A/N: SORRY! I'm not dead! I've just been busy lately, long story... anyway, here's the update!

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

Chapter 4

Mimi came home and tossed her bag onto the couch, sighing loudly. She still wore her leotard and tights with her skirt and boots layered on top.

"Hey, Mimi," said Mark as he passed with a giant film canister in his arms. She waved weakly. "Tired?"

"You would not believe how hyper four year olds can be."

"Try me."

"Okay, so there are two kids hell-bent on killing each other. Then there's this one little girl who is determined to make my life hell. And then there's the director's daughter, Aine, trying to give me advice that I obviously don't need and then…"

"Is Mimi finally home?" called Roger from the bedroom.

"Yes," she called back, "Mimi's home, and Mimi's pissed."

Roger joined them. "I thought I heard you yelling."

"Um, I didn't see you trying to teach four year olds for the past hour."

"Calm down, Meems," said Roger, backing away from her like she was a rattlesnake.

"I can't. I'm so stressed. And, I mean, damn, you'd think that these kids would admire me, you know? That they'd think of me as a leader. But they don't. They're so damn stubborn. Fuck it; I think I was better off at the Catscratch." She said this all very fast.

Roger and Mark looked at each other, not sure how to deal with the monster that they had helped create.

"Hey guys!" called a familiar, chipper voice.

Roger and Mark sighed in relief. Who was better at calming Mimi down than Angel?

"I heard you yelling from outside," Angel noted, coming in, as usual, through the fire escape.

Mimi's ears turned red.

"What, were the little children putting you through the paces?"

"Huh?"

Angel ran her pale fingers through her wig. "Mimi, chica, you have quite a bit to learn. Kids like to make you miserable. They need some sense of power."

"So they're power-hungry?"

"Yep."

"I'm quitting," said Mimi, heading over to the phone. Angel grabbed her arm before she could get there.

"Wait. It's an hour a week. You can handle it."

"Get off of me!"

"No," replied the drag queen coolly. "I know what you're going through. I baby-sat in high school."

"You did?" asked the other three in unison.

"Yeah, until the kids' mom realized I was really a guy. I still remember their names. The younger girl was Tally, and her older sister's name was Marie."

You could've heard a pin drop.

"What?!"

"You just don't seem the type," said Mimi, starting to giggle.

"Well, you don't seem like the type that would teach ballet, either. You don't even look like a dancer," retorted Angel, starting to get pissed.

Mimi was stung. She muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "you motherfucking faggot," and ran into her room to change.

Angel, Roger, and Mark all glanced at each other. The silence hung heavily in the room.

"Mimi, I brought you flowers!" called Maureen, dashing happily into the loft with a bouquet of daisies. "Where's Mimi?" she asked, once she noticed that Mimi wasn't there.

"In her room, sobbing," muttered Angel.

"Roger, what did you do?" asked Maureen, turning on him.

"Why is it my fault?!" asked Roger.

"You're her boyfriend. What did you do?"

"Nothing! It was Angel!"

"Angel? Bullshit!"

"It's true," said Mark, who was still holding the film canister.

Maureen pivoted sharply, causing her curls to fly around her face.

"Guilty," said Angel, flinching as Maureen swung to hit her.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"See, this is what real jobs do to people," noted Roger. "Mark's been like this ever since he started to work at Buzzline, Joanne's been all uptight forever, and now look at Meems."

Mark looked venomous.