"Where Two Worlds Become One"
By: Sorceress
A/N: A "Crazy for You" fic! How different! What if Patsy and Lank had a secret relationship with everything else going on? Warning: Deep, romantic, passionate, and touching. PG-13.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with crazy for you. It belongs to the ingenious minds of George and Ira Gershwin. However, I did put some actual lines from the show in this story. So don't yell at me.
It was a usual day in Deadrock, Nevada. Well, usual enough with the Zangler Follies around. A few days ago, a guy named Bobby Child, a banker from New York City, came to Deadrock to foreclose on the old Gaiety Theatre that old Everett Baker owned. Everett and his beautiful daughter, Polly, were very upset by this. Well, this Bobby Child character decided somehow to help out and try to bring the theatre back to life by bringing the Zangler Follies and Bela Zangler himself out here, so the Bakers can pay off the mortgage. So now, the Zangler Follies are here in what was once a sleepy, lazy town. And Lank Hawkins, the saloon proprietor, lost everything. Lank had always wanted to buy the old run-down theatre. But would old Everett listen? Of course not. Lank didn't understand why Everett would let a complete stranger take over the place, when he, Lank, had provided practically breakfast, lunch, (alcoholic) drinks, and dinner to the inhabitants of Deadrock. Why? Why! Lank Hawkins was an extremely tall, scrawny man with brown hair and pericing dark eyes that flashed almost vindictively like bullets through the dusty, moldy, desert air. He was busying himself with tending to the three customers in his unnaturally quiet saloon, which had started to go down the drain. Now that the so called "men" of the town were now a bunch of dancing knuckleheads, they had no time to while away the hours drinking, playing cards, and deal with hangovers in the saloon. "Waste of time," Lank thought as he gave Moose his twelfth drink. He didn't understand at all. Not one blasted bit. His main concern now was to prove that all this rehearsing was a complete waste of time! (Well, not that they would be doing anything important anyway) and he had a feeling that this show won't go through. It just can't! Why is he the most intelligent one here? How come nobody else in this poor excuse of a town can see things realistically? Lank thought Polly at least had as much sense as him. A few moments later, Sam, Custus, Wyatt, Polly, and three of the Follies Girls bustled into the saloon, red-faced and looking exhausted. "What a rehearsal!" said Custus. "I'm beat! It's getting there though," said Wyatt. The girls just looked at each other. Lank could tell that the rehearsals weren't going too well. Well duh, did the goofy girls expect to see a bunch of Fred Astaires running around? "Uh, oh yeah! Way better!" said a girl, though she didn't seem too sure about it. Lank recognized her as the dance director, Tess, a tall brunette with an almost abnormally big mouth, and never knew when to keep it shut. "So did yall have fun?" Lank asked sarcastically. "Man, this dancin' is hard stuff!" said Sam. "These girls make it look so easy!" The three girls blushed. "You know Lank, you should try some dancin'," Wyatt said. "I think you'd be good at it!" Lank laughed his trademark, chilling laugh and whirled around to Wyatt. "Tell me, Mister, why I would want to do something that I know I'll never be able to do?" "Oh c'mon Lank, he was only kiddin' with ya," said Sam. "Yeah, Lank, you're so negative," said Custus. "Oh please," said Lank, feeling his temper and already bad attitude rise. "Look, if I can't do that ridiculous dancing, then I know you won't be able to. I mean, really, ladies," he walked over to Tess and the other two girls. "How did they do? How many days have you done those steps? They know nothing about the theatre! I'll prove it to you!" "Lank -," said Polly. "I mean, c'mon ladies. You've seen these guys. They can't even get out of their own way! What makes you think they can do a Charleston? They've been moving in slow motion since they were born!" "Oh shut yer yap, Lank," said Polly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous!" "Jealous?! I'm not jealous!" Lank snapped. "Just frustrated!" "Yeah, yeah," said Polly, laughing, and drifted out to the street. Everyone else went with her, leaving a frustrated Lank alone in his saloon.
"Mr. Hawkins!" called a cold, steely voice. Lank groaned. He unfortunately didn't have to ask who it was. "What?" he said, with absolutely no respect. He looked up and saw a slender, evening gown clad women standing in the saloon behind him, wearing an expression of utmost loathing and disgust. "Why aren't you doing anything about this stupid show? You're the only one here besides me who's against it!" It was Irene, a New York woman who showed up only this morning. Lank had no idea who she was or why she was here. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Lank, turning around. "When was I the official show-annihilator?" Irene scowled. "You're against it!" "Well so are you! You do something about it!" said Lank. "Why should I? I don't live here! Thanks be to God," Irene snapped. "So go home! No one's making you stay!" said Lank, feeling, if possible, more and more irritable. "I'm not going home without B- I mean 'Zangler'," she said in air- quotations. Lank wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't care. "So go talk to him!" Lank said. Irene had nothing to say to this. She just looked at him. Her hatred of him was matched only by his hatred of her. "You want me to do it, don't you?" said Lank, marveling at the stubborn figure before him. "I never said that!" Irene shouted. "I can see it! You want me to do some secret dirty work! Listen Lady, I would. GLADLY. Anything to stop this ridiculous show, for the sake of this town and my business. But I'm not getting into your personal life!" "Fine! Don't do anything! You'll be crying to me later if this show ever does get off the ground!" said Irene. "Okay, one," said Lank, "I don't cry. And if I ever sunk as low as that, I most certainly won't come crying to you! Two, this show will never get off the ground!" "It will if you don't do something soon!" "I don't have to do anything!" Lank said, now spitting with rage. "I know these guys. I've known them since I was a youngin'. I think I know what they are capable of. And trust me, they won't be able to pull this off. And even if by some ungodly reason they get it together, there won't be a show, because NOBODY is gonna want to come all the way out here and see it! We are the middle of nowhere! We shame America! Like I told Everett earlier the other day, WE HAD BODIES LAYING IN THE STREET! We are the ARMPIT OF THE AMERICAN WEST!!!!" Lank was now positively shaking with anxiety, anger, and frustration. He hadn't noticed that a few girls and cowboys drifted in to see what the hollering was about. Irene looked at him. "Whatever you say," she said, obviously unalarmed by the wrath of a touchy cowboy. "I'm taking a nap." She walked upstairs to her room and slammed her door, making sure that dust particles fell onto the clean saloon floor. Lank stared at the handful of men who seemed unperturbed by Lank's almost dangerous fury as they just shook their heads and walked out the door. The girls, however, looked at Lank as if he were a madman. "What?!" he snapped at them. They all jumped and ran out to the street. Lank sat down at a table and put his head in his hands, trying to swallow the scream of misery that was inching to burst out of him. He tried to calm down, gather his thoughts, and just accept the fact that he was doomed. There was no way out. No stinkin' way. He heard someone walk into the saloon but he didn't look up. He rubbed his temples and sighed. Through blurred vision he saw the outline of a tiny, skinny figure drinking from a glass of water from the bar. It was a Follies Girl. He recognized this one too, though he wasn't sure of her name. He couldn't help noticing that she was the only one with hair as yellow as wheat in the summer, and a smile that seemed to give the sun competition. As Lank looked at her, he seemed to feel the frustration and anger ebb away from his body, as if she was some sort of medicine for stress. All he knew was right now he seemed quite content, as he was before Bobby Child showed up. He felt as if some unknown force sucked all his troubles out of him, and he made a silent plea for that girl not to leave. He wanted her to just stand there all day, and watch her drink water after what was most likely a tiring rehearsal. The girl turned to walk away when she caught Lank staring at her. She gasped. "Oh," she said, "Oh, Mr. Lank, I'm sorry, I-I just needed a drink, I'll-I'll leave." Her voice was high pitched and shaky, probably because Lank scared the daylights out of her. She was among the girls who bolted out of the saloon when Lank flipped his lid. 'No.stay.' he pleaded with her silently. But he knew she wouldn't. She undoubtedly saw he, Lank, as a bitter, depressed, unhappy, miserable cowboy who wasn't capable of love, or understanding. But she didn't leave. She was giving him a quizzical look, and then Lank became aware of his awkward silence. "Uh, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. You-you look exhausted. Take as much as you need," Lank said, sounding more curt than he'd anticipated. She looked at him with wide eyes as if she couldn't belive what he had just said. "Uh, thanks, but, uh, I'm okay now." 'She doesn't want to stay,' Lank thought. "Oh. Okay then," Lank mumbled. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked taking a step toward him. Lank's ears perked up. 'Did she just say what I thought she said?' he asked himself. "Oh I'm.I'm okay I guess." "Bad day?" she said with the smallest of smiles. "Uh.yeah.bad day," Lank muttered, feeling a bit stupid for some reason. "I get them too," she said, still standing near the bar. 'Come to me,' Lank thought pleadingly. "Yeah, I-I seem to get them an awful lot," Lank said feeing even more stupid. "You seem a bit distressed," she said, taking another step closer. Normally Lank would've had a sarcastic response to a statement such as this, especially from a little girl from New York. But her big eyes and beautiful face stared down at him in concern, and he just couldn't say anything except for a "Yeah. Yeah, just a little." Wait, that was sarcastic. Doh. To Lank's surprise, she smiled again, but this time it was big, toothy, and radiant. She walked over to him and sat down across from him. Lank felt like he was going to faint as his eyes unintentionally stayed glued to her. She took his wrist and held it to her ear. Lank felt himself tense up as her soft skin cushioned his rough, weather-beaten skin. "You know, you should watch your blood pressure," she said, now holding his wrist up to her ear. He felt soft, blonde curls caress his hand. "You don't wanna know what happened to my Aunt Amelia." She lowered his hand and ran her own through her crop of blonde curls. "Stress is the forceful killer." Lank tried to say something to this, but all that came out was a funny choking noise. "Sorry?" she said. "Uh.nothing," he said. "I mean, yeah, you're right. I should uh.calm down. Can't loose my head." He looked at her. They made eye contact for about two seconds, then they both looked away. She cleared her throat. "Well, I um, I gotta get going.I need to um.talk to Tess." Lank kept staring. Then it hit him. "Oh! Right. Well um, see you." He said gloomily. "'Bye, Mr. Lank," she said, getting up. "Remember what I said about your blood pressure." "What? Oh. Right," he said. She turned and walked away. "Hey," he said as he stood up. She turned around. "What was your name again?" "Oh!" she said. "Patsy." "Patsy," he repeated. "Okay. Thanks." "Yeah," she said. And walked out into the street. Lank watched her until she was out of sight. Marveled at her beautiful figure and natural sweet and innocence. How her hair bounced in the wishy-washy light of the setting sun, how her eyes looked as deep as the sky, how her smile gleamed as if the sun had retired. "Patsy," he said to himself. "Patsy! My God, that's a wonderful name!"
A/N: A "Crazy for You" fic! How different! What if Patsy and Lank had a secret relationship with everything else going on? Warning: Deep, romantic, passionate, and touching. PG-13.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with crazy for you. It belongs to the ingenious minds of George and Ira Gershwin. However, I did put some actual lines from the show in this story. So don't yell at me.
It was a usual day in Deadrock, Nevada. Well, usual enough with the Zangler Follies around. A few days ago, a guy named Bobby Child, a banker from New York City, came to Deadrock to foreclose on the old Gaiety Theatre that old Everett Baker owned. Everett and his beautiful daughter, Polly, were very upset by this. Well, this Bobby Child character decided somehow to help out and try to bring the theatre back to life by bringing the Zangler Follies and Bela Zangler himself out here, so the Bakers can pay off the mortgage. So now, the Zangler Follies are here in what was once a sleepy, lazy town. And Lank Hawkins, the saloon proprietor, lost everything. Lank had always wanted to buy the old run-down theatre. But would old Everett listen? Of course not. Lank didn't understand why Everett would let a complete stranger take over the place, when he, Lank, had provided practically breakfast, lunch, (alcoholic) drinks, and dinner to the inhabitants of Deadrock. Why? Why! Lank Hawkins was an extremely tall, scrawny man with brown hair and pericing dark eyes that flashed almost vindictively like bullets through the dusty, moldy, desert air. He was busying himself with tending to the three customers in his unnaturally quiet saloon, which had started to go down the drain. Now that the so called "men" of the town were now a bunch of dancing knuckleheads, they had no time to while away the hours drinking, playing cards, and deal with hangovers in the saloon. "Waste of time," Lank thought as he gave Moose his twelfth drink. He didn't understand at all. Not one blasted bit. His main concern now was to prove that all this rehearsing was a complete waste of time! (Well, not that they would be doing anything important anyway) and he had a feeling that this show won't go through. It just can't! Why is he the most intelligent one here? How come nobody else in this poor excuse of a town can see things realistically? Lank thought Polly at least had as much sense as him. A few moments later, Sam, Custus, Wyatt, Polly, and three of the Follies Girls bustled into the saloon, red-faced and looking exhausted. "What a rehearsal!" said Custus. "I'm beat! It's getting there though," said Wyatt. The girls just looked at each other. Lank could tell that the rehearsals weren't going too well. Well duh, did the goofy girls expect to see a bunch of Fred Astaires running around? "Uh, oh yeah! Way better!" said a girl, though she didn't seem too sure about it. Lank recognized her as the dance director, Tess, a tall brunette with an almost abnormally big mouth, and never knew when to keep it shut. "So did yall have fun?" Lank asked sarcastically. "Man, this dancin' is hard stuff!" said Sam. "These girls make it look so easy!" The three girls blushed. "You know Lank, you should try some dancin'," Wyatt said. "I think you'd be good at it!" Lank laughed his trademark, chilling laugh and whirled around to Wyatt. "Tell me, Mister, why I would want to do something that I know I'll never be able to do?" "Oh c'mon Lank, he was only kiddin' with ya," said Sam. "Yeah, Lank, you're so negative," said Custus. "Oh please," said Lank, feeling his temper and already bad attitude rise. "Look, if I can't do that ridiculous dancing, then I know you won't be able to. I mean, really, ladies," he walked over to Tess and the other two girls. "How did they do? How many days have you done those steps? They know nothing about the theatre! I'll prove it to you!" "Lank -," said Polly. "I mean, c'mon ladies. You've seen these guys. They can't even get out of their own way! What makes you think they can do a Charleston? They've been moving in slow motion since they were born!" "Oh shut yer yap, Lank," said Polly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous!" "Jealous?! I'm not jealous!" Lank snapped. "Just frustrated!" "Yeah, yeah," said Polly, laughing, and drifted out to the street. Everyone else went with her, leaving a frustrated Lank alone in his saloon.
"Mr. Hawkins!" called a cold, steely voice. Lank groaned. He unfortunately didn't have to ask who it was. "What?" he said, with absolutely no respect. He looked up and saw a slender, evening gown clad women standing in the saloon behind him, wearing an expression of utmost loathing and disgust. "Why aren't you doing anything about this stupid show? You're the only one here besides me who's against it!" It was Irene, a New York woman who showed up only this morning. Lank had no idea who she was or why she was here. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Lank, turning around. "When was I the official show-annihilator?" Irene scowled. "You're against it!" "Well so are you! You do something about it!" said Lank. "Why should I? I don't live here! Thanks be to God," Irene snapped. "So go home! No one's making you stay!" said Lank, feeling, if possible, more and more irritable. "I'm not going home without B- I mean 'Zangler'," she said in air- quotations. Lank wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't care. "So go talk to him!" Lank said. Irene had nothing to say to this. She just looked at him. Her hatred of him was matched only by his hatred of her. "You want me to do it, don't you?" said Lank, marveling at the stubborn figure before him. "I never said that!" Irene shouted. "I can see it! You want me to do some secret dirty work! Listen Lady, I would. GLADLY. Anything to stop this ridiculous show, for the sake of this town and my business. But I'm not getting into your personal life!" "Fine! Don't do anything! You'll be crying to me later if this show ever does get off the ground!" said Irene. "Okay, one," said Lank, "I don't cry. And if I ever sunk as low as that, I most certainly won't come crying to you! Two, this show will never get off the ground!" "It will if you don't do something soon!" "I don't have to do anything!" Lank said, now spitting with rage. "I know these guys. I've known them since I was a youngin'. I think I know what they are capable of. And trust me, they won't be able to pull this off. And even if by some ungodly reason they get it together, there won't be a show, because NOBODY is gonna want to come all the way out here and see it! We are the middle of nowhere! We shame America! Like I told Everett earlier the other day, WE HAD BODIES LAYING IN THE STREET! We are the ARMPIT OF THE AMERICAN WEST!!!!" Lank was now positively shaking with anxiety, anger, and frustration. He hadn't noticed that a few girls and cowboys drifted in to see what the hollering was about. Irene looked at him. "Whatever you say," she said, obviously unalarmed by the wrath of a touchy cowboy. "I'm taking a nap." She walked upstairs to her room and slammed her door, making sure that dust particles fell onto the clean saloon floor. Lank stared at the handful of men who seemed unperturbed by Lank's almost dangerous fury as they just shook their heads and walked out the door. The girls, however, looked at Lank as if he were a madman. "What?!" he snapped at them. They all jumped and ran out to the street. Lank sat down at a table and put his head in his hands, trying to swallow the scream of misery that was inching to burst out of him. He tried to calm down, gather his thoughts, and just accept the fact that he was doomed. There was no way out. No stinkin' way. He heard someone walk into the saloon but he didn't look up. He rubbed his temples and sighed. Through blurred vision he saw the outline of a tiny, skinny figure drinking from a glass of water from the bar. It was a Follies Girl. He recognized this one too, though he wasn't sure of her name. He couldn't help noticing that she was the only one with hair as yellow as wheat in the summer, and a smile that seemed to give the sun competition. As Lank looked at her, he seemed to feel the frustration and anger ebb away from his body, as if she was some sort of medicine for stress. All he knew was right now he seemed quite content, as he was before Bobby Child showed up. He felt as if some unknown force sucked all his troubles out of him, and he made a silent plea for that girl not to leave. He wanted her to just stand there all day, and watch her drink water after what was most likely a tiring rehearsal. The girl turned to walk away when she caught Lank staring at her. She gasped. "Oh," she said, "Oh, Mr. Lank, I'm sorry, I-I just needed a drink, I'll-I'll leave." Her voice was high pitched and shaky, probably because Lank scared the daylights out of her. She was among the girls who bolted out of the saloon when Lank flipped his lid. 'No.stay.' he pleaded with her silently. But he knew she wouldn't. She undoubtedly saw he, Lank, as a bitter, depressed, unhappy, miserable cowboy who wasn't capable of love, or understanding. But she didn't leave. She was giving him a quizzical look, and then Lank became aware of his awkward silence. "Uh, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. You-you look exhausted. Take as much as you need," Lank said, sounding more curt than he'd anticipated. She looked at him with wide eyes as if she couldn't belive what he had just said. "Uh, thanks, but, uh, I'm okay now." 'She doesn't want to stay,' Lank thought. "Oh. Okay then," Lank mumbled. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked taking a step toward him. Lank's ears perked up. 'Did she just say what I thought she said?' he asked himself. "Oh I'm.I'm okay I guess." "Bad day?" she said with the smallest of smiles. "Uh.yeah.bad day," Lank muttered, feeling a bit stupid for some reason. "I get them too," she said, still standing near the bar. 'Come to me,' Lank thought pleadingly. "Yeah, I-I seem to get them an awful lot," Lank said feeing even more stupid. "You seem a bit distressed," she said, taking another step closer. Normally Lank would've had a sarcastic response to a statement such as this, especially from a little girl from New York. But her big eyes and beautiful face stared down at him in concern, and he just couldn't say anything except for a "Yeah. Yeah, just a little." Wait, that was sarcastic. Doh. To Lank's surprise, she smiled again, but this time it was big, toothy, and radiant. She walked over to him and sat down across from him. Lank felt like he was going to faint as his eyes unintentionally stayed glued to her. She took his wrist and held it to her ear. Lank felt himself tense up as her soft skin cushioned his rough, weather-beaten skin. "You know, you should watch your blood pressure," she said, now holding his wrist up to her ear. He felt soft, blonde curls caress his hand. "You don't wanna know what happened to my Aunt Amelia." She lowered his hand and ran her own through her crop of blonde curls. "Stress is the forceful killer." Lank tried to say something to this, but all that came out was a funny choking noise. "Sorry?" she said. "Uh.nothing," he said. "I mean, yeah, you're right. I should uh.calm down. Can't loose my head." He looked at her. They made eye contact for about two seconds, then they both looked away. She cleared her throat. "Well, I um, I gotta get going.I need to um.talk to Tess." Lank kept staring. Then it hit him. "Oh! Right. Well um, see you." He said gloomily. "'Bye, Mr. Lank," she said, getting up. "Remember what I said about your blood pressure." "What? Oh. Right," he said. She turned and walked away. "Hey," he said as he stood up. She turned around. "What was your name again?" "Oh!" she said. "Patsy." "Patsy," he repeated. "Okay. Thanks." "Yeah," she said. And walked out into the street. Lank watched her until she was out of sight. Marveled at her beautiful figure and natural sweet and innocence. How her hair bounced in the wishy-washy light of the setting sun, how her eyes looked as deep as the sky, how her smile gleamed as if the sun had retired. "Patsy," he said to himself. "Patsy! My God, that's a wonderful name!"