"Hello?"
Jacob Cohen.
The phone clatters down. All eyes spin towards Roger. "I can't fucking believe you!" he yells, hands inching towards Mimi's throat. Collins interferes, grabbing Roger's wrists and holding them behind his back. It takes much effort, and is reminiscent of his half-completed withdrawal that does not look like it will be completed anytime soon, especially with the new stashes being acquired daily.
Mimi cringes backwards. "I said I'm sorry," she whimpers. "Don't – don't, Roger, c'mon, we were friends, and I liked you, and…"
"Shut the fuck up," Roger snarls. "You proved that you were a traitor. Fucking bitch."
Benny steps forward. "Roger, calm down," he says cautiously. "Look, I'm sure Mimi has a good explanation…"
"Yeah," Angel says coldly. Her voice has never seemed so devoid of warmth as it does when she declares, "She'd better."
Mimi nods. "I – I do," she says frantically. "I – I believe that all children should be with their parents. No matter what." She knows even as she says it that her excuse is beyond pathetic, but it at least stops Roger from lunging at her. Either that is what stops him or it is Collins' hands clasping his arms together that does the trick. Whichever it is, Mimi knows not to be too relieved.
"That's pathetic," growls Maureen. "Get the hell out of this house. Now."
Collins shakes his head urgently. "Don't," he says wisely. "She'll go tattling to Jacob. What I think we're going to have to do, actually, is scare her so bad she won't talk."
"You're evil," Angel says, sidling up beside him.
"Not the time, Angel," Collins says firmly – but gently. It is hard to be anything but kind to Angel.
Angel, who finds it hard to focus on a topic so completely undesirable as Mimi's treachery, instigates a tickle-fight between herself and Collins. The latter, also overwhelmed, complies. As they tickle one another and exchange brief kisses, Mimi is lifted up by the scruff of her collar and plopped into Benny's arms.
"What the…" Mimi begins, but decides not to speak. Benny then carries her out of the apartment, up a set of stairs, and onto the roof.
"Stay," he tells her, as though she were a dog. Apparently catching on to this as well, he adds, "Bitch."
The door to the roof slams and locks.
This would, to many people, present a problem.
Mimi, however, is a dancer. She is flexible and can withstand minor injuries such as scratches and cuts. These qualities are beneficial as she, clinging onto the roof's shingles, slowly begins to descend the building. She clasps the upper joints of her fingers around the top of the roof, her feet dangling over the edge as she frantically searches for a foot hold. When none is in sight, Mimi takes a chance – she releases the top of the roof with one hand and grips a protruding screw. Her other hand, then, she releases. With that she holds a cylindrical bit of metal that appears to be attached to the brick. She is in for the shock of her life when it crumbles to the ground, and screams when it falls to the ground. In a single quick motion, she grabs onto a jutting brick. Her feet find similar spots in the brick as well, and she relaxes briefly as a slow descent is made.
Then she sees something.
The fire escapes. They are on another side of the building, but if she can sidestep for long enough, she might be able to find them. It isn't as far-fetched as some of Mimi's other accomplishments, like her brilliant acting job as a spy pretending to be a benevolent friend. She is, in fact – but that is not one of the topics that she desires to consume her mind. And so as she moves slowly to the left, she concerns herself with something else, something that is perhaps even more important: the case. The legal case, that is. Davis/Johnson/Collins/Schunard/Coffin v. Cohen. Cohen/Marquez, she tells herself, before realizing that that is neither the case, nor will it ever be. She does not bear a place of significance with Jacob, and regrets having left the bohemians, if only for that reason. Then she remembers that she didn't leave them. They abandoned her. They deserve the legal ass-whipping they're about to receive.
When she reaches the corner between her current side of the building and the one with the fire escapes, Mimi tells herself to exercise extreme caution. Of course, thinking it – consciously saying to oneself, Be careful – is a well-known jinx, so the near-heart attack that Mimi possibly has upon her transition from one wall to the next is almost expected. Her toes skid downward, just a bit, and as she slides towards the ground, Mimi reaches up and grabs the metal ladder of Roger's fire escape. In a move that she is sure she will never be able to replicate, Mimi swings herself up and over and onto the stairway. Her knees and hands level with one another on all-fours, Mimi abashedly gets to her feet and begins to daintily descend the stairs.
But of course, Mimi's breezy descent cannot last long. By the time she reaches the ground, there are two police cars parked on the side of the road. "Excuse me, Miss Marquez?" calls one.
Fuck. She remembers him. He interviewed her this morning. Oh, fuck.
"Miss Marquez, would you happen to know the whereabouts of your upstairs neighbors?" the officer inquires. "We have a warrant for their arrest on grounds of kidnap."
Mimi looks back and forth, from the policeman to the building and then back. Her brown eyes wide like a deer's in the headlights, she bobs her head up and down. "They're in their apartment," she says, and runs back to Jacob's house before another word can be said.
As she races away, Mimi's keys rattle out of her pocket and onto the ground. The cop, who needed some way of getting into the building anyway, calls after her briefly before inserting a jagged bronze key into the lock of the building.
When Mimi arrives back at the house of the Cohens – formerly Jacob, Cindy and Mark Cohen and Mimi Marquez, currently just the former and the latter – she fiercely knocks on the door. "Jacob!" she shrieks. "Jacob, I – I have to tell you something!"
The door opens to reveal the unshaven face of a man whose eyes have done so much glaring, it is a wonder that they have not fallen out. "What the hell do you want – oh. Mimi. Whatever, get inside."
Mimi obliges him and, panting, explains the situation. She concludes with "…and the cops were there, and they got inside."
Jacob nods. "Okay," he says.
"Okay?" Mimi repeats. "But – you'll have to go to trial!"
Another nod. "Yes," he replies slowly, as though Mimi were retarded. "As will you."
"As will – I will not!" she snaps, knowing that she will. Testifying is not something she does not want to do, so she changes the subject. "Look – Jake – can I use the phone?"
"Jacob," he corrects her irritably. "And I already told you you're not allowed to use the phone unless you're answering it for me."
Mimi scowls. "But there's someone I need to call. Someone I need to explain something to."
"Absolutely not," Jacob says instantly. "By the way – was Cindy in that infernal rats' nest as well? She's not here."
Mimi looks down. "Yes," she replies dully.
"Good," he says. "More shit to get on them. Anything else? Drug possession?"
Mimi bites back a Look who's talking and instead mutters, "Yes." She lets her dark hair fall in her eyes as she stares at her feet and the ratty ground.
As though reading her thoughts, Jacob orders, "Clean the apartment." Then, he adds, "Mimi, we're gonna go over to a lawyer's office in a half hour to organize the lawsuit and conditions, and so on."
Mimi gets to her knees on the ground and feels the dust that has somehow been acquired in her thirteen months of not living with Jacob full-time. Thirteen months. It seems like so much longer than it really is.
"Okay, fuck that," Jacob says hurriedly. "Don't clean, just get up. Shower. Put on some clothes, for god's sake, it looks like you were just at the freakin' beach." Then he remembers: "Oh, that's right. You were. Okay, well Mimi, you have five minutes before I drag you to the office, 'kay?"
Mimi, who wants nothing more than to go back to Roger and apologize for everything she's done, follows Jacob's lead, slips into the bathroom, and prepares herself for the soul-selling condemnation in which she is about to partake.
Two streets over and six floors up, a half-planning session, half-party is taking place. Roger, Collins, and Benny search the refrigerator for some sort of intoxicating substance; Maureen and Angel entertain Mark and Cindy in a fierce game of Monopoly.
And several village-sized segments of Manhattan to the northeast of Jacob's humble home, Joanne Jefferson prepares for her meeting with Jacob Cohen, a name that she does not connect to that of her former client's opponent.