SERIES: Always Too Much Lasagna
UNIVERSE: Always...
AUTHOR: Missy
EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com
PART: 1 of 1
RATING: NC-17 (Adult thematic material, language, m/f sexual relations)
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:
SEQUEL TO: Ever After, Always A Bridesmaid, Always Prepared, Always a Mess, Always Apologize First, and Always a Challenge. Seventh in this continuity.
Spoilers For: the entire universe, I Do, I Don't.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Lenny tries to make peace with Frank; Rhonda has shocking news for Laverne.
NOTES: Please read the entire series, or this won't make sense. Seventh in an open universe. To apply, send along story idea or fic sample to my email above.
***
"I have sinned, and I am in hell."
Lenny Kosnowski looked up from a frying pan filled with ground beef, Italian sausage and onions to cast a worried look at his fiancée. "You feel worse?"
She peeked up at him over the arm of her sofa, revealing a face dotted with white-and-red spots. "Nope. Just really itchy."
Lenny made what he hoped was a soothing noise and returned his attention to the burner before him. This time, the contents of the pan were turning brown at a much nicer speed than the two previous batches - both of which had been consigned to the alley cats outside over the past hour. He tried to remember Laverne's instructions - it wasn't done until it was all brown, the onions had to be clear, no more than a little pinch of oregano...
"You sure you don't want me to help?"
"You helped enough. I wouldn't know what to do if you didn't write it down for me." He heard the couch springs squeak and said sharply, "uh uh. You stay on the couch and rest."
Laverne made a whining noise as she rolled over and tucked Shirley's hand-knit orange afghan closer around her neck. Lenny heard her grumble as she reached over and turned on the television set, and then they both went quiet as Mike Douglas began introducing Johnny Cash.
Lenny was running out of his usually infinite amount of
patience. The woman he loved was, as she
would readily admit, bad at suffering pain; that her illness was minor with the
only symptoms she received being a low grade fever, body aches and an
interminable itching only seemed to make her more irritated. Ultimately, the grumpiness began to turn in
on Lenny; he was hovering around her, didn't he know she already had that issue
of Confidential, and couldn't he tell he was scrubbing her scabs too hard in
the bath when they started to peel off?
Weren't they supposed to peel off?
No, apparently she was going to be spotty for the rest of their happy
life together, Lenny thought tartly to himself, and then scolded himself for
such a nasty thought. When she wasn't
complaining about Lenny, he realized, she was complaining to him - how she
couldn't afford to be out of work for more than two weeks. Wouldn't they start docking her pay? She needed to help him save for the wedding,
now that her father - she nearly spat every time she said that word - wasn't
going to be any help in that department.
What made Lenny constantly frantic was that she would have gone to work
even during the first day of her illness, when she had suffered a high fever
and bright red skin. On that first day
he had instructed her to stay in bed while he filled in her prescription, but
she had taken the opportunity to get dressed and leave for work with Shirley -
who was so wrapped up in her moving plans that she barely noticed that Laverne
was feverish. Those mutually delusional
states had been nipped dead when her supervisor visited on a routine inspection
and got a look at Laverne sleeping standing up against the stock room shelves
while Shirley faced the counter and babbled to the empty room about her
Lenny glanced at the prescription bottle of calamine lotion sitting on a nearby counter, realized it was nearly gone after a week's use, and was glad that he'd asked Shirley to get Laverne's re-fil while she visited Schwab’s during her lunch break. He looked at the kitchen clock as he turned the burner off and put aside his ground beef, remembering that she would be over by five with a fresh bottle, dinner, and the magazines Lenny couldn't find - once they had Laverne settled, he'd take the truck from Squiggy and head over to Frank and Edna's place.
Worry nibbled at Lenny's conscious. A week had passed since Laverne and Frank had argued - a week since they had spoken, though Edna had called from Cowboy Bills' when she found out from Shirley that her stepdaughter was sick. For Laverne, this was the longest she'd ever gone without talking to Frank, the longest she had gone during an argument without caving in and apologizing to him. Lenny knew he shouldn't feel guilty about her newly independent attitude, but...
They were fighting because of him.
He felt guilt twist his insides as he dunked his spoon into the jar of tomato paste and spread it along the bottom of Laverne's heavy white casserole dish. He knew that Frank thought he was some kind of pig trying to get something off of his daughter for free - worse, a weak man who couldn't take care of her even if his aim was true. Lenny chewed that worrying thought over as he spread an even, concentric circle of sauce across the bottom of the dish - his robotic moves ceased when he realized he had emptied half the sauce into the pan. Quickly, he dunked his hands into another vessel of cooling water and pulling out a recently-boiled lasagna noodle, laying it and then another end over end over the bottom of the dish. He treated the entire course of events like brain surgery - one failed move and the patient would die. Or Frank would kill him. Lenny felt his stomach turn but he forced himself to keep going, topping the noodles with more sauce, and then dumped on half the sausage mixture before pulling open a plastic container of ricotta cheese. He needed to have a real talk with Frank today, mano y mayonnaise, no matter if he ended up with a few broken bones. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been punched out, he mused, as he looked down at a body that had seen a fair amount of abuse in its twenty-eight years.
"Aww, look - Dick's got Topo Gigo talking to Lulu," Laverne laughed. Lenny peered over at the tv to make sure this illusion wasn't the product of his wife-to-be's fever and was relieved to see that very image reflecting on the tube. He remembered Laverne thrashing in their newly shared bed and keeping him awake with worry as she moaned incoherently. They hadn't even gotten to really experience their new shelter as an engaged couple - instead of sleeping naked against her, he had layered her in robes and pajamas, sleeping spooned like a shoal against her back in his boxer shorts. When the fever began to lessen and she noticed his beleaguered appearance, she demanded he go back to his place and sleep - after almost ten straight hours he woke to an empty apartment and a sense of guilt. It was the only time he had allowed himself to leave her side in the week of her illness, not including the Bardwells' disaster. Lenny couldn't shake the feeling that she was his responsibility now - that it fell to him to make sure she survived. The greediness of her past with others - his own greediness with her - only brought him shame as he ripped open a pack of mozzarella cheese fresh from the deli. This day had brought the breaking of her fever, but even then he'd bowed out of going on the usual route with Squiggy - whom he'd spent the past few days avoiding after his confession to Frank nearly resulted in Lenny being turned into a meatball hero.
Lenny poured a another layer of mozzarella over the ricotta and remembered with a shudder that Laverne could have been someone else's fiancée - she could be watching over someone's no-necked, hairy-thumbed baby by now. Her fate would be different - if they timed everything right, in a year she'd be looking after his dumb, tall, blond babies. Lenny shook his head - he really didn't deserve her, he knew - as he repeated the lasagna-making process until he ended up with a full casserole of unbaked noodles topped with mozzarella. Kicking open the stove with his foot, he laid the dish in the oven, closed it, and set the stove timer for a half-hour, then tossed away empty containers - in the basket, not through the disposal as he'd done a million times in the past. Then got a clean glass and poured her some orange juice, carrying it over to the couch with a smile.
She smiled back before taking it and swallowing half its contents. For some reason, her mood seemed to have improved, and he relaxed with it. "Thanks, Len."
"Welcome." He sat down on the floor so that they might be able to hold hands, which they did immediately and nearly instinctually. She smiled sweetly again and settled the empty juice glass on the arm of the sofa, turning over so that she could see him more clearly. For awhile they sat in companionable silence as Johnny Cash sang and a troop of Chinese acrobats talked with great relevance about non-violent resistance. Her fingers reached out somewhere in the between time and began to massage his tense neck, making him purr and relax against her body. After another set of commercials, Laverne began to speak.
"You don't got to stick around for the rest of the day, Len - I'm feeling a lot better."
"Nah," Lenny shook his head. "I'd rather be here with you till I got to go to your Pop's place..."
She smiled tenderly. "Yeah, but don't you got some stuff to do with Squig?"
Lenny shook his head. "I ain't speaking to him."
"Len..." If the silence between Laverne and her father disturbed Lenny, she seemed to find the absence of communication between himself and Squiggy even more frightening. Lenny felt the same way about things - adrift and lonely without Squiggy - but he refused to show anyone that kind of weakness again.
"I've been begging him for 'I'm sorries' my whole life," Lenny said crossly. "If he wants to appologize for telling your Pop, I'll talk to him. Maybe."
She leaned against his shoulder, pressing her lips to the back of his neck and making him shiver. "How're you gonna make a living if you ain't speaking to him?"
Lenny shrugged. 'He left me a note, said he's taking care of the route, but I had to audition a couple of girls for him." Squiggy had described the girl to Lenny as 'c-cup classy', so that meant none of his usual shenanigans. Not that he'd ever think about trying that again, he thought as he mooned over the spotted girl laughing nasally from the sofa at a dog food commercial.
Laverne finished snorting and turned back to Lenny. "You still looking for someone to play Sheena the Zulu Queen in Orgy of the Amazons Part Two: An Even More Different Love Story?"
"Nah, Squig can't find anyone to buy the script," Lenny shrugged. "They said the squid'd cost too much money to film, cause Squig keeps asking them for a REAL one, and they can't find someone to train it to tap-dance..."
"I get the picture," Laverne stroked his bare arm, her smile widening as his skin turned to gooseflesh, the light blond hair prickling at her stroking. She sniffed the air and sighed orgasmic ally. "That smells great."
"Thanks, but all I did was made it like you said to."
"It'll be great to eat something solid after a whole week of soup," she wrinkled up her nose at the memory of Shirley's from-the-envelope repasts, which she'd brought over and fed to Laverne with the diligence of Florence Nightingale even as Laverne complained of the murderous saltiness.
Lenny winced. "Your doctor said you ain't supposed to have a heavy meal until the fever's been broke for a whole day."
She frowned when he said 'doctor', and Lenny knew she had flashed back to their last physical encounter. He had been so alarmed by her chicken pox that he broke off in the middle of pleasuring her to call her doctor. It took him six transfers from department to department, but at last he got a confirmation on Laverne's condition. By the time he returned with the bad news, she was fast asleep on top of their twin-cum-double-bed. He had gently covered her with blankets and sheets and curled beside her protectively. She had woken at the peak of her illness, which had canceled his secret hopes for an early-morning quickie. Lenny recalled that still owed her an orgasm - then tried to avoid showing her what he was thinking by coughing and shifting a little on the floor. Despite her gentle admonishments, he still didn't think he could possibly show her how much she meant to him.
Her eyes watched him with an absorption that reminded him of his own fawning. "What does he know?" she complained "My spots're already going away."
"Yeah, but you ain't completely healed yet," Lenny pointed out. Laverne grunted and shrugged. "You want another baking soda bath?"
"Ugh, no - did you clean out the tub from the last one?"
"Yep. Did you know the bottom used to be white?"
Laverne chuckled. "You're doing real good taking care of me."
Lenny lifted his chin. "I gotta prove to your Pop I can."
"No you don't," she said sharply.
Lenny tensed beneath her harsh tone. "I want him to like me, Vernie. I'm marryin' into your family, and I want to feel like I belong with them."
"Who cares what Pop thinks?" Laverne scolded. "He all but said I was trash for being with you all those nights ago. And I can take care of myself," she added arrogantly.
"Not when you're all spotty. And your pop said that 'cause he's angry," Lenny said. "All he knows about me is that I eat a lot, I'm an okay tipper, I like pinball and use spoons for shoehorns. Not to mention what happened with Amy," he shuddered at that little aberration. "He don't know nothing how good I can be to you, Vernie."
"And you think if you show him you can, he'll suddenly be okay with this?" Lenny nodded earnestly and she sighed. "Len, he was barely okay with me and Sonny going out - and he only approved of him because he was Italian. It takes a lot of work to get into Pop's good graces."
"I'll do it. Anything he wants me to do."
"But we don't need his okay!"
"You don't, but I do.
It's different for me, Laverne. I
didn't have the big family you had growing up.
All I had was Emmy and Gaga and Daddy, and then Gaga moved back to
She squeezed his hand - the inherited ring glittered on her finger. "You still talk to your grandma
"But it ain't the same.
You was always in
She grinned. "Uh huh."
"I want my kids to have a better life than I did. I don't wanna be like my Pop - don't get me wrong, my Pop's a swell guy, but we ain't really close, and I wanna be close to my kids. I want to have time to hang out with them - a big family and lots of love and...more. I know we don't need your Pop's say-so. But..."
"But?"
"But he's known me since I was a little kid. I'd like to be friends if I'm gonna help give him a grandkid some day."
Laverne smiled weakly. "You're a nicer person than me."
Lenny guffawed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his chinos. "Nah. I just don't want him to call out a veranda on me or something."
"Vendetta, and that only happens in bad Jimmy Cagney movies." The oven buzzer rang and Lenny headed back into the kitchen, grabbing mitts and putting them on before opening the oven door and pulling free the bubbling, steaming lasagna. Laverne's stomach growled audibly at the scent of it. "Sure I can't have some?" she whined.
Lenny felt his face turn guilty. "The doctor said no. Shirl'll be here in a few minutes, she'll make you something..." He covered the lasagna with tinfoil and carried it over to the kitchen table to cool a little. Bereft of anything further to do, he began to worry that what he'd thrown on that morning - his khaki-colored chinos, a short-sleeved blue tee-shirt and belt - didn't seem good enough to wear to such an auspicious meeting. "Do I look okay?" he worried.
"I shouldn't be sending you into the lion's den by yourself," Laverne worried. But as he spun around in circles to see if his back was stained, she sighed, "you look good, Len." He smiled and her eyes sparkled up at him. "Real good," she said in a sensual tone. "You shouldn't wear khakis, though."
He frowned. "Why?"
"They're too baggy in the butt," she crawled up on the sofa until she was peering over her pillow. "You got a nice butt, Len. It's one of your best qualities."
Lenny felt his bare arms prickle with Goosebumps and nibbled his lower lip. "Don't do that. When you talk that way, I wanna kiss you."
She shifted up into a sitting position and grinned. "Good. I wanna kiss you too."
He groaned. "We can't. The doctor said I can't get you excited."
"Who gives a damn about the doctor?" She growled. "Come on...one little kiss...one little teeny weensy little kiss..."
He didn't need any more encouragement. Lenny walked across the room, bent over the couch, and gave her a long, soft, comforting kiss on the lips. Funny how something so tender could swiftly turn erotic as he began to melt down over her prone body, wonderful sensations of color and light pouring through him as she stroked her tongue against his. Even upside down, he thought out of his daze, she kissed good. But it was Laverne who abruptly ended the embrace, panting weakly against the cushion, her eyes unfocused and steamy. He rested his palm against her forehead.
"I thought so. You're still a little hot, Vernie." He pulled the blanket up to her shoulder.
"I'm hot, all right," she grinned up at him.
He giggled at her double-meaning but forcibly restrained himself. "You stay here and watch Topo and let Shirl take care of everything." He pulled on the new mod-styled brown leather overcoat he'd bought with half of his sock money and pushed back his slicked hair. He caught sight of himself in the polished window and worried that his countenance was less than impressive. He made faces into the window, refusing to like what he saw. "You sure I look okay?"
She looked him up and down. "You're perfect," she soothed.
He smiled at her greatfully as the kitchen door slipped open. Lenny gave an acknowledging smile to Rhonda Lee as she toddled into the room on her incredibly high white heels.
"Lenny," said Rhonda crisply, "you look...almost normal."
"Almost?" Lenny looked to Laverne in complete panic, and she sighed.
"Whattya want, Rhonda?" Laverne grumbled, but the actress was focused on Lenny.
"Andrew told me you weren't supposed to be here."
"I was waiting for Shirl to come home. She said she'd bring Vernie's pay stub and dinner, and I don't wanna leave her alone..." He tried to put aside the anxiety in his voice, but found himself unable to do so.
"Pish tosh!" Rhonda said shortly. "I can watch over Laverne while you do whatever it is people like you do."
Lenny grinned. "Aww gee, you're swell, Rhonda!" he picked up the lasagna with Laverne's oversized green oven mitts. "Vernie, I'll come see you tonight."
"Remember," Laverne warned. "He aims high. Go low."
Lenny gulped. "I'll try not to make your Pop punch me."
"If he does, the number for the Valley Police is Caridion 555. I think Edna knows it by heart..."
"I didn't need to know that." He favored Rhonda with what he hoped was a charming grin, but the blonde ignored him, heading over to the couch and sitting beside Laverne. Lenny wondered at the actresses' expression - she seemed distant, detached, half-dead. He hoped Squiggy hadn't done something dumber than usual until he remembered he was angry at his so-called best friend. Nonetheless..."Hey, you okay?" He asked as he walked up the landing.
"Rhonda is fine," she said, immediately and happily. "Rhonda just needs to have a girl-to-girl talk with Laverne."
"Don't you usually go to Marjorie Maine for those?" Laverne wondered.
"Natalie Wood. She's on the Splendor with RJ this weekend," Rhonda said, her tone alarmingly spiritless.
"Okay," Lenny said lightly. "I'll see you guys, bye!"
"Bye, Len - love you," Laverne said from the couch. He grinned back.
"Love you too," he said, closing the door behind him. With the warmth of her words glowing inside of him, Lenny became preoccupied with getting the lasagna to the ice cream truck in one piece and getting to his soon-to-be-father-in-law's place without losing his way.
To his relief, Squiggy had left the keys in the ignition. Lenny knew he wouldn't have to ask permission after all as he settled the lasagna in the passenger side seat and carefully strapped it in with the safety belt before tying himself into the driver's side and turning the van on. Maybe he had been right to let Squiggy go out on the route by himself from now on - together, they had never finished so quickly, even though he did all of the order-taking and customer-serving while Squiggy handled the register and the driving. Lenny liked it that way, making people smile without having to worry about being cheated out of money. But people responded better to himself than Squiggy, for reasons Lenny didn't understand, and that made traveling in a tandem essential.
He was halfway to the desert before he realized that Rhonda had not said goodbye to him.
***
If she wasn't itching her nose at the moment, Laverne thought to herself, Rhonda Lee might make a great statue for Squiggy's Uncle Elliot's wax museum. Her skin was almost translucent in the flickering light of the tv, as if someone was holding a candle to her face. Her features were alarmingly tense as well, as if she had gotten a bad facelift.
"What'd you want to talk about?" Laverne asked.
Rhonda stared blankly at the flickering television. "Do you wonder who does Bridgette Bardot's hair?"
Laverne frowned, staring at the leggy blonde stumbling her
way through a broken-English interview with Dick Cavett. "I dunno. Some guy named
Rhonda sniffed. "Yes. That shade of blonde just isn't found in nature," Rhonda fluffed her own curly locks. "Compare her to Rhonda and notice the difference."
Laverne looked her friend up and down. "D'you just come up here to brag?"
The blonde's expression changed suddenly. "Rhonda has many attractive features. My face alone can sell a picture, don't you think?"
"Yeah, right. You're a movie star, I know." Suddenly,
the blonde let out a quiet sob and hid her face between her palms. "Geez,
Rhonda," Laverne soothed. "If
you want better parts, you should audition for scripts that don't start with
Creature and end with
"Those were the only parts I could get. Now I'm not even going to have those!"
Laverne felt an awful prickle run up her spine. "What's wrong?"
"Squiggy and I were making love last night and he noticed a lump in my breast." The world seemed to grind to a halt for Laverne, but the words spilled forth from Rhonda heedlessly. "He didn't know what that meant - bless his simple little head. I went to my doctor this morning and he said he wants to biopsy it." Rhonda looked into Laverne's face. "If it's malignant, I'll have a lumpectomy and radiation and chemotherapy and lose my hair. At the worst, he said I'd have to have a mastectomy."
The breath Laverne had been holding rushed out. "Then he doesn't think it's too big."
"He doesn't know. The lump was small, he said..."
"That's good, then! Maybe you won't need chemo for very long..."
"I don't even know if it's cancer yet," Rhonda dashed away the inky streaks marring her usually perfect cheeks. "My grandmother died of breast cancer, Laverne. I can't go through what she went through. I don't have the strength."
"I" statements - a sure sign of the seriousness of the situation. Laverne blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "My mom died of breast cancer," she said - it was almost liberating to admit it out loud.
"If you're trying to make Rhonda feel better, you're batting a big fat goose egg," Rhonda sniffled.
"My mother died of breast cancer because the doctors
thought she was just tired," Laverne uttered. "Pop said she felt a lump during her
shower one day and went right to the doctor.
All the people she saw in
Rhonda blinked. "Lenny said you were five when she died."
"I was. I just watched her get sicker and sicker without knowing what was wrong." She shook her head. "For two weeks after she died, I pretended she was still alive. Even after we came home from the funeral. I used to ask God real nice in my prayers every night to bring her back," Laverne snorted. "But that never happened. The worst part is my Pop never said it wouldn't, so after a week of that, I figured out God wanted my Mom for keeps - that he liked her better than me..." Laverne continued intensely, "you got the chance she never got. Get treatment."
"I'd rather be dead."
Laverne resisted every urge within her telling her to slap the blonde senseless. "Are you crazy? You're young and you've always been healthy - you got everything to live for!"
"You have to be at your most appealing at all times to be a successful actress." Rhonda said bitterly.
"Who cares about your career? Your life's a million times more important!"
"Without my career," Rhonda sniffled, "I don't have a life. And I came to you because I thought you'd understand, Laverne! I thought you wouldn't lecture me like Shirley."
She paused at those words, but went on heedlessly. "Even without a job you're a good person," Laverne said comfortingly. "If you're sick, we'll take care of you, Rhonda. The boys are nicer than usual to sick people."
"No," Rhonda whispered, wide-eyed, "no one can know if it turns out to be cancer."
"Rhonda!"
"It might not be - but if it is I don't want Squiggy to know."
"You think he'll leave you because of the..."
"No. He's been though so much pain in his life, and I don't want to put him through any more," Rhonda said with finality. "My career is the bigger worry - you know I'm always cast as a glamour girl, despite Rhonda's other attributes. What sort of director would hire a bald girl with one breast to play a temptress?"
"Hello!" the door slammed open. Laverne felt a hot rush of fury scream through her as Squiggy ambled into the room. He shrunk into himself on seeing Laverne. "Goodbye," he uttered, backing up the stairs.
"You ain't goin' nowhere," Laverne said, her eyes burning with anger. "What were you doing telling my Pop me and Len are together without our permission?"
Squiggy shook his head. "How long was you gonna wait? Til the first grandkid showed up?" Laverne got up, tracking him down with an angry gleam in her eyes. Squiggy refused to back down this time. "Look, DeFloozio, Len's waited all his life to be happy. Why should he have hide it now that he is?" Squiggy shrugged. "I just gave you both a little shove."
Laverne softened a bit, but retained her angry stance. "Squiggy, thanks to that little shove I ain't speaking to my father and Len's so upset over that he's probably getting his nose broken over at my Pop's trailer right now trying to fix things."
"So it didn't go so well," Squiggy shrugged. "He'll get over it after you and Len roll around in the hay a few times. Rhonda's dad got over us being together real quick, isn't that right sugar lips?"
Rhonda smirked while Laverne gave her an impressed
look. Rhonda's father was, from
Laverne's gathering, an extremely conservative farmer from
"Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda - how can a beet give out a degree?" He shook his head in dismay, and said to Laverne, "Gorgeous broad, but there ain't that much up top..."
Before Rhonda could scream her outrage, Laverne grumbled, "What do you want, Squig?"
"I was lookin' to talk to my so-called best pal, but since he ain't around I was wondering if you - And the you I mean is Miss Rhonda Lee - would be so kind as to accompany me to the Terrace of Paris restaurant for supper tonight?"
"Andrew..." Rhonda said quietly, "a French restaurant? Are you sure?"
"Why not?"
"Well, French restaurants demand a certain amount of decorum..."
"And a clean shirt," Laverne added dourly.
"You sayin' you don't want to be seen with me?"
Rhonda winced. "No, Andrew," she leaned against him. "I want to spend as much time as I can with you."
"Yes ma'am," he said robotically, his mind short-circuited by his proximity to Rhonda's cleavage. "Thank you, ma'am."
She let go of his head. "Just let Rhonda go change and we'll be on our way."
"You sure you wanna leave her alone?" Squiggy asked, looking at Laverne as though she might bite him.
"Would everyone stop acting like I'm gonna walk in front of a bus!" Laverne protested.
"Laverne will be fine by herself," Rhonda said. She let go of Squiggy and began pulling him toward the door. "Do I need my purse?"
"You got enough to pay for the bill?"
"Squiggy!" Laverne said angrily, but Rhonda only held him tighter.
"Rhonda will pay for the bus fare if you pay for dinner."
"Why do we need the bus?"
"Lenny took the truck," Laverne said.
"The clod! He didn't even ask me first..."
"It's half his truck, Squig," Laverne pointed out.
Squiggy mulled over a defense for this, but seemed to come up with nothing. Rhonda's presence, as always, wore him down. "Okay," he walked up the landing and opened Laverne's front door, escorting Rhonda out. "I pick dessert this time."
"All right. Deserts are your forte, after all. A small hint - Rhonda's in the mood for a pot au chocolate..."
Squiggy shook his head and gave Laverne a look of pure
confusion. "Pot
and chocolate? They don't sell
that even in a place like
"I meant...Oh, never mind. Tell me about your little Amazons script again..."
"Well, it all starts in the earth's capitol of excitement!"
"
"
Her grumbling stomach drew Laverne's attention to realer things as she went into the kitchen, pulling out Shirley's leaky old teakettle and boiling a pot of water for a large mug of cup-o-soup, heavy on the noodles. In the refrigerator she found a deli container of chicken salad Lenny had bought for himself a few days before and dumped it on a piece of day-old Wonder bread.
She ate the entire meal alone in the kitchen, staring at the dull flicker of the TV. It was a lonesome way to waste a half-hour, Laverne thought. As she rinsed off her dishes, she suddenly remembered that the meal she had comforted herself with was the first she had ever learned to make - her babysitter had fed it to her after kindergarten every day because her father was too busy at the hospital watching her mother waste away...
A chill ran through Laverne's system, forcing her to consider the worry she felt for Rhonda. Now alone, she confronted herself with the fact that she had never really liked the actress, being mostly been envious of her, with occasional moments of outside frustration and annoyance. She felt that Rhonda had held herself superior over her new neighbors, and in turn Laverne had protected herself against Rhonda's snobbery like she would against Rosie Greenbaum's. Gradually, Laverne began to realize that Rhonda's haute cuisine and high connections were ways of covering up the sad little girl inside her Coco Channel suits - much the way Squiggy's bravado made up for his horror show of a childhood and But more recently, after they had been forced to spend more time together because of the boys' joint activities and Shirley's absence, Laverne had begun to see the positive qualities in her neighbor. For instance, her ambitiousness and the practicality that came with it. Laverne hadn't known the blonde for long, yet she felt sad at the possibility of her death. The main wellspring of devastation came from was what this would do to Squiggy, who seemed to think he would never aspire to the sort of love Shirley and Carmine had. The idea of Rhonda loving him in return seemed unlikely to Squiggy, even after he an even more absurd idea to him, and thus he seemed to be more interested in milking the cow dry while it would still give out. The more she knew of the boys, Laverne realized with a snort, the more she understood Lenny and the less she understood Squiggy. Much in the latter's life could be cleared up with a little bit more focus, but he preferred to live it out in a dream world where he was a love god and Hollywood's most successful agent, who could have any woman he wanted, and Lenny was his worshipper. That was uncomfortably close to the real truth, Laverne thought with a wince.
A knock sounded. "Come in!" she called, knowing it was Shirley and Carmine - no one else in the building bothered with that sort of pleasantry. Sure enough, her best friend rushed through the door, still wearing her Bardwells uniform and carrying a stack of magazines under her arm. A large plaid thermos occupied her right hand. Carmine entered behind her in sweats and carrying a roll of masking tape.
"Hey guys...Carmine, what're you doing with that tape?" Laverne wondered.
Carmine smirked at her before mounting her steps. "Len bumped into me on the stoop when I was getting the mail. He said he tore your shower curtain down last week and didn't know how to fix it."
Laverne's own smirk was very knowing. "Oh yeah - I forgot about that."
Shirley rose her brow. "That boy's clumsy even when he's grooming." Laverne masked another, dirtier smirk, but Shirley picked up on the meaning and gave her a little amused smile in return. "The shower? Honestly, Laverne - if you keep this up we're going to have to buy you a white wedding dress with off-white gloves!"
"Shirl!" Laverne gasped, as Carmine went upstairs chuckling to himself.
"Darling!" Shirley called over her shoulder. "While you're in the bathroom, could find my pink soap? It should be on the dish near the faucet."
"The little one shaped like a rose? What do you need it for?"
"It's my face soap, Carmine. I've gone an entire week without taking care of my pores," Shirley sighed. Carmine laughed. "Really! do you want me to break out in hideous blotches? Do you know what I'll look like then?" Shirley stopped herself, peering back over her shoulder, a little stunned not to see Squiggy and Lenny bursting through the door.
"He went to dinner with Rhonda, and you know where Len is," Laverne explained, and Shirley's shoulders relaxed.
"Hey, do you want the yellow one?" Carmine yelled.
"No, that's the guest soap," Shirley patted Laverne's knee. "Can I take that back before we move, by the way? Mother will need something to wash up with when she comes over."
"Sure - you're the one who likes Jean Nate," Laverne reminded her friend.
"What about the white -"
"DON'T TOUCH THE WHITE ONE!" both women yelled up the stairs, and they both heard a scrambling noise that made them share a smile.
"I'll throw that out before I leave," Shirley shook her head, unscrewing the top of her thermos. "I made you some nice, fresh, Lipton soup..." Laverne shrank back, the salty smell already wafting its way up her nasal cavity. She dipped a plastic spoon inside and held out the mix for Laverne. "It's Ring-a-Ding mixed with Giggle! Just the kind you like."
Laverne shook her head. "It's okay - I already ate."
Shirley tsked, screwing the top back on the thermos. "Lenny's letting you cook already?"
"No, he's not letting me cook already - I cooked while he was out." Laverne pushed the orange comforter to her toes. "I'm lucky if he lets me go to the bathroom alone anymore."
"I can't say I blame him - you could have gotten hurt last week!"
"For pete's sake! Stop bringing that up!"
"All right, relax - you'll get your fever back," Shirley tucked the blanket up around Laverne's legs and grumbled as Laverne restlessly kicked them down. "Now, here is the new Confidential, here is the new Look, here is your calamine lotion, and here is your pay stub," Shirley set the items out on the coffee table.
"They didn't have the new True Confessions?"
"Gianni told me the publisher has it on backorder. I suppose alien pregnancies are more popular
in
"Aww! I wanted to find out if Heather ditched that sleazy biker gang.,"
"There's a question for the century," Shirley sat
down in the armchair, crossed her legs at the knee. "I've missed you so much. Carmine and I have been going mad trying to
find a new place in
"You always was the fastest typer in Fillmore," Laverne noted tartly. Shirley didn't notice Laverne's sour lemon expression. but she did notice her silence.
"And we've been trying out Rhonda's wedding gift. There are some positions in the
"Shirl!" As much as she tried, Laverne just couldn't get used to the brazen newness in this best friend of hers. She glanced conspiratorially to make sure they were truly rid of Carmine, then whispered, "you did mention a wedding dress..." She held out her extravagantly jeweled left ring finger.
Shirley's squeal pierced the air, and she tried to pull her still-weak friend to her feet for some excited bouncing, but settled for hopping alone around the couch. "I'm so happy for you both!" she said as she returned to the planet earth. "We have to start planning right away while I'm still here to help! We'll need a caterer and a florist and to book a hall. Oh, I'm so thrilled!"
Once more, Laverne thanked the fate that had made Shirley Feeney her best friend. She would take charge of the million monotonous wedding chores that confused and frightened her - just as she always did - and Laverne wouldn't have to worry about doing anything but relaxing and enjoying herself. The idea of enjoying herself brought darker thoughts to the fore of Laverne's mind. "You're the only one who's happy."
"Your father will come around in awhile..."
"Not just Pop. Squiggy and Lenny are fighting."
"Again?"
"It's different this time. Lenny's not speaking to him..."
"Again?"
"Shirl! It's serious this time. Len hasn't seen Squiggy since I got sick."
"Well, they'll work it out. They always do - and maybe we could lean on Rhonda little to work on Squiggy...soften him up...Lord knows she's buttered less disgusting parts of his body..."
Laverne winced visibly at the mention of Rhonda's name, piquing Shirley's curiosity. "What's the latest gossip?"
"No gossip - which you don't like, by the way..."
"Not normally, but Rhonda and Squiggy's dating seems to bring out my over-the-hedge gene. What's going on? Is it serious?" Laverne bit her lip, revealing her thoughts silently. "I can only help when I know what's going on..."
"Shirl...you gotta swear you won't tell anyone about this..."
"I promise."
She leaned close to her friend, whispering softly. "Rhonda might be sick, and they think it could be cancer. The doctors don't know. She's supposed to go in for a biopsy this week."
Shirley's eyes rounded and bugged out. "My God - poor Rhonda! And Andrew must be..."
Laverne's fingers were suddenly claws on Shirley's wrist. "You can't tell Squiggy. Rhonda don't want him to know."
"But..."
"It would kill him! Women and Squiggy've never gotten along too well. He barely survived what his mom did to him and Squendolyn for all of these years, and now that he's got a semi-decent girl in his life it's hard enough for him to know how to treat her. 'Sides, if Rhonda's dying, we gotta honor her last request...."
"I know, but Andrew..."
Laverne shrugged. "They don't even know what's wrong. Say we tell Squiggy and it's benign. Rhonda would get mad at us and we'd probably lose them both for nothing."
Shirley chewed her lower lip. "I suppose you're right. Should I tell Carmine?"
"He can keep a secret. It's Lenny I'm worried about. I can't lie to him about this any more than he can lie to Squiggy." Laverne's grip relaxed on Shirley's wrist. "We gotta think nicer thoughts before we go crazy..." Laverne's eyes lit on some magazines under the end table. "Hey, what color do you want your maid-of-honor dress to be?"
Shirley sighed. "Blush. It sets off my complexion," she pulled a small stack of Women's Wear Dailies from underneath the coffee table and began to flip through them. "With black gloves," she added, a little smile dimpling her cheeks.
***
Lenny studied himself in the rear-view mirror of his ice cream truck, worried for the millionth time in his life about what kind of impression he was about to make. He straightened his jacket and wondered if he should have worn a tie - no, Edna had told him to dress casually, and too much pomp would make seem hoity toity to Mister DeFazio.
His face, Lenny decided at last, couldn't be helped - he would always look like a dumb monkey, he reminded himself with a shuffle of the shoulders and a wrinkle of the forehead. With a heavy sense of finality, he clicked open the passenger side door and pulled out the pan of lasagna, carrying it up the short stone walkway to the trailer. Knocking on the door with his knee, he waited eyes on the flower bed, full of freshly-sprung daffodils. Edna and Frank had put a lot of work into their chunk of land on the trailer court. Someone had finally jacked up the tilting south most end and given it a new coat of paint, and in addition to the aforementioned daffodil garden there was a birdbath and two new palm saplings growing on the recently-mown lawn. It looked pretty homey. Home! Lenny felt a flutter of panic as he realized that he should have brought some flowers for the table! But it was too late - as he reached down to grab a handful from the patch, the front door swung open.
Lenny shot upright so violently that a spasm of pain ran down his side. Smiling grimly, he held out the dish of lasagna and said, "hi, Missus Babbish. I hope I'm not late."
Edna smiled, "I was just getting ready to call Frank in now." She grabbed a couple of hot pads from the nearby kitchen counter and took the dish from him. When she turned back, Lenny still stood on the doorstep, hands shoved into his pants pockets. "Come on in, honey."
He stooped into the doorway, looking around the interior of the trailer. Not much had changed inside since the DeFazio's anniversary party, excepting the sudden rightness of the floor. He peered around, trying to locate the form of his father-in-law-to-be, but heard only the light chirping of birds nearby; saw the late-afternoon sunshine dancing across the tin-colored floor.
"He's outside," Edna explained, pointing out the glass floor-to-ceiling sliding door at the far wall, through which Lenny could see a small but well-kept backyard, and a large grey lump settled on a hammock strung up between two young pine trees. Frank DeFazio was oblivious to Lenny's presence and seemed very engrossed in the copy of the LA Times he held up to the waning sunlight.
A comforting squeeze to his shoulder made Lenny relax a little bit. "He won't kill you," said Edna cheerfully, as she pressed three melamine pink plates to Lenny's right palm. "The yard's too small to bury a body."
Lenny felt his face drain of blood, and Edna steered him to a kitchenette chair and sat him down. "That was a joke," she scolded him lightly.
He gave her a gallows smile back. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, kiddo. Frank's all bluster and growl." She pulled the tinfoil back from his dish and began to chop even, medium-sized pieces of lasagna. Suddenly, she froze in mid-gesture and looked at what she'd dished out. "Oh dear - you brought lasagna."
Lenny's stomach turned over. "It was all Laverne knew how to make and I didn't know how to..."
Edna gave him a half-smile. "It's her favorite..." she walked over to the kitchenette and carried over a small glass dish with a pair of hot pads. "That's why I made it - I hoped she'd be well by now."
Lenny was halfway under the table before Edna's hand could reach him and yank the rest of his body back into the light. "It's all right, Lenny!" she insisted, pulling until he reemerged.
"But I wanted everything to be good and I want him to like me and..."
"We could always use an extra meal in this house," Edna said, then tucked the tinfoil down over her pot of lasagna and carried it over to their small icebox, putting it away in the freezer. She returned to Lenny and helped him up into his chair. "Frank's just an old bear," Edna sighed. "He won't hurt you."
"That's what you think. He ain't come at you with all ready to punch you out," Lenny looked at the ornate vase of daisies and carnations in the middle of the table, pinching petal after petal off and stacking them on the table. "Missus Babbish, I think he hates me," Lenny said sorrowfully.
Edna squeezed his shoulder. "No, he doesn't. He's just confused about your intentions toward Laverne."
Lenny gave her a watery smile. "I don't think he's gonna be happy when he hears what they are."
"Unless you're going to start a donkey show with her in
Lenny's jaw dropped at Edna's words - he didn't want to understand how she knew what one of those were. As Edna chuckled and brought over a dish of fresh butter and hot Italian bread, Lenny composed himself. "I'm in love with Vernie." He fiddled with the forks. "I wanna make her happy. She ain't happy if she can't talk to her Pop. She's the closest blood he's got, missus B, I can't live with commin' between them..."
At that word, the back door opened, admitting Frank into the room. Lenny's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he rose to his feet, smacking his knee on the underside of the table. Quickly, he thrust a hand out at his future father-in-law, rubbing his knee with the free one. Frank stared him down with dark, emotional eyes. "Hi, Mister DeFazio. I hope you're feeling good."
Frank gave Lenny an automatic but limp handshake, then looked the younger man up and down, his eyes settling on the leather jacket. "What is that?"
Lenny felt himself flushing. "It's new. I didn't have nothing nice to wear and..."
"You look like one of those punks passing out flowers on Sunset Boulevard."
Lenny turned scarlet, taking off the mod coat and regretting the impulse that had made him buy it. "I'm sorry; I thought I was gonna..."
"Frank, why don't you sit down? Your lasagna’s getting cold," Edna instructed, popping the cork on a fresh bottle of wine. She poured Frank a generous glass and did the same for herself, then poured Lenny a slightly smaller one. He gave her a grateful smile; any more and he'd be too drunk to drive back to the canyon. They sat down at the miniature marble-topped iron kitchen table, Lenny at the westernmost end, Frank at the easternmost, and Edna at the middle.
Frank began to say grace before Lenny could cross himself. "Heavenly father, please bless all of which we're gonna eat. Amen."
Silently, the meal passed by. Lenny was too nervous to enjoy what he'd made
and ended up consuming the wine too quickly.
A wave of warm dizziness passed over him, and, alarmed at that
too-familiar sensation, he began to consume large quantities of bread to soak
up the alcohol. He noticed Frank eating
his meal happily and felt a new sense of relief. When Lenny's equilibrium returned, he began
picking at his lasagna, dissecting it like that frog he'd cut up back in high
school. Poor Freddy, Lenny thought to himself. I'd give anything to trade
places with you, buddy.
"Lenny," Edna said suddenly, politely, "the lasagna’s wonderful. Do I taste fresh basil?"
Before Lenny could answer, Frank's fork clattered against the table. "You tellin' me he made this?"
"He sure did; isn't it good?" Edna asked.
Frank spat his food into a napkin. "Now I know why it tastes like poison!"
Edna was flabbergasted. "Oh, FRANK! How would you know what poision tastes like?"
"Like your tongue's gonna fall off!" Frank's eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Lenny's white face. "Whatt're you here for? Tryin' to make peace between me an' Laverne?"
"Mister DeFazio," Lenny took a deep breath to rid his voice of the high-pitched squeak haunting it. "Yeah. I don't want you to fight no more."
"She sent you here to apologize," a look of triumph crossed Frank's face.
"She didn't send me," Lenny said. "She tried to talk me out of commin'."
Frank's expression darkened, "but you came anyway?"
Lenny held his head up. "Yeah, I did."
"You feelin' that guilty?"
Lenny shook his head. "I ain't guilty about nothing!"
Frank slammed his fist down on the table. "You oughtta be!"
Lenny felt an icy chill race over his skin. Something wasn't right - something in Frank's dark eyes told Lenny that they weren't even fighting about Laverne anymore, rather something more devastating. But he was too far gone in the heat of the moment to stop him. "For what? I ain't never done nothing but love Lav -"
"Love her?"
Suddenly, Frank lunged out of his chair.
"You call what you did to her back in
"Trying to rape them," Frank spat out.
"Frank! You know Laverne would never let some fella get away with hurting her! Least of all Lenny!"
Frank ignored his wife and glared at Lenny stonily.
Edna stood up and walked toward him, her touch somewhere between an embrace and restraint. "How long have you known this boy?"
"Since he was three," Frank muttered.
"And what kind of boy was he?"
"A nice one, a good one," Frank's gaze would have
melted steel. "He was Laverne's
best friend when they were kids. Then they were thirteen and he turned into
someone else. He started following her
around, peeping on her, grabbing her even if she said no," Frank leaned in closer. "And he grw up
to be a lazy no good bum that goes through girls' underwear drawers. I dunno how the
hell a man as great as your father - the guy who pulled me out of a burning
building in
The words could not have hurt Lenny more if they had been a physical blow. "Yeah," he said self-depreciatingly, "I know I'm a loser, and I ain't got a steady job and my mom left and I like to look down your daughter's dress," his honesty caused Frank's jaw to clench. Lenny lifted his chin and stared back as hard as Frank was staring at him, "but Laverne ain't ever gonna find someone who'll love her as much as I do."
"What do you know about love!" Frank roared.
"Not much. But what I learned is from Laverne. She makes me want to be with her, and take care of her, and make her laugh and have babies with her and grow old together! It's holding someone up and not letting go and not asking for nothing back. I love her cause she does, and I'll love her back for as long as I can breathe." Lenny was pacing now. "It's like when we as six and her kissing my knee when I fell off the stoop even though it had all kinds of pebbles and lint in it. All the bad stuff don't matter no more when we're together."
Frank ranted on, "you ain't said nothin' about the Church. You ain't said nothing about marriage."
Lenny felt absolutely no fear when he said, "I already asked her to marry me in the church - any church she wants. And she said yes!"
Frank spit on the ground. "Vendetta!" he yelled, pointing at Lenny.
"Frank, put a sock in it!" Edna growled. "You couldn't put out a vendetta on a squirrel!"
"He's marryin' my kid without my permission and he ain't even ashamed about it! VENDETA!"
Lenny held up his shaking head. "I don't care what you or Jimmy Cagney think!"
"You better care what I think!" bellowed Frank.
Lenny stood up, pushing back his chair. "Laverne was right, I shouldn'ta come, and 'til you're okay with us being married we don't wanna see you again." Lenny said flatly, his stomach jumping but his face unflinching. "I want you to know, Mister DeFazio - what you think don't change nothing. We're gonna get married even if you don't like it!"
Frank's face was beet red. "Get the fuck out of my house!" he bellowed.
"Frank!" Edna exclaimed. "You're saying things you can't take back..."
"I don't care! Get him the fuck out of here!" Frank yelled, tossing off Edna's arms and crashing his way across the trailer and into their shared bedroom.
Lenny's jaw dropped - he'd never heard Mister DeFazio use that word before. In shock, he retreated on his own to the ice cream truck; the next thing he could recall was the cool press of the metal exterior against his blazing eyes.
A comforting hand stroked his arm. "Lenny, I'm so sorry." Edna shook her head.
"He's so angry," Lenny sniffled. "He doesn't like me and I don't know how to make him like me..."
"He thinks you hurt Laverne." Edna watched him with eyes pregnant with emotion. "I never could understand that story. The Lenny who danced with my Amy two Saint Patricks' Days ago would never do what Shirley said you did."
Lenny's eyes widened.
"Missus B, me and Squig weren't trying to
hurt the girls. We was
just kidding around - we thought it'd be like it was back in
"Lenny, I need to know - were you trying to rape them?"
Lenny nearly threw up at the suggestion. When he regained control of his traitorous throat, he finally said, "No!"
"So you love Laverne?"
Lenny nodded seriously. "To the moon and back."
"Then love her." Edna said quietly, "Frank will understand how you feel - I'll damn well work on him until he does, honey," Edna grinned. "But if he never does, you'll have to be your own family. Would that be enough for you?" Lenny nodded. "Will you need an extra Grandma around?"
Lenny grinned. "Uh huh." He embraced her gently, until she patted him on the shoulder.
Edna pushed him away, looking back at the trailer where her husband brooded. "Go home. Laverne's waiting."
***
Laverne started awake to a dark room and the sound of her front door slipping open. A quick shock of alarm was abriviated by the sight of Lenny slipping through the door.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't wanna get you up."
She yawned. "I didn't wanna be asleep. I must've konked out before Shirl left." She remembered looking over flower arrangement photographs and fashion magazines until she lost consciousness, actually. Laverne stretched, watching him kick off his red penny loafers and pull off his leather jacket with a glare of distaste and set it on the chair. "It didn't go good," she declared clairvoyantly. Lenny reached over and turned on the green-shaded lamp on her side table, revealing his bloodshot eyes and quivering lip. She held out her arms and he relaxed into them, but to her surprise didn't cry.
"I tried so hard, Vernie," he said softly. "The only good news I got is that he don't hate you - he hates me."
Laverne pulled Lenny gently over to sit beside her on the couch. "Why would he hate you? The only time I ever seen you fight with my Pop was when he caught you writing dirty words in mozzarella on the floor of the Pizza Bowl."
"It's for something worse," Lenny gulped. "Much worse. I didn't wanna hurt you, I'm sorry if I hurt you, please don't hate me too..."
"Why would I hate you? Lenny!" he tried to curl away from her on the couch, but she forced him to look into her eyes. "What happened? What did my Pop say?"
"It ain't him.
It's what I did." He took
her hand. "Do you ever think about
what we did in
The words made Laverne reel. "I ain't thought about that in a long time." Not since she had tucked aside the thought when she embarked on their affair.
"We didn't wanna hurt you girls. I swear me and Squig were just joking!" Lenny breathed. "I never meant for you to get hurt, Vernie."
"You didn't. Lenny, I ain't never been afraid of you. You're a real sweet guy, you just get carried away sometimes." Before he could apologize, Laverne wrapped her arm around his neck. "You always knew what no means - God knows I've said it to you enough times - and you always stopped when I told you to.
"Or when you hit me with a shoe," he added darkly.
"That night was different, but we were all crazy. We was goin' to a new place and we needed to blow off steam and you boys did it the way you always used to." her fingers traced his long arm. "It just went to far."
"And that was my fau-"
She shook her head, pulling him against her, re-arranging their bodies until he rested against her in a reclining position. Determinedly, Lenny held himself a little aloft from her - Laverne muffled a smirk as she realized they were in the missionary position. "Shirley made it sound worse than it was. She can take care of herself with Squig and I always knew how to take care of myself with you." She immediately flashed back to the fourth grade, when Lenny had shoved her off of her bike on a dare from Hector and she had given him a black eye and a split lip to match the ones she wore.
Lenny seemed to go to the same place, confirming her thought with a laugh, "I think I still got a bruise on my butt from where you kicked me."
"Yeah?" she leered. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"
His eyes widened. "You'd do that?" She grinned and nodded, and his own eyes turned smoky. "You got some boo boos, too?"
"Well..." she tugged up her football jersey, exposing her stomach inch by inch until it cleared her breasts, "I got a lot of spots on me..." she tossed her jersey to the floor, leaving her bare body exposed to his gaze. "Wanna play connect-the-dots, doc?"
Lenny grinned and bit his palm before covering her body with his own, kissing her passionately and deeply from the first.
He broke the kiss suddenly. "You sure you feel okay?" She nodded her head, placing his palm against her forehead. He smiled. "Nice and cool."
That was hilarious to Laverne - her blood felt like lava in her veins, and she languidly rocked her torso against his as he began to kiss her once more, her bare nipples rubbing the soft cotton of his tee shirt. That minor stimulation wasn't enough - she needed more of him. He broke the kiss, licked her throat, tasting the tops of her breasts before sucking the left nipple into his mouth.
That stimulation was keen and sweet, causing Laverne to whine, making her want to beg him for more. She reached down for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, exposing his smooth back, which felt like silk against her palms as she pulled the shirt up. Obediently, Lenny stopped teasing her with his tongue and rose up, holding his arms over his head as she tossed the shirt to the floor. A moment's hesitation followed. She looked into his eyes and tried to tell him of the need she felt.
"I love you, Lenny," she told him simply, and he relaxed visibly.
"Really?"
"Really really," she informed him, then pulled his mouth down to hers.
The kissing became heated, then frantic, their torsos stroking and teasing, her nipples rubbed to hard points against his flesh. His right hand went down between them, shaping her left mound in his hand before beginning to knead, intentionally stimulating both nipples with the rocking of his torso as their heads moved with the motion of the kissing.
Laverne groaned, her head falling backward, her legs rising up and wrapping around his slim hips, closing the space between them and causing Lenny's erection to rub against her pussy through the layers of cotton between them. The hand on her breast felt like an iron brand, and Lenny groaned deeply and began to rub
himself against her.
This is what it would feel like when he was inside of her, she thought, the back-and-forth rocking of their hips thrilling Laverne beyond what she had ever known. She reached down, grabbing his buttocks with both hands, pressing him against her, sharpening the friction. Lenny let out a high-pitched whine, then abruptly pulled away from her, sitting up and climbing off the couch.
"Wah..."
"You almost made me come," he confessed, panting heavily. Suddenly, he held her in his arms, taking the stairs two at a time as he jobbed her up to the room. "I'm a lot of things, Vernie - but I ain't the kinda guy who pops a girl's cherry on a couch."
Lenny's blunt language only seemed to make Laverne's heart beat harder. She was almost in shock as he laid her gently on the bed and began to strip off his pants. She lay back, leaving her panties on, wanting him to take them off. The sudden sight of his nude body, straight and tall by the bed, made her lurch toward the edge and pull him close.
She reached out silently and stroked his hips; on her knees she hunched, running her palms flat over his chest and belly. Her hands moved up - her thumbs tickled his nipples. Lenny's head rocked sideways, his eyes closing as she touched him. Lightly, she ran her palms down his chest until she reached his beltline, then lightly touched his jutting cock. Lenny's knees nearly buckled, and she made room for him on the bed beside her.
Taking the invitation, Lenny climbed into the bed, sprawling out and reaching up for a kiss. She lay down beside him, her left hand going down his body, every finger wrapping itself around his erection. He had such a lovely, well-shaped cock - broad at the tip, lined all over with purple veins. Lenny cried out incoherently, watching her fist stroke him gently, slowly. Laverne knew somewhere inside of herself that he wouldn't be able to take much more teasing, but she wanted him wild, wanted to see the look in his eyes as he went over the edge of reason.
Suddenly, she was flat on her back, Lenny's mouth switching back-and-forth between her nipples, licking and suctioning her flesh as his right hand went between her legs. Laverne could feel her own moisture bedaub his hand through her cotton panties as he stroked, teasing her flesh, knowing she was as ready as he. He hooked the left side of her panties between thumb and forefinger, pushing them aside and pushing immediately between her folds to finger her clit. He had a hard time finding it - fingers going too low, then too high. She reached down and pulled at his wrist until he found what he was seeking. When that first stroke grazed her most sensitive folds Laverne cried out, reached for him, tried to pull Lenny up, but he wouldn't have it. She blinked and his head was between her thighs.
"I gotta taste you," he muttered, kissing her belly. "Let me?"
She nodded. Her last coherent thought was that she hadn't shaved her legs in a week. Then his tongue started lapping at her slit and nothing mattered but the passion between them as she cried out for the joy of it, until her throat refused to work, until she began to come.
Her orgasm was brief, violent, and overwhelming, but what followed was peace and the sound of Lenny's breathing. She knew, now, that tonight was the night - he had proven that he would risk anything to give her wholeness, and she wanted to show him the completeness of her devotion. At last she wouldn't be denied, and shoved him gently away and reached down, pulling off her panties and spreading her thighs. "I'm ready," she informed him bravely.
Lenny leaned over the side of the bed, pulling out his wallet and shaking it apart until he found a rubber - just one, not a dozen. He looked into her eyes as he climbed awkwardly between her legs. "You sure?" She nodded her head. He took a deep breath and tore up the tissue covering the sheath. "I love you, Tigerlily," he informed her.
The name didn't really catch her ear. "Really?"
"Really really." He nodded, grinned, and started to roll the rubber down over his cock.
Or tried to. For some reason, it wouldn't roll smoothly. Lenny winced, struggling with it, and his cock began to go limp.
"Let me help..." she reached out for him, but he tried to keep control of the situation.
"It's sticking to my fingers. My hands are all sweaty. Vernie wait, that's not how you..." her enthusiasm and the dampness of his palms conspired to make a struggle. A low tearing noise caught Laverne's ear, and she looked down to see the tip of his cock poking out of the end of the rubber, the rest of the prophylactic a moist, shredded ring around the midpoint of his waning erection.
Laverne felt a sick sensation of disappointment, but Lenny's high-pitched whine and the fist which struck the mattress said it all. Before he could indulge in further sulking, Laverne gently pushed him back onto the bed. "It's okay."
"No it ain't! I don't got no more rubbers. I don't get my cut from Squignowski until tomorrow, and I took that one from Squig this morning." His eyes brightened. "I could pull out before-"
"No," Laverne said firmly. "That's how my cousin Docia got in trouble. And this week is the worst week for that kind of thing." She wasn't about to explain her period to him, even if he was going to have to live with it for the next sixty years - God willing. Lenny let out a frustrated whine, and Laverne sighed, pulling him over her body. "I don't think I can get in trouble doing what we were doing in the living room." He shook his head. "Let's do that."
It was all of the encouragement Lenny needed. He nudged her knees upward, cupping her rear in his hands and balancing her butt on his knees. He reclined over her, fitting his cock between the lips of her pussy and sliding it between them long ways, so that the entire underside of his cock would stroke against her labia and clit when he thrust. Slowly, then with increasing speed, he slid back and forth against her folds, the heat of his beautiful bare cock sending bolts of desire through Laverne's melting spine.
"Yes!" she called out, grabbing his buttocks again. She awkwardly began to meet his thrusts, feeling his head stroke against her clit as his moves became wild. She stared into his eyes as his features hardened, the passion between them driving him to new heights.
"Ugh! Vernie!" he moaned. She glanced between them, at the cherry-colored head of his cock as it began to friction against her at a blinding speed. At last his spine stiffened, his eyes going wide and then shutting as he called out her name. She watched as the tip of his cock spun three pearl-colored threads across her belly, finally drooling a small puddle against her naval as Lenny groaned, his hips bucking, his body shuddering. Laverne forgot all about her own desire as she stared at Lenny's culmination, fascinated by the silky feeling of his come on his skin. He collapsed against her, sealing the sticky evidence between their heaving bellies.
A long time later, Lenny rose and moved away from her, peeling their skin apart and sheepishly grimacing. "You wanna Kleenex?" She nodded, still catching her breath. He handed her two, and she tried to rub away the white splotches, only to find they had dried up. She scratched at the white stuff, watching it flake.
She looked up at him, noticing the white splotches on his own torso. "I didn't know it'd dry up like that."
"Yeah, that's what happens," he collapsed onto an elbow beside her, a look of total satisfaction on his face. "You ain't sorry we didn't go all the way?"
She shook her head. "When it happens it'll be the right time."
"I guess so." he muttered glumly, his hand resting upon her bare belly.
Even later, she spoke. "Tigerlily?"
He smirked. "I liked it."
"I know," she sighed. "Don't call me that in front of no one else. That name's just for you and me."
He nodded.
"I'm sorry my Pop treated you like that," Laverne rubbed his arm.
"It's okay. You were right, it really don't matter what he thinks. We got you, and me, and our friends and Edna and our babies." He reached up and squeezed her hand. "It'll be a good life, Vernie. I promise."
"I'll hold you to that," she yawned, nestling her head against his shoulder.
"What time you getting up tomorrow?"
"Six."
"Good. I gotta get up at seven to audition that girl. Boy, I'm gonna show Squig!"
Laverne felt a chill in her warm room. "Len, I got something to tell you."
He froze. "What happened to Squig?"
"It ain't Squig. It might be Rhonda," Laverne bravely continued. "She thinks she might have cancer."
In a second, he was up off the bed and putting his pants on. She captured his hand as he buttoned the fly. "I gotta go to him, Vernie." Lenny's eyes glowed with unshed tears. "He needs me."
"Ronda don't want him to know."
Lenny's eyes went wide. "But it'll kill him if he..."
"We can't do this for Rhonda, Len," Laverne said quietly. "She needs to tell Squiggy herself, with no one else in the middle."
"But..."
"I know it's gonna hurt him, if it is. But if it ain't, and we tell him, how's Rhonda gonna take it? She'd cut us out of their lives, Len. Do you want to never see Squig for the rest of your life?" He shook his head. "We gotta wait on this."
"It's lying," he muttered, but he began unbuttoning his chinos.
"It's a sin of omission. It ain't the same thing, and I don't like doing it, either." Lenny crawled back into the bed, and Laverne welcomed him with both arms.
"It'll all turn out okay," he muttered against the top of her head. The last thing she felt was his frustrated grumble, but the last thing she heard was his heart beating against her ear, moving in rhythm to the stroke of his hand. It spoke of his love without a single movement from his lips.
THE END
SOUNDTRACK:
1: Get Rhythm - Johnny Cash
2: I Run For Life - Melissa Etheridge
3: She's In Love With the Boy - Trisha Yearwood
4: Believe What You Say - Rick Nelson
5 And When I Die: Blood Sweat And Tears
6: Head To Toe - Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam