"Story" (part one of three)
Notes at end of part three.
---------------
"Story"
By Bri and Kait
---------------
Taryn walked briskly through the crowds surrounding the entrance to the
subway. She hated the god-forsaken subways. The commuters always made her late for work.
*Of course,* the little voice in the back of her head told her, *if you actually made an effort to get up more than ten minutes before your shift, this problem could be easily solved....* She told the voice to fuck off. The voice didn't stop. *Oh, gladly,* it retorted. *If you could actually find someone to attach yourself to.* Taryn made a good effort to ignore the voice as she continued her journey through the chilly fall air up towards the lot between Avenues A and B. A friend of hers had mentioned some nut was staging a protest in about twenty minutes. Ever since her expletion from school due to her own untimely riotous protest, her friends had tried to inform her of every similar event in the area. Living in the East Village of NYC, that wasn't too hard an endeavor.
Finally, she spotted her destination. A small clump of people were already mulling around the entrance to the vacant lot, talking, laughing, and groping. It wasn't the first time that night that she had wished she had conformed to the normal New York policy of carrying heavy weaponry everywhere. Still, she did her best not to jostle the people she was walking by too hard. She did her best but, as her parents had sometimes said to her during high school, her best obviously wasn't good enough.
-----
*This smoke is enough to choke someone to death...* Mark sneezed as he
dropped the amp he was hoisting on his toe. "Shit!" he yelped, glancing down
at the injured foot. The tennis shoe now had a nice big hole in it; a perfect view of his foot, which was rapidly turning black and blue. *Shitshitshit!*
A faint chuckle came behind him. Mark whirled.
"Maureen, this is not fucking funny. This is YOUR fucking performance, and
thus it is your fucking fault that I have to buy another pair of fucking
shoes..."
She grinned in her carefree way, brown eyes twinkling with ill-concealed
mirth. "Save it for the performance." Her smile turning a bit
seductive, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to continue
adjusting her mic.
*That woman.* Mark shook his head as he once again lifted the amp, trying to
ignore the throbbing pain in his toe. *She knows that she drives me insane... dammit, that's probably the point.*
Once the machine was in its proper place, he gathered the wires and began
connecting them to the amp. A familiar voice came from behind him. "I
always said you were a sucker."
"It's rather obvious, Roger." Red to red, black to black. "Test that mic
for me, will you?"
"MARK IS A SUCKER!" Pause. "Yeah, it works. Why the hell do you keep doing
all this stuff for Maureen? You know she's using you."
Mark shrugged his thin shoulders, pulling his coat a little more tightly around him for warmth. At nine o'clock, the air was getting a bit chill. The filmmaker turned to face Roger. "I know, but I can't let her bomb a performance because of technical difficulties, and we all know that Joanne can't do th--holy shit."
"What?" Roger craned his neck in the same direction Mark did.
"That...woman. Have you seen her anywhere before?" He admired her short stature; shining brown hair fell to the shoulders of her slight frame. *Gorgeous. Jesus.*
The guitarist let out a wolf whistle. Immediately, the woman whipped around. Mark burned red and ducked behind the amp. "I'm telling Mimi you did that,"
he warned as he pretended to fiddle with the cords.
Taryn whirled around as she heard the whistle. It only took her a moment to locate the source: two guys standing by the "stage" trying to set up some electrical equipment. After a moment she recognized the blonde. It was the same person she had run over on her way in. From his hunched, nervous position behind some sort of machine (an amplifier? A speaker? Damned if she could place it...), she got the impression someone else had sent out the cat
call. His tall, lanky friend was laughing, which, she assumed, meant that he
had been the culprit.
She sent what she hoped was a wry, dangerous smile in their direction, and turned back to the crowd, looking for her friend Ingrid. *That is, if Ms. Junior Bussiness Executive can make it,* she thought icily.
She thought she spotted her friend once or twice, but it turned out to be the same homeless junkie both times. *Maybe they should give out name tags like we used to have in pre-school,* one part of her brain mused. She had done a lot of mulling over preschool life lately. In her opinion, the world would be much better if people were forced to conform to the same simple rules presented by pre-k classes. *No spitting on other kids, no running, share,
clean up, and--*
"No kicking over other people's blocks," she murmured allowed as she spotted Ingrid. "Yo! Ingrid! Over here!" She jumped up and down rapidly, hoping to
catch Ingrid's attention. From the look on the young Asian woman's face (and
the look of her spotless black slacks, red sweater, and matching hat and
scarf set), she had done a bit too much as far as attention getting was
concerned.
"Hey Taryn," Ingrid said quickly. "Are you still mad at Martha?" Taryn thought the question to be a bit peculiar. Martha was the first blatant back-stabber that Taryn had ever met. She was a selfish, self-centered, egotistical, and psychologically disturbed girl whom Taryn had met in seventh grade. Of course, she didn't know Martha had possessed any of those traits at the time. It wasn't until sophmore year that she had really shown her true colors. She believed Taryn to be a stuborn, immature, antisocial brat. Tayrn agreed with every term, save for brat, and that just bothered Martha more.
"Ingrid, I dispise Martha. I have since highschool. Remember what I wrote in
her yearbook at graduation?" Ingrid gave her a blank stare. "I can't believe," she muttered under her breath. "How could you forget?! 'Bite me you insensitive bitch. Why don't you go fuck yourself, No one else will. Did you actually think I'd write something charming? DON'T call.' See? I memorized it! She hates me! Remember?" Ingrid shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, a definite warning sign that something was wrong.
*Shit,* Taryn thought miserably.
"Martha came with me," Ingrid admitted weakly. "She's over there." When Martha saw them, she came skipping over. Taryn breifly considered the quickest, easiest ways to kill herself as Martha squealed in appreciation. That was the only other notable thing about Martha. The psychological disturbance came into her psyche by causing her to ignore everything someone did to her or vice versa when the time came to confront them again.
"Tar!" she shrieked. "It's so great to see you!" Taryn glared at Ingrid as Martha grabbed her and hugged her. "Ingrid told me allll about your college problems, and I feel *so* badly!" Taryn tried to put on a non-acidic expression as she formulated a response. Luckily, Martha smacked her lightly, a wide-eyed expression on her face. "That guy over there is *so* staring at you, Tar!"
Taryn turned, despite Ingrid and Martha's insistance to do otherwise. *That
weird blonde guy again,* she thought absently. "This is the third time I've run into him all night. I think I'm gonna go talk to him." She wasn't sure whether she was going to get away from Martha or just to see him up close, but she quickly found herself weaving in and out of protesters towards the stage area.
Mark lightly hopped down from the stage, giving Roger one last evil glare. "Hands off," he called to his best friend. "I saw her first."
Roger just laughed. "Touche! Okay, I know, I know." He grinned ferally. "Go get 'er, tiger."
The blonde filmmaker groaned as he hopped down the stage, dusting the dirt
off of his jeans. He stood for a moment, willing the forlorn-looking hole in his shoe to go away, before glancing up to take a look at the size of the crowd.
"Oh my God," he murmured. She was standing right in front of him, looking
him over with an eager expression. *This is it, this is my chance...*
"Hi, I'm--" He took a step forward and fell flat on his face.
Taryn covered her mouth with one hand, hoping to mask her snickers, and offered the other to the poor sap who had his head in the dirt. She pulled him up until they were eye level. Oops. A little too close. She almost jumped back at the spark that shot through her when she looked into his eyes. *Keep yourself together! You just met the guy!* Crap. The voice was back. *Get that 'scared as hell' look off your face and introduce yourself.* Taryn let go of his hand and smiled. "My name's Taryn."
Mark brushed himself off, averting his eyes from her pretty face. *God, I am such a stupid idiot...idiotidiotidiot.* He finally glanced up into her eyes, a shy smile spreading across his features. "And this fool is named Mark Cohen."
Taryn felt herself flush as she fixated on his smile. He had an adorable
smile. "Well, than that makes two fools. Although you probably can't tell, I was the biggest kltuz to grace Little Falls High School in years. Very nice to
meet you, Mark."
He laughed. "Thanks. I needed that bit of consolation." He heard Roger
hoot behind him. "One second," he said, flashing her a grin.
Mark planted his feet firmly and glared at the grinning blonde songwriter,
venting his anger in order to hide his faint blush. "HEY ASSHOLE! WHERE'S YOUR MANNERS?! COME DOWN AND SAY HI!"
He turned again, ready to explain. "He's the one who whistled at you...such
a flirt." *Good God, one look at Rog and she'll never look at me...what a dumb move.*
Taryn felt her smile widen involuntarily. She caught the rosy tint to his cheeks. *That's so sweet,* the voice informed her absently. *Introduce yourself to his damn friend. Be polite. Be courteous. STOP LOOKING AT HIS ASS!* She whipped her head up as the flush in her cheeks deepened. It was true. *Mind out of gutter, mind out of gutter!* she mentally willed. She forced herself to turn to the newcomer. "Um, hi," she said awkwardly.
Roger chuckled deep in his chest as he extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Roger." He
smiled as charmingly as he was able to see if he could make this girl melt. *Her eyes keep going back to Mark...hmmm. I think he's found a keeper.* "So, how'd you find out about the performance?"
*Dammit, why didn't I think about bringing up a conversation topic...agh.." Mark did his best doormat impression, hoping she would stop looking at him.
Taryn regretfully pulled her eyes from Mark to adress Roger. "Well, my friend Ingrid mentioned it to me. I have no idea where she heard of it, but ever since my little incident at school, everyone I know tells me about this sort of thing." *SHIT!* she thought wildly as she realized what she had just said. *Shit! Now he'll want to know what I'm talking about. If he's not scared of me already, he will be soon enough. Dammit, I suck at this!*
"You staged protests in college too?" Mark's eyes lit up and his face came alive as he nudged Roger in the ribs. "I think our biggest triumph was getting permission for gay couples to express themselves freely on campus."
"And of course Benny blocked us at every turn." Roger growled something
unaudible under his breath.
Seeing Taryn's puzzled expression, Mark explained, "He's our landlord, and
used to be our roommate at college...he was our roommate at our apartment
too, for awhile, along with Maureen." He jacked his thumb towards the performer on stage. "That's how we know her..." He trailed off. *Why am I telling her all of this stuff?!*
Taryn sighed with relief. "Well, staged isn't exactly how I would put it..." she grinned sheepishly, looking at the floor. "It was sort of spur of the moment... and got me kicked out." Taryn took a deep breath and continued quickly. "You see, my friend Ashley was supposed to get an award for enviromental awareness in fictional writing or some shit like that. She was sick and asked me to accept for her. The presenter was wearing a mink coat and I turned the whole acceptance speech into a demonstration on animal rights. It started a riot. Fire somehow got involved. Needless to say, I'm not longer a student there." She looked up nervously and tried to smile. *At least that skeleton's out of the closet,* she thought with a small smile.
Mark chuckled. "Sounds like something Maureen would do." He adjusted his glasses a bit, resisting the urge to shove them up a bit on his nose in a typically nerdy fashion.
"Maaaark!" The filmmaker in question spun, as did everyone else waiting for the protest to start, at the idignated young woman's bellow. Maureen was standing on the stage, hands on hips, miffed expression on face. "I need help here! We're starting in TWO MINUTES and you and Roger are FLIRTNIG and
wait until MIMI hears this, Roger, she is going to be PISSED and the MIC isn't WORKING you stupid SPIKY-HAIRED GEEK get your CAMERA-BRAINED ASS up
here!"
Meekly, he turned to Taryn. "Maureen asks, I jump. See you around?" He headed up to the stage, his ears ringing with the laughter of the crowd.
"Sounded more like a demand than a question." Roger put in, waving to Taryn.
"I sure hope so," she whispered to herself. "See you guys!" she yelled aloud. Once Roger and Mark were gone, she felt Martha and Ingrid jump up behind her.
"OHMIGOD!" Martha shrieked. "That guy was, like, SO HOT!" Taryn felt her ears start to burn a little.
"Yeah, she said with a smile, watching as Mark flinched at Maureen's verbal attacks across the stage. "He's really great...."
"He looks like he plays guitar or something....you think he'd go out with
me?"
Taryn stopped mid-fantasy. "You mean Roger? I think he's got a girlfriend or something, I'm not sure, I wasn't paying attention...." She sighed and turned to Ingrid. "Let's find somewhere close to stand. I wanna keep an eye on the stage." Ingrid nodded knowingly.
The performance didn't start for another five minutes, three minutes off
schedule, Taryn noted with mild interest. She tried to pay attention to Maureen, but her eyes kept wandering back to where Mark and Roger stood, now accompanied by two other women, one hispanic and one black. The first one, she inferred, must be Mimi, taking into account the fact that she and Roger were all over each other for the majority of the performance. The other woman looked a bit too stern for the scene, but, as she was reminded frequently in the Village, looks could be deceiving.
As Maureen's performance winded down, Taryn caught Mark looking in her direction. She smiled sweetly and turned back to Maureen hastily when she realized she hadn't looked at the diva-ish woman all night long. *Great way to impress a guy, Tar,* the voice said darkly. *Ignore his friend while attending her protest. That'll score big points.* Why did her inner voice have to be as much of a smartass as she was?!
Mark fiddled with his undersized coat up on stage, twisting one of the buttons over and over again. He stared straight ahead at Maureen, not really noticing his curly-haired friend--his mind was in the crowd with Taryn. *She's smart...beautiful...funny, cynical, perfect. So, boys and girls, we conclude that she would never go for Mark Cohen.*
He heard a snap and glanced down sharply. The button had come off in his hand. With a muttered swear, he stuck it in his coat pocket and pretended to look around the crowd. Naturally, his eyes settled on Taryn. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to the show, but she turned to look at him right when he was staring at her face. Mark flushed; Taryn smiled. *Probably marvelling at how much of a loser one guy can be...*
When the performance finally ended, Taryn made sure she gave a thunderous
round of applause. Ingrid clapped enough to be polite. Martha yawned loudly.
"When are we going?" she said lazily. "I'm really hungry." Taryn was no longer paying attention to the psycho bitch, however. She was fixated on Mark and his friends. They had grouped around Maureen momentarily and were now walked towards the entrance/exit of the lot, minus the black woman. Taryn clenched her fists, attempting to keep herself under control. *Here goes nothing,* she thought firmly, smiling and walking towards them with Ingrid in tow. Martha followed listlessly. *And into the abyss....*
----
"Oh, Marky, she sounds great!" Maureen squeezed his arm, and for once, Mark didn't feel a lurch of his heart with her touch. "I'm sure you two will get along marvelously...omigod, is that her? Why, Marky, she's a looker..."
"Hands off, Maureen," he murmured playfully. Mark straightened his shoulders, wishing the hole in his shoe would disappear.
"Hi," Taryn said shyly. *You haven't been fucking shy since seventh grade!* the voice screamed. "I don't mean to....I mean, I didn't want to.....er, Hi." *Shit!* *YOU FUCKING MORON!!!* the voice shouted. *Now he thinks you're just mentally DEFICENT!!* She blushed madly.
*Oh God, she's here, she's here, oh God, you're an idiot, fool, moron, jerk,
loser, geek--* Everyone else discreetly moved away as his conscience yammered on. *She'll never look at you, why would she wanna look at you, you haven't sold a film in a year, you haven't finished a film in a decade! What an idiot, fool, moron, loser, loser, loser--*
"GOD!" he cried, clutching his head with one hand. Seeing Taryn's dumfounded expression, he hurriedly explained, "It's that damn inner voice
and it's going on and on about how much of a fool I am and I just can't TAKE
it anymore." He paused. "I think I need help. If I were you I'd go running in the other direction."
Taryn smiled again. *He's so incredibly sweet...* "I have one of those too. Damn annoying things. It likes to pick on me too. I don't see what it has to pick on you for." She smiled at him sweetly. *Oh, that wasn't an obvious pick-up line...*
Mark flushed madly and began to stammer. *Oh GOD.* Finally, his mumblings began to make sense. "Do you want to come back to the loft with me-, uh, with us? We're having a bit of a party, we, we, uh, usually do after
Maureen's performances..."
Taryn smiled again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that around Mark. "I'd
love to go. Really."
She turned to Ingrid, but the woman stepped back quickly. "We've got to catch a train. We'll talk to you later, Tar. Have fun!"
Ingrid headed down the street, but Martha turned to blow a kiss at Roger. "See you around, cutie," she cooed. Before Taryn could protest Ingrid and Martha were gone. She turned to Mark again, shrugged, and offered her arm.
He smiled down at her, taking her arm a bit hesitantly. When she didn't back
away, he began to feel at ease. "This may sound a little blunt, but, um, can't that friend of yours tell Roger is attached? Mimi was getting a little upset there..."
Taryn lowered her head in embarassment. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was too dense to notice," she muttered darkly. "She's not really a friend. She's more of a bitter enemy who can't take a fucking hint." She sighed again, but looked up and smiled weakly. "How about this? Mimi has permission to kick her ass next time she looks at Roger, okay?" She brushed her fingers over Mark's in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. *Oh. My. God.*
Mark's heart skipped a beat as he daringly caught her hand up in his. "I don't think you know what you're asking," he teased. "Mimi would probably ship her off to a jail in Singapore. She's quite posessive of her lover..."
Taryn tried as hard as she could to remember to breath. *Oh holy God...* She
smiled, ignoring hte annoying flush that always seemed to haunt her. "Oh, please, let her do it. One less thing on my list of things to accomplish this month..." This felt so....bizarrely right... *You've got it bad, babe,* the voice said.
Mark's laughing group of friends ahead had come to their apartment building;
Angel opened the door for them and ushered then in. With a knowing wink at
Mark, the crossdresser dashed into the building.
He glanced down at Taryn. "You know, I've known you for such a short time,
but it seems like I've known for forever..." She smiled and turned to look
up at him. Mark melted. *Oh God.*
Taryn's insides no longer had any definte composition. She felt like she was
ready to collapse at any moment. If she didn't have Mark to lean on... "I know what you mean," she said softly. "This is amazing. I've never really felt this way before...." *This is what it's like to be in love,* the voice told her gently. She was inclined to agree.
With a trembling hand and a smile as weak as his legs, Mark gently brushed a
strand of hair away from Taryn's eyes. He tilted her chin up gently and
leaned over to give her a swift kiss.
Taryn felt her heart physically stop. She leaned into the kiss, touching his
cheek tenderly. *Oh. Oh my.....*
Of their own accord, Mark's arms wrapped themselves more tightly around her waist. She broke off for air for a moment just to have him pull her closer again. *This must be heaven...* his inner voice said in wonder, and then for
the first time in his twenty-six years, it shut up completely.
When Mark finally pulled away, he whispered in her ear. "I also believe in
love at first sight, you know."
Taryn was 97% sure that her legs had stopped working all together, that she
had remained standing by sheer will power alone. *I think I'm falling in love
with a guy I met less than an hour ago.....* she thought absently. Her mind
was too busy working over the fact she had just had the most wonderful kiss
in her life to notice. His breath on her ear was so gentle...
"I'm starting to believe too," she whispered back, pressing her forehead to
his. *Starting to pray it's true, is more like it,* the voice said.
Mark kissed her again, quickly this time--he was afraid that if he lingered,
he might not ever let her go. "My friends and I are a boxed set," he admitted when he broke off the kiss. "You'd better meet them before you judge me... and before Roger calls something down from the window where I will bet you the proceeds of my next film he is spying on us."
Taryn smiled warmly and brushed her fingers across his cheek again. This was wonderful. This was turning into the most wonderful night of her life. She took his hand firmly and lead the way up the stairs. "I wouldn't miss it. If they're half as great as you are..." She smiled at him reassuringly.
A trail of fire seemed to spread across his cheek where she touched him. He
flushed as they arrived at the apartment door. "I'm warning you, there's probably something nuts going on in there--and since I just told you that, ten to one they'll be playing Parcheesi when we walk in."
Taryn laughed softly, fixed Mark's ruffled hair, and kissed his cheek. "Not much surprises me. I showed up to three out of four highschool Valentine's Day dances in full Goth get-up. Plus, I used to stage productions of Shakespearean plays in front of a Shop Rite by us. I'm not even getting into the stuff I did in college...."
He laughed, cradling her cheek with one hand. *All of this seems so natural...maybe this IS love at first sight.* "When I was thirteen, in the middle of synagoge, I had a sort of breakdown. I ran up to the altar and shouted "MICHELLE DAWSON IS AN INSANE...SATANIST!" I, uh, was grounded for three
months..."
Taryn smiled coyly. "I can top that. In 9th grade a bunch of girls thought that I was a satanist because I used words they had never heard of and my friends and I stood around in the hallways in a circle....TALKING!!!" She moved her hand to her forehead for an added effect, but smiled out of the side of her mouth.
"Kinky." Mark laughed as she playfully slapped him. "Come on, we'd better get inside. I bet Mimi's telling everyone we're either dead or making out in front of the door..." He blushed as he realized it wasn't far from the truth.
Taryn grinned and pressed her finger to his lips gently. "Let's go meet the family," she whispered. She retracted her finger, straightened her rumpled turtleneck, and opened the door.
A sea of grinning faces greeted them.
"Damned Commie spies." Mark glared at them as they broke out laughing.
Taryn took a deep breath and waved. "Greetings. I'm Taryn Eden. In the past
hour that I've known Mark, it's been established that I'm a schizophrenic, grudge holding, outrageous, psycho, with an unnatural sense of humor, who could possibly be a Satanist. If you're not running from the room now, this may work out." She smiled to herself. *Wow, that was pretty good...*
"Who has probably been the first one to make out with Mark in a millenium." Collins grinned evilly.
"Hush, baby." Angel turned her smiling face to Taryn. "Hiyas, I'm Angel, the guy next to me is Collins--I think you know Roger and Maureen, but the lovely lady next to Maureen is Joanne--" The lawyer bowed deeply.
Maureen rested her head on Joanne's shoulder. "And for the last half hour we have been placing bets on how quickly you two would fall for each other."
"And I'm Mimi," the curly-haired Latino put in. "Angel, you forgot me..."
"I don't think Roger did," the drummer said matter-of-factly, grinning at Mimi's lover.
Taryn grinned. "Oh, good, the one that was going to kick Martha's ass for looking at Roger all night. Please, put her out of her misery. I'll pay you....that is, I would if I wasn't broke...." She squeezed Mark's hand and stepped into the room.
"Damn straight!" Mimi called out. Roger tightened his arm around Mimi's
shoulder and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She giggled and
kissed his cheek.
"Aren't we all broke?" Joanne said lazily, playing with a strand of Maureen's
hair.
"Everyone but YOU." Collins said with a laugh.
"Anyway...any of you lovebirds feel like going to the Life Cafe?" Mark asked them, slinging his camera case over one shoulder. "I feel like table dancing."
Taryn's mouth opened slightly.
"You...whoa. That's weird...that's fucking weird. Of all of the hundreds of resturaunts in the East Village..." She noticed that Mark and all of his friends were giving her very peculiar looks. "I work at the Life Cafe. I waitress there... rather badly, actually, but it pays the bills....usually...." She shook her head clear. "This should be interesting....."
(end part one)
Notes at end of part three.
---------------
"Story"
By Bri and Kait
---------------
Taryn walked briskly through the crowds surrounding the entrance to the
subway. She hated the god-forsaken subways. The commuters always made her late for work.
*Of course,* the little voice in the back of her head told her, *if you actually made an effort to get up more than ten minutes before your shift, this problem could be easily solved....* She told the voice to fuck off. The voice didn't stop. *Oh, gladly,* it retorted. *If you could actually find someone to attach yourself to.* Taryn made a good effort to ignore the voice as she continued her journey through the chilly fall air up towards the lot between Avenues A and B. A friend of hers had mentioned some nut was staging a protest in about twenty minutes. Ever since her expletion from school due to her own untimely riotous protest, her friends had tried to inform her of every similar event in the area. Living in the East Village of NYC, that wasn't too hard an endeavor.
Finally, she spotted her destination. A small clump of people were already mulling around the entrance to the vacant lot, talking, laughing, and groping. It wasn't the first time that night that she had wished she had conformed to the normal New York policy of carrying heavy weaponry everywhere. Still, she did her best not to jostle the people she was walking by too hard. She did her best but, as her parents had sometimes said to her during high school, her best obviously wasn't good enough.
-----
*This smoke is enough to choke someone to death...* Mark sneezed as he
dropped the amp he was hoisting on his toe. "Shit!" he yelped, glancing down
at the injured foot. The tennis shoe now had a nice big hole in it; a perfect view of his foot, which was rapidly turning black and blue. *Shitshitshit!*
A faint chuckle came behind him. Mark whirled.
"Maureen, this is not fucking funny. This is YOUR fucking performance, and
thus it is your fucking fault that I have to buy another pair of fucking
shoes..."
She grinned in her carefree way, brown eyes twinkling with ill-concealed
mirth. "Save it for the performance." Her smile turning a bit
seductive, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to continue
adjusting her mic.
*That woman.* Mark shook his head as he once again lifted the amp, trying to
ignore the throbbing pain in his toe. *She knows that she drives me insane... dammit, that's probably the point.*
Once the machine was in its proper place, he gathered the wires and began
connecting them to the amp. A familiar voice came from behind him. "I
always said you were a sucker."
"It's rather obvious, Roger." Red to red, black to black. "Test that mic
for me, will you?"
"MARK IS A SUCKER!" Pause. "Yeah, it works. Why the hell do you keep doing
all this stuff for Maureen? You know she's using you."
Mark shrugged his thin shoulders, pulling his coat a little more tightly around him for warmth. At nine o'clock, the air was getting a bit chill. The filmmaker turned to face Roger. "I know, but I can't let her bomb a performance because of technical difficulties, and we all know that Joanne can't do th--holy shit."
"What?" Roger craned his neck in the same direction Mark did.
"That...woman. Have you seen her anywhere before?" He admired her short stature; shining brown hair fell to the shoulders of her slight frame. *Gorgeous. Jesus.*
The guitarist let out a wolf whistle. Immediately, the woman whipped around. Mark burned red and ducked behind the amp. "I'm telling Mimi you did that,"
he warned as he pretended to fiddle with the cords.
Taryn whirled around as she heard the whistle. It only took her a moment to locate the source: two guys standing by the "stage" trying to set up some electrical equipment. After a moment she recognized the blonde. It was the same person she had run over on her way in. From his hunched, nervous position behind some sort of machine (an amplifier? A speaker? Damned if she could place it...), she got the impression someone else had sent out the cat
call. His tall, lanky friend was laughing, which, she assumed, meant that he
had been the culprit.
She sent what she hoped was a wry, dangerous smile in their direction, and turned back to the crowd, looking for her friend Ingrid. *That is, if Ms. Junior Bussiness Executive can make it,* she thought icily.
She thought she spotted her friend once or twice, but it turned out to be the same homeless junkie both times. *Maybe they should give out name tags like we used to have in pre-school,* one part of her brain mused. She had done a lot of mulling over preschool life lately. In her opinion, the world would be much better if people were forced to conform to the same simple rules presented by pre-k classes. *No spitting on other kids, no running, share,
clean up, and--*
"No kicking over other people's blocks," she murmured allowed as she spotted Ingrid. "Yo! Ingrid! Over here!" She jumped up and down rapidly, hoping to
catch Ingrid's attention. From the look on the young Asian woman's face (and
the look of her spotless black slacks, red sweater, and matching hat and
scarf set), she had done a bit too much as far as attention getting was
concerned.
"Hey Taryn," Ingrid said quickly. "Are you still mad at Martha?" Taryn thought the question to be a bit peculiar. Martha was the first blatant back-stabber that Taryn had ever met. She was a selfish, self-centered, egotistical, and psychologically disturbed girl whom Taryn had met in seventh grade. Of course, she didn't know Martha had possessed any of those traits at the time. It wasn't until sophmore year that she had really shown her true colors. She believed Taryn to be a stuborn, immature, antisocial brat. Tayrn agreed with every term, save for brat, and that just bothered Martha more.
"Ingrid, I dispise Martha. I have since highschool. Remember what I wrote in
her yearbook at graduation?" Ingrid gave her a blank stare. "I can't believe," she muttered under her breath. "How could you forget?! 'Bite me you insensitive bitch. Why don't you go fuck yourself, No one else will. Did you actually think I'd write something charming? DON'T call.' See? I memorized it! She hates me! Remember?" Ingrid shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, a definite warning sign that something was wrong.
*Shit,* Taryn thought miserably.
"Martha came with me," Ingrid admitted weakly. "She's over there." When Martha saw them, she came skipping over. Taryn breifly considered the quickest, easiest ways to kill herself as Martha squealed in appreciation. That was the only other notable thing about Martha. The psychological disturbance came into her psyche by causing her to ignore everything someone did to her or vice versa when the time came to confront them again.
"Tar!" she shrieked. "It's so great to see you!" Taryn glared at Ingrid as Martha grabbed her and hugged her. "Ingrid told me allll about your college problems, and I feel *so* badly!" Taryn tried to put on a non-acidic expression as she formulated a response. Luckily, Martha smacked her lightly, a wide-eyed expression on her face. "That guy over there is *so* staring at you, Tar!"
Taryn turned, despite Ingrid and Martha's insistance to do otherwise. *That
weird blonde guy again,* she thought absently. "This is the third time I've run into him all night. I think I'm gonna go talk to him." She wasn't sure whether she was going to get away from Martha or just to see him up close, but she quickly found herself weaving in and out of protesters towards the stage area.
Mark lightly hopped down from the stage, giving Roger one last evil glare. "Hands off," he called to his best friend. "I saw her first."
Roger just laughed. "Touche! Okay, I know, I know." He grinned ferally. "Go get 'er, tiger."
The blonde filmmaker groaned as he hopped down the stage, dusting the dirt
off of his jeans. He stood for a moment, willing the forlorn-looking hole in his shoe to go away, before glancing up to take a look at the size of the crowd.
"Oh my God," he murmured. She was standing right in front of him, looking
him over with an eager expression. *This is it, this is my chance...*
"Hi, I'm--" He took a step forward and fell flat on his face.
Taryn covered her mouth with one hand, hoping to mask her snickers, and offered the other to the poor sap who had his head in the dirt. She pulled him up until they were eye level. Oops. A little too close. She almost jumped back at the spark that shot through her when she looked into his eyes. *Keep yourself together! You just met the guy!* Crap. The voice was back. *Get that 'scared as hell' look off your face and introduce yourself.* Taryn let go of his hand and smiled. "My name's Taryn."
Mark brushed himself off, averting his eyes from her pretty face. *God, I am such a stupid idiot...idiotidiotidiot.* He finally glanced up into her eyes, a shy smile spreading across his features. "And this fool is named Mark Cohen."
Taryn felt herself flush as she fixated on his smile. He had an adorable
smile. "Well, than that makes two fools. Although you probably can't tell, I was the biggest kltuz to grace Little Falls High School in years. Very nice to
meet you, Mark."
He laughed. "Thanks. I needed that bit of consolation." He heard Roger
hoot behind him. "One second," he said, flashing her a grin.
Mark planted his feet firmly and glared at the grinning blonde songwriter,
venting his anger in order to hide his faint blush. "HEY ASSHOLE! WHERE'S YOUR MANNERS?! COME DOWN AND SAY HI!"
He turned again, ready to explain. "He's the one who whistled at you...such
a flirt." *Good God, one look at Rog and she'll never look at me...what a dumb move.*
Taryn felt her smile widen involuntarily. She caught the rosy tint to his cheeks. *That's so sweet,* the voice informed her absently. *Introduce yourself to his damn friend. Be polite. Be courteous. STOP LOOKING AT HIS ASS!* She whipped her head up as the flush in her cheeks deepened. It was true. *Mind out of gutter, mind out of gutter!* she mentally willed. She forced herself to turn to the newcomer. "Um, hi," she said awkwardly.
Roger chuckled deep in his chest as he extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Roger." He
smiled as charmingly as he was able to see if he could make this girl melt. *Her eyes keep going back to Mark...hmmm. I think he's found a keeper.* "So, how'd you find out about the performance?"
*Dammit, why didn't I think about bringing up a conversation topic...agh.." Mark did his best doormat impression, hoping she would stop looking at him.
Taryn regretfully pulled her eyes from Mark to adress Roger. "Well, my friend Ingrid mentioned it to me. I have no idea where she heard of it, but ever since my little incident at school, everyone I know tells me about this sort of thing." *SHIT!* she thought wildly as she realized what she had just said. *Shit! Now he'll want to know what I'm talking about. If he's not scared of me already, he will be soon enough. Dammit, I suck at this!*
"You staged protests in college too?" Mark's eyes lit up and his face came alive as he nudged Roger in the ribs. "I think our biggest triumph was getting permission for gay couples to express themselves freely on campus."
"And of course Benny blocked us at every turn." Roger growled something
unaudible under his breath.
Seeing Taryn's puzzled expression, Mark explained, "He's our landlord, and
used to be our roommate at college...he was our roommate at our apartment
too, for awhile, along with Maureen." He jacked his thumb towards the performer on stage. "That's how we know her..." He trailed off. *Why am I telling her all of this stuff?!*
Taryn sighed with relief. "Well, staged isn't exactly how I would put it..." she grinned sheepishly, looking at the floor. "It was sort of spur of the moment... and got me kicked out." Taryn took a deep breath and continued quickly. "You see, my friend Ashley was supposed to get an award for enviromental awareness in fictional writing or some shit like that. She was sick and asked me to accept for her. The presenter was wearing a mink coat and I turned the whole acceptance speech into a demonstration on animal rights. It started a riot. Fire somehow got involved. Needless to say, I'm not longer a student there." She looked up nervously and tried to smile. *At least that skeleton's out of the closet,* she thought with a small smile.
Mark chuckled. "Sounds like something Maureen would do." He adjusted his glasses a bit, resisting the urge to shove them up a bit on his nose in a typically nerdy fashion.
"Maaaark!" The filmmaker in question spun, as did everyone else waiting for the protest to start, at the idignated young woman's bellow. Maureen was standing on the stage, hands on hips, miffed expression on face. "I need help here! We're starting in TWO MINUTES and you and Roger are FLIRTNIG and
wait until MIMI hears this, Roger, she is going to be PISSED and the MIC isn't WORKING you stupid SPIKY-HAIRED GEEK get your CAMERA-BRAINED ASS up
here!"
Meekly, he turned to Taryn. "Maureen asks, I jump. See you around?" He headed up to the stage, his ears ringing with the laughter of the crowd.
"Sounded more like a demand than a question." Roger put in, waving to Taryn.
"I sure hope so," she whispered to herself. "See you guys!" she yelled aloud. Once Roger and Mark were gone, she felt Martha and Ingrid jump up behind her.
"OHMIGOD!" Martha shrieked. "That guy was, like, SO HOT!" Taryn felt her ears start to burn a little.
"Yeah, she said with a smile, watching as Mark flinched at Maureen's verbal attacks across the stage. "He's really great...."
"He looks like he plays guitar or something....you think he'd go out with
me?"
Taryn stopped mid-fantasy. "You mean Roger? I think he's got a girlfriend or something, I'm not sure, I wasn't paying attention...." She sighed and turned to Ingrid. "Let's find somewhere close to stand. I wanna keep an eye on the stage." Ingrid nodded knowingly.
The performance didn't start for another five minutes, three minutes off
schedule, Taryn noted with mild interest. She tried to pay attention to Maureen, but her eyes kept wandering back to where Mark and Roger stood, now accompanied by two other women, one hispanic and one black. The first one, she inferred, must be Mimi, taking into account the fact that she and Roger were all over each other for the majority of the performance. The other woman looked a bit too stern for the scene, but, as she was reminded frequently in the Village, looks could be deceiving.
As Maureen's performance winded down, Taryn caught Mark looking in her direction. She smiled sweetly and turned back to Maureen hastily when she realized she hadn't looked at the diva-ish woman all night long. *Great way to impress a guy, Tar,* the voice said darkly. *Ignore his friend while attending her protest. That'll score big points.* Why did her inner voice have to be as much of a smartass as she was?!
Mark fiddled with his undersized coat up on stage, twisting one of the buttons over and over again. He stared straight ahead at Maureen, not really noticing his curly-haired friend--his mind was in the crowd with Taryn. *She's smart...beautiful...funny, cynical, perfect. So, boys and girls, we conclude that she would never go for Mark Cohen.*
He heard a snap and glanced down sharply. The button had come off in his hand. With a muttered swear, he stuck it in his coat pocket and pretended to look around the crowd. Naturally, his eyes settled on Taryn. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to the show, but she turned to look at him right when he was staring at her face. Mark flushed; Taryn smiled. *Probably marvelling at how much of a loser one guy can be...*
When the performance finally ended, Taryn made sure she gave a thunderous
round of applause. Ingrid clapped enough to be polite. Martha yawned loudly.
"When are we going?" she said lazily. "I'm really hungry." Taryn was no longer paying attention to the psycho bitch, however. She was fixated on Mark and his friends. They had grouped around Maureen momentarily and were now walked towards the entrance/exit of the lot, minus the black woman. Taryn clenched her fists, attempting to keep herself under control. *Here goes nothing,* she thought firmly, smiling and walking towards them with Ingrid in tow. Martha followed listlessly. *And into the abyss....*
----
"Oh, Marky, she sounds great!" Maureen squeezed his arm, and for once, Mark didn't feel a lurch of his heart with her touch. "I'm sure you two will get along marvelously...omigod, is that her? Why, Marky, she's a looker..."
"Hands off, Maureen," he murmured playfully. Mark straightened his shoulders, wishing the hole in his shoe would disappear.
"Hi," Taryn said shyly. *You haven't been fucking shy since seventh grade!* the voice screamed. "I don't mean to....I mean, I didn't want to.....er, Hi." *Shit!* *YOU FUCKING MORON!!!* the voice shouted. *Now he thinks you're just mentally DEFICENT!!* She blushed madly.
*Oh God, she's here, she's here, oh God, you're an idiot, fool, moron, jerk,
loser, geek--* Everyone else discreetly moved away as his conscience yammered on. *She'll never look at you, why would she wanna look at you, you haven't sold a film in a year, you haven't finished a film in a decade! What an idiot, fool, moron, loser, loser, loser--*
"GOD!" he cried, clutching his head with one hand. Seeing Taryn's dumfounded expression, he hurriedly explained, "It's that damn inner voice
and it's going on and on about how much of a fool I am and I just can't TAKE
it anymore." He paused. "I think I need help. If I were you I'd go running in the other direction."
Taryn smiled again. *He's so incredibly sweet...* "I have one of those too. Damn annoying things. It likes to pick on me too. I don't see what it has to pick on you for." She smiled at him sweetly. *Oh, that wasn't an obvious pick-up line...*
Mark flushed madly and began to stammer. *Oh GOD.* Finally, his mumblings began to make sense. "Do you want to come back to the loft with me-, uh, with us? We're having a bit of a party, we, we, uh, usually do after
Maureen's performances..."
Taryn smiled again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that around Mark. "I'd
love to go. Really."
She turned to Ingrid, but the woman stepped back quickly. "We've got to catch a train. We'll talk to you later, Tar. Have fun!"
Ingrid headed down the street, but Martha turned to blow a kiss at Roger. "See you around, cutie," she cooed. Before Taryn could protest Ingrid and Martha were gone. She turned to Mark again, shrugged, and offered her arm.
He smiled down at her, taking her arm a bit hesitantly. When she didn't back
away, he began to feel at ease. "This may sound a little blunt, but, um, can't that friend of yours tell Roger is attached? Mimi was getting a little upset there..."
Taryn lowered her head in embarassment. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was too dense to notice," she muttered darkly. "She's not really a friend. She's more of a bitter enemy who can't take a fucking hint." She sighed again, but looked up and smiled weakly. "How about this? Mimi has permission to kick her ass next time she looks at Roger, okay?" She brushed her fingers over Mark's in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. *Oh. My. God.*
Mark's heart skipped a beat as he daringly caught her hand up in his. "I don't think you know what you're asking," he teased. "Mimi would probably ship her off to a jail in Singapore. She's quite posessive of her lover..."
Taryn tried as hard as she could to remember to breath. *Oh holy God...* She
smiled, ignoring hte annoying flush that always seemed to haunt her. "Oh, please, let her do it. One less thing on my list of things to accomplish this month..." This felt so....bizarrely right... *You've got it bad, babe,* the voice said.
Mark's laughing group of friends ahead had come to their apartment building;
Angel opened the door for them and ushered then in. With a knowing wink at
Mark, the crossdresser dashed into the building.
He glanced down at Taryn. "You know, I've known you for such a short time,
but it seems like I've known for forever..." She smiled and turned to look
up at him. Mark melted. *Oh God.*
Taryn's insides no longer had any definte composition. She felt like she was
ready to collapse at any moment. If she didn't have Mark to lean on... "I know what you mean," she said softly. "This is amazing. I've never really felt this way before...." *This is what it's like to be in love,* the voice told her gently. She was inclined to agree.
With a trembling hand and a smile as weak as his legs, Mark gently brushed a
strand of hair away from Taryn's eyes. He tilted her chin up gently and
leaned over to give her a swift kiss.
Taryn felt her heart physically stop. She leaned into the kiss, touching his
cheek tenderly. *Oh. Oh my.....*
Of their own accord, Mark's arms wrapped themselves more tightly around her waist. She broke off for air for a moment just to have him pull her closer again. *This must be heaven...* his inner voice said in wonder, and then for
the first time in his twenty-six years, it shut up completely.
When Mark finally pulled away, he whispered in her ear. "I also believe in
love at first sight, you know."
Taryn was 97% sure that her legs had stopped working all together, that she
had remained standing by sheer will power alone. *I think I'm falling in love
with a guy I met less than an hour ago.....* she thought absently. Her mind
was too busy working over the fact she had just had the most wonderful kiss
in her life to notice. His breath on her ear was so gentle...
"I'm starting to believe too," she whispered back, pressing her forehead to
his. *Starting to pray it's true, is more like it,* the voice said.
Mark kissed her again, quickly this time--he was afraid that if he lingered,
he might not ever let her go. "My friends and I are a boxed set," he admitted when he broke off the kiss. "You'd better meet them before you judge me... and before Roger calls something down from the window where I will bet you the proceeds of my next film he is spying on us."
Taryn smiled warmly and brushed her fingers across his cheek again. This was wonderful. This was turning into the most wonderful night of her life. She took his hand firmly and lead the way up the stairs. "I wouldn't miss it. If they're half as great as you are..." She smiled at him reassuringly.
A trail of fire seemed to spread across his cheek where she touched him. He
flushed as they arrived at the apartment door. "I'm warning you, there's probably something nuts going on in there--and since I just told you that, ten to one they'll be playing Parcheesi when we walk in."
Taryn laughed softly, fixed Mark's ruffled hair, and kissed his cheek. "Not much surprises me. I showed up to three out of four highschool Valentine's Day dances in full Goth get-up. Plus, I used to stage productions of Shakespearean plays in front of a Shop Rite by us. I'm not even getting into the stuff I did in college...."
He laughed, cradling her cheek with one hand. *All of this seems so natural...maybe this IS love at first sight.* "When I was thirteen, in the middle of synagoge, I had a sort of breakdown. I ran up to the altar and shouted "MICHELLE DAWSON IS AN INSANE...SATANIST!" I, uh, was grounded for three
months..."
Taryn smiled coyly. "I can top that. In 9th grade a bunch of girls thought that I was a satanist because I used words they had never heard of and my friends and I stood around in the hallways in a circle....TALKING!!!" She moved her hand to her forehead for an added effect, but smiled out of the side of her mouth.
"Kinky." Mark laughed as she playfully slapped him. "Come on, we'd better get inside. I bet Mimi's telling everyone we're either dead or making out in front of the door..." He blushed as he realized it wasn't far from the truth.
Taryn grinned and pressed her finger to his lips gently. "Let's go meet the family," she whispered. She retracted her finger, straightened her rumpled turtleneck, and opened the door.
A sea of grinning faces greeted them.
"Damned Commie spies." Mark glared at them as they broke out laughing.
Taryn took a deep breath and waved. "Greetings. I'm Taryn Eden. In the past
hour that I've known Mark, it's been established that I'm a schizophrenic, grudge holding, outrageous, psycho, with an unnatural sense of humor, who could possibly be a Satanist. If you're not running from the room now, this may work out." She smiled to herself. *Wow, that was pretty good...*
"Who has probably been the first one to make out with Mark in a millenium." Collins grinned evilly.
"Hush, baby." Angel turned her smiling face to Taryn. "Hiyas, I'm Angel, the guy next to me is Collins--I think you know Roger and Maureen, but the lovely lady next to Maureen is Joanne--" The lawyer bowed deeply.
Maureen rested her head on Joanne's shoulder. "And for the last half hour we have been placing bets on how quickly you two would fall for each other."
"And I'm Mimi," the curly-haired Latino put in. "Angel, you forgot me..."
"I don't think Roger did," the drummer said matter-of-factly, grinning at Mimi's lover.
Taryn grinned. "Oh, good, the one that was going to kick Martha's ass for looking at Roger all night. Please, put her out of her misery. I'll pay you....that is, I would if I wasn't broke...." She squeezed Mark's hand and stepped into the room.
"Damn straight!" Mimi called out. Roger tightened his arm around Mimi's
shoulder and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She giggled and
kissed his cheek.
"Aren't we all broke?" Joanne said lazily, playing with a strand of Maureen's
hair.
"Everyone but YOU." Collins said with a laugh.
"Anyway...any of you lovebirds feel like going to the Life Cafe?" Mark asked them, slinging his camera case over one shoulder. "I feel like table dancing."
Taryn's mouth opened slightly.
"You...whoa. That's weird...that's fucking weird. Of all of the hundreds of resturaunts in the East Village..." She noticed that Mark and all of his friends were giving her very peculiar looks. "I work at the Life Cafe. I waitress there... rather badly, actually, but it pays the bills....usually...." She shook her head clear. "This should be interesting....."
(end part one)