Chapter 4

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like this story. There's gonna be some craaaazy shiat near the end of the chapter, and you'll probably end up loving and/or feeling sorry for one character and hating another one. Brace yourself!

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"I LOVE weekends." Benny stated, sprawled out on the loft floor on his stomach reading the Saturday newspaper.

"Me too," Roger replied, picking out a tune on his Fender.

"You have weekends all week long, what are you talking about?" Collins shook his head from the island where he was drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. He had his feet up on one of the stools adjacent to him.

"I still. . .like them. . .you know. . .they're fun. Besides, it's when I play most of my gigs! And I love gigs. And I love Lola. So I love weekends."

Benny threw what was left of his toast at Roger who started yelling at him, scared that there were crumbs on Lola.

Collins stood up and put his book down. "Well, I'm off. I got a date!" Collins smiled excitedly. He practically skipped over to the door.

"Where'd you meet this one?" Benny asked.

"At school. He works in the library." Collins replied, wrapping his scarf around his neck and putting his coat on.

"It's like a match made in nerd heaven or something. University professor and librarian." Benny teased.

Collins flipped him off jokingly. "See you later." He shut the door gently behind him.

Benny cleared his throat and rolled onto his back. "Speaking of dates, guess who has one tonight?"

"Gee, Benny, I don't know." Roger replied sarcastically, more interested in his Fender than in Benny's escapades.

"That dancer. Mimi. Remember? The hot one? From the club."

"Oh, yeah, the teenager. Good luck with that one." Roger laughed, shaking his head.

"Whatever, man. She's fucking hot." Benny returned to his paper.

The phone rang. It rang about four times before Benny looked up at Roger who seemed to be ignoring it, concentrating on his notes. Benny rolled his eyes and sat up reaching over onto the chair where the cordless phone was last left.

"Hello?. . .What? No. . .but I've got t—. . .Fine, yeah. But not for long. . .When?. . .Alright. Bye."

Benny hung up the phone. He groaned and tossed the phone back onto the chair.

"Fuck."

"What?" Roger humoured him.

"I've gotta go into work." Benny folded up the paper and dropped it onto the table.

"Oh no," Roger continued, plucking random notes out on his guitar, jotting something down on a piece of paper in front of him every once in a while.

Benny walked into his room and emerged a short while later dressed and ready to go. "I'll probably go straight to see Mimi after I finish up there, so, uh, have a good night."

"Yeah."

Benny soon left and Roger was left alone. He waited until he was sure Benny wouldn't be coming back if he forgot something. He stood up and placed his guitar against the couch, moving swiftly and quietly. He wasn't sure who he was trying not to disturb, but if he disturbed them, there'd be hell. He'd go to the park and pick up some smack before he went to rehearsal with the band, he'd go see April, they'd get so high and fuck like bunnies. Nobody would ever know.

Roger put his coat on and shut the door quietly behind him. Nobody would ever know.

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Later that night, Maureen lay in a sleeping Mark's arms in the bed that they had been sharing for the past eleven months. They were out filming around the city all morning, and when they came home to an empty loft later in the afternoon, they figured they could take advantage of it.

Maureen pulled the covers up around her and sighed. 'God, I'm a horrible girlfriend. Who does this?' she thought. She promised Mark she'd spend the entire day with him yesterday, but instead what did she do? She woke up before Mark and snuck out of the loft early to pick up random strangers in bars. She didn't know why. She loved Mark, she did. She was lucky she had him. But she couldn't help herself. Sometimes she just wanted other people, too. Maureen felt guilty for hurting Mark, and he didn't even know it.

Maureen quickly shook those thoughts from her head. She didn't want to dwell on them. She carefully untangled herself from Mark's grasp and got out of bed. She searched for something to put on, settling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Maureen made her way into the kitchen and looked for something besides beer to drink. 'I could have sworn there were a bunch of juice boxes here yesterday,' she thought. She shrugged it off, filling a glass with tap water and sat at the island, drumming her nails on the surface as she took a sip. The clock on the microwave read 9:30pm. A small knock came from the other side of the door. Maureen shuffled over to the other side of the loft and opened it. April was on the other side, her blonde hair dishevelled and her eyes red and puffy as if she'd been crying.

April looked up, like she was surprised to see Maureen.

"Hey," her small voice started.

"Oh my God, sweetie! Are you okay?!" Maureen put her arm around April's shoulders and guided her to the couch, pushing the door shut behind her. "What happened?"

April shook her head and pulled out of Maureen's grasp. She started to cry again. Maureen grabbed the box of tissues from the kitchen and handed it to her. She didn't know what to do. She wasn't good at this kind of thing. She wasn't the motherly type.

April moaned and dropped her head into her hands.

"Wanna. . .talk? April?" Maureen tried to get April's attention.

"Is Roger here?" April managed to say between gasping breaths.

Maureen was scared. She had never dealt with something like this before. She shook her head 'no,' eyes wide with fear.

April stood up shakily and walked aimlessly over to the kitchen, then back to the couch.

"Oh God. . ."

"Sweetie, come here. Sit here." Maureen pulled April down to the couch beside her. April crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned against the arm of the couch.

Maureen rubbed April's back for the next couple minutes while she cried. Finally, April swiped at her tears and sat up, shaking Maureen off.

"April? You're scaring me. . ."

"I—" She took a deep breath. "Oh God. . ."

"You don't have to tell—"

"Maureen. . .I. . ." April started shaking and looked around the loft.

"I have AIDS."

Maureen did a double take. "W—what?"

"Don't make me say it again." April started to cry again.

"Honey, what—how did this happen?"

"I don't know. . .just. . .shit happens."

"But what, was it like some guy or what?"

"W—well. . .I dunno. . ."

Maureen gave April a worried look. "I should get Mark—"

"No! No, you can't. You can't, okay? Don't tell anybody. Nobody. Not until Roger knows. He has to get tested, too, and– God, he's gonna hate me, Maureen. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't. . ." April's outburst finished with a new set of tears.

Maureen put a gentle hand on her back, but April shrugged it off again.

"No. . .it's just. . .I'm gonna die, Maureen. What the hell. God, this isn't fair. I don't even know wh—" April whimpered, falling into Maureen's lap.

Maureen hesitantly rubbed April's back as she broke down. She didn't know what else to do. The two women had never been very close, having known each other for only about three months, and even then, through each other's boyfriends, but this had sparked a new found friendship. Maureen wasn't sure if April wanted to be telling all of this to her of all people, but was kind of glad that if she told anyone, it was her.

It must have been 11:00 pm when the door opened and Roger came through, carrying his guitar and singing to himself. His disposition changed immediately when he saw April crying. He rushed over to her side.

"April?"

"Roger, just leave her—"

"Shut up, Maureen," he yelled sharply. "April. . .baby, what's wrong?" He tried to push some of her hair behind her ears to see her face.

April sat up and looked at Roger. He tried to grab her hand but she pulled away standing up quickly. She was dizzy and couldn't see straight but she needed to get away from Roger. She couldn't deal with everything right now. Maureen stood up, holding on to April's arm to support her, but she pulled out of her grasp and pushed past Roger to the door.

"Where are you going? What's going on?" Roger's eyes followed April.

"Just. . .don't. . .Roger, just leave me alone. I can't. . ." And with that, April was out the door, running as fast as she could.

Roger made a move for the door, but Maureen pulled him back.

"Roger, don't." She said quietly.

"Why the hell shouldn't I?" he yelled, pushing her off, heading for the door.

"Shh, Mark's sleeping." She pulled him back again.

Roger spun around, his eyes filled with anger. "I don't give a fuck! What the hell is going on with April? Why the fuck won't she tell me?"

"Relax, Roger. Just, keep your voice down."

"Relax?! Why the hell won't anybody tell me? What did I do?" Roger asked, quieter this time, but still harshly.

"Nothing— well, maybe everything. I don't know."

Roger shoved Maureen. She stumbled backwards, but kept her balance. Roger moved closer to her. "What— why the fuck won't you tell me?"

"I can't."

"I have the fucking right to know, she's my fucking girlfriend!"

"Oh, stop it, Roger. She's a fucking human being and deserves a hell of a lot more respect than you do, but that's another story all together." Maureen rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

Roger pushed her again. "God, I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much, you know that? You're a fucking bitch and I don't know how the fuck you scored Mark, but if you hurt him, I will kill you."

"I know you don't like me, and I don't like you either, but if you ever talk to me like that again—" Maureen replied calmly, though her stomach was churning and she felt that her legs were about to give out under her.

Roger pushed her again, harder this time, and she landed against the wall. He pinned her there with his hands on her shoulders.

"You'll what, Maureen? Tell me what the fuck you'll do."

Maureen winced as Roger pushed harder on her shoulders. It hurt, but she continued speaking as though nothing was wrong.

"I don't know, but I do know that Mark wouldn't like to hear that his best friend was coming onto his girlfriend. That he pushed her and got up against her and touched her and tried to—"

Roger's eyes narrowed. "He'd believe his best friend over you," he scoffed.

"Let's see." Maureen whispered. "Mark!" she screamed. "Get off of me— Mark! Help!" She screamed his name over and over again.

Roger pushed her harder as she screamed, and said in a low voice, "Shut the fuck up. Do not do this, Maureen. I will make you're life a fucking living hell."

She gave him a syrupy-sweet smile as she yelled Mark's name one more time, as loud and as urgent-sounding as she could.

At the same time, Roger threatened Maureen through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna fucking—"

Mark staggered into the room tying up his pyjama pants. His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw what was happening. Roger let go of Maureen, who ran to Mark.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mark asked.

"God, Mark." Maureen cried into her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Mark. . ." Roger began, shaking his head quickly.

"What the hell were you doing?" Mark directed at Roger, placing an arm around the now hysterical Maureen.

"No-no-no! It's not like tha—"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Mark asked, this time louder. Maureen stumbled away and disappeared into the bedroom.

"Mark, I would never—"

"I thought you didn't like her! Was that all just, just a lie? Are you, like, waiting to fuck her on the side? What the fuck, Roger, just. . .get the hell away. Just go, okay? You're sick and your crazy and get the fuck away from us!" Mark yelled, inching towards Roger.

Roger gave up and threw his arms in the air.

"Fine. Fine! God. . ." He fumed as he pulled the door open hard so it slammed shut behind him.

Mark sighed, rubbing his temples with his hand. He was shaking. He quickly returned to the bedroom to find Maureen sitting against the headboard, hugging her knees at her chest. "Are you okay?" He sat beside her and pulled her over to him, putting an arm around her. Maureen wiped at her tears and sniffed.

"Yeah — I—I mean, I am now." She continued to shiver and new tears formed.

"Oh my God. I can't believe I didn't see it. I'm so sorry, Maureen. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Pookie. He's just an asshole. He needs like, anger management."

Mark shook his head and put his fingers to her lips.

"No, it was my fault. I should have noticed it."

"Mark, no. It wasn't your fault, trust me. It was him. He's Roger. . .you know how he gets. . ."

Mark nodded and pulled her close. "I just. . .I can't believe he would do something like that! To you. . .to me—I was in the other room for Christ's sake! I could just kill him—"

Maureen silenced him with a kiss. "It's okay, Pookie, he's gone and it's just us."

"I know. I just, can't believe I didn't see it—" Maureen kissed him.

"—all this time. And him, of all people—" She kissed him again.

"—my best friend—" Again.

"—why does he have to make everything about him—"

"Mark," she cut him off, kissing him again.

"Yeah?" he replied, returning her kisses.

"Shut up." She kissed him again, untying his pyjama pants.