Chapter Three

Mark shouldered his bike and made his way to the top of the stairs. He was tired. Very tired. His sleep had been sporadic and restless ever since Angel's death. When he did sleep, Mark dreamed of spinning film reels and never ending rolls of blank film. His Proof Positive documentary was finished, but now what? He wasn't sure what his next move should be. Though the film was highly acclaimed by his friends, Mark still felt unsure of himself…was this film good enough to share with anyone besides his friends?

As he entered the loft, Mark heard a sound which he had almost forgotten existed. He peered curiously around the corner and saw Roger sitting on their hand-me-down sofa, with Mimi snuggled next to him, her head on his chest. Collins' large frame rested in the wooden chair close by. Mark listened again and realized they were…laughing.

Before anyone could even acknowledge his presence, Mark took the messenger's bag from his shoulder and took out his beloved camera. He peered through the lens at the friends as they reminisced, told stories and laughed. It was almost, he thought, like the old days.

The old days? Why it was only a year ago that they were all together on New Year's Eve. He too smiled, despite himself, as he recalled the "break-in" party that had taken place that night. It was still difficult to believe all that had occurred since then.

"And wasn't Angel wearing a…a shower curtain that night?" Roger questioned, smiling at Collins.

Collins chuckled deeply. "Man, that girl was crazy…" his voice drifted off as he pulled his yellow-tinted glasses from his forehead onto his eyes.

"And wonderful," Mimi said as she pulled the sleeves of her oversized sweater over her bony hands.

The room instantly became quiet. Mark shut off the camera, glad he had captured the moment on film. Albeit brief, it had proven that laughter did still exist in Bohemia.

For once in her life, Maureen tried to ignore the stares she received as she stormed, half-naked, through the streets of New York. She wished that she had remembered to pick up that hideous jacket. Even if she wasn't stylish, at least she could have been warm. Hot tears streamed down her face. Why was Joanne like this? Maureen wiped her face and crossed her arms over her chest. She had to get home; she was freezing.

Wait. Home? I can't go home. I live with Joanne! Maureen stopped in her tracks. Where was she supposed to go on New Year's Eve?

"Mark!" Maureen announced, not really intending to speak out loud. That's it, she thought. I'll stay with Mark. That'll piss the princess off big time!

The silence was broken by a loud banging on the loft door. The four friends practically jumped out of their skin at the noise.

"Yeah, who is it?" Mark questioned, praying it wasn't their landlord, Benny.

"Mark, it's me!" Maureen shouted, trying to sound upbeat. "Come on, baby, let me in!"

Mark opened the door to see Maureen shivering in black heels, black dress pants, and…a top that closely resembled a bra. Her dark, curly hair was windblown and her black mascara had been streaked down her face.

"Oh my gosh, Maureen!" Mark pulled Maureen into the loft and put his own plaid jacket over her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Joanne and I had a fight," Maureen confessed, covering herself with the jacket. "I just couldn't go home, that's all."

Collins grinned at Roger. "And you thought it was funny that Angel wore a shower curtain." He motioned toward Maureen, who had seated herself beside Mimi on the couch. Everyone chuckled -- except Maureen.

"Look, could somebody just get me a shirt?" Maureen dramatically slung her black curls over her shoulder and sighed. Mark obediently retrieved a button down flannel shirt from the nearby laundry basket and tossed it to Maureen. She unashamedly tore off the jacket and put on the shirt. "So can I stay here tonight?" Maureen asked as she fiddled with the buttons.

"You can sleep in my bed," Roger offered. "I'm going to sit with Mimi tonight."

"No, you don't have to do that," Mimi replied, looking into Roger's eyes. "I'll be fine, really. You should sleep in your own bed tonight. God knows you deserve it."

"I insist," Roger smiled back. Mimi gave in easily and nuzzled even closer to Roger's chest.

The phone rang, startling everyone again. Mark shook his head, annoyed. Why was he always so on edge? "Hello?" he said, holding the receiver to his ear.

"Mark, Joanne." A firm voice came from the other end.

"Oh, hi Joanne." Mark glanced over at Maureen, who pretended not to care.

"Is Maureen at your place?"

"Um…" Mark peered at Maureen, who was now doing the "cut" motion across her neck and shaking her head frantically. "Yeah, she's here, Joanne. Hold on." Mark held the receiver out to Maureen, who flipped him off and sat motionless on the sofa. "Joanne, I think she's…"

"Never mind," the now frustrated voice responded. "I'm on my way."