Summary: Five years after the series timeline's ended has ended; Laverne has come to New York to help Shirley deal with Walter's being shipped to Vietnam. Her life changes forever when she hears and all-to-familiar song on the Radio. (Sorry for last week's incomplete summary!)
Notes: Please feed the author through the lists or through Squeaky's board; I'm new to the fandom and am dying to know how I'm doing. Please be kind!
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Laverne knew that New York had changed since Laverne and Carmine had journeyed there to audition for West Side Story eight years before. It was still a ritzy town, all right, with it's neon lights and honking horns, but it had become darker and dingier since she had been. More crowded, too.
Laverne clutched her suitcase and purse to her chest and quickened her step down Fifth Avenue, looking left and right at the towering buildings. Hippies, the upper crust, and all of the folks in between pushed their way past her in throngs. That didn't really bother her; she shoved right back. The crowd and noise reminded her of Milwaukee, which energized her step. Now and then, someone would stare at her, point or whisper. She hurried on, wondering if they were making fun of the out-of-towner.
When She shoved through the revolving door of the Ritz Carlton, a snooty-looking, short desk clerk waited for her. She peered over his desk; met by the fascinated stare of the desk clerk.
"Do you got a Miss..I mean, a Mrs. Walter Meeny stayin' here?" She asked.
The clerk's eyes widened, "Ah yes...Might your name be Laverne?"
Laverne tilted her head, "Yeah."
He handed the keys to her, but as soon as they hit her palm he pulled them away, "You may have these on the condition that you tell the Ocean Breezes they are the grooviest group ever!"
Laverne's eyes almost crossed in confusion, "Yeah, OK." She said, through a tentative smile, she decided not to make a scene and embarrass Shirley.
She got in the elevator and rode to the floor engraved into the key given to her. Suite Eight on the sixth floor proved as elegant as she had thought it might be. It was as pretty as the suite she and Shirley had stayed in when they'd won that radio contest. Shirley and Carmine had posed as a bride and groom; too bad it never ended up becoming a fact.
She knocked carefully on the door; it was five in the morning. Veeny was probably still sleeping.
The door slipped open almost immediately and just as quickly Shirley fell into her friend's open hug for quick, tight hug.
"Shirley?" She asked in a low voice.
Shirley nodded against Laverne's chest,lifting away from her. "Come inside; Veeny's still sleeping."
Shirley closed the door and sat down beside Laverne. They took one another in, for the first time in four years.
Shirley hadn't changed much; her perky beauty remained unmarred by marriage. Only her hair had grown a bit longer since Veeny's birth. She wore a plain blue peasant dress. Laverne could see that she'd been crying.
"How're you, Shirl? How's Veeny doing?"
"I told her that her father's going on a trip," Shirley explained, "I hope that that's really all it will be for him."
"I hope it will, Shirl," Laverne shook her head, "Vietnam; just think, Shirl, all of this wouldn't have happened without the dumb war."
The words were meant to make Shirley feel better, but she stiffened. This had been the only true argument the two friends had ever entered in to. Fearing for their friendship, Laverne had called a truce.
"Let's not discuss that, Laverne," She said firmly, "How's Mr. DeFazio and Mrs. Babbish?"
"Pop's doin' good," Larvene smiled, "He's trying to get a new Neighborhood Watch program up. Edna's busy with Cowboy Bills, an' they both send their love." It had taken an hour to secure Edna and her pop's promise to take over her duties at Cowboy Bills' indefinitely. Lucky thing, working at her father's restaurant. The department store would have laid her off.
"I send them my love, too. How're Lenny and Squiggy."
"Squig's enjoyin' Military life too much," Laverne laughed (Shirley shuddered, either in memory of Squiggy or the ROTC and Sgt. Plout), "And Len..." She drifted off.
Shirley watched Laverne's face, trying to figure out if she was having some sort of 'impure' thought when she said Lenny's name. But Laverne's expression was impassive. She couldn't tell a thing from her face. Shirley sighed, "What's wrong with Lenny?"
"I haven't heard from him in a month," Laverne said, smoothing the material of her skirt across her knee, "I don't know."
Shirley smiled, secritively, "He called me last night."
"Waah! No!" Laverne's eyes widened, "Yeah?"
"Uh-huh. He's here in New York."
Laverne's grinned crookedly, "Yeah, well so's Carmine."
"Ha Ha," Shirley replied, "It just so happens that Carmine sent me tickets to Godspell this morning." Laverne didn't like the pale tone to Shirley's skin when she heard Carmine's name though.
"I don't know if I should go to the show, tho'," Laverne said, "People kept on looking at me funny on the street, like they knew me. And the desk manager said he'd only give me a key if I tol' the Ocean Breezes how groovy they are."
Shirley giggled. It was a sort of nervous giggle. The sort that made Laverne sure that she had been hiding something from her.
"You're hidin' somethin' from me?" Laverne asked, her curiosity piqued.
Shirley shook her head vehemently, "No!"
"Sorry, Shirl," Laverne sighed, "I just feel weird, bein' looked at like a freak."
"Maybe if you get some sleep you'll feel better," Shirley gave her friend another hug. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."
"S'OK. I'll sleep here. You're with Veeny?"
"On a cot in her room, in case she can't sleep. There are blankets on the couch." Laverne found them as Shirley said this.
"See you in the morning Shirl."
"See you, night, Vernie," She whispered back.
"Night, Shirl," Said Laverne, as she slipped beneath the blankets Shirley had laid out for her. The lights were off.
Laverne laid in the semi dark and almost quiet of this New York hotel room. She was wide-awake. Without a beverage bar in sight, she knew milk 'n' Pepsi wouldn't be available to nurse her to sleep. She unbuckled her suitcase and withdrew a portable radio, turning it on and putting the volume at a very low level under her pillow.
Just as she had begun to slip away, the sound of a familiar song began to drift into her ear. But the sound pulled her to consciousness.
Nah. she thought, That's not....
She sat straight up, the radio pressed to her ear. It was the same song that made her cringe six years before, but sung by some sort of folk singer.
"I've heard it said, that life is dumb....The things you want, don't ever come," warbled the singer, to the sound of an acoustic guitar, "But that is not my prob-e-lem..I'm in love with Laverne..."
(More Soon! WL, Missy)