A/N: Okay, I know I have never finished my Boho Road Trip story, but I promise I will. I had some technical difficulties with my computer and my stories were lost...very sad *tear*, but I will try to finish it though, when I have the time. But until then, I hope you'll enjoy this multi-chapt fic. It gets very serious and very fast. It takes place in 2009. The title came from the song Side of a Bullet by Nickelback. BTW, on every story that I do, I never have my story planned out, 9 time out 10 I'm 'winging it' and these are one of those times.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters, just the ones I made up. Ofcourse, I trade anyday...

Side Of A Bullet

"Hey, did you read the paper this morning?" Mark sitting at the table in loft, reading the New York Times while drinking his tea. He glances up to see a half sleep Roger on the couch, not even paying attention to his roommate. "Roger, I said did you even heard what I said?"

Roger sighs and mumbles. "What?"

Mark grabs his tea and paper, and walks over to the chair next to the couch. "Check this out. It says, 'May 17, 2009. Christopher Heinsfield vs. The State.

Mr. Heinsfield is being charge with the murder of James Clifford, a store clerk in a Manhattan, during a robbery. His attorney, Joanne Jefferson, has made a statement saying that Mr. Heinsfield is innocent and has framed through this horrific crime. Mr. Heinsfield trial begins tomorrow morning.'" He looks up at Roger to see his reaction, but ofcourse there's none. "Did you hear me? His attorney is Joanne Jefferson."

Roger sits up at the second sound of Joanne's name, confused. "Joanne's defending this guy? This guys committed murder of some innocent store clerk. Never thought she'd turn into the yuppie scum. I mean, why didn't she tell us?"

Mark shrugs his shoulders and looks away. "I don't know, maybe she didn't want anyone to jugde her." He glances back at Roger. "Like you're doing now." Roger shoots him a glare with his eyes and Mark turn back to his paper, reading silently, rubbing his goatee. "Well, I mean, this explains why she hasn't been around for the past few months."

Roger rubs the stubble on his face. "You think Maureen knows?"

Before Mark could answer, the loft door slides open with a chipper Maureen and Collins who's dragging his feet not to far behind.

"Hey guys, we have to get to get out of this place! It's a kick-ass spring day." The diva smile fades. "First I have to take a piss." She runs off to the bathroom.

Collins walks over to the couch and swats Roger's legs off before taking a seat. "Did you guys hear about Joanne?" Mark nods in response. "I don't understand. We've known Joanne for about twenty years, and not once has she ever done something like this."

Mark leans forward, trying to bring the conversation into a whisper. "You guys, maybe we shouldn't judge on this. I mean, we don't know if the guy's innocent or not. After all, she's obviously knows more about this case than anybody, maybe knows something than we do."

Collins glances at Roger, then back at Mark. "You really believe that this guy could be innocent? They say the guy's DNA was all over the store clerk. Makes you wonder how much they're paying Joanne Jefferson to do the case to protect a killer like Christopher Heinsfield."

Mark becomes slightly disgusted on how his friend has said Joanne's name. "After two seconds and you're already saying her name like she was Benjamin Coffin III. You don't know the whole story."

Roger lies back down, placing his feet on Collins lap. Maureen slowly walks into the room, and Mark looks up at her, deep into her eyes. With her saying a thing, he knew exactly what just happened.

"You heard?" He asked, even though deep down he already knew the answer.

Maureen stares at him for a few moments before answering. "Every word."

A/N: Next Chapter, thing gets serious very very fast. Quiet deadly if I do say so myself.