Sorry this is short, but I want to set the mood. Um, I don't own RENT, obviously. I hope you like it! Might continue, might not. But hey, that's the story with most first chapters. Oh, and, as of now, I have awful writer's block on my other stories, so it may be a while before I update them. Sorry for the delay!
Roger sadly strummed his guitar, smiling slightly when a few loose coins were tossed in his case. He continued playing Musetta's Waltz, his favorite tune. Of course, ever since he'd left New York and came to Santa Fe, the piece became and unfriendly reminder of the life- and friends- he'd left behind.
Roger closed his eyes, still plucking away, remembering all the good times he'd had with his fellow bohemians. Dancing at the Life- that'd been fun. And Maureen's protest had been a riot, no pun intended of course.
Roger opened his eyes and looked at the ground, trying to blink away tears. Maybe it would be best not to think about the fellas back home. Something, however, made his eyes widen.
Someone had just placed a fifty-dollar bill in his guitar case. It had to be a mistake. No one had ever given him that much money before. Heck, he hadn't seen a fifty since he was a little kid at Christmas.
He looked up to thank the giver, but was driven to silence when he saw a familiar face- Joanne Jefferson. Shocked, Roger stopped plucking abruptly and just stood there, dumbstruck.
"Hey there stranger," Joanne said kindly, "It looks like you could use a meal. Care to join me?"
Roger smiled childishly, clutching his guitar closer. "Yes, please." He mumbled, packing up. Good old Joanne, always where she was needed most.
ABC
"So what are you doing here?" Roger asked, stacking the tubes of cream into a little pyramid.
"I couldn't stand to be in New York anymore," she answered, taking one of the tubes from the bottom of the pile to put into her coffee, "Everything reminded me of Maureen. I couldn't figure out where to go, so I figured I'd follow you to Santa Fe."
Roger nodded thoughtfully, eying the plate of spaghetti the waitress had just brought. Spaghetti had always been his guilty pleasure. Roger ate hungrily, slurping up the noodles like when he was a kid. Joanne laughed, carefully winding the noodles around her fork.
For the first time since his arrival in this new place, Roger was happy. Joanne was his friend and had brought a little bit of New York with her, something Roger really needed.