the ring from the box and held it up to the dim light.  The stones sparkled brilliantly in the white-orange tone, testifying to their purity.  "It's so beautiful..."  she whispered.

 

He sat down beside her, blotting out the light with his height.  "I know.  You think Laverne'll like it, too?"

 

Now it all made sense  - the strange looks between the two of them, the hesitant touches.  Shirley placed her free hand gently on Lenny's shoulder.  "You're thinking of giving this to Laverne?" he nodded fiercely, and her stomach dropped.  She put the ring back in its case, and he jealously snapped it closed.  "Lenny, you and Laverne have been through this situation many times before.  Many, many, many times.   How often does she have to tell you that the two of you will only be friends?"

 

He shook his head hard, like a little boy.  "It ain't like that no more, Shirl!  Me and Laverne've been real close for the past two weeks."

 

"Yes, I heard, but one little breakfast doesn't mean..."

 

"It was way more than one breakfast," Lenny sighed, then began pacing again.  "We've been together every day since you left."

 

Shirley felt all of her usual pity for the boy begin to evaporate - atypically, she felt even less sympathy for her best friend.  "Together.'  Humph!   I know what that word means to the two of you.  It means you went to Disneyland - Dutch treat, ate an exorbitant amount of junk food, rode a ride until one of you threw up, then, after you both bought another pair of those absurd Mouseketeer ears, you went home with empty pockets - and at the end of the day, she told you to go home and went out with some boy.  Lenny, how many times are you going to let her..."

 

"That was just one time!  There's a lot you don't know about us, Shirl - we're for real.  I'm in love with Laverne, and she's in love with me."

 

Shirley laughed aloud - God, it was so absurd!  Laverne, who had spent twenty years trying to palm Lenny off on any willing female in the vicinity, in love with him?  "How can she be in love with you?  The last time I saw you together, she was trying to avoid dancing the twist with you at my wedding. - not exactly a basis for true love."

 

"It is, Shirl.  It's love."

 

"Oh really?  Has she told you that?"

 

"No," Lenny squirmed.  "But I know when I look at her it is."

 

"And you're not very well known for understanding women!" Shirley threw up her hands.  "Honestly, Leonard - I'm sure you're just mistaken."

 

"Oh yeah?  Well, if I'm so mistaken why was the apartment all dark when you came home today, huh?"

 

Shirley stopped.  "I..."

 

"You're a smart girl, Shirley - why would Laverne have me fix the plumbing in my good suit?"

 

She recalled with a wave of nausea the rustling clothing and the strange, flushed face of her ex-roommate.  Unbidden, the puzzle came together with one violent contraction in Shirley's mind, the facts she'd refused to yield to suddenly becoming prominent in the forefront of her consciousness.  All she could think to say was, "please don't tell me that's why you needed to borrow Carmine's tool belt..."

 

Lenny's eyes crept around the room.  "We wanted to tell everyone together, at the right time.  Except Squig and Rhonda already know, so that just left you and Carmine and her Pop and Edna..."

 

"Oh my God..." She looked up at the Polish boy she'd known for more than twenty years.  His sweet, earnest expression told her of his love.  Unfortunately, her mind flashed back to the forty-million unwanted kisses and gropings he'd delivered to her unwilling best friend in the years past.  "How could...why would....did you force her?"

 

"No!  Shirl, you know I'm not like that!"

 

"It wouldn't be the first time you tried something like that," she noted icily, and Lenny looked down at his feet. 

 

"I'd never hurt her, Shirl, I swear.  I want to be with her forever."

 

Shirley stared at her balled-up fists, knowing that she'd be the one hurting Laverne soon enough.

 

"It's okay if you don't understand.  I mean, it's been a long time coming, with her and me, but I never really thought we'd ever happen," Lenny explained, his voice taking on an unusual soothing tone.  "We always had a lot in common, and we liked each other, and I had that thing for her.  She just didn't have it for me, 'til I really kissed her..."  He swallowed hard.  "I decided I should be the one to tell you.  Vernie was way too nervous about what you'd say - she was scared you wouldn't be too happy for us.  Well, I need you to be happy for us, 'cause we need you on our side, Shirl.  We've gotta tell her Pop soon..."

 

"What do you have to tell Frank?  Did you get her in trouble?!"  The shrill tone of her own voice made Shirley wince.

 

"No!" Lenny cried out.  "We gotta tell him about us before Squiggy slips and tells him.  He already thinks I'm a loser for not telling everyone right off that we're together.  The little guy's real slick, Shirl, but he ain't good at keeping secrets.  Anyway, you know how I ain't rich or Italian, so we're afraid Mister DeFazio ain't gonna take it well."

 

"You're not a lot of things, Lenny," Shirley noted shortly.

 

"That's true," he said, obliviously and good naturedly.  " We had a fight a couple of weeks ago, and I got to thinking about how other guys treat Laverne - or how she thinks they ought to treat her.  She really expects to put something out with every guy who shows interest!  I'm talkin' third base on the second date!" He shook his head.  "It makes me feel bad about what I used to say about her."

 

Shirley was on her feet in an instant.  "You mean those disgusting names the boys in the brewery called her were YOUR fault?"

 

"NO!" Lenny cried out.  "That was some jerk in crating, I swear!  And everyone knew I was sweet on her, so they knew not to say it in front of me...I just read it on the men's room walls."

 

Shirley looked into Lenny's eyes - the innocent depth of him.  He was chronically unable to lie - the bad ones he'd told Laverne and Squiggy about her best friend's Bosco invention said it all.  Reluctantly, Shirley released the younger man.

 

"I mean the stuff I told her about her being an old maid.  She ain't no old maid, Shirl - there's nothing old about Laverne at all..."

 

"Please, Lenny - the point?”

 

He heaved a sigh.  “I  think she thinks that the only reason a guy would want to be with her is 'cause of how good she is in someone's back seat." He drifted off dreamily on that last image.  Shirley glared up at him until he came to his senses.  "I love her for a lot more than that, and I ain't gonna let her treat herself that rotten.  With me, it's gonna be different.  With me, we can wait forever."

 

"And how long is forever?  Until you find a girl willing to go all the way on the first date?  Until you get tired of her not putting out?"" Shirley said tartly, pictures of Norman and Ted Nelson and Sonny Saint Jacques flashing through her mind.  Last of all was that horrid producer who had dragged her up to the Hollywood hills and humiliated her in his Cadillac.  That was just the latest example of how far Laverne would go to please a man - and the one that had her swearing abstinence and chastity forever.  No wonder she'd finally run to Lenny after a pervert like that. 

 

"Until the wedding night, if she wants to," said Lenny flatly.  "I love her that much."

 

Shirley was somewhat taken aback by Lenny's choice of words.  She couldn't think of another man who had offered Laverne as much.  "If you were so willing to wait for her, then what were you doing jumping on top of her at every opportunity?"

 

More squirming.  "That was all just fooling around.  You ever notice how me and Squig used to say 'double make out'?"

 

"Yes." She could still hear the phrase ringing in her ear in Squiggy's tone of voice.

 

"Make out.  Not gang-rape," Lenny said, a feeble smile on his lips.  Shirley smiled wanly back.  "Plus, we wanted to see you naked, and we couldn't peep in on you anymore on a count of your bedroom having no tree by the window, so...ow!"  he rubbed the arm she had punched.  "You don't hit as hard as Vernie," he snorted.

 

"No.  That's the one skill I wish I could acquire from her," Shirley smirked.  She suddenly became rather serious.  "How can you be so sure?  Don't you want to play the field a little more?  You've only been out on one date together..."

 

"Not really."

 

"Lenny, what do you call the La Fondue?"

 

"As great as the La Fondue was, we've been out a bunch of times.  Probably over a hundred.  Remember the Teamster’s Annual Fish Fry and Moonlight Mud Fight?  And the bowling tourney finals?  And all those Fridays at the Pizza Bowl when neither of you had dates?"

 

Shirley winced, not wanting to call those countless evenings with Lenny and Squiggy at the Pizza Bowl, the drive-in, the Metropolitan and their apartment 'dates', though she knew that Lenny and Squiggy had seen them as such.  "I always thought Laverne would...” she covered her mouth, resisting admitting to the vulnerable boy that she'd always pictured Laverne ending up with a fireman or a serviceman of some kind.

 

But Lenny noticed.  "You always thought you'd end up with a doctor.  Sometimes, our dreams want stuff our heart don't."

 

Shirley winced, acknowledging her childlike, romantic dreams.  No, she hadn't traded her dreams in for something small - only grander, different.  Laverne's right, she thought.   We end up where we're supposed to be.   She threw out her last defense.  "I'm not sure you should propose to her yet.  You've already asked her three times..."

 

"Three times?" His brow knit.

 

Uh-oh.  She quickly covered, "you might scare her by asking so soon."

 

Lenny shook his head.  "This ring's just a promise I wanna make her.  We can be engaged forever - for years or a few months, whatever she wants.  But I can't lose her, Shirl.  I can't let her go.  This ring'll something real to keep us together."

 

"Shouldn't love do that just as well?"

 

"It does," Lenny shrugged.  "But I want her to wear it anyway.”

 

“Why?  As a brand?” Shirley mocked.

 

Lenny shook his head.  “A couple of weeks ago, she was ready to move in with that David jerk, remember?”  Shirley recalled that unpleasant memory with a shudder.  “I gave her this big speech about tomato slicers and stuff...”  Shirley shook her head to clear the confusion Lenny’s words produced, so he plunged on, “I just don't want her to think I'm trying to get some milk for free or something..."

 

"Tomato slicers?" Shirley wondered. 

 

Lenny sighed, "catch up, Shirl.  I just want her to know I’m not with her just to get something off her.  You promise to help us if her Pop makes trouble?"

 

"For now I'm willing to support you both, if that's what Laverne wants.  But Lenny - please look out for yourself.  Please." Shirley couldn't quite believe that she was the one doling out warnings to Lenny about her best friend, but it was the least she could offer someone so vulnerable.

 

She was swept up in a quick, fierce bear hug.  "Thanks, Shirl."

 

Shirley looked up at the strange boy hugging her so fiercely.  God, how could she trust him with Laverne's heart?  She asked rapidly,  "What's Laverne's favorite movie?  Who's Laverne's patron saint?  What color are Laverne's eyes?"

 

Without hesitation, Lenny answered, "Godzilla versus Mothera, Saint Theresa of Aguila, and green.  But not regular green.  The kinda green that you see when you look deep into a bottle of wine."

 

Shirley released the young man, surprise evident on her face.

 

"You should believe me when I say I'm serious about her," Lenny sighed.  "You know what's scratched into the inside of the band?   Well, what Grandma Kosnowski says it says."  Shirley shook her head.  "'Second Star to the Right; to the moon and back'."

 

"That's so sweet..."

 

"Yeah, I guess the Grand Duke of the Piranhaese liked Peter Pan, too.  But  I love her to the moon and back, Shirl."  He opened the case one more time, studying the gems within before flipping the case closed.  "Squig don't know I have this.  If he did, he'd tell me to sell it - he would've had me sell it a long time ago for the money.  I dunno if I'm gonna give this to her tonight or not, on account of what you said, but I'm gonna give it to her soon.  I ain't giving it to some pawn broker for a couple of lousy dollars, and I ain't giving it to Squiggy.   And I need you to be okay with that, 'cause the most important thing in the world to me is Laverne." Shirley smiled, feeling her face tremor.  She must have submitted to tears, because Lenny called out, "aww geeze, don't cry." The begging tone of his voice made her laugh.

 

"I'm through crying - through for the rest of my life."  She looked into his bright blue eyes.  "Do you promise to take care of her?"

 

Lenny scoffed.  "Laverne can take care of herself.  But she and me 're gonna be a team, if that's what you wanna call it.  I promised her we’d never be alone again,” he laughed shortly.  "I also swore I'd take it slow," he stuffed the box back into his pocket.  "You really think I'm setting myself up for it?"

 

"If Laverne loves you as much as you say she does, nothing's going to stop her from marrying you."  She tucked her hand in Lenny's.  "Come on, let's go get some of that cake!"  She looped her arm through his and they strolled back to the main sitting area of Cowboy Bills.

 

Inside, dinner was nearly over, despite a surfeit of appetizers and a quarter moon of leftover pizza ringing the large white wedding cake.  When they set their eyes on her, Carmine and Laverne simultaneously bounced to their feet.  "Shirl," Carmine spoke first.

 

"I'm fine," she smiled.  "It's all wonderful news," she gave Laverne a long look and her best friend squirmed a little bit, knowing that Shirley knew.  Lenny's hand went comfortingly to Laverne's right wrist and she smiled, the temporary embarrassment fading away.  They looked so nice together, was Shirley's absent thought - and somehow the best possible choice Laverne could have made was to be with Lenny.

 

Carmine was watching the couple with a similar expression of fondness.  "You think they're ready to hear our good news?" he asked abruptly.

 

Shirley grinned impishly, turning in his arms, resting her chin on is chest.  "So soon?"

 

"Everyone's here - you wanted to tell everyone at the same time...."

 

She nodded, and Carmine kicked the leg of the table to draw attention.  Squiggy, who was hungrily eating a pile of pigs in a blanket, whined as a few buns rolled to the floor, but the other diners weren't nearly as disturbed.  "Everyone!  Shirl and I've got something to say!"  Every eye in the room rested upon them.  "We were thinking about telling everyone separately..."

 

"...but we decided all at once would be better..."

 

A long pause.  Shirley turned to Carmine, expecting him to say what was needed, but he had turned a little white around the lips.  "You tell them," he whispered.

 

Ugh - he was going to chicken out on her!  She wouldn't let him get away with that. "No," Shirley said through her teeth.  "You do it!"

 

In the background, a phone began to ring.  From the corner of her eye, Shirley saw Rhonda rise to answer it.  "Hi ho - Cowboy Bills, Rhonda Lee speaking..."  The words were like little mosquitoes buzzing around Shirley's consciousness as she locked eyes with Carmine.

 

"Darling..."

 

"Dearest..."

 

"Geez, Shirl, this ain't the dark ages.  If you're knocked up, just say it!" Squiggy yelled.

 

"I'm not knocked up, you fool!  We're..."

 

"Carmine," Rhonda called from the phone, "it's a mister Tony Donaldson on the phone.  He's saying something about an audition at the Mocambo Room in New York City!"

 

The room went deadly quiet.  Carmine gave the crowd a sheepish parody of a smile over Shirley's head before releasing his wife and taking the phone from Rhonda.  Left alone to face the wrath of the assemblage, Shirley felt herself shrinking beneath hard, angry gazes.

 

It was Laverne who rose up to confront her.  "What?" she hissed, her face pale and her lips trembling violently.

 

"Vernie..."

 

"Shirl!"

 

"Vernie..." Lenny reached for her.

 

"Len," her tone held a mean warning that made him back off.

 

"Muffin..." Frank's eyes lay heavily on Lenny while he addressed his daughter.

 

"Pop!" she yanked away from his hands as he reached for her. 

 

"Frank," warned Edna.

 

"Edna," Frank nearly whined.

 

Rhonda shrugged.  "Squiggy?" she said.

 

"Hello," Squiggy said with a responding shrug.  All of them became nothing but background noise when Shirley locked eyes on her best friend.

 

"How can you do this to me?" Laverne asked, tears in her eyes. 

 

"I'm not doing anything to you," Shirley said quietly.

 

"You're leaving me!" the words came out in a piercing whine.

 

"She ain't leaving you," Carmine said, clutching the phone to his ear.  "She's coming with me to New York. We put our heads together last week and decided I'd probably do better getting jobs New York.  I can dance and sing - I'm meant for Broadway, not Hollywood."

 

"You haven't been going to auditions!" Laverne snapped.  "You haven't really been trying for the past year!"

 

"Because there's no one for me to try with!  No one's asked for me for months - the musical's all but dead unless your name's Elvis Pressley, so what good could I be to the studio system?  And why are you complaining?  You always said I should try to make something of myself before I get too old!  Remember that speech after the par-....What, Cy?  Yeah, I'm still here...yes, patch me through to Mister Donaldson..."

 

"Waitaminute!" Squiggy rose from his place.  "Are you telling me that you're dumpin' us to go chase butterflies in Central Perk?"

 

"Park, and no one's being dumped!" said Shirley hotly.  "It’s the best move we could make for his career.  Carmine hasn't had a job unrelated to his singing telegram gig in a year..."

 

"So, times are lean!" Squiggy cried.  "I barely got enough money to keep Rhonda in diamonds and feed my moths!"

 

"Your moths," hissed Shirley, "are dead!"

 

"Stop picking on Squiggy!" Laverne snapped.  "This is the lowest thing I've ever heard - dumping us and leaving, after we all came to California together!  I thought we were family!"

 

"Stop using that word!  We're just moving!  Don't you understand that Carmine and I are married now?" she looked from face to unforgiving face.  "We're a family  - everywhere he goes, I have to go too!  If that means I have to move to New York to help him accomplish his dreams, then..."  Shirley then took a good look at her best friend.  Laverne pouted, huffing her breath.  Shirley knew she fought tears, and reached out for her.  "Vernie, please..."

 

But Laverne pulled her arm away, running out of the room, slamming doors behind her as she exited the restaurant.

 

"Vernie," Lenny murmured, rising from his seat.

 

Shirley shook her head.  "I'll go after her." She turned and rushed out of the restaurant, the concerned murmurings of her friends echoing in her mind.

 

 

***

 

Shirley found Laverne leaning against the rough-struck support beam holding up the porch outside of Cowboy Bills'.  She stared out to the highway before them, and occasionally a car would wizz by, illuminating her tear-streaked face and the strange faded orange of her tan in the false dawn of headlights.  Studying her, Shirley suddenly recognized Laverne's dress.  She'd been wearing it on that horrible date with that producer - there were even faded grass stains on her rear end from her futile search for her mother's earring.  Shirley shivered at the memory, realizing that Laverne had changed in the month between that date and this day - there was something wiser about her now, sadder.  A little hitch entered Shirley's voice as she asked, "Vernie?"

 

Laverne's shoulders went stiff, but she didn't turn around. 

 

"I'm sorry you're angry."  Shirley walked across the porch, leaning against an opposing post.  "Do you understand why I need to go with Carmine?”

 

Laverne gave a bitter laugh.  “You’re his wife.  Like you said - you have to go where he asks you to.”

 

Shirley didn’t like that notion a bit.  “I didn't mean it that way.  I’m not going with him because of the vows we made - well, maybe it’s a small part, but I didn’t agree to obey him then, and I won’t go simply because of our agreement now.  Mostly, I will because I love him.”

 

“More than you love me,” Laverne said childishly.

 

“Vernie,” she reached out to touch her best friend, but Laverne shrank back.  “How can you think I don’t love you?  I love you just as much as I love Carmine - just in a different way.”

 

Laverne snickered.  “I hope so.  Much as I love you, Shirl, I couldn’t ever marry you.”

 

The little laugh was an encouragement.  “Do you understand that we're never going to stop being friends?  My leaving won't change that."

 

"But it will," Laverne said, her voice tiny. 

 

"My moving isn't abandonment," Shirley said quietly.  “I’m not going to leave and never talk to you again.  It’s not like your mother or Randy dying...come back here!” Laverne had begun to flee down Cowboy Bill’s gravel pathway.  Shirley caught up with her in a running tackle, pitching them both at a roll down the embankment.  When they landed at the foot of the pathway, stockings torn and dresses ripped, Shirley’s left pump was in Laverne’s hand and their handbags had landed in the underbrush.  “Are you going to listen now?”

 

“Don’t bring up Randy!” Laverne cried out, her emotions running far deeper than Shirley suspected.

 

“All right - I’m sorry - I know talking about him still hurts.” Shirley rolled off of her best friend, sitting up.  “Is this why you’re with Lenny?  Because you’re desperate not to be alone?”

 

The horrified expression that marred Laverne’s features relieved Shirley.  “NO!” Laverne rested her hands against her stocking-covered knees.  “Me and Lenny love each other.  I thought I only loved him like a friend - all we were missing was...you know...IT...and then he kissed me a couple of weeks ago.  I didn’t understand it, Shirl - I didn’t know how I could feel something for him right out of the blue.  But there it was.   And it wasn’t ‘cause you just got married, or because I’m gonna be thirty in a couple of years.  Because we just...we...oh, I can’t make you understand...”

 

“Because,” Shirley said softly, “you’re his other part.  The thing that makes him a whole person - the thing that makes YOU a whole person...”

 

Laverne shook her head.  “We’re already whole people.  I’m with Lenny because we make each other better people.  He’s so good to me, Shirl - so much nicer than any other guy I ever dated.  He treats me like a princess, and the only other guy who ever did that was Ra-” her voice cut off, and she swallowed to clear it.  “We got everything in common, and he’s the only one that’s never left me.  The only one who’ll never leave me.” 

 

Shirley winced.  “That last part sounds awfully co-dependent.”

 

“Enough with the armature psychology stuff,” Laverne grumbled.  “I guess I’m with him ‘cause we fit.  We just...are.”  She smirked.  “I’m going to get him for telling you, though.”

 

“He said you were afraid of what I’d think.  He was trying to spare your feelings.”

 

Laverne’s eyes darkened.  “Yeah well, the last time we were this close, you told me I was crazy.  You said I was leading him on.”

 

Another wince.  “I also said I was a fool to let Big Time Doctor Sterns go - that was a mixed message, because my own feelings were mixed up.  I kept wondering how I could love Carmine when what I wanted was stability and a home - which influenced my advice.  But I had a different thought process back then -  I came from a different mindset,” Shirley looked out onto the desolate highway.  “Before California, I thought marriage was a split-level ranch with a doctor, three children and a collie named Dave.  But in the real world, I’m married to a singing telegram who's taking me to New York, making a home in a little apartment, working a minimum-wage job instead of cleaning the drapes...And there won’t be three babies, not for awhile...” Shirley shrugged.  “There's a big difference between my dreams and what I've got.  Reality's much better than the dream.”

 

Laverne was staring at Shirley as if she had announced that Ricky  Nelson had impregnated her.  “Why do you have to risk everything for him?  Why can’t he stay here?”

 

“Because through our entire relationship, he’s always been the one to make a sacrifice for me,” Shirley sighed.  “He gave up Marjorie Wards - owning his own business! -  to move across the country with us.  He nearly got himself killed working for loan sharks just to buy me chocolate!”

 

“Yeah, good old self-sacrificing Carmine,” Laverne said sourly.  “Good ol’ Carmine, the guy who plowed Lucile Lockwash whenever your back was turned!”

 

“We had an agreement,” Shirley sighed.

 

“That ‘agreement’ tore you up every time he went out with her,” Laverne said sharply.  “He wasn’t there when you’d cry all night over him.”

 

“Yes, but you were there when I’d go out with golf pros and lawyers and supervisors and doctors,” Shirley said, her voice unwavering.  “We were never exclusive back then.  We only became exclusive a year ago, if you remember correctly,” she noticed the large rip in the right thigh of her nylons and winced at the long, angry red scratch her tumble had left behind.  “We should have been exclusive before we got to California, but that was my fault.  I wanted to date that doctor.  ANY doctor.”  Shirley remembered his creepy wife, whom she resembled exactly, and shuddered. 

 

“You’re not scared he’s gonna cheat on you?”

 

“Is he frightened that I’d cheat on him?  I stepped out on him with that millionaire, and one of the Shotz boys...what was good for the goose was good for the gander with us.”

 

“Yeah, but the gander had no problem goosing around with married women and...what am I saying?”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I don’t know,” Laverne sniffled miserably.  “I didn't pour a whole thermos of orange juice down his pants for no reason, yanno."

 

Shirley chuckled at the memory.  Carmine really was lucky to have intact equipment.  "I've forgiven Carmine for a lot of things - as many things as he's forgiven me for.  I'm willing to forget Roxy LaToure if he's willing to forget Derek of the London Bridges."

 

"You told him about that?"

 

"I told him a lot of things during our honeymoon.  We don't keep secrets anymore," Shirley said simply.

 

Laverne picked at the torn strap of her dress.  "I was just getting used to the idea of you living somewhere else.  Now I gotta get used to you being all the way across the country.”

 

“That’s what this is about,” Shirley said loftily.  “You’re not even mad about Carmine at all.  You’re afraid because I’ll be so far away.”

 

Laverne grumbled, not acknowledging her guess. 

 

“But I'll never further away than a phone call,” said Shirley.  “The first thing we’ll do is get our phone hooked up - I'll make Carmine promise me that.  And if we can’t afford a line, there’s always postcards, or pay phones,” her eyes lit up.  “Or your grandmother’s!  Carmine and I could spend time with your family in Brooklyn!”

 

Laverne smiled fondly.  “Grandma did like you a lot...”

 

“It would be just like you coming home,” Shirley grinned.  “We’ll send word to Antonio and Anthony and your Grandmother, and they’ll send word to you!  Oh, Laverne!  I don’t want us to ever be separated by more than a telephone line!”

 

“We won’t be,” Laverne finally hugged her.  “You promise to call or write every week?”

 

“I swear, if you’ll do the same.”

 

Laverne’s fierce embrace was the truest answer Shirley could have asked for.  After a long pause, Laverne said, “so, Shirl - what’s it like?”

 

Momentarily perplexed, Shirley asked, “it?”

 

“You know!”

 

“Oh...oh!” she pulled away a little bit.  “A lady doesn’t tell.”

 

“Shirl!” Laverne whined.

 

“Well...” she thoughtfully sighed.  “It’s not what the books would have you believe at first.  There’s some pain - and after the first few times, it takes a lot of practice.  Once you know what you’re doing, though...” she drifted off dreamily. 

 

“Though?!” Laverne cried out.

 

“It’s not anything I can explain,” Shirley shrugged.  “It’s like any skill - it has to be aquired.”

 

“You mean I have to learn how to do it?!” Laverne whined.

 

“Don’t fuss,” Shirley encouraged.  “It's not like study anatomy or biology.  It’s a natural process.  Like learning how to swim.”

 

Laverne’s expression changed gradually to one of mild confusion.  “Is it normal for a guy to want all the lights off when you make out?”

 

“I thought you were the make-out expert between the two of us,” Shirley teased.

 

“I mean it, Shirl,” Laverne ducked into the brush, pulling out her purse and handing Shirley’s to her.  “Lenny don’t want the lights on when we do it,” she said.  “I think he don’t want to look at me.”

 

“Just how far have you gone with him?”

 

“Third base,” Laverne shrugged.  “I thought he saw me the first night, but now he won’t touch me with the lights on.  He’ll let me touch him and take his pants down, but only if the lights are off.”

 

“Maybe the problem’s not yours,” Shirley said, swallowing down the bile those mental images brought up.  “It could be Lenny’s.”

 

“He told me he wanted to wait ‘til the wedding night today,” Laverne complained.  “The wedding night!  No other guy ever asked me for that!”

 

“How does it make you feel?”

 

“Like a lady," Laverne admitted.  "But I don’t know...It's really nice, and I'm kinda flattered but - the wedding night?  What if he tries to turn the light off then, too?  I mean, from what I can feel it's not like he's got somethin' to be ashamed of..."

 

"I didn't want to know that," Shirley said flatly.  "And I don't know, Laverne," she added.  "Maybe he doesn't want to lose control and go too far.  Speaking of...are you on something?"

 

Emphatically, Laverne shook  her head.  "Not since that party with the London Bridges..."

 

"Not those kinds of drugs," Shirley groaned.  "Birth control!"

 

"Shirl!  You know I ain't been to a girl doctor since I thought I was in trouble."

 

"Gynecologist.  The term is gynecologist.  And that's wrong," Shirley said firmly.  "Doctor Fisher told me that every woman our age should have regular check-ups every six months.  You're almost thirty, Laverne - it's time you took your destiny in your own hands.  After all, Lenny's not known for being in control of his own emotions..."

 

"I've got a rubber," Laverne shrugged.

 

"Since when?"

 

"Since I got to California.  It's been in my wallet for a whole lousy year," Laverne snorted. 

 

"Oh." Shirley's cheeks colored.  "Well, if I were you, I'd get on something more permanent."

 

"I want to, when I can afford it," Laverne sighed.  "I'd rather be on the pill, I guess."

 

Shirley flashed back to their first day at Bardwells - the physical they'd been forced to endure.  Out in the doctor's waiting room had been a poster promoting birth control for the discerning wife - she and Laverne had stared lustily at information about the pill, marveling at the newness and the freedom of it.  Laverne had always been haunted by Terri Buttafuco's horrifying tale, resurrected whenever the debs met, of How I Got Pregnant When the Rubber Broke - subconsciously; it was probably what kept her a virgin.  She spoke rhapsodically of the pill when they were home later - she seemed unable to imagine that Terri's fate might not be her own some day.   "I can get you an appointment with Edna's doctor," Shirley proclaimed.  "He's on Bardwell's health plan."

 

"Thanks, Shirl - I think I'd rather wait 'til I'm sure, though," Laverne said. 

 

"But what if you want..."

 

"Shirl," Laverne grinned, "there are lots and lots of ways to have fun without a home run."

 

"I knew that!" Shirley sighed.  "I didn't think you did..."

 

"Whaddya mean me?  I wasn't the one writing in my diary in code!"

 

"Ahh yes," Shirley grinned.  "A-C, B, Forty-five."

 

Laverne wrinkled her nose.  "I hate it when you talk like that!"

 

The two friends laughed, sharing another hug.  In the distance, a door slammed, breaking the intimacy of the moment.  The girls helped each other to their feet, brushing away gravel and dirt and trying to look presentable - despite their efforts, they both looked as if they'd gone a couple of rounds with Joe Louis.  Down the pathway stormed Squiggy, who didn't even give them a second look before heading to the ice cream truck, starting it, and speeding out of the Cowboy Bills' parking lot. 

 

Hot on his heels was Rhonda, crying out "Squiggy!  Wait!"

 

"Rhonda..." Shirley began, but the blonde pulled away from her grip.  The sound of Shirley's voice seemed to harden her features - she dashed away the tears dripping down her cheeks and tottering out to the street, bellowing for a taxi.  Shirley started after her, but Lenny's voice stopped her.

 

"Let her go," he said tiredly, while his eyes examined Laverne.  "They got into a big fight while you were gone.  Hey, you're all dirty - what happened?"

 

"We tripped," Laverne said sarcastically.  "What was the fight about?"

 

Lenny squirmed.  "My paper.  Rhonda started sayin' Squig should give it back to me, and he said I signed fair and square.  She started sayin' stuff about the Emancipossum Loccomotion and he started yellin'..."

 

"I guess the party's over," Shirley sighed.

 

"I'm sorry Squig wrecked it, Shirl," Laverne grumbled.  She watched Rhonda climb into her taxi and speed off northward to parts unknown.

 

Well, no one had really wrecked it - despite herself, Shirley realized, she'd had a lot of fun.  "Why didn't you say anything to him?" Shirley wondered to Lenny.  "Squiggy doesn't own you - he never did..."

 

"I hate fighting with Squig," Lenny shrugged.  "Unless I'm real angry, I end up feeling real bad.  'sides, it ain't too big a deal.  We need someone to market it, if we make money, and I ain't smart enough to do that..."

 

"You're plenty smart," Laverne said.  Her hand tightened around his right bicep.

 

"Lenny," Shirley interrupted, "why don't you walk Laverne home?"

 

Grateful blue eyes glittered as they briefly looked to her face.  "Do you wanna?  Can you make it in those shoes?"

 

Laverne reached down, taking off her narrow pumps.  Holding them in the hand she clutched her handbag, she took Lenny's arm.  "I don't think I need them.  We'll talk tomorrow, okay, Shirl?"

 

"All right.  During our lunch break."

 

"It'll be a Monday.  Things should be so slow that we won't even need our break.  Bye bye, Shirl," Laverne said, but her eyes were focused on Lenny.

 

"Bye, Vernie," Shirley said.  She watched the young couple retreat down the well-lit main street that led back to their cul-de-sac.  Momentarily alone, Shirley reflected on the comfort between them.  How could she have imagined Laverne wouldn't understand what it was to be swept off by love?  She understood a little too well by now.  Shirley only hoped Lenny's hang-ups wouldn't frustrate her best friend too much...

 

Abruptly, she heard Frank DeFazio's voice as it wended its way to the lot.  The Italian curses were unmistakable as the flashing dark eyes that thundered as they caught sight of her. 

 

"Where the hell did Laverne go?" he complained.  "I got a pound of shrimp to get rid of!"

 

"She decided to walk home.  We have an early morning - I think she signed up to help with inventory."

 

"Again?!  She's been at Bardwells every night the past two weeks!" Frank griped.

 

Instantly, Shirley covered for her best friend.  "She needs the money.  We've been talking about getting better jobs, and she wanted to have something saved before she quit." It was an educated guess but probably, luckily, a truism as well.

 

Frank grumbled, turning and hollering, "EDNA!"

 

"Oh, Frank, hush!" Edna ordered, carrying a wrapped pile of food.  "I took the rest of the bread and the cake - did you want anything else?"

 

"Nope.  It's meant for you kids, you kids can have it," Frank said gruffly.

 

"Speaking of kids, where is Carmine?" Shirley wondered.

 

"Amrgms!" Shirley turned around, seeing Carmine stagger toward her, loaded down with leftovers of varying sizes. 

 

"My goodness!" she cried, unburdening him of a few bundles. 

 

"I told him to take two trips,” Edna scolded.

 

Shirley unburdened Carmine of the bag he carried between his lips - she recognized the scent of leftover pizza and was suddenly hungry again.  "Mister DeFazio, can we bum a ride home with you?" Carmine asked.

 

Frank nodded.  "Squiggy said he was taking the truck," he said thoughtfully.  "You kids - you ain't thinking enough about each other any more," he added, before leading the group to his pick up truck and helping them climb into the cab and driving into the dark of night.

 

***

 

"Twenty...so...twenty-one...Lenny...twenty-two...And...twenty-three...Laverne...twenty four....eh?"

 

Shirley expectorated into Carmine's pristine sink, taking a peek at her bright white teeth before answering her husband.  "Yes.  And they seem very happy."

 

"I...twenty-nine...Didn't...thirty...think Len had...thirty-one...it in him..."

 

Shirley pinched off an inch-long length of floss, running it between her teeth.  When they were pristine, she tossed it into the bathroom basket and cleaned the sink 'til it shone back at her.  "It was abnormally brave of Leonard to make the first move, wasn't it?"

 

"I've been...forty-five...telling him to...forty-six...try harder.  I guess he listened...forty-seven."

 

"Really?"  If she had known he'd been encouraging Lenny, Shirley wasn't entirely sure that she'd have been supportive.  But now that things were said and done - and that they made a reasonable amount of sense - she didn't think she would fight it.  Shirley ran her tortoise-shell brush through her hair, skipping the usual hundred strokes.  She hadn't missed them during her honeymoon, and they didn't make any difference in the sheen and texture of her hair now.  Slicking her underarms with a bit of deodorant, she leaned back and admired the reflection in Carmine's water-speckled mirror.  The girl looking back at her with vibrant blue eyes looked only a little bit silly in her sheer peach night robe and lace-trimmed corset and panty set.  It had been bought and paid for on layaway during a mad shopping spree in the week before the wedding - and were Laverne's idea, Shirley's taste running more toward demure hostess pajamas and nighties.   Laverne's gift hadn't seen the outside of its tissue-and-cardboard prison since the day it was purchased, having been neglected in a pile at Frank and Edna's trailer with the rest of her honeymoon trousseau and luggage.  They had retrieved it before returning home, sailing into Carmine's apartment on a string of Frank's "be careful-s".  In a fleeting thought, Shirley hoped Carmine would like it - not that he needed much frippery from her, she remembered with a smirk.  He hadn't seen her in anything besides her birthday suit for a week solid and she didn't recall him complaining a single time.

 

"Uh...forty-eight...huh...forty-nine..."

 

She clicked off the bathroom light and emerged into the dimly-lit bedroom.  Carmine, in mid-push-up, looked from her bare feet to her exposed legs and her enclosed belly and breast.  "Hello, sailor," she purred.

 

He promptly fell upon his face.

 

Shirley muffled a giggle, gently helping him up and onto the bed.  They sat together as she rubbed his roman nose.  "Are you okay?"

 

He nodded, his hand coming away from his nose.  In one long look, he took in her form, and then grinned.  "That's a nice surprise," he said.

 

She had thought that it made her look short and stubby, but if he liked it...  "You think?"

 

Carmine just nodded his head and went to work on the knot she'd made in her robe, his mouth going to her neck. 

 

Shirley wrapped her arms around him, feeling the ropy, muscular strength in his shoulders and upper arms.  She didn't mind the scent of his sweat - it was musky, woodsy, a natural attractant mollified by antiperspirant in the right places.  She traced the path of a fat droplet down the shallow of his spine, tracing the top curve of his firm rear as he sucked a hicky onto her neck and fumbled with the knot in her chord.  He groaned loudly in frustration.

 

"Shh," she put her finger to his lips.  "Do you want Lenny and Squiggy to hear?"  Or Lenny, at least - while in the bathroom, she had heard a panther-silent tread on the hall rug and the click of a TV going on.  Squiggy was never so quiet....

 

Her mind returned to the task at hand.  Gently pushing Carmine back, Shirley met his hands on her knot and worked it loose, shrugging out of the filmy robe and giving him a good look at what it had concealed.

 

Carmine's eyes were wide as dinner plates - they poured up and down her body with a fixed, astonished hunger.  He couldn't seem to relate the demure girl he had courted to the one wearing a corset, his ring, and nothing else.

 

"Sweetie," she said, breeching the miniscule distance between them.  "It unsnaps in the back."

 

His meaty hands dove around her sides, in a way that was almost apelike and made her giggle like a schoolgirl.  The little metal snaps were numerous but easily undone, and in minutes his hands came away and she shrugged out of the bustier, leaving her bare to his gaze.

 

Carmine's dark eyes seemed to smolder as she stretched catlike across his bed, reaching, bereft, up for him.  He followed her down, hand possessively roaming from her thigh to her shoulder before surrendering to her kiss.

 

There was a contrast between the demanding movements of her hands down his chest and to the waistband of his pants and the submissive way she took his tongue into her mouth.  Life had taught Shirley to lead - unless she was completely insensible, she refused to cede control of her hands and liked taking charge of their activity in bed.  Her mouth, in contrast, was his toy - he had always been the aggressor in their long evening make-out sessions, and here life continued along linearly.  Her hand dove aggressively beneath the cover of his sweatpants, seeking what had given her pleasure so often for the past two weeks.

 

Carmine grunted, breaking the kiss, looking down into her eyes.  In response, she grinned, squeezing the hefty, thickening length of him with her right hand, feeling a dribble of thin liquid anointing her knuckles.  He moaned something unintelligible and squirmed downward, until she only held the head of his erection between her thumb and forefinger, until his mouth was level with her breasts.

 

Shirley lay back, her hand coming from underneath his pants and laying comfortably against his upper back, palms open.  Carmine poked her left nipple with the tip of his tongue, a deliberate tease - it began to swell and redden from its normal pink to a berry color. 

 

Within, she tingled - like a chime being struck, reverberations began to spread and grow and trickle downward.  She had never enjoyed her breasts - they were too small, and she had always felt like a boy standing next to Laverne's slightly more voluptuous form.  Carmine made her like them more - for the pleasure they gave her.  He surrounded the left tip with his lips, drawing gently upon her.

 

He brought the shimmering warmth in her belly to a boil.  Shirley groaned, her fingers tied to his thick, curly locks.  He spent the longest time suckling her before trading off to the other breast, leaving the left tip behind with a goodbye kiss. 

 

Shirley liked this part of foreplay the best - second-best, she corrected herself, squeezing her thighs around his belly.  Carmine still thought of her as his fragile bride, and treated arousing her accordingly, never trying to rush or offend her.  He made her feel like a lady - enough of a lady to express herself freely.

 

"Honey?  I want to turn over..."

 

He looked up from her breasts, knowing what that meant.  Grinning, he sat up and then back, kicking off his pajama pants, his cock springing out into the light of the room.  Shirley kicked off her own panties, throwing them to the edge of the bed before giving him another deep kiss.  Then he trailed a few kisses down her throat, to her belly, until she pulled away and turned around.

 

This was the first trick Carmine had taught her during their wedding morning together.  Lying down flat upon his belly, she opened her thighs, feeling the heat of his breath on her sex as she rested her chin on her elbows, the tip of his erection barely brushing her lips.  Sixty-nining, he called it - a marvelously distracting act.  A she began to lick him from the tip to the midway point of his shaft, she heard Carmine's grumbling moans from between her thighs.  Her hand began to firmly stroke him, from the middle down to his hair-nested balls, long, even stokes. 

 

Then she opened her mouth and took him down her throat, til her fist met her lips.

 

Carmine moaned something obscene from between her thighs, mashing his face into her pussy, his tongue poking up inside her before he shifted her hips upward, pushing her up with sprawled hands beneath her belly, until he could reach the little pink point of her clitoris.  Shirley nearly choked on his cock, pulling him up out of her throat, and then carefully taking him halfway down again, the speed of her hands matching the stroke of her mouth.

 

It was, she mused, much easier to give him head this way.  She had never liked doing it on her knees, his cock bashing into her tonsils and the back of her throat, her eyes filled with nothing but the sight of his flexing stomach.  In this position, she could amuse herself with the sight of his antic toes as they clutched the sheets - she could rub a palm over his thigh and feel it chord beneath her hand.  She could cup the furnace-like heat of his testicles in her hands and feel them stir beneath her palm. 

 

She gave him two firm, choking, gulping strokes, up and down the shaft before surrounding his erection in her left fist, resting her aching jaw for a moment.  Carmine was tickling her clit with his tongue, tracing the lump of it, drawing out her pleasure.  Her fist began to speed itself up and down the length of his penis, the strokes shorter now, sped by the liquid they produced between them.  She could feel a telltale tensing in his thighs - a throbbing in the long vein running from his base to his tip.  Shirley instantly stopped stroking, holding still - her failure to do so previously had resulted in a fascinating -for her- and humiliating -for him- experience.  She still didn't understand why it was so horrible for him to have climaxed early and all over her hand.  He had done so before, on a few particularly desperate nights, though he had mopped himself up immediately with a Kleenex without giving her time to think or study.  The sight of his orgasm had been a compelling, if messy, sight - and one he refused to duplicate with her. 

 

Funny that she had been surrounded by brothers in her childhood, but had known nothing about men until Carmine had asked her very shyly if she wanted to see 'it' in the coat closet of Missus Merryworth's seventh grade homeroom.   Since that rainy morning she had seen 'it' in every possible state - tumescent, soft, small, thick, mid-pubescent and post-pubescent.  Right at the moment 'it' stood out stiff without assist from her, and when she let go of it the thing twitched visibly.  It wasn't anything like the "throbbing members" promised to her by Payton Place and Rosemary Rodgers - in fact, jerking against the empty air like a fish out of water, it looked kind of funny.  Shirley realized suddenly that if penises didn't make her feel so very good she might laugh herself sick over them.

 

'It'. They were so well acquainted that he really needed a name...

 

She felt his right hand move around, until her belly was supported by his strong chest.  The freed hand cupped her rear end at the midpoint of her cheeks.  Then Carmine's middle finger slipped into her unguarded passage, and her mind snapped back into focus. 

 

He couldn't fit anything more than two fingers inside of her, even now that her virginity was a thing long in the past.  Shirley Ragusa had been made short and petite and dainty by God - her vagina was no exception.  And yet she reveled in accommodating him, though his meaty hands had been made for hard work, though they were a boxer's fingers.  They gave her no pain, and she had anticipated none as he filled her to the third knuckle.  Moaning, Shirley began to move back and forth on his saliva-slickened fingers, her lubrication aiding the way as the stimulation became a keen, painful pleasure.  She began to whine, a keening noise just a little lower than her usual squeaking, her breasts rubbing against the dark hair on his thighs as his mouth worked her clitoris with gently precision.  She began to grind herself backward against the hand cupping her rear end, the fingers inside her, her torso tensing as the end became inevitable.  She reached out to squeeze him with her fist, to spread the pleasure he gave back to him.

 

Her climax was a contraction of unrelenting relief, her body squeezing him instinctively, her nipples hard little pink diamonds scratching his thighs as she ground her clitoris against his lips and tried to cry out through a constricted throat.  Minutes later, she came back to herself and realized that she held his penis in a death grip, and most of her weight rested on his face.  Momentarily exhausted, she released him, and Carmine removed his fingers from her softness as she turned around and rested her head against his chest.

 

"You okay?" he panted.  His face shone under a layer of her juices, and she felt a tinge of embarrassment.  The sight they must have made together!  She managed a nod. "You do your thing?"  He added.

 

She stiffened, her embarrassment redoubled as she bolted from his arms, reaching over to the nightstand where she had placed her diaphragm and the jelly.  "Be right back," she apologized, climbing over their discarded clothing and headed to the bathroom.  The tired grin she glimpsed over her shoulder told Shirley that a break might be just what he needed.

 

Alone in the bathroom, she quickly recalled the routine that would protect her from pregnancy.  To take her virginity, Carmine had used a condom and the jelly for extra protection - with her hymen ceremonially broken Shirley spent the subsequent morning practicing inserting the device.  Patience, her fortitude, was a requirement, and soon she felt like an old pro.  This time was no different - clinical, unromantic, and, thanks to the jelly, rather chilly.  Finally secure, she exited the bathroom.

 

Carmine was where she had left him - in the middle of the bed, naked, squat and stocky,  his fireplug of a prick fitting wholly with the rest of his body.  His right hand played with it, keeping the fires alive, but when he noticed she'd entered the room Carmine jerked his hand away from the heft of it.

 

"You don't have to stop," Shirley trilled, a tiny smile on her face.  To her amusement, her experienced husband blushed like a virgin.

 

"You don't want to watch me do..."

 

"Who says I don't?"  She scampered over to the bed, crawling up and rising over him upon her knees.  "I like looking at you," she intoned.  Her hand licked along his stomach as she straddled his hips.

 

For a moment, he watched her with increasing confusion.  He really didn't believe in her awakening, she mused.  Then thought was unnecessary, as she guided his stiffness into the wellspring of her sex.

 

She moaned as her body yielded to his - softly opening and surrounding.  She settled down around Carmine, taking a long breath before moving in slow, careful, circular motions above.

 

"How'd you figure that out?" he panted.

 

She understood that he meant the position - and honestly believed she'd invented it for a moment.  "I was a girl scout.  I swore I'd always be prepared for adventure."

 

His abrupt up thrust cut off speech and thought in one breath.

 

Temporarily, Shirley helplessly rode the wave of his wild thrusting, trying to find the new rhythm of this unusual position.  Awkwardly, their hips dueled - sweat dripping down her cheeks as frustration made itself known.  She, a fast learner, gripped the lesson quickly and at last added a counter rhythm of her own.  Together, they rocked the bed, making it squeak and pound at a rapid rate against the wall, altogether unaware of the noise and fuss.  They were one mindless person, one heartbeat, one soul.

 

The passion didn't last for long.  When his hand reached between them, teasing her once again, she froze, shivering - the resulting orgasm miniscule compared to the first but evident.  Shirley's senses dissipated and consolidated - when she came back to her own mind, Carmine was thrusting frantically upward inside of her, his expression twisted by frustration as her dead weight took the form of a living woman again.

 

She took up the counter-rhythm again, her eyes half-open as they took in his dark features.   With her modest experience she drew him deliberately to the edge, then violently over it, his hips bucking her high off the mattress as he moaned something loud and indistinct, filling and overfilling her all at once.

 

Gradually, Shirley sank down over Carmine's body, covering him with what little shelter she could provide.  As her heart returned to its' regular throb, she realized the pounding over their heads wasn't a product of her own blood stream.

 

"Geez!" bellowed Squiggy through the paper-thin walls, "wouldya shut up, Ragusa?  I'm tryin' to get my beauty sleep!"

 

Shirley muffled a giggle against Carmine's chest, feeling the muscles within flex as he shouted back, "sorry, Squig!"

 

"Yeah yeah - everyone's sorry.  Lenny's snoring, you're groaning, and what'd I end up with?  I didn't even a good night knobjob!"  They heard further, completely indistinct mumblings from Squiggy as he returned to sleep.

 

Carmine's embarrassment glowed brightly upon his red cheeks.  He looked up at his giggling wife and complained, "that ain't funny.  You know Squig's a heavy sleeper.  Can you imagine how loud I was?"

 

"Hush.  He's just upset about Rhonda."  Whom, Shirley realized, they hadn't heard on the stairs yet.  Annoyed at the real world's tendency toward intervention, Shirley gave a regretful sigh before rolling off of her husband.  Finally secured to her side of the bed, she grinned.  Shirley could care less about Squiggy's sleep patterns - he deserved a week of insomniac episodes for what he had done to Lenny.  Most importantly, Lenny was sleeping - sleeping heavily and heartily.  That could only mean good news for Laverne...or so she hoped.

 

Carmine rolled onto his side, looking down at her.  Once again, that look of dumb amazement stole over his features.  "You think Squig's in love with her?"

 

"As much as someone as damaged as Squiggy can love," Shirley sighed.  Carmine visibly considered this as another thought came to her mind.  "What did Mister Donaldson say?"

 

He let out a guarded breath.  "As of right now, I got ten auditions - from the sixth to the ninth of May.  Everything from a dancer's position at the Mocambo to the understudy for Lancelot in Camelot.  Odds are in my favor that I'll get something with Equity benefits right from the start.  If not...and that's a big if...it's back to waiting tables."

 

"Lancelot!" Shirley gaped.  "You mean...you would get to work with Julie Andrews?"

 

"You're jealous already!"

 

"Carmine!" she swatted his arm.   They shared a look pregnant with emotion.  "It's really happening," she said quietly.  "We're really going to New York."

 

"We are," he squeezed her hand.  "You sure you're ready for that?"

 

"I'm ready for anything if you're with me."

 

He smiled weakly back at her.  Her nervous stomach made her reach for the humor in their situation.  "Darling, I do suppose you were very loud - but I didn't mind."

 

Carmine finally caught the humor of the situation, laughing as he said, “I was trying to save my voice.  That was my softest scream."

 

Laughing together, they crawled beneath his blue blankets and cuddled up, her back to his belly.  She rested her head against his chest and had begun the black climb to unconsciousness when he said, "we're really going to be all right, aren't we?"

 

Her eyes opened.  "I think we will," she laced the fingers of her left hand against the fingers of his right, where they cupped her head.  "We have friends in New York, remember.  We can call on Missus DeFazio for advice and Antonio for friendship."  She deliberately avoided mentioning Anthony - she hadn't spared that poor boy a second glance once Carmine showed up, she realized on a mental groan.

 

"Yeah," Carmine laughed shortly.  "I made a great impression on them the last time we saw each other."  Images of his driving her old Cadillac up the street like Moses parting the red sea and wrecking the greased pole climbing contest filtered through Shirley's mind, bringing laughter unbidden.

 

"Don't down yourself.  You charmed the socks off of Missus DeFazio before we left."

 

"Little old ladies are my specialty," he shrugged.

 

"I thought Lucile wasn't a day older than twenty."

 

"You're way off.  Her lips were nine.  The rest of her was thirty-eight."

 

Shirley grinned, but that grin was marred quickly by a frown.  Memories of Lucile made reality swoop back in, and all of the problems the real world contained came with it. "The sixth.  That means we have to be in New York by the third."

 

"That's right."

 

The task maker within her took charge.  "That gives us only a month - not a lot of time to prepare.  We have to tell mother tomorrow.  And your parents.  And I need to get in touch with a realtor and set up showings for this ap-" he cut off her speech with a kiss.

 

"That's tomorrow," he said sleepily.   He reached behind him with his free hand and clicked the night lamp, turning the room's light from pale white to dark red to very faint green.  "Until the sun comes up, Missus Ragusa, it's still tonight."

 

She smiled, resting back against the solid form of his body.  He was right - their problems could wait for a few hours.  Now, as the heat of the night seeped into her bones, Shirley rocked herself to sleep in the magic circle of her husband's arms, the world becoming a shadow as the night made its claim on her flesh.

 

THE END

 

 

SOUNDTRACK:

1:Baby, I Love You - Aretha Franklin

2: Memories - Elvis Pressley

3: Conversations - Joni Mitchell

4: Get In Line - Barenaked Ladies

5: Girls Say - Beth Hart

6: Bells For Her - Tori Amos

7: Touch Me Fall - Indigo Girls

8: This Is Love - Mary Chapin Carpenter

9: Power of Two - Indigo Girls

To "Always a Bridesmaid"
To "Always a Mess"