Sorry about the long wait, I've been sick so I didn't get much time to write. The next chapter should be up soon, since I already know what I'm doing but where I ended this chapter seemed like a good place to end it. Happy Early Turkey Day!

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       Chapter 14: I think we've met

Mark walked down the street, his coat held tightly around his thin body. The last time he had done this he almost found himself stuck in a drug deal but that didn't matter, he just couldn't stand arguing with people he cared so much about. He decided to walk around the block a few times before going back home, maybe by then the tension will have cooled. Just as he passed the same tree for the third time he noticed someone walking into his building. Thinking it could be Roger he ran to catch up with him. Mark hurried into the building and started up the stairs. He took them two at a time, panting as he went. Though he was thin, he had never been in very good shape. Just as he reached the landing before his own he caught a quick glimpse of a person before he felt an extreme burning in his eyes. He clapped his hands over his glasses, feeling the stinging liquid seep further into his eyes. He heard a voice come from somewhere.

"Hurts doesn't it?" it asked. Mark didn't know who it was, but it didn't sound like Roger.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, starting to open his eyes and feeling them burn even more.

"Pepper spray," the voice replied, and this time Mark figured it was a girl. He could hear the pride in her voice.

"What did you do that for?" Mark asked, slowly opening his eyes again, he hadn't even realized he had sunk to his knees. He looked up at the young woman, who looked 17 or so. She had dark Latin skin and curly brown hair and was wearing tight leather clothing which reminded Mark of the girls he'd seem perform at the club he'd gone to a few months ago. He eyed the pepper spray in her hand, which was still pointed at him.

"Why are you following me?" she asked sharply.

"Following you?" he repeated incredulously, "I don't even know who you are!" he could feel his eyes beginning to tear.

"I was walking into my building and I saw you running after me and I heard you following me up the stairs!"

"That was you?"

"Yeah!" she said, looking at him like he was crazy.

"I live here," he explained, slowly getting to his feet. She held the can ready in her hand but didn't raise it as he moved.

"You live here?" she repeated.

"Yeah.  I thought you were my roommate, that's why I followed you. I didn't expect you to attack me!"

She smiled in an embarrassed way, "I'm sorry. I'm just so used to perverted guys stalking me that I figured you were one of them."

"Well dressed like that I don't blame them," Mark said without thinking. He blushed crimson and stared at the ground. He had meant it to be a compliment but he had just realized how sick it sounded. He was surprised to hear her laughing.

"You're turning colors," she said, touching his cheek, which was getting redder by the second. Mark looked at her apologetically.

"I didn't mean to say it like that, you're really pretty, I mean I don't blame them for- wait that's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is you look great in those clothes so, oh man I just keep digging myself deeper into the don't I?" he smiled sheepishly.
       She giggled, "Don't worry about it, I know what you were trying to say."

She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide who he really was. Feeling awkward, Mark took off his glasses and rubbed them on his sweater, they were messed up from the pepper spray.

"You're cute," she said finally, making him jerk his eyes upward at her, "Oh I'm not coming on to you or anything," she added quickly, "I just think you're cute. You look familiar, have I seen you before?"

"I don't think so," Mark replied, putting his glasses back on, "You might have seen me upstairs though, I do live here."

"Maybe. You don't seem the type to go to the Cat Scratch Club," she said, more to herself than to him. Mark gave a start.

"I've been there!" he said quickly, then blushed again.

"Really?" she said, surprised, "Wow, you don't seem the type to go there. You look like you'd be better than something like that."

"I only went once," he admitted, still trying to figure out what she had just said, "I went with my roommates. They're more into that stuff than me."

The girl nodded, "Yeah. Well, not everyone performs like I do. Actually we get some good talent every so often. We have to, or else the place would be considered a strip club and apparently the manager doesn't want that. But he'll hire all these dancers who don't know how to do anything but take their clothes off. Go figure."

Mark stayed silent; he wasn't really sure how to respond to that.

"Anyway, we do get some good performers. Like my friend Angel, he could sing and dance and play drums all at the same time. He's really talented."

"Did you say Angel?" Mark repeated, remembering the drag queen he had met about a week ago.

"Yeah, do you know him?"

Mark shook his head, smiling, "Well I met someone named Angel once, but this is New York City, there's so many people what are the odds of us knowing the same one?"

"Yeah, but how many Angels do you know?"

"Good point."

"You might know him if you've been to the club. He doesn't perform every night, mostly when someone's sick or something but he's always there to watch me," she continued, "I know he doesn't like what I do, but he doesn't say anything. He lets me bug myself because I know what he would say if he ever were to confront me about it."

"Yeah I have a friend like that," Mark said quietly.

"He'd tell me I deserve better, that I have talent and I shouldn't be wasting it in a place like that. He's such an optimist, you know, one of those people who will always say the glass is half full. He believes in me. And that means a lot, because no one else does," she finished quietly.

Mark nodded, wishing he had his camera, the better to remember this girl.

"Oh God! I didn't even introduce myself!" she said suddenly, "I'm Mimi Marquez."

"Mark Cohen."

"Well, I'd better go, I have to get ready for work," Mimi said, gesturing to her outfit.

"Yeah, I have some stuff to do too. It was nice to meet you though."

"Yeah it was. You should come by the club sometime, maybe see if my Angel is your Angel."

"Sure."

"I'm sorry about the pepper spray."

"It's okay, I'll survive."

"You're a good guy Mark Cohen."

With that, she disappeared into her apartment. Mark smiled as the door closed; she really was very charming. He climbed the last flight of stairs and opened the door, his good mood being killed instantly as he was met by two screaming voices.

"What makes you think I took it?"

"Because no one else could have!"

"What does Mark think?"

"He trusts you, but I know better!"

"There's a reason he trusts me you know! At least I don't cheat on him once a week!"

"That's not true! Don't try to turn this on me!"

Mark stared in shock, watching his girlfriend and his best friend scream at each other.

"Why? Because you know it's true? Admit it Maureen, you can't call a day a success unless you've screwed some random guy!"

"And you can't be happy unless you're high off your ass! Not to mention getting your girlfriend into it too!"

"Whore!"

"Junkie!"

"STOP!" Mark wasn't even aware that he had spoken. Something had burst inside of him and he had let it out. Maureen and Roger turned to face him, both of them looking extremely awkward. Mark could feel himself shaking, yet he felt oddly detached from his body. Suddenly he found himself walking into the apartment, yet he didn't recall telling his body to move. The two followed him with their eyes, afraid to say anything. Mark sunk into a chair, his eyes focusing on anything but the pair in front of him.

"Mark?" Maureen said gently, taking a tentative step forward. He didn't acknowledge her.

"Mark? Sweetie?" she tried again. This time he turned his eyes to her, but he couldn't find it in him to speak.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, kneeling down in front of him.

"Enough," he forced out.

"Baby I'm sorry. I was only trying to help, I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand really."

"Yeah, she's right," Roger said quietly, "We both kinda blew up."

Mark knew they were doing this for his sake, admitting they were wrong. He also knew neither one believed it. He had a strange suspicion that if he were to walk out that door they would continue to fight as if nothing had happened. He also became suspicious of them; because he knew that when you were angry, the truth often came out, whether you wanted it to or not. The two people closest to him in the world had just admitted to him that neither could be trusted.

He looked at Roger, "What happened?"

"I came home and Maureen told me about the stolen money-"

"Didn't you already know it was gone?" Mark interrupted.

"What?" Roger asked.

"I've been thinking about it," Mark said, slowly getting to his feet, "Maureen may be right. No one else knew that money was there, and I doubt she'd go this far if she didn't believe it was you with all her heart. Although, she does like to build up drama so…" he said scathingly, looking at Maureen, who lowered her eyes. He turned to her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she repeated.

"Why would Roger say those things about you cheating on me? I doubt he just made it up off the top of his head."

"Mark you know me, I would never-"

"That's the problem Maureen, I do know you. And I know your flirtatious habits. I have no trouble believing you'd cheat on me."

Maureen looked as though she'd been slapped. Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away from him quickly.

"Mark," Roger started, but Mark had had enough.

"I can't believe you two! Trying to "help" me by making me watch the two people I love more than anything scream at each other! Congratulations Maureen, you've convinced me that my best friend steals from me! And Roger, you deserve a prize too, thanks to you I now know that my girlfriend sleeps around more often than she sleeps with me! Sure is nice to have friends like you!"

With that he turned on his heel and went to storm out but he felt something grab him arm.

"Mark wait!"

"Leave me alone Roger."

"No!" he turned Mark around to face him, "You let me go too many times and I've messed up too much to let you go now."

"I let you go, that's right. Now return the favor!" Mark said, wrenching out of his friend's grip. Roger let go, watching Mark walk out the door. He turned to Maureen, ready to insult her, but found he couldn't. Instead, he grabbed his leather jacket and followed Mark out the door.