With a flick of the wrist, she set the bowler hat back on the owner's head. Mimi smiled and winked at him as she took the offered twenty-dollar bill. Glancing surreptitiously at the clock, she found her time was up. Giving a final arch of the back, she sauntered back up the stairs, scissor-kicked, and exited. Behind her came the lingering echoes of wolf-whistles and applause.

As she returned to the dressing room, she ignored the many envious glances at the fan of money tucked in at her hip. She ignored the few efforts to trip her as she walked past the many mirrors. And she tried to ignore the aching feeling that coursed through her veins, her blood crying out for the drug.

She tried and failed miserably. Otherwise, why else would she be standing in this darkened alley, exchanging money for a little bag of white death? As she turned her back on the circle of light in the blackness, her bleary eyes made out a figure running towards her and she stepped back.

Roger grabbed her by the shoulders. "You promised, Meems! You promised that you would stop!" And she was crying, words spilling from her lips, "I can't! You don't understand!"

Roger: You said you'd stop; our love was all you needed.

Mimi: You don't know how it feels, now get off me!

Roger: The drug's eating you, don't waste your money and feed it!

Mimi: I can waste what I want, I need it, don't you see?

Roger/Mimi:

Fight it, you know you can. (How can I fight, it's part of me.)

Do it for me, Mimi. (It's like fighting yourself, I can't!)

You're strong enough, you know it (I'm not strong enough, I feel it,)

Deep down inside. (Deep down inside.)

I did it once, you know I did. (I'm not like you, not strong like you.)

We can help you through it. (No one can help me through this.)

Just let us, please! (Get away from me!)

Roger: Mimi…

Mimi: No one can help me, me me.

Roger: Fine, have it your way.

Mimi: Roger…wait.

Roger: You don't need me, you only need it…and him.

Mimi: Who? Is this about Benny?

Roger: Goodbye love.

Mimi: Wait.

Roger: Don't.

Mimi: I didn't mean…

Roger: Forget it!

He stomped away, heedless of the line of cars stopping for him and honking. Mimi didn't bother to catch up to him or wait for him to turn back. She went the other direction, not caring that she was taking the long way home. Tears trickled down her face as she wiped at them, furiously. The bag of powder in her pocket seemed to taunt her.

In her apartment, she could hear the angry notes of Musetta's Waltz coming from upstairs. There was an occasional wrong note and finally the guitar tune ceased. The needle plunged beneath her skin and she anticipated the high with a rapidly sinking feeling that she had lost something.

-

Two weeks later, two weeks of her ignored notes at his window, she was back at the club. Still shaking from vomiting up her meal a few minutes ago, her trembling hand applied lipstick and eyeliner. "Shit," she muttered as her hand slipped and the black outline of her eye suddenly developed a streak down her cheek. She grabbed for a tissue and rubbed at the line. It didn't fade completely and she hoped no one would notice. That's when the dark hand gently settled on her shoulder.

She glanced at Benny and the corners of her grimly set mouth twisted downwards. The tears once again clung to her lashes and she blinked them away, knowing her makeup was smeared and she looked awful. She didn't give a damn.