"You looking for something?" a hoarse voice asked as Mimi quickly turned the corner and stepped into an alley.

She turned. It was her old dealer. The man. She didn't know his first name, and he had never bothered to tell her.

"Well, long time no see," he grinned. "It's Maria, right?"

"Mimi," she corrected him. "Look, I need something. Anything. I'm just so fucking messed up right now." She fished a few crumpled bills out of her coat pocket. "I don't have that much money."

"Easy, easy. Calm down. You look like you've been through hell." He glanced down at her. "If you don't mind my saying so."

"I'm not having the best week," Mimi said, gruffly. She shifted her feet, impatiently. "So what could about fifteen dollars get me?"

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house," he grinned, producing a small doggie bag from his pocket. "It's not much, but it'll do the job. You pay me later. You're an old customer. I trust you."

Mimi was hesitant before taking the bag from him and stuffing it into her pocket. "Thanks."

"Anytime, babe," he smiled. "You got a place to stay tonight? I could hook you up somewhere, if not."

Mimi sighed, and shook her head. "No thanks."

"You sure?"

"She nodded."

The man shrugged. "Alright. But you know where to find me." He waved and shoved his hands into his jean pockets and walked down the alley, and disappeared.

Mimi waited until he was gone before she took the bag out of her pocket and shook it, trying to see how much was left. She groaned. She should've known. It was less than half full. Oh well. It'd have to do. She walked back the way she had came, holding the bag tightly in her hand.

***

"Do you think we should call the police?" Mark asked, coming up behind Roger. Inserted in the corner of his mouth was a straw, from which he slurped a day old cup of diet Pepsi.

"I don't know," Roger sighed. "I mean, it's not the late, right? What time is it?"

Mark looked at his watch. "It's a quarter after six."

"Shit," Roger groaned. "Maybe I should just go out and look for her myself?"

"Where would you look?" Mark asked. "She could be anywhere."

"She could be with that bastard," Roger growled, clenching his fists. "Whatever the fuck his name is."

"You still don't know?" Mark asked.

"No. Mimi hasn't told me anything besides the fact that he hangs around the club."

"Well, hopefully that's all the information the police will need to know in order to catch this guy."

"Maybe." He paused. "Maybe I should look for her. If that piece of shit was at our building before, then he could still be around here. I want to find her before he does."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Mark asked.

"No. Stay here just in case she comes back." He slid his leather jacket on and started for the door.

Right before he could place his hand on the knob, the door opened, revealing Mimi.

"Jesus," Roger breathed a sigh of relief. "You scared me half to death, Mimi. Where the fuck were you?"

Mimi giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"What?" he looked at Mark, who glanced back at him, with an equally confused look.

"Mimi, why'd you run off like that? I was worried shitless."

"You worry too much," Mimi slurred, walking wobbly over to the couch, and balled up her coat and tossed it in that direction. It missed, and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Oh shit," she said, looking at her coat. "Oh well."

Roger stared at her. "Are you drunk?"

"Don't be silly," Mimi grinned, and coughed. "I haven't been anywhere near the drugstore."

"You're not making any sense. Mimi." He placed his hands on either side of her head, trying to get her to look at him.

"Listen to me."

"Get your hands off me," she snapped, swatting his hands away. She walked away from him aimlessly and tripped over her heels, and would've fallen if Mark hadn't of been there to grab her back.

"She's drunk," Roger said, simply. "And if not, I don't know what to think. Will you get me a cold washcloth or something, Mark?"

"Sure," Mark said, disappearing into the bathroom.

"Mimi? Meems? Can you hear me? What did you drink?" Roger asked, holding her arm to steady her.

"I didn't drink nothing," she murmured, leaning against him lazily.

Roger sighed. "Can you make it to the bedroom?"

"It's too early to sleep," she mumbled.

"If not, I'm going to carry you."

Mimi mumbled something inaudible, and Roger wrapped her arm around his neck and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom, where he laid her down, gently.

She squinted at him. "Are we going to bed?"

"Mark, can you get in here with that washcloth?" Roger yelled.

Mimi coughed. "Bless me," she said, grinning weakly.

Mark returned with the washcloth, which Roger placed gently on Mimi's forehead, pushing her brunette curls back behind her ears. "I don't think she'll be able to tell me where she was, at least until the morning. When she's sobered up a bit," Roger sighed, as she tried to wriggle away from his hand, that was pressed firmly on her head. "Hold still," he told her.

"It's fucking wet," she said, tiredly. "And we're inside. I think."

"Right. We are. We're gonna try going to sleep now, alright?" Roger said to her. She grumbled in reply, and he reached forward to pull off her boots, and looked up at Mark as he tossed them onto the wooden floor. "I think I can take it from here. Thanks."

Mark nodded. "Alright. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Night," Roger called after him. He helped Mimi into a pair of flannel pajamas and a T-shirt, and pulled back the covers for her. She snuggled up beneath the blanket, and closed her eyes, rolling on her side,

Roger shook his head, and changed into a pair of pajamas, similar to the ones Mimi was wearing, and then slid into the bed next to her. He saw that his T-shirt that she was wearing, was obviously too big for her, and had slid down her shoulder. He reached forward and pulled it back up, revealing her lower arm, and the inside of her elbow. Only then did he see the track marks.