"Shouldn't he have come by now?" Joanne asked Maureen, shuffling on the sofa impatiently.

"He'll be here," Maureen said firmly, looking out the window at the street below them. "I know him. He's late for EVERYTHING."

"If you say so," Joanne sighed, lying back against one of the sofa pillows and closing her eyes. A knock on the door caused her eyes to snap open.

"Told you so," Maureen sang, as she skipped over to open the door.

"Mo?" Joanne heard a deep voice. "That really you? God, I can't believe it. You haven't changed a bit."

"Nice to see you too, Jimmy," Maureen said, smiling. "Come inside, please."

Joanne peeked over the couch arm to get a glimpse of Jimmy. He was tall, and he wore a gray pressed suit. Boring, Joanne thought. He had thin light brown hair, and it looked like he had been trying to grow a thin mustache above his upper lip. To Joanne's dismay, he wasn't TOO bad looking.

"Honey, this is my old friend, Jimmy," Maureen said, as she pulled Jimmy over to the couch.

"Jimmy, this is Joanne. My girlfriend." She said the word 'Girlfriend' firmly, as if trying to prove a point.

"Yes, Mo told me about you." He held out a large hand. "Nice to meet you." Joanne shook his hand, eyeing him strangely.

"Well," Maureen chuckled, nervously. "How've you been, Jim?"

"Me? I'm doing pretty well. Though I haven't had a real steady girlfriend since you left, Mo."

Maureen blushed, and flashed Joanne a 'Don't hate me' look. "You never could get a grip on things, Jimmy," she said, forcing a prim smile.

"Don't I know it. So how've YOU been, Maureen? Seems like it's been a century since the last time I saw you. Hell, the right side of my bed's freezing." He laughed obnoxiously.

Maureen glanced at Joanne nervously. She could see that she was NOT getting a good first impression off of him. She didn't blame her. His obnoxiousness was one of the reasons why she left him.

"Well," she said, carefully, "A little while after we broke up, I met my other ex, Mark. We stayed together for a few months, and we lived together with his roommates, Roger and Collins. We're still good friends."

"You had ANOTHER ex? Jeez, Maureen, what's your record?"

"Only two," Maureen snapped. "Anyway, soon after I broke up with Mark, I met Joanne. I had gotten my own apartment after me and Mark broke up, and we decided that Joanne should move in with me."

"Oh . . .," Jimmy said slowly, a smile curling over his lips. "And when did you realize that you had, you know . . . lesbian tendencies?"

"What's wrong with you?" Maureen cried, and at the exact same time Joanne yelled, "Shut up!"

Jimmy seemed appalled, not realizing how rude his statement had been.

"What we mean is," Maureen said calmly, through gritted teeth, "We prefer not to use that word."

"Alright, jeez, kill me," he exclaimed, throwing his hands out in front of him. "Let's change the subject, then. What else have you been up to?"

"Maureen's been painting," Joanne spoke up, suddenly, and the two turned to face her. "She's done some collages too."

"That so?" Jimmy said, looking at Maureen with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, um, yeah it's just fooling around, they're not really that good," Maureen stuttered, embarrassed.

"They're BRILLIANT," Joanne insisted.

Jimmy looked interested. "You mind if I take a look?" he asked.

"Sure," Joanne replied, before Maureen could say anything. "It's over here, in the closet."

Jimmy followed Joanne, with Maureen close behind. "Ta-dah!" Joanne sang out, to Maureen's horror, as she swung the closet door open.

"Well, now," Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows as he studies the New York City collage, "These ARE good. I never knew you had an eye for art, Mo."

"I guess the topic never came up," Maureen replied, dully.

"Did you ever try to show these, Mo?" he asked turning one of the paintings over to look at the one behind it.

"Nope."

"You should. This isn't just kindergarten splattering, Mo. This is real art!"

Maureen beamed, looking at Joanne proudly.

"I could book you a place to show these, if you want," he told her. "I've got connections," he said, winking.

"I- I'd like that, yes," Maureen exclaimed, trying to contain her excitement.

"Great." He pulled out a small notebook from his coat pocket, and scrawled down a note to remind himself.

"You need to write things down to remember them?" Joanne asked, quizzically.

"That's the way it works with me, Jo. There's so much stuff going on in my head, I'd lose my head if I didn't write down that I had to retrieve it!" he seemed to think this was funny.

"I see," Joanne said, and then flatly, "And it's JOANNE."

"Sorry, Jo. Joanne, whatever." He turned to Maureen. "So I'll try to set this up for you, 'kay Babe?"

"Yes," Maureen said, breathlessly. "Thank you."

"Consider it my coming-home gift to you. Now, shall I take you two lovely ladies out to lunch?"

"We just ate," Joanne said, flatly. Maureen shot her a weird look. "Yeah, we did just have lunch, Jimmy," Maureen said. "We went out with some friends."

"Well, then. Am I going to meet these friends?"

"If you'd like."

"Great," he said again, flashing a cheesy-white smile. Joanne sighed, and rolled over on the sofa.

***

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Roger asked Mimi, as they climbed into bed. Mark was in his room, and Daisha was sleeping on the living room couch. Isabella had gone back to her apartment.

"What do you mean?" Mimi asked, as she slid underneath the covers.

"Something's bothering you. And I think it's more than just what your sister said."

"Do you?" Mimi said, irritated.

"You can't hide these things from me, Meems," he said, grinning. "I KNOW you."

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she snapped.

"If you don't talk, it'll just fester inside of you until you go insane," he taunted, obnoxiously.

Mimi rolled over. "God, Roger, you can be such an ass sometimes."

"But you know you love it," he joked, leaning closer towards her. Mimi felt his breath on the back of her neck.

"Please, Meems?"

Mimi sighed, and sat up in bed. "It's just that what she said reminded me of what happened before I left home."

Roger propped himself up in his elbows, and looked up at her. "What happened?"

Mimi chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. "I just remember that my stepfather was screaming at me," she began, softly. "He was calling me a whore, and telling me that I deserved to live on the streets, and not in the house. I told him he wasn't my father, and he would have hit me is Isabella hadn't walked in.

Roger listened, silently. He placed his hand on her knee and squeezed, reassuringly.

Mimi smiled, weakly. "Isabella told Joel off, and he left the room. I thought that Isabella would be more understanding, but she was just as bad," she sniffed, pulling her knees in closer to her small body, curling up in a ball. "She told me that I'd better leave before he came back. I knew she didn't mean it that way, but I really did leave. For good." She laid back down, sighing. Roger laid his chin on her chest.

"Isabella was just upset," he insisted, trying to make her feel better. "You saw how happy she was to see you today. She probably regretted saying that as soon as she realized you'd gone."

"Maybe," Mimi murmured. She forced a smile. "At least I got to finally see her and Daisha again, right?"

"Right," he agreed. "Since you're having a huge family reunion, maybe I should invite my folks and my sister over here too."

"Don't," Mimi giggled. "I don't think I could handle more than one Davis."

"Are you sure?" he teased.

"One of you is definitely enough," she laughed.

Roger pretended to pout, and slipped his hand under her shirt, tickling her stomach.

"STOP!" she squealed, kicking her leg out at him. Her foot struck him in the jaw.

"Ow, crap!" he exclaimed, raising his hand up to his face.

"Are you okay, Baby?" Mimi asked, startled. She sat up and leaned against him, trying to see if he was bleeding.

"I think you cut my lip," he said, wincing.

"Well, we're even," said Mimi, raising her foot so that it was directly in front of his face.

Roger raised his eyebrows. "Meems, that's your foot."

"Yeah, but it hurts like a bitch," she declared, "What are you, made of steel?"

Roger looked closer and realized that her toes were bright red from smacking into his mouth. Suddenly, he began to laugh.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "It's not funny."

"Yes it is," he said, laughing. Suddenly, Mimi began to giggle too, and soon the two of them were lying back against the pillows laughing like a couple of idiots, Roger with his split lip, and Mimi with her swollen foot.

In the room next to them, Mark sat Indian style on his bed, the phone cradles in his lap. He was about to dial when he heard Roger and Mimi cackling like hyenas.

"Could you two please shut up!" he yelled, "I'm trying to make a phone call!"

The laughing stopped for a minute. Then, he heard Mimi whisper something to Roger, and the two erupted with laughter again.

Mark sighed. He dialed the phone, ignoring the two of them, and brought it up to his ear. A woman's voice answered.

"Hi, is this Jan?"

"Yes. Who is this?" the reply came.

Mark smiled in spite of himself. "Well, I don't know if you'd remember me. My name's Mark Cohen. I sort of banged into you outside the Life Café yesterday. I have your book with me. You must have slipped it into my bag by accident."

"I thought I'd forgotten something!" Jan exclaimed, on the other end of the phone. "What book is it?"

"Um, Flowers in the Attic," he read, raising his eyebrows at the title. "You like that stuff?"

"It's okay," she replied. Mark could almost hear her smiling.

"Listen Jan, um, if you're not busy or anything, I was wondering if you'd want to do something, maybe tomorrow, or whenever you're available?"

The two of them continued to converse, and a wide smile spread across Mark's face.