Story
(part two of three)
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"Story"
by Bri and Kait
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Taryn couldn't help but smile as she walked arm in arm with Mark down the street. His friends were huddled in an excited group around them, chatting with one another. It was Mimi who first spoke up. "So, Taryn, what do you do?" she asked casually.
"I write. Not very well, I might add," she replied with a wry smile. "That, and waitressing at that damn cafe... If they didn't have so much trouble keeping the staff, I'd have been fired looong ago." She smiled devilishly at the strange look that Mimi gave her. "Let's just say plates have a way of launching themselves at customers when I'm around..."
Mark covered a snicker with a over-exaggerated cough. "During college, I was a bartender--I have no clue exactly why I chose that job out of so many in the newspaper, but I did. Good hours, good pay, horrible company. It got to the point where I'd actually pour customer's G'n Ts over their heads and shove them out the door... never really liked beer or mixed drinks since then..."
Taryn smiled with an insiduous chuckle. "Come to think of it, quite a few people leave with parsley in their hair and ice cubes down their shirt... I think it's become a game, really. Let's see what the managers will excuse to keep Taryn from being fired!"
"I think the final straw was when I knocked a bottle of tequila over a
girl's head when she...uh...hit on me too many times." Mark grinned ferally in reflection. "It, uh, broke..."
"The only thing keeping me from slipping into the realm of the
unconventionally employed is the fact that some group of nuts keep starting riots during the night shift," she said with a sigh. "Everyone keeps quitting after experiencing those. Although, quite frankly, I'd really like to join in on the destruction most of the time."
There was dead silence before Roger started chuckling, the same deep rumble that Taryn had heard before. Soon, St. Marks Place was reverberating with the laughter of seven highly amused bohemians.
"Um, Taryn," Mark choked out, "that's us. We go there, tabledance, and toast to sodomy..."
*Fucking idiot,* the voice muttered darkly. Taryn felt her ears burn. *Might as well make the best out of it....* her more sinister side cackled. She stopped short, whirled Mark around, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "That's for paying my bills for the past six months," she explained breathlessly.
He laughed and pulled her closer, tucking his head above hers. "I think you might want to put on a mask or something," he murmured in her ear as he stroked her hair. "You'll get fired for sure if you come with us...."
She looked up and him and smiled softly. "Then I guess I'll find a new job," she said firmly. *Because God knows I wouldn't give up this night for anything else in the world,* she thought dreamily. *Bills, rent, food be damned.*
Mark whooped and lifted her up in the air to kiss her nose. "Well then," he said to Angel, who was standing closest, "shall we continue on?"
Roger blinked to clear his mind. He'd never seen Mark this...radiant...since when he was going out with Maureen. *And that was how many months ago?* He wrapped an arm around Mimi. *Maybe he just doesn't function completely without someone to love him.*
Taryn giggled as Mark lowered her back to the ground. *You just giggled,* the voice accused. *Like a teenager. You're sick!!* Taryn ignored the voice once again. She had never felt this way about anyone. *This has to be love. It has to be.* She never felt this care-free around Gary in eight and a half months of dating him. *Of course, he thought there was something seriously wrong with you because of your work, study, and dating habits,* the voice reminded her. *He was only in it for the sex...*
*She's adorable, she's wonderful, and she's with me...my God...am I
dreaming?* Mark jammed his hands in his pockets, afraid to look at Taryn lest she would disappear. *Maybe I'm hallucinating again, like I was when I had the flu that one time...*
Taryn noticed Mark's sudden withdrawl and snapped out of her own reverie. *Great, you scared him off,* the voice said sadistically. As a back part of her mind wondered what caused the voice to shift moods so fast, she touched Mark's arm hesitantly.
"Um, is something wrong?" she asked quietly, trying to look supportive. *I never really did get a hand on that supportive thing, did I?* she wondered, slightly frustrated. *I'd better try my hardest...*
"Nothing..." He sighed, mentally kicking himself. "Well, something. You see Maureen?" He gestured and waited until her eyes followed the direction his hand was pointing at, before continuing softly. "We went out once. Before she decided to date Joanne. And I was the luckiest guy on Earth if she even said hello to me on a bad day. On a good day, she'd lavish so much attention that you'd feel like the King of the World..." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Joanne and I call it the Tango: Maureen. She just has so much charisma she pulls you back, time after time."
Taryn felt her heart stop, but this time it wasn't a positive thing. She could feel the color draining from her face. *Nonononononono,* she thought miserably. *No....this isn't....*
"And you're still...." she whispered very quietly, trying not to shake. "I
mean, do you....?" She couldn't bring herself to finish, merely pleaded to him for an answer silently.
Mark looked like somebody slapped him. *Dammit, you try for sympathy and you KILL the poor woman...* He took Taryn's arm gently, silently having her stop as the rest of the group continued. When they were out of earshot, he continued, "Taryn, Maureen is my friend--and nothing more, now. It took me awhile after she broke up with me to learn that dating her like jumping into the abyss without a parachute."
Seeing the disbelief in her glistening eyes, he wilted.
Taryn's mouth slipped open of it's own accord. She moved to say something and then closed her mouth. She tried a second time, but still, the words didn't seem right. Finally she just settled for a glare.
"Watch what you say around me," she finally said. "My heart's not what it used to be." Inside, she was doing an excited dance. *He's not leaving me for his lesbian-ex!* There was a mental pause. *Okay, that sounded pretty weird....* *No shit,* the voice replied. Taryn grabbed Mark's hand and gave it a tug.
"Let's catch up," she whispered with a smile.
Dazedly, he followed. *I'm not even going to TRY to figure out who won that one.*
-----
"We're he-ere," Mark sang in a teasing tone as he barreled through the front door. The waiter shrank behind his stand. "We need a table. Now. A large table... it'd better be sturdy..."
The waiter backed away, grumbling under his breath. "Damn kids and their partying..." He blinked. "Taryn!? What the hell?! Oh, for crying out loud, I'm not even going to ask. Follow me."
Mark flashed a grin at Taryn and bowed comically, trying to ease the mood a bit. "Care to help me lead the way?" he asked teasingly.
"Oh, I'd be just honored," she said, clasping her hands sarcastically under her chin. She smiled sadistically at the head waiter. *Rick? Ralph? Reese? I think his name starts with 'R'....* she thought absently. With a flourish, she took Mark's arm and proceeded towards a largish table to the right.
Mark made a show of pulling out a chair and ushering Taryn to sit down in it. "M'lady," he said in a chivalrous tone, before plopping down beside her. "He doesn't look happy," he confided. "I say we break out the champagne...you know, we never pay for our meals either..."
Taryn laughed. "Oh, yeah, I heard that too. I primarily handle the lunch hour, but word gets around." She took in Mark's camera, spiky blonde hair, and glasses for a moment. *Oh my God...Trina was right...* She raised her eyebrows in wonderment for a moment, and then quickly explained to the befuddled-looking Mark.
"My friend Trina works the late shift a lot. She said... she said there's this one rioter with 'adorable spikey-hair and glasses' who was always 'lugging around this damn camera' whom she was thinking of asking out." She smiled coyly. "Please do me a favor and say no, alright?"
Angel overheard, and stuck her head in the conversation. "Is she the one who clapped and cheered that one time when you," she gestured to Mark, "fell off the table and--"
The filmmaker ducked his head. "Enough, enough!" he protested. "Don't go on, please..."
Mark's begging didn't deter the drummer in the least. "Fell off the table, ripped your brand-new shirt in half when you caught it on a chair, and landed on top of that wine bottle Roger put on the floor..."
Collins, who had snuck up behind Taryn, caught up the thread, "and dyed your pants bright red? Yeah, I think that's her."
Taryn did her best to cover up her laughter with a few coughs and sneezes. From the look on Mark's face, it was obvious it didn't work too well. "Allergies," she explained with a mischevious glint in her eyes. "But, that would be Trina."
Mark snorted. "I heard her making fun of us the other day--Mimi,
especially." He scowled deeply, his eyes averting to the cowed waiting-staff hiding near the far wall. *Assholes.* "If we still carried any clout here, I would've tried to get her fired..."
"No offense," he said quickly. "I just...can't stand people who don't like my friends and I for our lifestyle."
"Hey, no big deal," she said with a smile. "Really. She's annoying anyway. She's got Daddy to pay for everything she does, so she doesn't even really need this job. She looooves rubbing it in." She laughed quietly. "She almost had a heart attack when I dropped an entire table's worth of food on Daddy and Big Ugly Client from Hell's laps...."
Collins growled something unintelligble. "Sounds like Benny." He banged his fists on the table, calling loudly, "WINE AND BEER!" The others took up the chant until the restaurant windows started shaking.
The head waiter, his hands trembling, brought a tray of drinks. Mark passed a glass to bubbly champagne to Taryn, and took one for himself. "Shall I lead the toast," he called out, "or should I film this one? After all..." Mark paused to grin at Taryn, "this is a memorable event. We have a new member inthe family."
Taryn felt her cheeks flush, but no where near to the extent they had been earlier. "Get it on tape," she urged. "I love making fun of myself on film. When Ash and I were roomies at school we spent whole weekends making asses out of ourselves on video. I'm sure you can do much better than she can." She ignored the infuriated looks the waiter was throwing her, *Ron....Rich...Rob....Renfield...* she mused, and blocked out the fact that she could hear Trina hissing her name from across the room.
"I think you're being called." Mark smiled and poked her shoulder. "Feel free to ignore her at will... anyway, who's up to leading the toast? How about...waitaminute." His twinkling eyes settled on Taryn. "How about Mimi, you start it off, and then let's have Taryn pick up the thread..."
Taryn blinked. *Oh dear...* "You do realize I have no idea what I'm doing. None whatsoever," she said aloud. Before Mark could reply, Taryn was yanked backwards by her shoulder.
"Get over here," Trina hissed, pulling her away from the table. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Taryn shrugged. "Dinner with friends?"
"I know you want to get fired, but--"
*Who the hell does she think she is?!* Her anger bubbled over. "No, listen to *me* for once, Trina!" she shouted. "What if I told you I liked everyone at that fucking table?! What if I told you I'm here of my own free choice, not with the intention of being fired, although that would be a nice side-effect?! Would that send your perfect little fucking world askew, or do you have your head too far up your ass to even hear me?!" She shot Trina one last icy look before sitting back down. "Go back to Daddy." She sat down with a frustrated sigh. "I'm a writer. It's my job to piss people off," she explained to the table.
Mark snagged her around the waist and gave her a dramatic, lingering kiss that resulted in the resounding applause of the various people at the table. "You know," he said, more to himself than to her, "Roger can use the camera. I think I still might like to do the toast this time." He held her more tightly. "With you."
Taryn felt her heart flip-flop. *What the hell did I do to deserve this? What ever it was, I'd better keep doing it.....* She slipped her arms securely around his waist. "Hey, whatever you say. I'm just the rookie, remember?" She smiled slighly and breathed in deeply. *Oh God, this is perfect....*
Mark tossed his camera case (albeit carefully) to Roger, clambered up onto the table ungracefully, and gave Taryn a hand up. "Champagne, please," he requested. Joanne handed him the sparkling glass.
"Jump in whenever you want," he said with a wide grin at the woman beside him. Lifting his glass, he called, "Let's start this typically! To days of inspiration! Playing hooky!"
"PERFORMANCE ARTISTS!" Maureen bellowed from her seat, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Broken mics, life on the edge..."
Taryn found herself grinning involuntarily. *Oh, this should be easy
enough....* "Self-contempt!" she added. "Unfinshed projects, Procrastination!"
"Dancing, tangos to hell--" Mark's face took on a devil-may-care-look as he grinned at Joanne; his gaze shifted to Trina. "Freaks who get their life paid through..."
"Yuppie landlord scum!" Mimi yelled, then her voice softened. "Punk rockers who find the way to one's heart..."
"Love, life and happiness!" Angel added.
"Christophe Beck!" Taryn shouted with a laugh. "No feasible income! Love at first sight!" she winked at Mark flirtatiously.
*Christ, she's beautiful.* "C'mere, you," he growled, pulling her into his arms. *I can't be separated from her...God, Mark Cohen, you are pathetic. I'm falling faster and faster every moment...* "Robert Redford, beaded wigs," he glanced at Angel, who giggled, "cheap cameras and lameass puns!" Mark paused, and leaned over to breathe "auld lang syne," in her ear before grinning mischieviously.
Taryn giggled and tangled one hand lazily in his hair. *Oh God,* she thought helplessly. *Do my legs even work anymore?* "Computer crashes, missing data, stressed all-nighters, and caffine boosts!" she called out flippantly. *Damn computer,* a back part of her mind hissed.
"Caffeine," Roger acknowledged behind his camera. "The only good substitute for..."
"Sleeping in!" Collins jumped in with a flying leap on the table, joining Mark and Taryn. "Classfuls of brats, actual reality..."
"ACT UP! FIGHT AIDS!" two voices chorused. Mimi climbed up on the table, smacking Collins' ass playfully, as Angel fixed her skewed wig and joined them. One of the waitresses squealed and made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Taryn barely aknowlegded anyone else at the table. Mark was looking into her eyes. She felt herself swoon. "Taking that first step," she finally said. "Jumping into the abyss... with a parachute."
Taryn looked around the table quickly. The riot was in full swing now. No one was paying attention to the two of them anymore. She leaned forward and kissed Mark quickly, before whispering, "Can we talk for a minute?"
He nodded intently as he raised an arm at Roger. "Careful with that camera," he bellowed, before following Taryn's petite frame. "Yes?" he asked.
Taryn sat hesitantly on an empty table, shoving the half finished dinners left by the fleeing occupants away. *Why are you doing this to yourself, kid?* the voice shouted. *Why screw with a good thing?*
"I....I really, *really* like you, Mark. I do. It's just... you don't
think..." *How come I can never say what I want?!*
"Are we going too fast? This feels so...right....but...." she trailed off lamely, looking at her hands.
Mark reached out, grasping one of her hands in his. "This is up to you, really." He paused. "I'm scarred when it comes to relationships; most decisions I end up making about them these days... well, it just turns out horrible..." He chuckled weakly. "That didn't sound right."
Taryn smiled weakly and slowly looked up. "I'm not very good with relationships," she admitted. "It's all me, I know it. No one I've gone out with has ever really understood me. The longest time I've ever stayed with someone was this guy named Gary in college. He actually stayed away from me a lot...dumped me after the riot. I don't know why I'm saying all this...." *Neither do I, you fucking idiot,* the voice fumed. *Give yourself a hand for screwing up this relationship practically before it started...*
To her surprise, Mark nodded. "I had Sarah, all through highschool and college. We were the best of friends...until she learned I wasn't going to go be a lawyer and get her a big house. She broke up with me right when I dropped out of lawschool at Brown University. She tried to stay friends, but..."
Taryn smiled slightly. "I wish I could say I was sorry for you, but I really can't be..." She interlaced her fingers with his. "If you had a nice big house out in suburbia, you probably wouldn't be hanging around a dump like this. You probably wouldn't be seen in public with me." She frowned at her rumpled turtleneck and khakis. She unconciously rotated her sleeve to hide the ink stains covering one cuff.
"I regretted dropping out a few times, but I can tell you that this isn't one of them." Mark looked earnestly into her eyes. "If you're regretting anything, please tell me." His expression was planitive. *And I know that she's probably regretting things.*
She bit her lip. "I'm regretting starting this conversation," she admitted, "Because I feel so incredibly stupid at this point." *You should, you ARE.* "And my subconcious seems to be agreeing with me for once in my life." She smiled with a touch of embarassment in her eyes. "I'm such a pessimist...and a dope...I'm sorry..."
"Oh, sweet..." His eyebrows knitted together. *I hate when people put themselves down.* *Well, you do it all the time!* "You're neither of those things." Wishing he dared to hold her, he fell silent. "How far do you want to take this relationship?"
Taryn closed her eyes. "If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get frightened off?" she asked quietly. *You're about to do something incredibly, intensely fucking stupid!!!* her mind yelled. She tried her best to ignore it and continue without qualms. "You have to promise."
"I promise. On my camera." He gave her a small smile as he reached over to stroke her cheek.
*This is your last chance to save yourself.....* "I know this sounds illogical and crazy and...infeasible...but I think that I'm falling in love with you." She launched on without opening her eyes before he could object. "I know it's crazy! It doesn't make any sense! I've known you for-what?-an hour? two? Three? But I swear to God I've never felt this way before and...and..." *You're babling...like a psycho...* "I just don't know what else to think." She opened her eyes and looked up. "You think I'm crazy?"
"I think we're both crazy, because I think I'm falling in love with you." His smile was desperate and caring in the same moment. *I love her. I know it.*
And this time, no voice challenged him.
Taryn melted. Right then and there, she felt that she could die happy. *I've never had anything signifigant published, my parents haven't spoken to me since I got thrown out, my sister won't send me a penny...but Mark Cohen is in love with me. That's all that matters...* She touched his cheek very gently.
"That's possibly the most wonderful thing I've ever heard," she whispered.
Mark pulled her out of her seat and into his arms, slipping his lips over her in a kiss that seemed to last forever. *This is amazing, this is so amazing...*
*Oh my God.....if this isn't love, then love doesn'texsist.....this....He's shaking....no, I'm shaking. Oh God.....* She tightened her grip around him and lost a hand in his hair. *This is right.....this has to be right....*
"It's okay," Mark murmured as he tucked her into the crook of his arm. "I think, somehow, that this is going to work out." He leaned over to kiss her firmly, ignoring the sound of footsteps coming near.
Taryn closed her eyes and sighed gently before leaning into the kiss. Had she left her eyes open, she might have spotted the newcomer before it was too late.
"Taryn!" shrieked Martha as she jumped into a chair across from the couple. "You *have* to introduce me to your friend!"
The filmmaker blinked as he reluctantly pulled away from Taryn. "We're rather busy right now, thanks. We don't want any Girl Scout cookies or a new fridge. Thanks, bye."
Taryn nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be happy to take some information and get back to you at a better time!" she agreed. Much to her dismay, Martha just laughed and gave her a playful shove. Unfortunately, it was more shove then playful. She slid off Mark and landed with a stinging thump on the chair next to them.
"You're such a riot, Tar!" she giggled. "But, really, who's this guy?" She raised a seductive eyebrow at Mark. "Tell!"
"Sit, stay. Down, girl." He shook his head and offered a hand to Taryn, pulling her back into a loose embrace. "I'm Mark Cohen. This is Taryn. We are busy. We wish you to leave. Now? Please?" *Lord, hours ago I would sit here and let her pour her life story at me...this is more like the me from college. The me that Roger became friends with. Huh.*
Taryn sighed heavily, interrupting his train of thought. "Martha, there is a time and a place to catch up on 'old times'. This is neither the time, nor the place, so leave a message on my machine and I'll get back to you when I feel like it." She resisted the urge to add, 'never' to that sentence. "Ashley would be happy to take a message for me."
Martha's eyes lit up as if she had forgotten something. "Oh, that reminds me!" she exclaimed. "I saw Ash outside. She said something about her keys...she wanted to see you..." Taryn looked at Martha suspiciously, but turned and kissed Mark softly, standing up.
"I will be right back, I swear," she murmured. "This could be important. Move and I hunt you down and so help me God..." She walked away slowly, leaving him to finish the thought himself.
Martha, meanwhile, blinked showily at Mark and moved forward. "She's told you about the therapy, right?" she said innocently.
"Sure." He folded his arms and easied back in his chair, giving Martha the 'stinkeye'. "She also told me about the riots, her friends, and you." He pointedly didn't include the woman in front of him in the second category.
Martha ignored the look and continued. "Because, you know," she gushed over-dramatically. "We were all so worried about her. It broke our heart when they kept taking her out of school like that. The doctors...well, they said that happened to a lot of high schoolers and not to worry about it. Still, we were SO scared when the psychologist interviewed us all for her..." A glint of a sadistic grin flickered over her face.
"Really. That's weird, because none of my friends seemed scared after I was diagnosed as being bipolar. The fits seemed to have tipped them off, anyway." He grinned ferally. "In fact, I forgot to take my medication today...oh well, it helps me with my work."
Martha attempted to appear undaunted. "Well, it wasn't like we were unconcerned for her safety, but we were so frightened that she'd try to do it again. We didn't want to lose her. She was too unique. Ashley was the only one who could see her at the clinic, and she wouldn't tell the rest of us anything..." She shook her head sadly. "Even when they transfered her back to school she was so quiet. It's a real shame..."
"Disorders make people more interesting." An idea popped into Mark's mind, and he stood up, brushing off his shirt nonchalantly. He leaned closer to Martha, who grinned in triumph, to whisper: "You see that blonde-haired guy over there? The one with the camera and the guitar slung over his back? He's my best friend. He's also a homicidal maniac, but he takes pills for that, even though I think he hasn't refilled his prescription in a few weeks. The slightest things make him mad."
Martha flinched noticably, but tried to hold her ground. "Oh...that's, um, intresting." She looked around quickly, just as Taryn started back towards the table, obviously fuming.
"Ashley," she said through her teeth. "Is at home. She has been home for two hours. Somehow I knew that was going to happen, but I went to check anyway." She stomped over to Martha and pulled out her wallet. "This is all I have left for the week, Martha," she said darkly. "Take it. Get out of here." Martha didn't move. "Okay, you need more?" She shoved the whole wallet towards the woman next to her. "Take it all. License, bussiness cards, agents who've rejected me, publishers who won't call back--take my whole damn life. I don't care anymore. I really don't want to put up with this crap." She turned around and stalked out of the cafe, leaving a gaping Martha behind her.
Mark snatched the wallet away from Martha and said in a dangerously soft voice, "That is all. Get your ass out that door or I will KICK it out that door. Or better yet, MIMI!" The Latino woman clambered down off the table, her eyes narrowing with pleasure as she saw Martha. "She needs to be escorted out. Immediately." Mark's cold-eyed stare glared a warning. Mimi backed off an involuntary pace, then headed forward again, Collins at her heels.
As soon as Mimi came within a two-foot radius of Martha, Mark ran out of the cafe, skidding to a stop a foot behind Taryn. "Are you okay?" he pleaded in a cracked whisper. *Dammit, of course she isn't okay...but don't touch her...you know that can set you off...just see how she reacts...*
Taryn nodded slowly but didn't turn around. "I've had better days," she admitted hoarsely, wiping some stubborn tears from her eyes. "But I needed that." There was an awkward pause before she added, "I guess she told you the whole story then, huh?" *You're in it now,*
her inner voice muttered. *No...I'll tell him the truth...he'll understand....I hope...*
"Yeah, she did. And that doesn't change my opinion of you--not true. It does change my opinion of you. It puts you even higher in my eyes, love." He dropped his arms down to his sides. "I told her a half-truth. I told her I was bipolar; not true. I, uh...clinically depressed...well...mostly, and then there's the whole teetering-on-the-edge-of-losing-it bit, but..."
Taryn squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not...I wasn't....." she sighed and
scratched at her eyes one more time before turning around. "I'm....glad that you don't think less of me, but....truth be told... I wasn't as suicidal as they thought. It was an accident. I was acting with Ashley, we took a scene too far, I ended up pitched out of a second story window..." she sighed again and stared at the ground. "They put me in therapy...six months in a hellish clinic...just to find out there was nothing wrong with me..."
He smiled weakly and said simply, "That must have been hell." Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to her.
Taryn felt herself physically lose control. She fell into Mark roughly, tears trickling from her tightly closed eyes. "Oh God....they wouldn't....they wouldn't....I couldn't see anyone besides
my...my...family! My asshole parents and spolied sister and...and...Ash....they destroyed m-my work and....and...." She held back a sob from escaping her throat. *Don't lose it....don't lose it...you can do this, Taryn....*
He clutched her tightly, burying his head in her hair. "I'll never let them do anything to you, I swear to God. And I'll help you with your work, and rebuilding what was destroyed, and--and hold you," he finished unceremoniously. "When you need it. But I think you know me by now, I can't stop holding you."
Much to her dismay, Taryn did indeed lose it. She buried her head in Mark's shoulder and sobbed, ignoring the trembling that was rapidly taking over her body. "I need someone now," she sobbed. "I need you now! Just....don't leave me....please....."
"I won't leave you, I won't leave you," he repeated raggedly in her ear, before scooping her up in his arms as it started to drizzle. "You'll catch cold... come on back with me, I have a spare room."
(end part two)
(part two of three)
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"Story"
by Bri and Kait
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Taryn couldn't help but smile as she walked arm in arm with Mark down the street. His friends were huddled in an excited group around them, chatting with one another. It was Mimi who first spoke up. "So, Taryn, what do you do?" she asked casually.
"I write. Not very well, I might add," she replied with a wry smile. "That, and waitressing at that damn cafe... If they didn't have so much trouble keeping the staff, I'd have been fired looong ago." She smiled devilishly at the strange look that Mimi gave her. "Let's just say plates have a way of launching themselves at customers when I'm around..."
Mark covered a snicker with a over-exaggerated cough. "During college, I was a bartender--I have no clue exactly why I chose that job out of so many in the newspaper, but I did. Good hours, good pay, horrible company. It got to the point where I'd actually pour customer's G'n Ts over their heads and shove them out the door... never really liked beer or mixed drinks since then..."
Taryn smiled with an insiduous chuckle. "Come to think of it, quite a few people leave with parsley in their hair and ice cubes down their shirt... I think it's become a game, really. Let's see what the managers will excuse to keep Taryn from being fired!"
"I think the final straw was when I knocked a bottle of tequila over a
girl's head when she...uh...hit on me too many times." Mark grinned ferally in reflection. "It, uh, broke..."
"The only thing keeping me from slipping into the realm of the
unconventionally employed is the fact that some group of nuts keep starting riots during the night shift," she said with a sigh. "Everyone keeps quitting after experiencing those. Although, quite frankly, I'd really like to join in on the destruction most of the time."
There was dead silence before Roger started chuckling, the same deep rumble that Taryn had heard before. Soon, St. Marks Place was reverberating with the laughter of seven highly amused bohemians.
"Um, Taryn," Mark choked out, "that's us. We go there, tabledance, and toast to sodomy..."
*Fucking idiot,* the voice muttered darkly. Taryn felt her ears burn. *Might as well make the best out of it....* her more sinister side cackled. She stopped short, whirled Mark around, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "That's for paying my bills for the past six months," she explained breathlessly.
He laughed and pulled her closer, tucking his head above hers. "I think you might want to put on a mask or something," he murmured in her ear as he stroked her hair. "You'll get fired for sure if you come with us...."
She looked up and him and smiled softly. "Then I guess I'll find a new job," she said firmly. *Because God knows I wouldn't give up this night for anything else in the world,* she thought dreamily. *Bills, rent, food be damned.*
Mark whooped and lifted her up in the air to kiss her nose. "Well then," he said to Angel, who was standing closest, "shall we continue on?"
Roger blinked to clear his mind. He'd never seen Mark this...radiant...since when he was going out with Maureen. *And that was how many months ago?* He wrapped an arm around Mimi. *Maybe he just doesn't function completely without someone to love him.*
Taryn giggled as Mark lowered her back to the ground. *You just giggled,* the voice accused. *Like a teenager. You're sick!!* Taryn ignored the voice once again. She had never felt this way about anyone. *This has to be love. It has to be.* She never felt this care-free around Gary in eight and a half months of dating him. *Of course, he thought there was something seriously wrong with you because of your work, study, and dating habits,* the voice reminded her. *He was only in it for the sex...*
*She's adorable, she's wonderful, and she's with me...my God...am I
dreaming?* Mark jammed his hands in his pockets, afraid to look at Taryn lest she would disappear. *Maybe I'm hallucinating again, like I was when I had the flu that one time...*
Taryn noticed Mark's sudden withdrawl and snapped out of her own reverie. *Great, you scared him off,* the voice said sadistically. As a back part of her mind wondered what caused the voice to shift moods so fast, she touched Mark's arm hesitantly.
"Um, is something wrong?" she asked quietly, trying to look supportive. *I never really did get a hand on that supportive thing, did I?* she wondered, slightly frustrated. *I'd better try my hardest...*
"Nothing..." He sighed, mentally kicking himself. "Well, something. You see Maureen?" He gestured and waited until her eyes followed the direction his hand was pointing at, before continuing softly. "We went out once. Before she decided to date Joanne. And I was the luckiest guy on Earth if she even said hello to me on a bad day. On a good day, she'd lavish so much attention that you'd feel like the King of the World..." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Joanne and I call it the Tango: Maureen. She just has so much charisma she pulls you back, time after time."
Taryn felt her heart stop, but this time it wasn't a positive thing. She could feel the color draining from her face. *Nonononononono,* she thought miserably. *No....this isn't....*
"And you're still...." she whispered very quietly, trying not to shake. "I
mean, do you....?" She couldn't bring herself to finish, merely pleaded to him for an answer silently.
Mark looked like somebody slapped him. *Dammit, you try for sympathy and you KILL the poor woman...* He took Taryn's arm gently, silently having her stop as the rest of the group continued. When they were out of earshot, he continued, "Taryn, Maureen is my friend--and nothing more, now. It took me awhile after she broke up with me to learn that dating her like jumping into the abyss without a parachute."
Seeing the disbelief in her glistening eyes, he wilted.
Taryn's mouth slipped open of it's own accord. She moved to say something and then closed her mouth. She tried a second time, but still, the words didn't seem right. Finally she just settled for a glare.
"Watch what you say around me," she finally said. "My heart's not what it used to be." Inside, she was doing an excited dance. *He's not leaving me for his lesbian-ex!* There was a mental pause. *Okay, that sounded pretty weird....* *No shit,* the voice replied. Taryn grabbed Mark's hand and gave it a tug.
"Let's catch up," she whispered with a smile.
Dazedly, he followed. *I'm not even going to TRY to figure out who won that one.*
-----
"We're he-ere," Mark sang in a teasing tone as he barreled through the front door. The waiter shrank behind his stand. "We need a table. Now. A large table... it'd better be sturdy..."
The waiter backed away, grumbling under his breath. "Damn kids and their partying..." He blinked. "Taryn!? What the hell?! Oh, for crying out loud, I'm not even going to ask. Follow me."
Mark flashed a grin at Taryn and bowed comically, trying to ease the mood a bit. "Care to help me lead the way?" he asked teasingly.
"Oh, I'd be just honored," she said, clasping her hands sarcastically under her chin. She smiled sadistically at the head waiter. *Rick? Ralph? Reese? I think his name starts with 'R'....* she thought absently. With a flourish, she took Mark's arm and proceeded towards a largish table to the right.
Mark made a show of pulling out a chair and ushering Taryn to sit down in it. "M'lady," he said in a chivalrous tone, before plopping down beside her. "He doesn't look happy," he confided. "I say we break out the champagne...you know, we never pay for our meals either..."
Taryn laughed. "Oh, yeah, I heard that too. I primarily handle the lunch hour, but word gets around." She took in Mark's camera, spiky blonde hair, and glasses for a moment. *Oh my God...Trina was right...* She raised her eyebrows in wonderment for a moment, and then quickly explained to the befuddled-looking Mark.
"My friend Trina works the late shift a lot. She said... she said there's this one rioter with 'adorable spikey-hair and glasses' who was always 'lugging around this damn camera' whom she was thinking of asking out." She smiled coyly. "Please do me a favor and say no, alright?"
Angel overheard, and stuck her head in the conversation. "Is she the one who clapped and cheered that one time when you," she gestured to Mark, "fell off the table and--"
The filmmaker ducked his head. "Enough, enough!" he protested. "Don't go on, please..."
Mark's begging didn't deter the drummer in the least. "Fell off the table, ripped your brand-new shirt in half when you caught it on a chair, and landed on top of that wine bottle Roger put on the floor..."
Collins, who had snuck up behind Taryn, caught up the thread, "and dyed your pants bright red? Yeah, I think that's her."
Taryn did her best to cover up her laughter with a few coughs and sneezes. From the look on Mark's face, it was obvious it didn't work too well. "Allergies," she explained with a mischevious glint in her eyes. "But, that would be Trina."
Mark snorted. "I heard her making fun of us the other day--Mimi,
especially." He scowled deeply, his eyes averting to the cowed waiting-staff hiding near the far wall. *Assholes.* "If we still carried any clout here, I would've tried to get her fired..."
"No offense," he said quickly. "I just...can't stand people who don't like my friends and I for our lifestyle."
"Hey, no big deal," she said with a smile. "Really. She's annoying anyway. She's got Daddy to pay for everything she does, so she doesn't even really need this job. She looooves rubbing it in." She laughed quietly. "She almost had a heart attack when I dropped an entire table's worth of food on Daddy and Big Ugly Client from Hell's laps...."
Collins growled something unintelligble. "Sounds like Benny." He banged his fists on the table, calling loudly, "WINE AND BEER!" The others took up the chant until the restaurant windows started shaking.
The head waiter, his hands trembling, brought a tray of drinks. Mark passed a glass to bubbly champagne to Taryn, and took one for himself. "Shall I lead the toast," he called out, "or should I film this one? After all..." Mark paused to grin at Taryn, "this is a memorable event. We have a new member inthe family."
Taryn felt her cheeks flush, but no where near to the extent they had been earlier. "Get it on tape," she urged. "I love making fun of myself on film. When Ash and I were roomies at school we spent whole weekends making asses out of ourselves on video. I'm sure you can do much better than she can." She ignored the infuriated looks the waiter was throwing her, *Ron....Rich...Rob....Renfield...* she mused, and blocked out the fact that she could hear Trina hissing her name from across the room.
"I think you're being called." Mark smiled and poked her shoulder. "Feel free to ignore her at will... anyway, who's up to leading the toast? How about...waitaminute." His twinkling eyes settled on Taryn. "How about Mimi, you start it off, and then let's have Taryn pick up the thread..."
Taryn blinked. *Oh dear...* "You do realize I have no idea what I'm doing. None whatsoever," she said aloud. Before Mark could reply, Taryn was yanked backwards by her shoulder.
"Get over here," Trina hissed, pulling her away from the table. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Taryn shrugged. "Dinner with friends?"
"I know you want to get fired, but--"
*Who the hell does she think she is?!* Her anger bubbled over. "No, listen to *me* for once, Trina!" she shouted. "What if I told you I liked everyone at that fucking table?! What if I told you I'm here of my own free choice, not with the intention of being fired, although that would be a nice side-effect?! Would that send your perfect little fucking world askew, or do you have your head too far up your ass to even hear me?!" She shot Trina one last icy look before sitting back down. "Go back to Daddy." She sat down with a frustrated sigh. "I'm a writer. It's my job to piss people off," she explained to the table.
Mark snagged her around the waist and gave her a dramatic, lingering kiss that resulted in the resounding applause of the various people at the table. "You know," he said, more to himself than to her, "Roger can use the camera. I think I still might like to do the toast this time." He held her more tightly. "With you."
Taryn felt her heart flip-flop. *What the hell did I do to deserve this? What ever it was, I'd better keep doing it.....* She slipped her arms securely around his waist. "Hey, whatever you say. I'm just the rookie, remember?" She smiled slighly and breathed in deeply. *Oh God, this is perfect....*
Mark tossed his camera case (albeit carefully) to Roger, clambered up onto the table ungracefully, and gave Taryn a hand up. "Champagne, please," he requested. Joanne handed him the sparkling glass.
"Jump in whenever you want," he said with a wide grin at the woman beside him. Lifting his glass, he called, "Let's start this typically! To days of inspiration! Playing hooky!"
"PERFORMANCE ARTISTS!" Maureen bellowed from her seat, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Broken mics, life on the edge..."
Taryn found herself grinning involuntarily. *Oh, this should be easy
enough....* "Self-contempt!" she added. "Unfinshed projects, Procrastination!"
"Dancing, tangos to hell--" Mark's face took on a devil-may-care-look as he grinned at Joanne; his gaze shifted to Trina. "Freaks who get their life paid through..."
"Yuppie landlord scum!" Mimi yelled, then her voice softened. "Punk rockers who find the way to one's heart..."
"Love, life and happiness!" Angel added.
"Christophe Beck!" Taryn shouted with a laugh. "No feasible income! Love at first sight!" she winked at Mark flirtatiously.
*Christ, she's beautiful.* "C'mere, you," he growled, pulling her into his arms. *I can't be separated from her...God, Mark Cohen, you are pathetic. I'm falling faster and faster every moment...* "Robert Redford, beaded wigs," he glanced at Angel, who giggled, "cheap cameras and lameass puns!" Mark paused, and leaned over to breathe "auld lang syne," in her ear before grinning mischieviously.
Taryn giggled and tangled one hand lazily in his hair. *Oh God,* she thought helplessly. *Do my legs even work anymore?* "Computer crashes, missing data, stressed all-nighters, and caffine boosts!" she called out flippantly. *Damn computer,* a back part of her mind hissed.
"Caffeine," Roger acknowledged behind his camera. "The only good substitute for..."
"Sleeping in!" Collins jumped in with a flying leap on the table, joining Mark and Taryn. "Classfuls of brats, actual reality..."
"ACT UP! FIGHT AIDS!" two voices chorused. Mimi climbed up on the table, smacking Collins' ass playfully, as Angel fixed her skewed wig and joined them. One of the waitresses squealed and made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Taryn barely aknowlegded anyone else at the table. Mark was looking into her eyes. She felt herself swoon. "Taking that first step," she finally said. "Jumping into the abyss... with a parachute."
Taryn looked around the table quickly. The riot was in full swing now. No one was paying attention to the two of them anymore. She leaned forward and kissed Mark quickly, before whispering, "Can we talk for a minute?"
He nodded intently as he raised an arm at Roger. "Careful with that camera," he bellowed, before following Taryn's petite frame. "Yes?" he asked.
Taryn sat hesitantly on an empty table, shoving the half finished dinners left by the fleeing occupants away. *Why are you doing this to yourself, kid?* the voice shouted. *Why screw with a good thing?*
"I....I really, *really* like you, Mark. I do. It's just... you don't
think..." *How come I can never say what I want?!*
"Are we going too fast? This feels so...right....but...." she trailed off lamely, looking at her hands.
Mark reached out, grasping one of her hands in his. "This is up to you, really." He paused. "I'm scarred when it comes to relationships; most decisions I end up making about them these days... well, it just turns out horrible..." He chuckled weakly. "That didn't sound right."
Taryn smiled weakly and slowly looked up. "I'm not very good with relationships," she admitted. "It's all me, I know it. No one I've gone out with has ever really understood me. The longest time I've ever stayed with someone was this guy named Gary in college. He actually stayed away from me a lot...dumped me after the riot. I don't know why I'm saying all this...." *Neither do I, you fucking idiot,* the voice fumed. *Give yourself a hand for screwing up this relationship practically before it started...*
To her surprise, Mark nodded. "I had Sarah, all through highschool and college. We were the best of friends...until she learned I wasn't going to go be a lawyer and get her a big house. She broke up with me right when I dropped out of lawschool at Brown University. She tried to stay friends, but..."
Taryn smiled slightly. "I wish I could say I was sorry for you, but I really can't be..." She interlaced her fingers with his. "If you had a nice big house out in suburbia, you probably wouldn't be hanging around a dump like this. You probably wouldn't be seen in public with me." She frowned at her rumpled turtleneck and khakis. She unconciously rotated her sleeve to hide the ink stains covering one cuff.
"I regretted dropping out a few times, but I can tell you that this isn't one of them." Mark looked earnestly into her eyes. "If you're regretting anything, please tell me." His expression was planitive. *And I know that she's probably regretting things.*
She bit her lip. "I'm regretting starting this conversation," she admitted, "Because I feel so incredibly stupid at this point." *You should, you ARE.* "And my subconcious seems to be agreeing with me for once in my life." She smiled with a touch of embarassment in her eyes. "I'm such a pessimist...and a dope...I'm sorry..."
"Oh, sweet..." His eyebrows knitted together. *I hate when people put themselves down.* *Well, you do it all the time!* "You're neither of those things." Wishing he dared to hold her, he fell silent. "How far do you want to take this relationship?"
Taryn closed her eyes. "If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get frightened off?" she asked quietly. *You're about to do something incredibly, intensely fucking stupid!!!* her mind yelled. She tried her best to ignore it and continue without qualms. "You have to promise."
"I promise. On my camera." He gave her a small smile as he reached over to stroke her cheek.
*This is your last chance to save yourself.....* "I know this sounds illogical and crazy and...infeasible...but I think that I'm falling in love with you." She launched on without opening her eyes before he could object. "I know it's crazy! It doesn't make any sense! I've known you for-what?-an hour? two? Three? But I swear to God I've never felt this way before and...and..." *You're babling...like a psycho...* "I just don't know what else to think." She opened her eyes and looked up. "You think I'm crazy?"
"I think we're both crazy, because I think I'm falling in love with you." His smile was desperate and caring in the same moment. *I love her. I know it.*
And this time, no voice challenged him.
Taryn melted. Right then and there, she felt that she could die happy. *I've never had anything signifigant published, my parents haven't spoken to me since I got thrown out, my sister won't send me a penny...but Mark Cohen is in love with me. That's all that matters...* She touched his cheek very gently.
"That's possibly the most wonderful thing I've ever heard," she whispered.
Mark pulled her out of her seat and into his arms, slipping his lips over her in a kiss that seemed to last forever. *This is amazing, this is so amazing...*
*Oh my God.....if this isn't love, then love doesn'texsist.....this....He's shaking....no, I'm shaking. Oh God.....* She tightened her grip around him and lost a hand in his hair. *This is right.....this has to be right....*
"It's okay," Mark murmured as he tucked her into the crook of his arm. "I think, somehow, that this is going to work out." He leaned over to kiss her firmly, ignoring the sound of footsteps coming near.
Taryn closed her eyes and sighed gently before leaning into the kiss. Had she left her eyes open, she might have spotted the newcomer before it was too late.
"Taryn!" shrieked Martha as she jumped into a chair across from the couple. "You *have* to introduce me to your friend!"
The filmmaker blinked as he reluctantly pulled away from Taryn. "We're rather busy right now, thanks. We don't want any Girl Scout cookies or a new fridge. Thanks, bye."
Taryn nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be happy to take some information and get back to you at a better time!" she agreed. Much to her dismay, Martha just laughed and gave her a playful shove. Unfortunately, it was more shove then playful. She slid off Mark and landed with a stinging thump on the chair next to them.
"You're such a riot, Tar!" she giggled. "But, really, who's this guy?" She raised a seductive eyebrow at Mark. "Tell!"
"Sit, stay. Down, girl." He shook his head and offered a hand to Taryn, pulling her back into a loose embrace. "I'm Mark Cohen. This is Taryn. We are busy. We wish you to leave. Now? Please?" *Lord, hours ago I would sit here and let her pour her life story at me...this is more like the me from college. The me that Roger became friends with. Huh.*
Taryn sighed heavily, interrupting his train of thought. "Martha, there is a time and a place to catch up on 'old times'. This is neither the time, nor the place, so leave a message on my machine and I'll get back to you when I feel like it." She resisted the urge to add, 'never' to that sentence. "Ashley would be happy to take a message for me."
Martha's eyes lit up as if she had forgotten something. "Oh, that reminds me!" she exclaimed. "I saw Ash outside. She said something about her keys...she wanted to see you..." Taryn looked at Martha suspiciously, but turned and kissed Mark softly, standing up.
"I will be right back, I swear," she murmured. "This could be important. Move and I hunt you down and so help me God..." She walked away slowly, leaving him to finish the thought himself.
Martha, meanwhile, blinked showily at Mark and moved forward. "She's told you about the therapy, right?" she said innocently.
"Sure." He folded his arms and easied back in his chair, giving Martha the 'stinkeye'. "She also told me about the riots, her friends, and you." He pointedly didn't include the woman in front of him in the second category.
Martha ignored the look and continued. "Because, you know," she gushed over-dramatically. "We were all so worried about her. It broke our heart when they kept taking her out of school like that. The doctors...well, they said that happened to a lot of high schoolers and not to worry about it. Still, we were SO scared when the psychologist interviewed us all for her..." A glint of a sadistic grin flickered over her face.
"Really. That's weird, because none of my friends seemed scared after I was diagnosed as being bipolar. The fits seemed to have tipped them off, anyway." He grinned ferally. "In fact, I forgot to take my medication today...oh well, it helps me with my work."
Martha attempted to appear undaunted. "Well, it wasn't like we were unconcerned for her safety, but we were so frightened that she'd try to do it again. We didn't want to lose her. She was too unique. Ashley was the only one who could see her at the clinic, and she wouldn't tell the rest of us anything..." She shook her head sadly. "Even when they transfered her back to school she was so quiet. It's a real shame..."
"Disorders make people more interesting." An idea popped into Mark's mind, and he stood up, brushing off his shirt nonchalantly. He leaned closer to Martha, who grinned in triumph, to whisper: "You see that blonde-haired guy over there? The one with the camera and the guitar slung over his back? He's my best friend. He's also a homicidal maniac, but he takes pills for that, even though I think he hasn't refilled his prescription in a few weeks. The slightest things make him mad."
Martha flinched noticably, but tried to hold her ground. "Oh...that's, um, intresting." She looked around quickly, just as Taryn started back towards the table, obviously fuming.
"Ashley," she said through her teeth. "Is at home. She has been home for two hours. Somehow I knew that was going to happen, but I went to check anyway." She stomped over to Martha and pulled out her wallet. "This is all I have left for the week, Martha," she said darkly. "Take it. Get out of here." Martha didn't move. "Okay, you need more?" She shoved the whole wallet towards the woman next to her. "Take it all. License, bussiness cards, agents who've rejected me, publishers who won't call back--take my whole damn life. I don't care anymore. I really don't want to put up with this crap." She turned around and stalked out of the cafe, leaving a gaping Martha behind her.
Mark snatched the wallet away from Martha and said in a dangerously soft voice, "That is all. Get your ass out that door or I will KICK it out that door. Or better yet, MIMI!" The Latino woman clambered down off the table, her eyes narrowing with pleasure as she saw Martha. "She needs to be escorted out. Immediately." Mark's cold-eyed stare glared a warning. Mimi backed off an involuntary pace, then headed forward again, Collins at her heels.
As soon as Mimi came within a two-foot radius of Martha, Mark ran out of the cafe, skidding to a stop a foot behind Taryn. "Are you okay?" he pleaded in a cracked whisper. *Dammit, of course she isn't okay...but don't touch her...you know that can set you off...just see how she reacts...*
Taryn nodded slowly but didn't turn around. "I've had better days," she admitted hoarsely, wiping some stubborn tears from her eyes. "But I needed that." There was an awkward pause before she added, "I guess she told you the whole story then, huh?" *You're in it now,*
her inner voice muttered. *No...I'll tell him the truth...he'll understand....I hope...*
"Yeah, she did. And that doesn't change my opinion of you--not true. It does change my opinion of you. It puts you even higher in my eyes, love." He dropped his arms down to his sides. "I told her a half-truth. I told her I was bipolar; not true. I, uh...clinically depressed...well...mostly, and then there's the whole teetering-on-the-edge-of-losing-it bit, but..."
Taryn squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not...I wasn't....." she sighed and
scratched at her eyes one more time before turning around. "I'm....glad that you don't think less of me, but....truth be told... I wasn't as suicidal as they thought. It was an accident. I was acting with Ashley, we took a scene too far, I ended up pitched out of a second story window..." she sighed again and stared at the ground. "They put me in therapy...six months in a hellish clinic...just to find out there was nothing wrong with me..."
He smiled weakly and said simply, "That must have been hell." Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to her.
Taryn felt herself physically lose control. She fell into Mark roughly, tears trickling from her tightly closed eyes. "Oh God....they wouldn't....they wouldn't....I couldn't see anyone besides
my...my...family! My asshole parents and spolied sister and...and...Ash....they destroyed m-my work and....and...." She held back a sob from escaping her throat. *Don't lose it....don't lose it...you can do this, Taryn....*
He clutched her tightly, burying his head in her hair. "I'll never let them do anything to you, I swear to God. And I'll help you with your work, and rebuilding what was destroyed, and--and hold you," he finished unceremoniously. "When you need it. But I think you know me by now, I can't stop holding you."
Much to her dismay, Taryn did indeed lose it. She buried her head in Mark's shoulder and sobbed, ignoring the trembling that was rapidly taking over her body. "I need someone now," she sobbed. "I need you now! Just....don't leave me....please....."
"I won't leave you, I won't leave you," he repeated raggedly in her ear, before scooping her up in his arms as it started to drizzle. "You'll catch cold... come on back with me, I have a spare room."
(end part two)