"Daisha, is that you?" Mimi gasped, grabbing the visitor by her trembling arm.

"It's me," she whispered, shakily.

"Who is it, Meems?" Roger called from the living room.

Mimi didn't answer him. "Oh my god," she breathed, what happened to you? I haven't seen you in so long- how long HAS it been?"

"I've missed you too," Daisha whispered.

"What happened, honey?" Mimi asked, gently.

She sniffed. "Joel started hitting me again. He also made a few moves on me. I left a week ago, and I've been living on the streets. I've been trying to find out where you live."

"That bastard," Mimi cursed. "How long have you been in New York?"

"About two months. Joel got a new job, some advertising job. Me, him, and Mama are living in a little house not too far from here."

"Is Isabella here too?" Mimi asked, breathlessly.

"She moved here about a week before we did. She has her own apartment," Daisha shivered.

"Here, hon, you're freezing," Mimi exclaimed. She pulled off her own coat and wrapped it around the girl's shoulders.

"Thanks," Daisha whispered. Now that Mimi was finally getting a good look at her, she could detect a few bruises under her eyes, and one on her jaw line. Mimi silently cursed Joel.

"Mimi? Are you still there? Who is it?" Roger called again, stepping into the hallway.

"Hello," he said when he saw Daisha, surprised and confused. He blinked. "Mimi, who is that?"

"This is my sister, Daisha," Mimi told him. She put around Daisha's shoulders and pushed her forward gently. "Chica, this is my boyfriend, Roger."

"Hi," Daisha said shyly.

"Nice to meet you," Roger said, smiling. "I don't mean to be rude, but you look a bit distraught."

"She's been through a lot, Rodge," Mimi spoke up for Daisha. She took her by the hand. "Do you want to get in the tub, chica? It might warm you up a bit."

Daisha nodded. "Okay," she said softly.

Mimi gently guided her into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind them. Right after the door closed, Mark emerged from his room.

"Who's here?" he asked Roger. "I heard another voice."

"Mimi's sister is here," said Roger, a weird twang in his voice.

"Oh." Mark frowned. "I didn't know she had a sister."

"Neither did I," Roger said. "She never mentioned her family to me."

"Well, how about that," Mark yawned.

"You're tired? It's not even seven yet," Roger said, glancing at his watch.

Mark shrugged. "I didn't get that much sleep."

Roger nodded. He walked over to the bathroom door and tapped on it lightly.

"Yeah?" Mimi's voice asked through the door.

"Do you two need anything?"

"No, I've got it taken care of, thanks Rodge."

"They're both in there?" Mark asked, confused.

"Yeah, her sister looked a little beat up. Literally. I heard them talking from the living room. She said someone named Joel did it to her."

"Weird," Mark said, frowning. "What's her sister's name?"

"Daisha."

"Daisha . . . is that Spanish?"

"How would I know, Mark, I'm not Spanish, am I?" Roger asked, tired.

"Me-OW," Said Mark.

"Sorry," Roger said, sheepishly, "This is just a little weird."

"I hear you."

"What should we do?"

"Just wait, I guess. There's nothing else that we can do, is there?"

"I guess you're right," Roger sighed. He made his way over to the couch and collapsed onto it. He patted the spot beside him. "Wanna join me?"

"Sure," Mark said, plopping beside Roger. A few minutes went by.

"I was thinking about that girl that I knocked into earlier today," Mark spoke up. "You know, Jan."

"How could I forget, Mark? She wasn't too bad looking."

"She wasn't," Mark agreed, as a weird smile came over his face.

Roger saw the look, and smiled himself. "You like her, don't you?"

"Well, I can't really judge her from just bumping-SMACKING into her."

"Well, you're never going to be able to judge her at all if you don't talk to her," Roger pushed.

Mark shook his head. "I couldn't. Besides, I don't know where she lives."

"Look her up in the phone book."

"The phone book requires a LAST name, Roger," Mark said, impatiently. "I only caught her first."

"That bites," Roger sighed. "You think Jan's her real name?"

Mark shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

"I dunno."

They sat in an awkward silence, waiting for Mimi and her sister to emerge.

***

"Honey, do you really have to do all of this?" Joanne yelled over the vacuum cleaner.

Maureen switched it off so she could talk. "Pookie, I wanna let Jimmy see that I have a life now. I don't want him to come over here and think I'm an irresponsible slob."

"You ARE a slob," Joanne teased.

Maureen stuck her tongue out. "Don't go there," she warned.

Joanne laughed. "Fine." She picked up the broom that Maureen had abandoned for the vacuum cleaner. She began to enthusiastically sweep the floor.

"You don't need to do that, Pookie," Maureen said, absentmindedly. "I'm already on it."

"Why be on that when you can be on better things?" Joanne said, mischievously.

"POOKIE!" Maureen exclaimed, laughing. "I've never heard you talk so dirty!"

"Heh, do you like it?"

"It'll have to take some getting used to," Maureen said, giving Joanne a kiss on the cheek.

"Nah, I'm just trying it out," Joanne said. "I'm not used to being so dirty."

"Go figure," Maureen laughed.

Joanne moved the broom into the closet, sweeping out all the dust. The broom bumped into a large flat object leaning against the back wall. Curious, Joanne pulled it aside so she could see what it was.

"Honey Bear, come here!"

"What's the matter?" Maureen asked, rushing beside her.

"Did you make this?" Joanne asked, pointing to the canvas in front of her.

"Oh, that?" Maureen blushed. "It's nothing, I was just fooling around."

"Fooling around?!" Joanne exclaimed, "Maureen, this is amazing! I didn't know you were so artistic."

"It is good, isn't it?" Maureen agreed, beaming. It was a large collage, containing several magazine clippings pasted. Joanne saw a younger man dangling a cigarette between his fingers. He saw a woman pushing a baby in a stroller, and then farther to the right was a woman sitting on a bench beside another man. Maureen had also cut out the background to make it look like the outline of buildings in the city. It appeared to be a collage of the city. Across the top, Maureen had skillfully painted, "Reality Check,' in dark black and purple colors, blending them together.

"Wait a minute," Joanne said, squinting at the collage. "Is that me?"

"Yup," Maureen said, still on a high of pride. "Mark isn't only good with his VIDEO camera, you know. I borrowed a couple of pictures he'd taken of you guys and stuck them here and there."

Intrigued, Joanne looked for other recognizable faces. She found Mimi and Roger next to a cut out of a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk. She also spotted Collins, and beside him, was Angel. Maureen had pasted her higher off the ground then Collins, making it look like she was flying. A real Angel, Joanne thought. Mark was next to a faded picture of The Life Café.

"Maureen, this is amazing," Joanne repeated. "Do you have any other secret artwork?"

"I do have some paintings stashed away," Maureen said, reaching further into the closet, and tugging out 2 more canvases. Joanne shook her head in disbelief. "Why didn't you ever tell me you could do stuff like this?"

"I don't know," Maureen said, shrugging. "I never thought they were an good."

"An artist is always her biggest criticizer," Joanne told her. She paused for a moment. "Maureen, have you ever thought of hosting an Art Gallery with your stuff in it?"

"Yes," Maureen admitted. "But then again, I also thought of performing onstage beside Marilyn Monroe."

"This is something that actually could happen," Joanne said, excitedly. "We book a place for you, and we could invite everyone to come."

"Maybe Jimmy could help us," Maureen said, thoughtfully. "I mean, he IS an Agent."

"He is?" Joanne asked, curiously.

"Yeah, that's how I met him. Before I came to the city, I was set on acting and singing. Jimmy became my agent, and then I ended up dating him for a little while ago. But things didn't end up working out to well between us. I was really surprised when I got a call from him."

"Well, lucky you did!" Joanne said, "He might be able to help us get you a booking."

Maureen smiled. "You think?"

"Honey Bear, I KNOW." They kissed, and dreamily, Maureen switched the vacuum back on, humming to herself quietly.

***

"You alright, Frankie?" Collins asked, coming up behind her. He placed his hands on her waist.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Frankie asked, turning to face him.

"You've been unusually quiet."

"I've just been thinking about today- about you and Angel," admitted Frankie.

"What about me and Angel?" Collins said, quietly.

"I don't know . . . Maureen and Mimi have told me so much about her. I wish I could have known her."

Collins sighed silently, relieved that she wasn't commenting again on the fact that he used to be interested in other men. He was also pleased that Frankie had referred to Angel as a 'She.'

"She was a great person," he agreed, sighing. He sat down at the kitchen table. Frankie sat down across from him.

"It nearly killed me when she was in the hospital," he said, softly.

"I'm sorry," whispered Frankie, grasping his hand in hers.

Collins smiled. "It's fine. I'd like to think she's up there somewhere looking down on me and everyone else. Like she's where she should be now, you know? An Angel in heaven?"

"Yes," Frankie said, smiling. Suddenly, the phone rang. "I'll get it," she offered, before Collins could get up. "Hello?" she said, as she held the phone to hear ear.

"Hey, Frankie, It's Mimi. Can you put Collins on the phone, please?"

"Sure, Mimi. Hold on a sec." Frankie handed the phone to Collins and mouthed 'It's Mimi' to him.

"Hi, Mimi," Collins said, nestling the phone between his shoulder and chin. He frowned. "Why do you ask? Well, that's something that doesn't happen every day. Keep checking her temperature, and try giving her Tylenol. About every three hours, I think. Keep her in bed. No problem. I'll see you both tomorrow." He hung up the phone.

"What is it?" Frankie questioned.

Collins frowned. "Mimi's sister, Daisha showed up today at the loft. She's been living on the streets, and Mimi says she's sick. She asked me what to do because I was about this close to getting my medical degree," he said, holding his thumb and pointed finger close together.

Frankie shook her head. "That's crazy," she said.

"Yeah. I didn't even know Mimi had siblings. I guess you learn something new every day," he said, smiling.

"I suppose you do," she said, smiling back. "I could teach you something in the bedroom, if you want."

"Sounds enticing," he said, waggling his eyebrows. The two of them disappeared into Collins's bedroom, giggling.

***

Mimi finally exited the bathroom with Daisha, who was now wearing Mimi's bathrobe, her old clothes shed on the floor of the bathroom. Daisha's hair had been combed, and she looked fairly better. However, she was coughing violently, and Mimi patted her on the back gently. Daisha stopped coughing, and looked up to see Roger and Mark staring at the two of them.

"This is Mark," Roger said quickly, seeing the confusion on her face. "He lives here too."

Daisha nodded, and said hi to Mark, weakly.

"Collins said to keep her in bed and give her some Tylenol," Mimi said, impatiently. "Roger, is it okay if she lies down in your room?"

"Of course she can," said Roger.

"Thanks," Mimi said, relieved. "Can you grab a couple of Tylenol and the thermometer for me?" she called, as she walked Daisha into Roger's room.

"I'm right on it," Roger yelled back to her, grabbing the bottle of Tylenol and the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. He went into the bedroom, with Mark behind him. Mimi gave Daisha a glass of water and she swallowed two Tylenol.

"Rodge, hand me the thermometer, will you?"

Roger obeyed.

Mimi stuck it under Daisha's tongue and waited a couple of minutes.

"One-oh-two," she said, as she slid it out from under her tongue.

"I don't wanna be such a burden," Daisha apologized, coughing.

"Don't be ridiculous, Daish. Besides, you're family. I HAVE to look after you," Mimi joked.

Daisha smiled and closed her eyes slowly.

"We'll let you rest now," said Mimi, getting up. "C'mon," she said to Roger and Mark. Quickly, she pulled the quilt up to Daisha's chin, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be right outside if you need me," she said. Daisha nodded, her eyes still closed. Mimi, Roger and Mark exited the room quietly.

"Are you alright?" Roger asked Mimi.

Mimi nodded. "It's just when I look at her I think- that's what I must have looked like last December. And I hate to think she was out on the streets just like I was."

"It's alright," soothed Roger, pulling her towards him. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

"My stepfather, Joel, hit her," Mimi whispered. "I remember when we were little, when I was thirteen, Daisha was eight, and my older sister Isabella was eighteen. He always used to beat ME. My mother couldn't stop him. She didn't know about it. I guess after I left he started to pick on Daisha," Mimi shivered. "She seems to follow in my footsteps no matter what."

"It's alright now, Meems. She's away from your stepfather now, right?"

Mimi shook her head. "Joel and my mother moved into a small house now far form here, according to Daisha. My sister Isabella got her own apartment, and Daisha says she let about a week ago."

"How did she find you?" Mark asked.

"When we were in the bathroom, she said when she was on the streets she had thrown my name around, seeing if anyone knew who I was. Someone she asked must have given her this address."

Mark nodded.

Mimi sighed again. "I hope I won't have to see Joel again. I don't think I'd be able to stand it."

"If you do, I'll go with you," Roger promised, nuzzling his chin against her head.

"Thanks," she whispered, smiling.

"No problem," he whispered back, and they kissed, silently.

Mark watched them, and grasped the small slip of paper in his hand tightly. He had found a book in the bag he had been carrying earlier that wasn't his. When he'd looked at the inside cover, Jan's name had been inside it, containing her phone number. Mark uncrumpled the piece of paper, and stared at the numbers he had copied onto it with black Sharpie marker. He wondered if he should call her. He looked up at Mimi and Roger, who were starting to finally part. Quickly, Mark shoved the number into his pocket.

"Let's go into the living room," Roger suggested.

"Okay," said Mimi, leaning against him.

The two of them left, leaving Mark alone.

a/n: So, where is this story going? Will I *cough* Jan hook up? How many licks DOES it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?