(A/N: Hey, guys, where are the reviews! I gotta admit, I'm a bit disappointed…I spent a lot of time on that first chapter—granted, the version you've just read was probably 2.0—and I only got three reviews! I'll make you a deal: you review mine, I'll review yours. Mkay?)
The next morning, the sun didn't pour through Mimi's window until well after ten. Around this time, a bleary-eyed, messy-haired Mimi poked her nose out from under the comforter, feeling uncharacteristically hung-over.
"Roger," she said quietly, before clearing the early-morning gravelliness out of her voice. "Roger! Wake up!"
On her left, Roger gave an, "Mmfh," sort of noise, before rolling over and taking the covers with him.
Slowly, Mimi stretched and pulled herself out of bed, being sure to put on her slippers and matching ratty robe before she trudged into the bathroom. If anyone else would have stayed over (say, Joanne, who could always be found at Mimi's apartment after a vicious fight with Maureen; or Mark, rarely, when a dispute between him and Roger broke out), she would have closed the door—but not this morning. However, like most mornings, Mimi's scented lavender bubble-bath was accompanied by candle-lighting and a classical cassette. It was her way of feeling queen like, at least for twenty minutes.
Unfortunately, this morning, Mimi's peaceful soaking was interrupted by Roger, who'd decided that it was a good time to empty his bladder. She averted her eyes, though it wasn't the first time, because—of course—it's just common courtesy. Not that it bothered her that much…
"Well, good morning to you, too," Mimi said loudly as Roger flushed the toilet and, oh-so-considerately, lowered the toilet seat.
Looking slightly sheepish, he sat on the now-closed toilet lid and replied, "You're up early."
"It's ten forty-nine," Mimi told him, leaning over slightly so she could see her alarm clock clearer. "Is that really so early?"
Roger looked shocked for a moment, and then craned his neck so he too could see the numbers that her alarm clock radiated, before mumbling, "Fuck," and jumping up quickly.
She laughed, her eyes back on him, as she said, "Where're you off to? I thought it was early?"
He gave her the finger—though it was in a playful way, like he might do to Mark—and in a light tone replied, "I've got a job interview in half an hour."
Mimi's eyes widened considerably, still focused on Roger (who was running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to flatten the obvious morning-after sex-head look) and said, "Well, that's interesting—why did you tell me last night?"
Roger shrugged. "I forgot."
"Where's the interview at?"
Once again, the musician shrugged his shoulders and said, "This place a few blocks away, they produce albums and stuff…"
Eyes growing wider, Mimi exclaimed, "You forgot? You're a musician, you've just been offered the perfect job that's basically throwing a musical career into your face, and you forgot? Jesus, Roger."
He said nothing, simply shrugged for a third time and continued to smooth out his hair. Finally realizing it was no use, he turned to Mimi and stooped down to her level. "Things have just been crazy the past forty-eight hours," he told her. "You came home and…I'm sorry, the interview just wasn't the first thing on my mind." Kissing her forehead, he said, "Shit, I'd better get going. I'll be back later, okay?"
"We'll do lunch," Mimi replied with a lopsided grin, watching him as he left the bathroom and listening until she finally heard the front door close with a loud slam. The bubbles in the tub were quickly evaporating, and from the bedroom, Mimi heard her trusty beeper go off. Getting out of the tub, she rewrapped herself in her bathrobe and unplugged the bathtub.
Now inside the kitchen, Mimi downed a half-empty can of diet soda from in the fridge along with her AZT, before lining it up along with the other aluminum cans on the counter. She had ten, and when she got to twelve, she always crushed them and threw them away.
Almost at the same time as Mimi carefully lined the can up, the phone in the living room went off again. Halfway hoping that it wasn't a salesperson on the other line, she groaned and stepped towards the phone, her tiny feet taking tiny steps towards the ringing receiver. Picking it up, feeling its heavy weight in her cold hands, she said, "Hello?"
"Mimi!" The voice on the other side was female, and definitely did a good shriek, which meant only one thing—
"Maureen?"
"Ohmigod, Mark said that Roger had come up to visit you last night, but no one believed that you were home so soon!"
Mimi wasn't quite sure how to respond to this, so she sat down on her loveseat and at the same time replied, "It's great to be back."
"I bet it is." Then, as if she were covering the receiver, Mimi heard Maureen yell, "Pookie, I'll be there in a minute!" before saying to Mimi, "Listen, I've gotta go, but Joanne and I are having a dinner later this week, like on Friday? You and Roger are free to come, you know."
"Thanks, we'd love to," Mimi replied with a smile, though she was pretty sure that Roger would only be willing to, and would not love to, go to the dinner at Maureen and Joanne's house.
"Great! Well, then, I'll talk to you later, babe!" Dead air.
Almost as soon as Maureen hung up, Mimi realized that what she wanted right now was a hit of heroin, but settled for rushing to her toilet, being suddenly and involuntarily sick.
