Loads of thanks to Jen for the beta read and to Eileen for helping me remove the "British-isms" from the story!
Stretching his cramped muscles, Mark Cohen yawned and looked up from his notes. He had been so engrossed in his work that he hadn't even noticed the Life Cafe fill up around him over the course of the day.
"Excuse me?" asked a voice from his right.
Mark looked up at the speaker, who was a taller man with blonde hair, currently wearing a slightly hesitant expression.
"Yes?" he said.
"Do you mind if I sit here? Only there are no empty tables left."
"Sure," Mark replied, clearing his things away to make some room. He watched as the other man placed the cup of coffee and the newspaper that he had been carrying on the table then took the seat opposite him, before turning back to his notes.
A sudden flash of inspiration grabbed him and he wrote steadily for the next hour, pausing only to order a fresh cup of coffee. As he came to the end of the rough draft of his latest script, he noticed the waiter arguing quietly with the stranger across the table.
"Look, I'm a little short of cash. I forgot to grab my wallet this morning when I came out."
"So how do you propose to pay for that coffee?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, but I just don't have any money with me."
Without thinking, Mark jumped into the conversation.
"Hey, Chris, don't worry about it. I'll pay for his coffee. In fact, could you get us another cup each?" He turned to the man across the table. "If that's okay with you, I mean?"
"It's great. Thanks for helping me out."
Chris gave Mark an ironic look as he moved to get the drinks. During the few months that he'd seen Mark coming to the Life Cafe he'd participated in many similar arguments, but it was normally someone else offering to bail Mark out, and not the other way round. Mark guessed what the look meant and grinned ruefully at Chris, before looking back at the stranger.
"I'm Mark Cohen, by the way."
"Roger Davis. And I am grateful to you for helping me out."
Mark looked slightly embarrassed. "I only paid for your drink."
"Yeah, but did you see the look the waiter was giving me? I thought I was going to be washing dishes for the rest of eternity!"
Both of them laughed at that as Chris returned and placed two cups of coffee on the table, but fell silent as he moved to help another customer.
"So..." started Roger, fumbling for a conversation topic. "What are you working on here?" He gestured at the notepad in front of Mark, which was covered with messy handwriting.
"Erm... a script for a film."
"Oh, are you a writer?" Roger asked, interested.
"A filmmaker, actually. This is for one of my films. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in here again so I can work on it, because I'm unemployed and penniless right now." Roger gave him a questioning look and Mark sighed as he continued. "My apartment is only fairly small and four of us live there: me, my girlfriend, Maureen, and two friends from college. Maureen and Benny seem to spend all their time sniping at each other lately, when she isn't just plain insulting his girlfriend, that is. Collins is out at work a lot, but when he's home he joins in with the fighting, or starts teasing Muffy - "
"Muffy?" Roger interrupted him.
"Alison. Benny's girlfriend. Collins came up with the nickname last year at college, I never found out why though. Maureen heard him refer to Alison as Muffy once, and decided it suited her, so it stuck. She doesn't know that we call her that, but Benny does and isn't too impressed. Anyway, with all this bickering, I can't concentrate enough to work in the loft, so I come in here most of the time and don't get disturbed. Some days I'll sit in the park, if it's nice out, but mostly I'm in here. And the coffee's good, even if you can't pay for it!" Mark smirked as he said this and Roger responded by rolling his eyes.
"And now that I've rambled endlessly about me, I think it's time to change the subject. Sorry about that. Anyway, what do *you* do?"
"Me? I play guitar and write songs. I've just moved to NYC, and I'm thinking of getting a band together. That's my life in a nutshell."
"Sounds fun. Tell you what, when I'm a rich and successful filmmaker, and your band's world famous, I'll make a film about them!"
"Is that a guarantee?" asked Roger with a smile.
"Definitely. In fact, I'll - " Mark broke off as he noticed an attractive blonde-haired woman knocking on the window of the cafe. She was waving her arms wildly and seemed to be trying to get Mark's attention. "Oh god, Maureen's here! Do you have the time?"
Roger consulted his watch. "Five thirty."
"Shit! I was supposed to meet her at four to buy her a birthday present. I'd better go before she comes in and makes a scene." Mark hurriedly threw all his papers into his backpack, and then tossed a handful of pens in the top. He reached into his pocket as he stood up and pulled out a handful of money, which he dropped on the table. "That should cover everything. It was nice meeting you; sorry I have to run off. 'Bye!"
"See ya!" Roger called back as Mark dashed out of the cafe. Twisting round in his seat, he could see the woman gesturing angrily at Mark, who has and apologetic look on his face and seemed to be trying to get a word in around his girlfriend's rant. Chuckling to himself, Roger turned back to the table and started to read his newspaper again.
Three days later, Mark was back in the Life Cafe, rewriting his script again. He'd worked steadily all morning to try to finish his second draft, but was having problems with it. Pushing the pad aside, he decided to break for lunch to give his mind a chance to clear. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes tiredly then glanced around the cafe. He noticed what seemed to be a familiar face and squinted to see more clearly, before shoving his glasses back on to his nose. As the person came into focus, he realised that he was again looking for somewhere to sit.
"Roger!" he called, waving to attract his attention.
The other man turned towards the voice and smiled in recognition. He made his way quickly through the tables towards Mark, who continued, "You can sit here, if you want."
"Thanks," Roger replied as he placed his tray on the table and sat down. "So, how've you been? Your girlfriend didn't look too impressed with you being late on Tuesday."
Mark grimaced as he remembered. "She didn't stop lecturing me all day. She only forgave me enough to let me out of the apartment this morning!"
Roger laughed as he replied; "She let you off the leash, then?"
"Hey! I do have my own mind, you know. It's just that it tends to be Maureen who makes it up for me... God, that sounds so pathetic, doesn't it?"
"Yup. But I can see why you stick with her..."
"Hey, watch it, buddy, that's my girlfriend you're talking about," Mark said with a mock-threatening look.
"You can't blame a guy for looking," returned Roger with a shrug. "Anyway, how's the script going?"
"Not so good," Mark sighed. "I've got all these ideas for what I want to show, but I'm having problems expressing them. I thought I'd take a bit of a break, to see if I can organise my thoughts. And anyway, I've got a meeting with a producer in," he looked at his watch, "an hours time. I'd better go actually, I have to change into something a bit more professional than this." He gestured at his t-shirt and jeans with a grin.
"You mean 'dress to impress' and all that? Yeah, I'd say changing would be a good idea then." The smile on his face told Mark that his new friend was joking, so he merely stuck his tongue out at him and started to pack his belongings into his old, battered backpack.
"Ooh, mature. Hey, I'm just kidding. Anyway, good luck with your meeting."
"Thanks. See you."
"Yeah, 'bye."
For the second time in less than a week, Roger watched as Mark hurried out of the Life Cafe, his bag on his back and clutching a red and blue sweater he'd been unable to fit into it. Idly, he wondered whether he'd ever meet Mark when he wasn't rushing off to do something, then settled down to eat his sandwich.
"Davis? You in there?" The shouting was accompanied by a pounding on the door, and Roger groaned at the sound of it. He'd been avoiding the motel owner for a week now, as he'd 'accidentally forgotten' to pay any rent on the room he'd been living in for the past month. Figuring that he'd put off the inevitable for as long as possible, he pulled open the door and looked questioningly at the man stood on the other side.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"I'm here for the rent - one month's worth. And I'll want the next month's in advance if you're planning on staying any longer."
"Look, I've got a little money problem right now: no flow. But I'm looking for a job, so if you'll give me another week to - "
"That's what you said last week," interrupted the motel owner. "I told you that this would be your last chance. If you haven't got the money now then you're out of here."
"Fine," said Roger angrily. He stalked over to the table and began to pack his things up. The other man followed him into the room and stood watching. Within ten minutes Roger found himself out of the building, suddenly homeless and carrying his entire life in two bags and a guitar case.
At first he wandered aimlessly, trying to figure out where he could stay. Stopping on a street corner for a rest, he dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of change; barely enough to buy a cup of coffee. He decided that, since it wasn't enough to pay for a place to stay, there was no point in saving it, so instead he set off for the Life Cafe.
Fifteen minutes later, Roger was approaching the now-familiar building. Walking slowly down Avenue B, he could see some sort of scuffle going on just outside the cafe; two heavyset guys seemed to be threatening a smaller man. As he got closer, Roger noticed the distinctive red and blue sweater that the victim was wearing, and realised he'd seen it only a few days earlier - when he'd been talking to Mark. Because of the early hour, the street was quite empty, and no one else seemed to have noticed the fight. Roger knew it was up to him to do something to help his new friend. By this point the thugs had pushed Mark round a corner and down an alleyway, and Roger quickly followed them. Turning the corner, he could see Mark backing nervously down the alley, as one of his attackers demanded, "Give us your money."
"I told you, I haven't got any," Mark replied, a hint of panic in his voice. "Just let me go, please."
The only answer he got was a punch to the face, which knocked his glasses off and sent him tumbling to the ground. Dropping his bags, Roger rushed forward. He swung the first thug round to face him, before punching him in the stomach. This he followed up with a blow to the face. Roger's intervention also distracted the second assailant, who was in the midst of kicking Mark as he lay sprawled on the ground. With both the attackers having turned on Roger, Mark sat up carefully and began patting the floor around him in an attempt to find his glasses. His hand connected with the metal frames and he shoved them back on his nose, wincing as they touched his bruised cheek. With his vision restored, he could see Roger duck one punch thrown at him, but the next one connected painfully with his side.
Looking round hurriedly, Mark noticed a heavy piece of wood lying in the alleyway. Picking it up, he swung it at the first thug, who was stood with his back to him. It connected with the back of his head with a loud crack, and knocked him unconscious. The second thug turned to see the cause of the noise, which gave Roger the opportunity for another solid punch to his face, finally knocking him out too. For a moment, Mark and Roger simply stood and stared at their attackers, then they looked at each other.
"Let's get out of here, before these two wake up," Roger said, and Mark nodded his agreement. Grabbing one of Roger's bags, he set off down the street in a hurry, leaving Roger to collect the rest of his belongings and follow him.
A short way down the road, Mark came to a halt in front of a large building that looked more like a factory than an apartment to Roger. Pulling out a key, he unlocked and opened the front door, then glanced back at Roger.
"My apartment's in here, if you want to come in and get cleaned up."
"Thanks, that'd be great. I must look like I've been mud wrestling or something..." He smiled at Mark, who grinned back before leading the way up the steps and into the building.
After climbing four flights of stairs, Roger found himself outside another door. Again Mark took out his keys and let them in. As he stepped into the apartment, Roger dropped his stuff by the door and looked around. He was standing in a large room, roughly split into three areas by the arrangement of the furniture. Several doors led out of it, presumably into bedrooms. One corner seemed to be the kitchen area, with a small electric stove, sink, and a fridge that had papers piled on top of it. A long table, vaguely reminiscent of those in school cafeterias and surrounded by folding chairs, separated this from the living area. This consisted of a small, red sofa, a couple of almost-matching chairs, and a small television balanced on a rickety coffee table. Many items were thrown about the place, giving it a very lived-in look; most noticeably a video camera, that Roger presumed was Mark's, sat on the table next to a roll of film. Whilst Roger had been staring at the room, Mark had disappeared through one of the doors and now came back out holding a towel, which he passed to Roger.
"The bathroom's in there, if you want to get cleaned up," he said, pointing. As Mark headed to the kitchen sink and started to wipe the dirt off his face, Roger nodded his thanks and entered the bathroom.
Examining himself in the mirror above the sink, Roger suddenly realised exactly how dishevelled he looked. Blood was caked on his face from a nasty cut on his lip, and several bruises seemed to be forming. In addition, his clothes were covered in dirt and his t-shirt was ripped. He filled the sink with warm water and carefully cleaned himself up as best he could, although there was little that he was able to do about the state of his clothes. Deciding that he was as clean as he was going to be, he left the bathroom. He found Mark sat at the table, holding a bag of frozen peas to one eye and looking about as clean as he did himself. He gave Mark a questioning look about the peas as he sat down opposite him, and Mark replied,
"Black eye." He paused, setting the bag down onto the table and putting his glasses back on before adding, "Are you okay?"
"Just a few bruises, nothing serious. You?"
"Same." Another pause. "Thanks for helping me out back there. You didn't have to get involved."
"Well, I owed you for the coffee a couple of weeks ago. I figure we're even now." Roger grinned at Mark and continued, "What did they want, anyway?"
"Just money, which I didn't have. They grabbed me as I was leaving the cafe. I'm just glad I left my camera at home today, or they'd have taken that." Mark looked shaken at the thought, and Roger nodded in understanding.
"Don't worry about it, I feel the same about my guitar." Mark didn't seem quite reassured, so Roger smiled at him again. "Stop worrying about it, you - you four-eyed runt!" Reaching over, he ruffled Mark's hair in a brotherly way. Mark laughed and batted his friend's hand away, before making a futile attempt to straighten his hair again.
"Idiot!" he said, but he smiled despite himself, and there was no malice in his tone. Roger shrugged an apology back at him, inwardly amazed that he'd known this guy less than a month but felt like they'd been best friends for years. The phrase 'connection in an isolating age' sprang into his mind out of nowhere but, he mused, it seemed an appropriate way to describe their sudden friendship. He cast the thought aside, not realising that Mark had been thinking the exact same thing only minutes earlier.
"So... where were you going that you needed to take so much stuff?" Mark asked, changing the subject neatly.
Roger looked slightly uncomfortable. "I got kicked out of my motel room for not paying. I was going to get a drink in the Life Cafe while I tried to think of someplace to stay.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Mark said thoughtfully.
"Don't be, it was a dump. It's just gonna be hard to find somewhere to stay tonight with no money."
"Well, why don't you stay here?" Mark offered.
"Hey, I wasn't angling for an invitation. I don't want to put you out," Roger said quickly, then added, "Or your roommates."
"I know you weren't. And don't worry about the others; they'll understand when I explain it to them. So, what do you think? The couch is free and reasonably comfortable."
"If you're sure, then yeah, I'll stay. Thanks. It'll only be for a couple of days, just until I find something more permanent."
"Actually, we've been thinking of looking for a fifth roommate, anyway. While we get reduced rent, because Benny's girlfriend- "
"Muffy?" Roger interrupted with a grin.
"Yup, Muffy. See, her dad owns the building, so we don't pay full rent, but some of us are still happily unemployed. So another person would help reduce the costs. Are you interested?"
"Well, yes. But you know that I don't have a job, or even any money right now, so - "
"But you're gonna be looking for one, so that's okay. You would have to share a room with Collins though, as he has the biggest, and the only way we can split it is with a curtain or something. But he's easy to get along with - I shared with him at university last year, so I should know. And I will have to ask the others, but I'm sure they'll agree."
"I guess if no one complains then I'd love to move in. Thanks for the offer."
"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad that our last roommate will be someone I actually like!"
And Mark smiled at Roger, who responded with a grin that implied life in the loft would be a lot more exciting when he became part of it, and hinted that the next few years would be far from boring. At the time though, the two men had no idea exactly how true this would turn out to be...
THE END