Author's Note: I just want to say that I may not be able to update as much as I have been for the next few months because of my rehearsal schedule. Just don't think I've forgotten my writing, because I haven't. And don't prejudge this plot. Give me a chance to set it up.

~~~**~~~

Chapter 11: Love Takes Time

February 1st

11:00 AM

"I'm dreaming of a white Valentine's day. . ." Mark sang, pointing his camera out the window at the snow-covered lot below.

I had been snowing for nearly two days without stopping and the little space heater in the loft was on its last leg.

"Mark, shut up!" Roger called, throwing yet another sheet of crumpled staff paper toward the trash can. The paper bounced off the rim with a dull metallic thud, and landed on top of the mountain of paper already on the floor.

"Good lord, no it's snowing in here too," Mimi said dryly, glancing at the mess on the floor, then sitting down on the couch next to Roger and stealing part of the blanket he had over his shoulders.

"Hey!" Roger protested, "It's cold in here! Would you really steal heat from a poor, struggling musician?" he pouted, poking her with his guitar pick.

"Oh, I can give you plenty of heat if you need it," Mimi purred, raising an eyebrow at Roger. "Besides, didn't your mother ever teach you to share?"

"Nah. Think I must've missed that particular lesson. My brain was on a vacation."

Roger lifted his guitar off his lap and placed it on the floor beside the couch, then pulled Mimi down against him.

"All right, time out!" Mark called, turning his camera on them.

Mimi immediately jumped up and clapped her hand over the lens.

"And here we have the hand of the lovely Miss Marquez who has no problem getting drunk and dancing on the table at the Life Café, but is apparently mortally afraid of cameras."

Mark yelped as Mimi wrestled the camera out of his hands and turned it on him.

"And *here* we have Mark Cohen, celebrated maker of unsellable films, who is mortally afraid of his *own* camera."

"That's not fair!" Mark yelped, covering his head with his hands.

"If I wanted to be in front of it, I wouldn't be behind it!"

Mark ran around behind Mimi and grabbed the camera back from her. She sighed and went back over to Roger, sitting down on his lap. Mark adjusted a few settings on his camera, then pointed it back at Roger and Mimi.

"And here we have our resident lovebirds, having a little fun on the lovely, snowy day. Smile!"

Roger shoved Mimi off his lap and got up, blushing slightly.

"Come on, Mark, cut it out."

"Okay, okay," Mark sighed, switching off the camera, "Waste of film anyway."

"What?" Roger asked Mimi, who was standing a few feet away, glaring at him.

"What's with dumping me off your lap?"

"What?! When?"

"Just now. You pushed me off like you were afraid I'd bite."

"Mark was filming!" Roger said defensively.

"Oh, so you don't want me on film with you?"

"I never said that! I just didn't think that you would want Mark to—"

"What? To *what*? To have a record of us being together? Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Mimi!"

"What's with you lately, Roger? I mean really!"

"What have I done?" Roger protested.

"Everything! You're always gone! Out at practice or—or—I don't even know where you go all the time anymore! And now you act ashamed of me! If you're gong to treat me like this Roger then—then I just don't know."

Mimi turned and stormed out the door, grabbing her jacket on her way out.

"Mimi WAIT!" Roger called after her.

She didn't stop. Roger stood staring in shock for a moment, then turned to Mark.

"What the hell just happened there?"

Mark shrugged.

"I don't know. But it sure wasn't pretty."

"Think we should go look for her?"

"No. Give her time. You'll be fine in time."

~~~**~~~

12:30 PM

Maureen fanned her hands in the air, then paused and examined her hot pink nailpolish, trying not to inhale the fumes.

The knock on the door made her jump.

"Coming!" she called, "Keep you head on, I'll be there in a second!"

Maureen opened the door, then squealed in surprise.

"Mimi! Honey, I haven't seen you in *ages.* Where have you been?"

"Oh, around," Mimi said sourly, "Off rotting in a corner, unnoticed by the world of man. I think I'm in love with Fender. I swear, she's far better company than any man I'll ever meet."

"Aw, honey, what's wrong?" Maureen asked, ushering Mimi inside and closing the door. Mimi took off her coat and gave a long sigh, sitting down on the couch.

"Oh. . .everything. Where's Joanne?"

"At work. Lucky woman. She actually gets *paid* for the work that she does. But tell me what's wrong. And don't say 'nothing' because I know you don't normally act like this."

"Okay," Mimi laughed bitterly, "I won't say nothing. Everything. Everything's wrong."

"Well . . .it's a start. Anything. . .specific?"

"Well . . .Roger."

Maureen laughed.

"Why am I not surprised? What did he do this time?"

"Oh, it's not like it's just one thing. He's just. . .gone all the time. And even when he *is* around, all he wants to do is either be left alone with his guitar or fool around. And I don't think he even *knows* it bothers me. It's killing me and he doesn't even notice."

"He's a *guy*, Mimi. What can you expect? Come on, what is it really? That can't be all that's got you this upset."

"I. . .Maureen, I think I'm pregnant," Mimi said softly, burying her face in her hands.

Maureen's eyes widened, then an idiotic grin swept across her face.

"Honey, that's wonderful!" she squealed, "Are you sure?"

Mimi shrugged uncertainly.

"I don't know. I mean, I think so. I haven't been tested or anything but—Oh, God, Maureen, how am I going to tell Roger?"

"Just tell him. He loves you. He'll understand."

Mimi shook her head, starting to cry.

"No! No, he won't. He's so full of himself right now. He'll leave me."

Maureen sighed and put an arm around Mimi.

"It'll work out. Just don't tell him anything until you know for sure."

~~~**~~~

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