This is my first fic in a while, but I was inspired the other day. A lot of things in this fic will allude to my last fic "Someday We'll Know', but you don't have to read that one to understand what goes on.
April 12, 1987
Roger scrubbed the shampoo into his hair, digging his too long nails through the bleached tendrils. He dropped his head back and let the water run down his neck and chest, thinking about how his Chinese food would be coming soon. For once, Roger found himself in the loft alone, a rare occurrence.
Mark must've been out filming for his latest documentary, Collins was off molding the minds at NYU and Benny was- well who knows where Benny was these days. Roger smiled to himself, eyes still pressed shut. He loved taking a long shower, with no interruptions, before a late night gig. He'd shower, get his take out and warm up his Fender on the kitchen table while spooning noodles into his mouth.
His concentration was broken when he heard a knock at the door. Damn, the Chinese he thought while quickly drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist, dabbing his dripping hair with a face cloth.
Shuffling across the loft in his bare feet with a ten dollar bill between his teeth, Roger swung the front door opened, leaning against the frame. There stood a girl, a quite attractive girl in fact. Roger noticed that she was certainly not the Chinese delivery boy.
"Hi, I'm looking for Roger Davis," the brunette squeaked out quietly, looking between the half naked man in front of her and a piece of paper. Her hands rested on her hips and she hadn't yet has the chance to meet his eyes. For some reason Roger felt nearly intimidated by her, which was even rarer than the loft being empty.
The sides of his lips curled up into a devilish grin. "You found him." The girl, who looked around his age smiled, and he noticed her quickly glance over his damp chest and arms. She smiled again, and it was only then when he noticed the two suitcases that were resting at her sides.
"I think I'm your new roommate," she said tentatively, "Professor Collins said 11th and Avenue B?"
Roger laughed a little, "You must be Mo. Collins didn't tell me you were," he paused choking back a laugh, "well, a girl. Come in. Shit. Why don't I go get dressed and give you the grand tour?"
I could get used to this, Maureen thought as Roger winked at her and picked up her suitcase from her feet. He dropped her things over by the couch, which was held together by duct tape, and ran to his room, leaving the door conveniently half opened.
Roger looked quickly over his shoulder as he strategically dropped the towel just so the girl sitting on his couch would get a glimpse at his naked backside. She definitely looked, Roger thought, a toothy grin covering his face.
Shit, he caught me looking, Maureen said to herself. She turned her attention to her nails and picked at the skin, looking at her chipped nail polish. Minutes later, Roger returned, clad in a pair of red plaid pants and a black sleeveless tank top. Maureen looked up and met his eyes for the first time. Yes, she thought again, I guess I could live with this.
"Well, this is our lovely living room slash kitchen," Roger narrated in a cheesy British accent, "and over here we have Mark and Collins' rooms. Um, I set you up with Mark thinking you were a dude, so you can camp out in there tonight." He saw her shift on her feet and spoke again. "But we can switch tomorrow. I mean if you want to." Why was he nervous around her? She had barely spoken to him.
"No, no that's fine," Maureen said, bringing her hands up in protest, "from what Collins told me, Mark's not the one I have to worry about." She turned around and winked at Roger before closing the door behind her and retreating to her new bedroom.
Roger turned back around, confused, and picked up his Fender from the couch. He had more important things to worry about than some girl. He had plenty, and in fact, he was sure he'd have a new girl to occupy him in several hours.
As usual, his gig had gone well. Roger jumped off the stage and headed towards the bar, glancing at his watch. 1:23 am. He still had a little time. The bartender pulled out a beer and slid it to him, signaling that it was on the house, payment for a job well done. Roger's attention was now focused on the small brunette bobbing her head to the sound of the music in the bar.
An hour later, this girl was conveniently perched between Roger's legs as he sat on a stool. She faced him, playing with the chain on his leather jacket. He signaled for the door, and she pulled him up from his seat, leading Roger outside.
He hurried with her up the staircase, fumbling with his keys as he tried to let himself in the loft while balancing the girl and his guitar. Laughing and stumbling on the landing, the girl wrapped her arms around him from behind, placing wet, warm kisses down the back of his neck.
Maureen shifted in her bed and looked next to her at Mark, who was sleeping peacefully. She heard the sound of two shuffling feet, the jiggling of keys being thrown, and the laughing of the same pair. Roger. Maureen leaned over, peering out the opened door, just in time to see Roger pinning an unknown girl to the wall outside his bedroom. Some great first night, she thought as she rolled over and willed herself to sleep.
"You get used to it," Maureen heard murmured from the other side of the room. "Soon you won't even wake up." Mark rolled back over, throwing his pillow over his head, trying to ignore the sounds of Roger's squeaky mattress.
"He does this a lot?" she asked, rolling back over to face Mark. He couldn't tell if her tone was annoyed or disappointed. Of course, Mark figured, she was jealous. Everyone wanted Roger.
"It would fit the rock star image, huh?" he said sarcastically, stifling a laugh from beneath his pillow.
"Mm," Maureen whispered, drifting back to sleep, "Night Mark."
Mark smiled and looked back over at Maureen who had just fallen back asleep. There was no denying her beauty. "Night M'reen." Yes, Mark thought, I think I might be able to live with this.
Please review and let me know what you think or if you want me to continue…They keep me writing quicker..
