Chapter 1: Nevers and Maybes
He sat on the windowsill, guitar cradled in his arms, hoping and waiting that she would come home soon. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind for him, and he owed it all to her. She had gotten him out of the loft. She had made him smile. For the first time in a year, he could honestly say that he was happy. Mark was out filming for his documentary and he sat, just watching the street below him for any sign of her.
Like a cat in the night, he saw her slink out of the drug store on the corner, cigarette in mouth, and skimmed the surface of the pavement back to the loft. She smiled slyly at him when she saw his figure in the window. He was waiting for her. He knew what would be on her mind tonight, and he couldn't help but feel nervous. He could feel himself already falling in love with her, and it scared him.
Their days were counted, and they had agreed that they shouldn't waste it. Live each day to the fullest, she had whispered in his ear as she disappeared into her own apartment a few nights earlier.
Ten minutes had gone by, and he was sure that she would have been knocked on the loft door by now. He couldn't help but suspect that she was downstairs, in her apartment, needle in hand and waiting to feel the ecstasy that once made him feel so alive. He wanted her to make him feel alive, and he wanted to convince her that he could give her that same high that the drugs did.
Lost in thought and worry, he again thought about what had happened the night before when Mark had walked in on them.
Mimi rolled over, leaving both her and a shirtless Roger gasping for air. The kisses grew fiercer and more passionate. Her hands slowly trickled down his front, teasing his chest, gently pulling at his skin until they reached his belt.
He nodded for more. Hell, he needed more. It had been so long since he had been with anyone. Any thoughts of April or heroin exited his mind as Mimi roughly unzipped his pants and tossed the old belt aside.
Looking up from his waist, she grinned at him and slid up his middle to capture him in a deep kiss. Still in her skirt from the club, his hands traveled down to her inner thigh and he removed her lace panties and threw them in the pile with his shirt and belt. She moaned his name as he again pulled her into a kiss. He smiled for a moment before she placed a finger to his grinning lips.
"But baby, I wasn't done yet," she whispered as she placed kisses down his chest. Her lips traced his sweaty torso and landed on the rim of his boxers. She slowly pulled them down, exposing the musician in the middle of the loft. His hands found her head and he raked his fingers through her long curls while letting out a soft moan.
"God Mimi, please.." he said, begging for her to go on. She rightfully assumed that it had been a while since someone had touched him like this. "Oh..Ohh.." he murmured, hips thrusting upward, just as the loft door flung open.
"Hey Roge-oh shit..sorry..I..I was just leaving," Mark said while slamming the loft door back shut. Mimi giggled and pulled her panties back on while an embarrassed and flushed Roger made his way to the bathroom. When he came out only a minute later, she was gone. Only a note remained on his sweat soaked tee shirt – Tomorrow Night, baby- Mimi.
True, it had been a long time since he had been with anyone. Not since before April-wait that was a lie, he thought. His thoughts drifted to a night be barely remembered, a night that he only fully could remember through what Mark had told him.
Then there was that time that Maureen had offered sex to get him out of the loft, but he'd never do that to his best friend. He laughed to himself remembering but his face turned stone cold as his thoughts drifted back.
It was only two days after he had found her in the bathroom. He remembered reaching his arm underneath his bed and pulling out the small bag of powder, the spoon and the needle-a needle they shared. It didn't matter now, he was dying.
He expertly took the lighter to the spoon and filled the syringe. A minute later, the heroin was racing through his veins and he fell back onto the bed. The next thing he remembered, he was in a bar.
Music racing, sweat flying, and girls everywhere. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, but he didn't care. She took his face and planted rough kisses all over it. He motioned for her to come to the bathroom. He lifted her up against the wall, pushing up her skirt, and unbuttoning his pants quickly. "Wait," she let out calmly, "not here." She took his hand and led him into the alley outside the bar. "Shhh…" she said as she lifted the needle from her bag, "this first. Then we can go back to your place?"
"Mmm," he obeyed as she tied his belt to his arm and injected the drug into him. He let his eyes close and again kissed her. Her name was Jenny, Jessica, Janice? No, it was Jillian. He was so far gone that he didn't even notice when she used the same needle to pleasure herself.
The next thing he knew, he raced with her in his arms through the loft. It was a frenzy of lips, clashing teeth, and sweat. Pushing her into his room, she let out moans and screeches, as if she was ready to have him, only him. She looked innocently at him when he threw her onto the bed, "Please be careful," she said quietly while kissing his neck, "I've never done this before."
He didn't care. He was rough. He slammed her against the bed, while she tried to undo his pants. He slid them right off. When had he gotten so thin? She took the condom from her bag and handed it to him. He took a moment to rip her skirt off, and put his weight on top of her.
"Please," she looked at him with fear in her eyes. For a moment, he pitied her and sympathetically brushed a face from her hair and smiled. She smiled back. She assured him with a nod and pulled his lower back into her as she cried out. Her cries and moans echoed through the thin walls of the loft.
Every thrust was a release of his anger, every shudder of his hips was his aching for April and what he'd lost. He barely noticed as the girl's head crashed into the headboard. "Apppril," he moaned, not even acknowledging the aching Jillian beneath him. He collapsed on top of her, still breathing heavily. He could hear her crying softly into the dirty pillow case, April's pillow case.
When he awoke the next morning, she was gone. His sheets were slightly stained with blood. Mark walked into the room and shook his head. "Roger, what did you do?" he said in a stern voice.
Roger nodded and fell to his knees, "I don't know Mark, I just miss her so much."
"Forget April. Who was she?" Mark asked, still anger in his voice as ran a hand through the musician's spiky blonde hair.
"I don't know. I barely remember. Please, just help me, please."
Suddenly the door knocked. She was there, waiting for him. Waiting for him to show her how much he cared about her. It occurred to him only then how much he felt for her and wanted to make things work. He was scared, nervous. He couldn't do this, not yet. It was too soon.
"Mimi," he breathed as he opened the door to the loft. She grabbed his long blonde hair and before he could contest, pulled his body into hers, slamming them up against the door.
Chapter 2: Another Day
As she kissed him, he questioned if he'd have the power to push her away. Slowly he pulled his mouth from hers. Her palm pressed firmly against his chest as he let go of her waist.
"Mimi, I just can't," he spoke quietly, turning his head from her and making his way back to his fender.
She followed him wearily before speaking. "But baby, last night?" she questioned while placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I said no, Mimi." He disappeared into his room. She brought herself to the tattered couch and brought her knees into her chest, rocking back and forth.
He sat on his bed. What was she thinking now? She probably thought he never wanted to see her again. Maybe he shouldn't have been so cold. How could he admit that he was scared of being hurt, of hurting her? He wanted to be with her so bad, but there were consequences.
The door to the bedroom opened slowly and he saw Mimi still sitting on the couch. She had fallen asleep, her hair all in her face. Walking over to her, he noticed how peaceful she looked. It was only now that she seemed nineteen. How could something so angelic and youthful be the same person onstage and shooting up backstage? He knew. He knew how it jaded your entire being.
He effortlessly picked her small body up into his arms. He considered bringing her back downstairs. She was shivering. It was only January and the heatless loft was nearly as cold as outside.
He placed her on his bed and tucked the blanket up to her chin. She shifted in her sleep and opened her eyes for a moment, only to murmur his name and let out a small smile. "Shh baby, it's ok. Go back to sleep."
It would be ok. He could sense it. Maybe she was falling in love with him just as much. He still was worried about the one small thing that could bring him down, which unfortunately was the one thing that brought her up. He decided to forget about it for the night.
He removed his shirt and put a hand through his hair. God, she was so beautiful, he thought before slipping beneath the covers and wrapping his arms around her. He soon drifted to sleep with her in his arms. This finally felt right.
Mimi's eyes opened when the sunlight hit her face. Roger still had his arms around her waist. She sighed as she looked at the beautiful man beside her. Had anything happened? The last thing she remembered she had been crying in the loft.
She ran her fingers through his hair, and his eyes opened. He glancedat her face in the morning sun. Her face was still red from crying the night before.
"I'm sorry," he muttered and kissed her forehead.
"Roger," she paused, noticing again that he was shirtless, "what happened last night? I mean, did we?"
He looked at her puzzled. Had she been high? Oh god, she was. He could tell by her face. He had been right. The whole time he waited for her, she had been shooting up in her apartment.
Huffing he got out of the bed, pointing to the door. "Mimi, I think you should go. You promised me you'd try harder," he looked down shaking his head, "And no, nothing happened. You fell asleep and I brought you in here."
She let out a pant before kneeling to touch his face. "Roger, you have to understand." He cut her off.
"Oh, you think I don't understand?" he waited a minute. His voice rose in anger, "I have AIDS, Mimi. My girlfriend killed herself. I practically raped a barely legal girl in this bed. I was a terrible person. I thought you could change that. I guess I was wrong."
"I'll try harder," she cried. He only pointed to the door. He watched her grab her boots and walk out the door, looking back before she exited.
Mark emerged from his bed, scratching his head. "What happened?" Roger simply poured himself a cup of coffee and huffed.
"Oh, last night was the big night with Mimi right? How'd it go?" Mark asked leaning into the counter.
"It didn't go at all." He huffed, trying to laugh.
"You know, I had the same problem once with Maureen. Don't be-"
"Mark, that wasn't the problem," he laughed. It felt good to laugh after all the thoughts flying around in his head were starting to give him a headache, "And it wouldn't happen either. Rock star, sex God Roger Davis has never had a problem pleasuring the ladies." Mark slapped his arm and blushed.
"C'mon Rog, let's go to the Life and get some real coffee. We can talk there." Mark put his arm around his friend and they grabbed their jackets. Maybe Mark would understand.
An hour later, with Mark's help, Roger felt better. He went to Mimi's door and knocked quietly a few times. He waited. He knew she wouldn't be there. Just as he walked up the stairs, he heard the door open. She emerged, tears in her eyes. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun.
"You better be down here to apologize Roger Davis," she let out a small smile before crossing her arms.
He couldn't say he was sorry, he wasn't. He wrapped his arms around her waist and put her head to his chest. He openly sobbed into her hair. He had never been so open with a woman before. She rubbed his back, half understanding, half confused. "Can we try last night again?" he slowly asked her, "Maybe I could come to the club tonight?"
"Roger, you know how they feel about having boyfriends there," she paused and moved her mouth to his ear, "You know, Mr. Davis, I do private dances too."
"Mimi, please. You haven't lived until you've seen my moves." They both laughed. He knew there would be troubled times ahead. She needed to get better. He needed to accept his disease. Together, maybe they could make things work.
"I might just have to take you up on that Davis," she smirked before curling back into his chest and holding him tightly.