Mark slowly opened his eyes the next morning and stretched, groaning. He turned his head to the side and saw Jan on the floor, fully clothed, tying her shoelaces.

"Where you going?" he asked, groggily.

"I have to baby-sit this kid downstairs in a little while. Remember I told you I had to leave to baby-sit?"

Mark nodded.

"Well, this morning her mom called again. They're going to be out all afternoon, and can't bring her with them."

"Oh" he said, disappointed. He had wanted to spend some more time with her.

Jan tugged at her shoelace for a moment, and then looked up again. "You wanna come with me?"

Mark blinked. "Huh?"

"Do you want to come with me when I go down to baby-sit her?"

"Oh, um sure- I don't know if I'm really good with kids, though."

"You'll never know until you try," she told him.

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess I'll give it a shot."

Jan smiled and leaned onto the bed, pecking him on the cheek. "Great! Get dressed, we've gotta leave in about fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen?" Mark groaned.

"C'mon, Marky- UP!" she said, bouncing up and down on the bed.

"Arggh. Okay, I'm up!" he grunted, pulling on he clothes he'd worn the day before which were scattered on the floor.

"Didn't you wear that last night?"

"What do you want me to do- scare the kid half do death in YOUR clothes?" he smirked.

"Nah, I don't think it'd scare her," Jan said, thoughtfully. "In fact, I think you'd look pretty hot."

He tossed a shoe at her, and she ducked it, laughing.

***

"Alright, Jan, we'll be back around five," Mrs. Manuel said, clasping her husband's hand.

"Alright, Mrs. Manuel. We're gonna have fun, aren't we?" she said, elbowing Mark in the ribs.

"Yup," he agreed.

A small curly red-headed girl peered up at Mark from behind her mother.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her.

She scowled, and tugged at her mother's skirt. "Mommy, I wanna go with YOU," she whined.

Mrs. Manuel crouched down to her daughter's level. "I know you want to, Pheebs, but Daddy and I can't take you with us. I'm sorry." She kissed her on the nose and stood up again. "The numbers are on the refrigerator, Jan."

"I know," Jan said.

"Great. You ready, John?"

"Ready."

"Alright. See you three in a couple of hours." She blew a kiss to Pheobe, and they both left.

"Pheobe, this is my friend, Mark," Jan said lightly, motioning towards him.

Pheobe looked up at Mark skeptically. "Hi," she said.

"Hello."

"What do you want to do, Pheebs?" Jan asked, taking the five year old's small hand in hers.

Pheobe brightened up. "Can we play house?"

***

"Roger, don't do anything stupid," Mimi warned, as she struggled to keep up with Roger as they walked towards Maureen and Joanne's apartment.

"Don't worry," he growled, walking faster. "I'll murder the bastard."

"Violence isn't the answer, Rodge," she reminded him, running to keep up with him.

"Yeah, we'll see," was his reply.

They reached the front door, and Roger knocked.

Joanne opened the door, looking surprised to see them.

"Hi, guys," she said. She raised her eyebrows when she saw the look on Roger's face. "What's going on?"

"Is Jimmy here?"

"Yeah, he's in the living room with Maureen. They're looking over which paintings to put in the show . . ." She wasn't able to finish, because Roger pushed past her, and walked into the apartment.

Mimi gave Joanne a look of apology, and hurried after Roger.

"Jimmy?" Roger barked, as he came into the living room.

Jimmy looked startled to see him, and soon the surprise turned to nervousness. "Oh, hi Roger," he said quickly, his hands glued to the arm of the couch.

"Hey, Roger. What are you doing here so early?" Maureen asked, confused.

At this point, Mimi and Joanne had entered the room, watching intently to see what would happen.

"I've got to talk to Jimmy," he said, through gritted teeth.

"I don't think we have anything to talk about, Roger," Jimmy said, standing to his feet. "Whatever the problem is, I'm sure I can help though."

Enraged, Roger rushed up to Jimmy cuffing him in the face.

"Roger!" Maureen shrieked.

Roger clubbed Jimmy in the nose, causing him to fall back onto the couch. Groaning, Jimmy kicked out his leg and caught Roger's shin, causing Roger to punch him once again.

"Stop!" Mimi cried, pulling Roger away from Jimmy, who was nursing a bloody nose.

"Anyone have a Kleenex?" he grumbled.

"Roger, what the hell are you doing?" Maureen exclaimed, handing Jimmy a tissue.

"Ask him what HE was doing kissing my girlfriend," Roger snapped, glaring at Jimmy menacingly.

"Is THAT what happened last night?" Joanne asked from the doorway.

Mimi slowly nodded.

"She was leading me on," Jimmy protested, pressing the tissue against his nose.

"I was not, you dumb fuck!" Mimi shouted, looking like she wanted to hit Jimmy herself.

"You were," insisted Jimmy, "Looking at me provocatively and showing me thigh."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mimi yelled, her face red with anger.

"Pole-dancing on the fire escape and everything," Jimmy continued.

Finally, Mimi snapped and rushed at Jimmy preparing to scratch his eyes out with her long nails, but Maureen grabbed her just before she leapt, and pulled her away.

"You know what they say about those dancers . . . ," Jimmy continued on.

Maureen shook her head. He just didn't know when to stop.

"You'd better shut up," Roger warned.

".once a tease, always a tease."

"I'll fucking castrate you!" Roger shouted, and Maureen struggled to keep both Roger AND Mimi from kicking the shit out of Jimmy.

"I DON'T want blood on this carpet!" she shouted, shoving them away. She then turned to Jimmy. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't to anything," he protested.

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Jimmy, I KNOW you. Besides, Mimi wouldn't lie."

"Look, I'm not going to stay here and take this," he declared, standing to his feet. Making sure he was as far away from Roger and Mimi as possible, he walked around the couch and reached the doorway. "Mo, when you're ready to work on plans for the gallery, give me a call." He gave Roger a look, and then closed the door loudly behind him.

"Asshole," Maureen muttered.

"If I had a nickel for everytime I heard you say that about him," Joanne said, shaking her head.

"Christ, Maureen, how could you STAND him?" Mimi groaned.

Maureen shrugged. "He was different back then. And I was too stupid to see through him."

"Are you still going to go along with the opening?" Roger asked, steaming off a little.

Maureen nodded. "Yup, I'm meeting Frankie at Collins's to talk to her about the food and decorations and all that jazz."

"Well, at last the bastard's good for something," Roger said, bitterly.

"Yeah," Maureen said, sighing. "By the way, Mimi, did Daisha ever make it home last night?"

"She went home with Isabella."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, I've gotta head over to Collins's apartment. Frankie's expecting me." She kissed Joanne quickly on the cheek. "I'll see you guys later, alright?"

"Later," Roger said, quietly.

Maureen left, closing the door quietly behind her.

"We should get going," Mimi said, softly.

Roger took her hand in his. "Okay."

"See you later, Joanne."

Joanne smiled. "Bye, guys."

"That bastard better not show his face around me anytime soon," Roger told Mimi, as they left.

*** "Mmmm! Man, these steamed carrots are good, aren't they, Mark?" Jan asked Mark, desperately trying to encourage Pheobe to eat.

"They're yucky," she said, glaring at her plate defiantly.

"They're not," Jan insisted.

"YOU eat them, then," Pheobe snapped.

"Alright. Mark, show Pheobe how much you love steamed carrots."

Mark shot her a 'Why ME?' look, and Jan looked at him, pleadingly.

Mark sighed and took a fork, scooping a portion of steamed carrots into his mouth.

"MMMMMM' he exaggerated, holding out the thumbs-up sign. When Pheobe had her head turned, Mark spat the food out onto the kitchen floor. Jan shot him a look, but quickly plastered on her phony smile when Pheobe looked back at them.

"Can't we do something else?" she whined.

Jan sighed. "Fine, but if you get hungry, don't come crying to me."

"I won't," Pheobe said. She paused, and looked at Mark, and then looked back at Jan. "Do you have any babies?"

"Babies?" Mark sputtered.

Jan tried not to laugh, putting on a small smile instead. "No, we don't have any babies," she told Pheobe.

"But will you?"

"I don't know," Jan said, thoughtfully, winking at Mark. "Perhaps."

"My teacher's having a baby. Her stomach is BIG. Like- this big," she held out her arms to show them, stretching them as far as she could apart."

"That's pretty big," Jan agreed.

"She looks like Humpty Dumpty."

"That's not very nice."

"Well, it's true," Pheobe insisted.

"I'm sure it is. I remember when my mom was pregnant with my brother."

"Did you see it?" Pheobe asked, her eyes widening.

"See what?"

"Did you see him being born? Mommy said babies come out from your belly button, but it's WAY too small," Pheobe declared, as if it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard in the world.

"It's a tight squeeze," Jan agreed.

"Well, I don't want any babies."

"Why not?" Mark asked, who had been sitting in wonderment for most of the conversation.

"'Cause I'm gonna be a movie star, that's why."

"Why can't you have babies then," Mark asked her.

"Movie people can't have babies," Pheobe scoffed, as if talking to someone younger than her.

"They can," Mark argued, "If they're only shot from their midsection up, or maybe played the role of a pregnant woman, or left the Hollywood scene temporarily until the baby was born . . ."

Pheobe gave Jan a confused look.

"Mark, you're debating with a five year old," Jan whispered, nudging him.

"Sorry," he whispered back. "I told you I wasn't great with kids."

"Well, when you guys have a baby, bring it over here so I can see," Pheobe demanded.

"We'll do just that," Jan promised, winking at Mark.

"Good." Pheobe sat back in her seat, satisfied. "Who wants to play Tea Party?"

***

"Anyone want anything to drink?" Collins offered, coming up behind Frankie and placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Baby, don't you think you had enough to drink last night?" Frankie giggled.

"You haven't seen anything yet. Last night was just a practice round," Collins joked.

Frankie sighed, shaking her head.

"I'll have a glass of water," Maureen offered.

"My pleasure," Collins said, bowing, and left for the kitchen.

"He's great," Frankie laughed, as she scribbled notes onto Maureen's checklist.

"He is. You two are lucky to have each other," Maureen said, looking over Frankie's shoulder. "What've you got so far?"

"Well, for food I think there should be little h'ordeurves or something. Nothing to fancy, even old fashioned Pigs-in-a-Blanket will do."

Maureen nodded.

"We could do something fancy with cut up vegetables, cheese and crackers. Make it look like we're doing a lot more work than we really are, you know?"

"So is every thing about not doing any work?" Maureen teased.

"Nah. We just can't afford the fancy stuff," Frankie grinned.

Maureen shrugged, and pulled her knees to her chest. "What else?"

"I was thinking a cake- you know, one of those photo cakes? And we'd have your collage on it. Of course, we'd have to bring it out AFTER the guests see the actual thing."

Maureen nodded again.

"For decorations, probably colors that go with the collage, since that's really your main piece. What about purple and black balloons, and crepe paper?"

"Noise Makers too?" Maureen joked.

"Sure, if they come in black and purple. Anyway, what do you think of this?"

"It's great, Frankie. We're gonna need help with the food, but other than that, it's perfect. Thanks for helping me!" she gave Frankie a tight squeeze.

"No problem," Frankie said, as Collins came into the room with water for Maureen, and a glass of wine for himself.

"Hon, don't you think you've had enough wine?"

Collins nodded his head, a serious look on his face. "There is no such thing as too much wine, my love."

***

"Sorry you had to see that back there," Roger told Mimi, stuffing an olive into his mouth. They had racked the kitchen for something to eat, and found they were low on groceries. There WERE, however, olives, saltines, and coke.

"Don't worry about it," Mimi said, reaching an olive. "I couldn't have done it better myself.

Roger grinned widely, showing he the olive pit between his teeth.

"Roger, that's disgusting." She moved her lips and spit hers out halfway across the room. It smacked into the wall and fell back down to the floor.

"You say I'M disgusting," he said, amazed.

"You are," she said, laughing.

"Am not." He tossed an olive at Mimi, and it embedded itself in her curls.

"Roger," she wined, fishing it out. She picked up another olive and tossed it at him. It bounced off his nose and hit the floor.

Soon, they were having a food fight, tossing olives at each other, and crumbling crackers into each others hair.

Mimi crawled on top of Roger and sat on top of his chest, about to poor the bottle of coke on his head.

"Anyone home?" They heard Isabella calling.

"How'd she get in?" Roger frowned, oblivious to the fact that he was about to be drowned in soda.

"I gave Daisha a spare key," Mimi told him.

"There you guys are," Isabella said, with Daisha behind her. "Umm, are we interrupting something?" she asked, looking at the mess.

"No. In fact, you two can join if you like," Roger said, rolling out from under Mimi, who fell back onto her butt, giggling.

"No thanks," Daisha said, looking at them both in fascination. "Who's gonna clean this mess?"

"We can lick it clean," Mimi giggled, tossing another olive at Roger.

"Mimi!" Isabella exclaimed, "You want to be a bad influence on Daisha?"

Roger shrugged. "We'll figure it out." He crushed a saltine cracker above Mimi's head, who shrieked and smacked him on the arm.

"C'mon, Daisha," Isabella sighed, "I've got a feeling it'll be a while before they clean up this mess."