My first RENT fic, so be easy. Set in 1991, but they're younger, you'll find out. :o) AngelCollins, MarkMaureen, RogerMimi. Quite AU. LEXIRENT97: All for you.
~obsessive-elphaba
There's not much you can say about Angel. He... She was quite something. Being a performer, he'd wow a lot of people. Seeing a drag queen in person is all the more amazing. "Step aside people, Angel has to get her beauty sleep. BUT she will be signing autographs at the Manhattan Mall on Wednesday." A tall man stood in front of the door where the star would exit. Tom Collins watched patiently as the people complained and muttered before leaving. "Hey, kid!" The guard shouted. Teenager Collins, nearly seventeen, jumped at the threatening voice. "I said leave."
He didn't sound at all as nice as Angel did singing her song. How did it go... Today for you, tomorrow for me. "I was just wondering..." Collins stuttered. "If I could see Angel... just for a second..." Angel was one of his favorite singers and performers. Collins owned every cassette and CD (s)he put out.
"What makes you so special? Huh, kid?"
Collins looked down. "My dad just died."
The security guard looked a bit moved by the kid's story. "Well... maybe I can squeeze you in..." Collins smiled gratefully at the man who opened the door for him. "Now I can't guarantee you'll get in, but I'll try."
"Thank you so much." Collins nodded.
"No problem, kid." He smiled a toothy grin at the teenager who just got a little bit more excited. He literally had a chance to meet the biggest celebrity in New York City. One of the most popular throughout the United States. The guard knocked on a door. "Angel."
After a pause, a voice responded, "Danny? Is that you. Would you be a dear and fetch me some hot tea. I'll surely catch a cold in this weather!"
"Actually, one of your fans wants to see you." Danny replied.
"Oh..." The voice seemed disappointed. "Send him in."
"Well, kid, here's your chance. Try not to squeal." Danny laughed. Though Tom Collins was not a squealer.
Collins happily opened the door and was automatically blasted with extremely loud music. Madonna's "Vogue" played. And Angel, in all her glory was doing squats and singing along. "Oh, hi! Please excuse the mess, honey. I'm just a natural pig." She rolled her eyes at herself. Collins didn't know what to say. "Honey, speak up will you? I'm not that amazing." Angel blushed.
"Hello..." Collins settled for.
"What's your name?" Angel asked, turning down the casette player.
"My friends call me Collins, Tom Collins." He replied.
"Tom Collins. If that isn't the best name ever, I don't know what is." The celebrity smiled and sat down on a couch. "So, Collins, you want me to sign your CD or something? Hmmm?"
"Actually," Collins had finally found his voice, "I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for your work. Your songs just bring so much inspiration. It's because of you my dad lasted as long as he did."
"What happened to your dad?"
"He died."
"How?"
"AIDs." Collins said sadly.
Angel frowned. "I'm sorry, honey."
"It's okay. You saved him."
"How?" This confused her to no end.
"Your music. He said that it gave him hope for my mom. He never stopped believing." Collins shrugged.
"I thought you got that from Journey." Angel replied. "Do you want something to eat while we chat?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Roger Davis struggled with his math homework, his friend Mark fiddling with his scarf. Gosh, it was so boring! "Well, I'm done." He finally said, grabbing his guitar.
"Already?" Mark questioned.
"I got bored. Can you call up Maureen? We need to practice." It had been nearly a week since the Packing Peanuts (as they had decided the band would be called) had rehearsed.
"Why me?" Mark said, blushing.
"Because she's your girlfriend." Roger rolled his eyes. "You're such a loser."
As if on cue, Maureen climbed up the window and knocked. Mark clicked it open. "Hey baby." She gave him a quick kiss before turning serious. "Benny quit."
That was unexpected. "What?" Roger widened his eyes. "He can't quit!"
"He quit." Maureen bounced onto the bed. "And we still need to find a drummer."
"Crap." Roger looked down. "What about April? She can sing and you can be bass."
"Oh yeah, play an instrument I've never studied." Maureen rolled her eyes. "Besides I'm the singer, and April can't sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' without killing some kind of animal." Maureen and Mark laughed because they knew it was true.
"She's not that bad." Roger insisted.
"Yes, she is." Mark spluttered while holding his side laughing.
Maureen kicked her legs and shouted, "You must be deaf if you don't think she sounds like a frog."
"And a cow." Mark added.
"Combined by the power of science."
"Experiment fail."
"You guys suck." Roger replied.
"You only know it's true." Maureen sat up before frowning.
"You guys think I can't sing?" April, who had appeared at the door, crossed her arms.
"We never said you couldn't sing..." Mark started.
"We just said you couldn't sing very well." Maureen smiled nervously.
"Rogey." April turned to her boyfriend. "I can sing; can't I?"
"Of course you can." Roger supplied a weak smile.
"Then you'll fire her and make me the singer. Right?" Puppy dog eyes, pouty lips.
"I can't do that." Her boyfriend shook his head.
"She can't do that look right either." Maureen whispered to Mark.
"Why not?" April demanded stubbornly.
"Because, Maureen's the best we've got. If I fired her and hired you, it would be...." He trailed off, knowing this was not the right thing to say to his girlfriend.
"It would be what? Would it suck because I can't sing?" She accused. Roger didn't say anything. What could he say? She had a voice like an angel? That would be a lie, and he'd have to let her sing. That would be torture. "Fine. When you're ready to apologize and let me in the band, you can tell me." And the redhead stormed out.
"Wow." Maureen mumbled with a frown. She felt like she had been insulted in some way, but all she heard was that she could sing and April couldn't.
"Shut up." Roger snapped at her. "What are we going to do? We can't have a band just the two of us!"
"I'm part of the band, too." Mark interjected.
"He means performers, pookie." Maureen replied. "And if it's really so important that we get some new people; we have to actually start meeting new people." A flicker of devilish light shot in Maureen's eyes at the idea.
"If it interests you. I met someone who can play some instruments. Her name is Mi-" Mark started.
"Guys!" A rather excited - too excited - Collins ran in the door. "Guess what!"
"What?" Roger asked, frustrated by his optimism.
"I met the coolest person ever." He sat on the bed, rather calm now.
"Who?" Maureen had never heard of anyone cooler than herself.
"Angel Dumott Shunard." Collins smiled, ego bursting at having met the biggest celebrity ever known.
"The Angel?" Mark asked, having been a fan since he and Collins met in kindergarten.
"The Angel." Collins nodded.
"Did you get his autograph?" Maureen asked.
Collins frowned. "Well... no. We had popcorn."
"I doubt it." Roger sighed, slumping into an old loveseat. "'We had popcorn.' Did you watch a movie, too? Or did he take you to Chinatown?" He mocked.
"I really met him." Collins snapped back.
"Yeah right! That concert was sold out in three hours. How did you get a ticket?" Roger was skeptical.
"Season passes." Collins rolled his eyes.
"I'm not buying it."
"Come to the mall with me Wednesday, and I'll prove it."
"Fine." Roger replied. His tone proved that he still had no faith in what his friend said.
"Anyway..." Mark started. "The girl's name is Mimi."