"You up, Honey Bear?"
"What time is it?" Maureen asked, groggily.
"It's one. You slept real late."
"Yeah, well I had a late night last night."
"Mo, it's ONE. Jimmy and Frankie are going to be down at the place where you're having the opening at Two-Thirty."
"Fuck," Maureen grumbled, rolling out of bed.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Joanne offered.
"Would you, Pookie?"
"Of course."
"Alright. I'm gonna take a quick shower, and then we'll go, okay?"
"Alright. Hurry, though."
***
"So who's coming tonight?" Joanne asked Maureen, who was seated in the passenger seat beside her.
"Well, me . . ." Maureen paused. "Of COURSE. You, Jimmy, Roger, Mimi, Mark, Jan, Collins, Frankie, Mitch, Karen, Daisha, Isabella, and that's all, I think."
"You sent them invitations ahead of time?"
"No . . . most of them I just told in person. Roger told Mitch and Karen about it."
"Oh. You've got all your paintings in the trunk, right?"
"Jimmy took them down earlier."
"Even 'Reality Check?'"
"Shit," Maureen groaned. "Turn around, Jo, we've gotta go get it."
Joanne shook her head. "Mo, I think YOU need a reality check."
***
"What are you doing?" Roger asked Mimi, as he walked into the living room.
Mimi was seated on the floor in front of the TV, her feet under her. Her arms were lifted, and she had her eyes closed.
"Meems?" he asked, nervously.
She opened her eyes. "It's yoga, Rog."
"Yoga?" he said, with a smirk.
"Yeah. I just saw something on TV for it, and I decided to try it out."
"You weren't watching Richard Simmons, were you?" Roger joked.
"Who?"
"You know, that scrawny geek with the tight butt shorts. You know, 'You did the munchies, not you've gotta do the crunchies?"
"Tight butt shorts are hot. You should wear them sometime."
Roger laughed. "And wear am I supposed to find those?"
"I think I saw a pair in Mark's room earlier . . ."
"What did you find in Mark's room?" Mark asked, as he entered the room with Jan.
"Nothing," Mimi laughed, winking at Roger.
"Whatever. Do you know when we have to go down to the place Mo's having the gallery?"
"WE have to at four. What's the name of the place, anyway?" Roger asked.
Mark took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and smoothed it out with his hands. "Walter & co. Warehouse."
"Never heard of it," Roger frowned.
"Yeah, well. It's Jimmy. He's got his connections," Mark said, sarcastically.
"Maybe you two should give him a bit more credit," Jan said. "I mean, he booked the place for her, didn't he?"
"That doesn't make him a saint," Mark said, wrapping his arm around her waist.
"Well, you're no saint yourself, Marky," she teased.
"Hey!"
"Am I coming?" asked Daisha, who had just walked in.
"Well, I don't know. They might have a 'No Pets' policy."
"Shut up, Mimi," Daisha whined.
"Speaking of being nicer to people," Roger laughed. "Meems, treat your sister better."
Mimi made a face. "Yes mom."
Daisha looked satisfied.
***
"Why aren't they here?" Maureen groaned, shuffling her feet nervously. "I told Mark to tell them to come at four. Do you think he told them?"
"Relax, Mo. Mark's a responsible guy. They probably just had trouble finding the place."
"Yeah, because it's in the middle of fucking nowhere," Maureen grumbled.
"Christ, Maureen, take a Midol, would you? I got you the booking, quit complaining!"
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"It's okay. And I invited a few friends of my own, since this seemed like it was going to be a small party."
He stepped aside, revealing four women, all of whom looked younger than him.
"Those are FRIENDS?" Joanne asked, raising an eyebrow.
"YES, they're my friends. This is Courtney, Aimee, Catherine, and Ruby," he recited, pointing to them each. "They're friends from work."
"Right," Joanne muttered.
Maureen kicked her foot lightly.
"Courtney's a college graduate from NYU. She's a lawyer now. So are Aimee and Catherine. Ruby I met at The Met. She works in the ancient Egypt section."
"So you're into art, then?" Maureen asked Ruby.
"Yes," Ruby said, with a small smile. "I can't paint myself, but Jimmy's told me wonderful things about your collages."
"Really?" Maureen was surprised.
"Told you I knew what I was talking about," Jimmy said, proudly.
They all heard the front door open, with a creak.
"That'd be your friends, I presume?" Jimmy asked Maureen.
Mark and Jan entered, with Mimi, Roger, and Daisha behind them.
They all were examining the inside with their eyes.
"Not too shabby," Roger said slowly.
Actually, it WAS pretty shabby. The cold gray cement floor was the same color as the walls, which had paint peeling off them in large strips. Maureen's canvases were covered by heavy white sheets. Jimmy was going to take them off at Six, when everyone else arrived.
A little metal table ensemble made up the 'buffet' with the food Frankie had helped Maureen make.
Mark took a cracker and bit into it.
"Not bad," he said, his mouth full. "What is it?"
"I don't know the exact name. Frankie told me it . . . it's Patty, or Pate, or something . . ."
"It's Goose Liver," Jimmy said, flatly.
Mark made a face and spit it out.
"Mark, don't you at least have the decency to use a napkin?" Jan hissed, nudging him in the side.
"Sorry," Mark croaked, his eyes still watering from the taste.
"I think it's good," Mimi said politely, taking a tiny bite.
When the others had their back turned, she spit it out into her hand.
"What's that on your face?" Daisha asked, frowning.
Mimi turned red. "Nothing . . . I walked into a while."
"Smart move."
Mimi shrugged. "It was dark."
"Whatever. That's pretty nasty though. Is that why you needed my concealer the other day?"
"Yup."
"God. It looks like someone hit you."
"Yeah."
"Mimi? You okay?"
"What? I'm fine," Mimi said, quickly.
Daisha shrugged. "Alright, if you're sure."
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Me worrying about you? Not you worrying about me?"
"Jeez, sorry, I was only asking," Daisha said, putting her hands up in front of her.
Mimi sighed. "Sorry, Daish. I'm not in the greatest mood."
"It's okay. I'm going to see I can find something decent to eat. I didn't have any breakfast."
"Alright."
Mimi watched Daisha walk away.
"You okay?" Roger asked, coming up next to her.
"I can't keep hiding things from her, Rog. She's already suspicious. She knows I'm hiding something from her."
"What can you do, though?"
Mimi sighed. "I don't know."
***
"Who ARE all these people?" Isabella asked Joanne, as more people began to enter the warehouse.
Joanne frowned. "I don't know them. Jimmy must have invited all of them."
"He's quite a character."
The two of them watched, as a man in a business suit tried to take a peak at one of the collages.
"Ahem!" Jimmy said, loudly.
The man scurried away.
"Can I have all of your attention, please?" Jimmy said, in a loud voice. He looked at his audience. Roger, Mimi, Daisha, and Isabella stood near the back. Collins and Frankie were near the 'buffet,' a glass of champagne in each hand. Mark and Jan stood beside Maureen and Joanne. Mitch and Karen waved to Mark, who waved back. Courtney, Aimee, Catherine, and Ruby stood near Jimmy.
Numerous people that Maureen didn't recognize stood around, drinking champagne. They all seemed to be successful business people, each with suits, and briefcases.
"Well, this is a bit more people than you expected, right Mo?" Jimmy laughed.
Maureen nodded.
"Anyway." Jimmy cleared his throat. "You're all here today because of this woman, standing beside me." He took Maureen's hand. "We only recently found out about Maureen Johnson's talent. She'd been hiding her artwork in the closet," he laughed.
A few people that Maureen didn't know laughed as well. Maureen blushed.
"So anyway, over here we have her paintings lined up. They're collages, really. But before I reveal them, let's make a toast to Ms. Johnson, shall we?"
Everyone quickly raised their glasses, and everyone who didn't have one scurried to find one.
"A toast . . . to Maureen Johnson, and her beautiful art. I hope it speaks to you. Cheers," he added.
"Cheers!"
Jimmy took a sip from his glass, and then set it down.
"So here we have it. Maureen is calling this line, "Reality Check,' which is also the name of her more acclaimed piece. Mark, Roger, help me with these sheets?"
Mark and Roger stepped forward, and the three of them lifted the sheets off the canvas, revealing Maureen's paintings.
A bunch of 'Ohhh's' rose. Not ones of disgust, but of pleasant surprise.
"Would you tell everyone a little something about 'Reality Check'?" Jimmy asked Maureen.
Maureen turned red. Jimmy hadn't told her before to actually SAY anything about it.
"Um . . . well this piece is basically what you see every single day, whether you're walking down the street, or you're looking for you're apartment window. If you live in New York, that is. A lot of the people in this collage remind me of my friends . . . some of them ARE my friends. So this piece if really about my friends, I guess," Maureen finished, flustered.
Mark and Jan began to applaud, and then the others did the same.
"Folks, I give you 'Reality Check!'" Jimmy said, as he and Mark and Roger revealed the rest of Maureen's work.
Mark and Roger watched happily, as Maureen was surrounded by admirers.
"How long have you been painting?" one asked her.
"Why have you been hiding these from us? They're BRILLIANT!" said another.
Maureen beamed, proudly.
Other people wandered over to look at the rest of the collages.
"You did great, Honey," Joanne whispered to Maureen.
"Thanks," Maureen whispered back.
"Ms. Johnson?" said one of the anonymous business men.
"Yes?" Maureen said, turning to him.
"My name's Oliver Caldwell. I've been looking for different pieces to put together an art gallery. Not one like this- I'm talking BIG. So far, I've collected eight different pieces from different artists. And of course, I'd pay you."
"How much?" Maureen asked, faintly.
He told her.
Maureen's mouth dropped wide open.
"Ummm, of course, that'd be great!" Maureen stammered.
"Here's my card," Oliver said, handing it to her from his coat pocket. "I'm in my office on weekdays, so you'll give me a call tomorrow then?"
"Y-Yes. Tomorrow," Maureen said, trying to catch her breath.
Oliver smiled. "Great. I've gotta go meet up with another client. But I'll see you around."
"Okay," Maureen said, shakily.
"Honey! That's great!" Joanne exclaimed once he'd left.
"What's great?" Roger asked, as he, Mimi, Mark, Jan, Collins, Frankie, Daisha and Isabella came up to congratulate Maureen.
Maureen was too flustered to speak, so Joanne told them.
"Maureen! That's fantastic!" Jan cried. "You're going to be famous!"
"Well, that's taking it a bit far," Mark laughed.
"Still, that's great, Maureen!" Frankie said, smiling.
"Thanks. And thanks for helping me with the food, Frankie."
"Don't mention it. Anything for a friend," she said, as Collins nuzzled her cheek.
"Maureen, this is great stuff!" exclaimed Mitch, as he brought Karen over.
"Hey, Mitch! I haven't seen you in years. And Karen! How are you?"
"We're great," Karen grinned.
"We've gotta run, guys. We're visiting Karen's folks. We'll see you all around."
"Bye guys," Maureen said smiling.
"Maureen, over here!"
"She's not used to the limelight, is she?" Isabella asked Roger, as Maureen was surrounded by more people.
Roger took one look at Mimi and Mark, and the two of them began to laugh, hysterically.
"What'd I say?" Isabella asked, confused.
***
Mimi yawned. It was almost Nine pm.
"You ready to go?" Roger asked her.
Sleepily, Mimi nodded. "I didn't get much sleep last night, so I'm pretty worn out."
"Me too. Mark, tell Maureen we said goodbye, okay? And tell her congratulations again!"
"I think she's heard that enough times today," Mark laughed, "But I'll tell her. Night, Roger."
"Night Mark."
"Daisha, let's go," Mimi said, tugging on her sister's arm.
"Okay, don't have a cow, I'm coming!"
"I'll see you later, Mimi," Isabella told her. "You should get some sleep. You look pretty worn out. And you have a nasty bruise on your cheek. What'd you do, walk into a wall?" she joked.
Mimi smiled, weakly. "Yeah, something like that. Let's go, Roger."
The three of them left.
"Who's that?" Jan asked Mark, pointing to a man talking to Jimmy.
He wasn't wearing a suit, neither did he have a briefcase. He didn't seem to be to friendly.
Jimmy was telling him something, and the man was listening carefully, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
A moment later, the man disappeared.
"Mo, do you know that guy?" Mark asked Maureen.
"Who?"
"The guy who was just talking to Jimmy."
"I didn't see him," Maureen shrugged. "But I'll ask him. Hey, Jimmy!"
"Yeah, babe?" Jimmy replied, to Joanne's disgust. "You having a good time?"
"Yes, Jimmy, thank you so much. I'm so grateful. I really owe you one," Maureen breathed.
"Anything for you, Mo."
"Jimmy, who was that man you were just talking to?"
"Which one?"
"The one who was writing something down that you were telling him," Mark cut in. "He just left."
"Oh, him," Jimmy said. "He was asking me for Mimi and Roger's address, so I gave it to him."
"You didn't know him?"
"No."
"And you just gave him their address anyway?" Mark exclaimed.
Jimmy shrugged. "I figured if he wanted their address, they probably knew he was."
"Did he tell you his name?" Mark asked.
Jimmy scratched his head. "Yeah, he did. J something. John . . . Jake . . . Joe . . ."
"Oh shit," Mark groaned. "Joanne, I need to use your phone!"
a/n: *Eerie music plays* Dad a daaaa!!! Coming up soon: Christmas Bells are RIIIINGGING. And Mari, if you're reading this- what do you get when you put a cupcake in an oven? A cupcake in heat. Wink Wink . . .
"What time is it?" Maureen asked, groggily.
"It's one. You slept real late."
"Yeah, well I had a late night last night."
"Mo, it's ONE. Jimmy and Frankie are going to be down at the place where you're having the opening at Two-Thirty."
"Fuck," Maureen grumbled, rolling out of bed.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Joanne offered.
"Would you, Pookie?"
"Of course."
"Alright. I'm gonna take a quick shower, and then we'll go, okay?"
"Alright. Hurry, though."
***
"So who's coming tonight?" Joanne asked Maureen, who was seated in the passenger seat beside her.
"Well, me . . ." Maureen paused. "Of COURSE. You, Jimmy, Roger, Mimi, Mark, Jan, Collins, Frankie, Mitch, Karen, Daisha, Isabella, and that's all, I think."
"You sent them invitations ahead of time?"
"No . . . most of them I just told in person. Roger told Mitch and Karen about it."
"Oh. You've got all your paintings in the trunk, right?"
"Jimmy took them down earlier."
"Even 'Reality Check?'"
"Shit," Maureen groaned. "Turn around, Jo, we've gotta go get it."
Joanne shook her head. "Mo, I think YOU need a reality check."
***
"What are you doing?" Roger asked Mimi, as he walked into the living room.
Mimi was seated on the floor in front of the TV, her feet under her. Her arms were lifted, and she had her eyes closed.
"Meems?" he asked, nervously.
She opened her eyes. "It's yoga, Rog."
"Yoga?" he said, with a smirk.
"Yeah. I just saw something on TV for it, and I decided to try it out."
"You weren't watching Richard Simmons, were you?" Roger joked.
"Who?"
"You know, that scrawny geek with the tight butt shorts. You know, 'You did the munchies, not you've gotta do the crunchies?"
"Tight butt shorts are hot. You should wear them sometime."
Roger laughed. "And wear am I supposed to find those?"
"I think I saw a pair in Mark's room earlier . . ."
"What did you find in Mark's room?" Mark asked, as he entered the room with Jan.
"Nothing," Mimi laughed, winking at Roger.
"Whatever. Do you know when we have to go down to the place Mo's having the gallery?"
"WE have to at four. What's the name of the place, anyway?" Roger asked.
Mark took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and smoothed it out with his hands. "Walter & co. Warehouse."
"Never heard of it," Roger frowned.
"Yeah, well. It's Jimmy. He's got his connections," Mark said, sarcastically.
"Maybe you two should give him a bit more credit," Jan said. "I mean, he booked the place for her, didn't he?"
"That doesn't make him a saint," Mark said, wrapping his arm around her waist.
"Well, you're no saint yourself, Marky," she teased.
"Hey!"
"Am I coming?" asked Daisha, who had just walked in.
"Well, I don't know. They might have a 'No Pets' policy."
"Shut up, Mimi," Daisha whined.
"Speaking of being nicer to people," Roger laughed. "Meems, treat your sister better."
Mimi made a face. "Yes mom."
Daisha looked satisfied.
***
"Why aren't they here?" Maureen groaned, shuffling her feet nervously. "I told Mark to tell them to come at four. Do you think he told them?"
"Relax, Mo. Mark's a responsible guy. They probably just had trouble finding the place."
"Yeah, because it's in the middle of fucking nowhere," Maureen grumbled.
"Christ, Maureen, take a Midol, would you? I got you the booking, quit complaining!"
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"It's okay. And I invited a few friends of my own, since this seemed like it was going to be a small party."
He stepped aside, revealing four women, all of whom looked younger than him.
"Those are FRIENDS?" Joanne asked, raising an eyebrow.
"YES, they're my friends. This is Courtney, Aimee, Catherine, and Ruby," he recited, pointing to them each. "They're friends from work."
"Right," Joanne muttered.
Maureen kicked her foot lightly.
"Courtney's a college graduate from NYU. She's a lawyer now. So are Aimee and Catherine. Ruby I met at The Met. She works in the ancient Egypt section."
"So you're into art, then?" Maureen asked Ruby.
"Yes," Ruby said, with a small smile. "I can't paint myself, but Jimmy's told me wonderful things about your collages."
"Really?" Maureen was surprised.
"Told you I knew what I was talking about," Jimmy said, proudly.
They all heard the front door open, with a creak.
"That'd be your friends, I presume?" Jimmy asked Maureen.
Mark and Jan entered, with Mimi, Roger, and Daisha behind them.
They all were examining the inside with their eyes.
"Not too shabby," Roger said slowly.
Actually, it WAS pretty shabby. The cold gray cement floor was the same color as the walls, which had paint peeling off them in large strips. Maureen's canvases were covered by heavy white sheets. Jimmy was going to take them off at Six, when everyone else arrived.
A little metal table ensemble made up the 'buffet' with the food Frankie had helped Maureen make.
Mark took a cracker and bit into it.
"Not bad," he said, his mouth full. "What is it?"
"I don't know the exact name. Frankie told me it . . . it's Patty, or Pate, or something . . ."
"It's Goose Liver," Jimmy said, flatly.
Mark made a face and spit it out.
"Mark, don't you at least have the decency to use a napkin?" Jan hissed, nudging him in the side.
"Sorry," Mark croaked, his eyes still watering from the taste.
"I think it's good," Mimi said politely, taking a tiny bite.
When the others had their back turned, she spit it out into her hand.
"What's that on your face?" Daisha asked, frowning.
Mimi turned red. "Nothing . . . I walked into a while."
"Smart move."
Mimi shrugged. "It was dark."
"Whatever. That's pretty nasty though. Is that why you needed my concealer the other day?"
"Yup."
"God. It looks like someone hit you."
"Yeah."
"Mimi? You okay?"
"What? I'm fine," Mimi said, quickly.
Daisha shrugged. "Alright, if you're sure."
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Me worrying about you? Not you worrying about me?"
"Jeez, sorry, I was only asking," Daisha said, putting her hands up in front of her.
Mimi sighed. "Sorry, Daish. I'm not in the greatest mood."
"It's okay. I'm going to see I can find something decent to eat. I didn't have any breakfast."
"Alright."
Mimi watched Daisha walk away.
"You okay?" Roger asked, coming up next to her.
"I can't keep hiding things from her, Rog. She's already suspicious. She knows I'm hiding something from her."
"What can you do, though?"
Mimi sighed. "I don't know."
***
"Who ARE all these people?" Isabella asked Joanne, as more people began to enter the warehouse.
Joanne frowned. "I don't know them. Jimmy must have invited all of them."
"He's quite a character."
The two of them watched, as a man in a business suit tried to take a peak at one of the collages.
"Ahem!" Jimmy said, loudly.
The man scurried away.
"Can I have all of your attention, please?" Jimmy said, in a loud voice. He looked at his audience. Roger, Mimi, Daisha, and Isabella stood near the back. Collins and Frankie were near the 'buffet,' a glass of champagne in each hand. Mark and Jan stood beside Maureen and Joanne. Mitch and Karen waved to Mark, who waved back. Courtney, Aimee, Catherine, and Ruby stood near Jimmy.
Numerous people that Maureen didn't recognize stood around, drinking champagne. They all seemed to be successful business people, each with suits, and briefcases.
"Well, this is a bit more people than you expected, right Mo?" Jimmy laughed.
Maureen nodded.
"Anyway." Jimmy cleared his throat. "You're all here today because of this woman, standing beside me." He took Maureen's hand. "We only recently found out about Maureen Johnson's talent. She'd been hiding her artwork in the closet," he laughed.
A few people that Maureen didn't know laughed as well. Maureen blushed.
"So anyway, over here we have her paintings lined up. They're collages, really. But before I reveal them, let's make a toast to Ms. Johnson, shall we?"
Everyone quickly raised their glasses, and everyone who didn't have one scurried to find one.
"A toast . . . to Maureen Johnson, and her beautiful art. I hope it speaks to you. Cheers," he added.
"Cheers!"
Jimmy took a sip from his glass, and then set it down.
"So here we have it. Maureen is calling this line, "Reality Check,' which is also the name of her more acclaimed piece. Mark, Roger, help me with these sheets?"
Mark and Roger stepped forward, and the three of them lifted the sheets off the canvas, revealing Maureen's paintings.
A bunch of 'Ohhh's' rose. Not ones of disgust, but of pleasant surprise.
"Would you tell everyone a little something about 'Reality Check'?" Jimmy asked Maureen.
Maureen turned red. Jimmy hadn't told her before to actually SAY anything about it.
"Um . . . well this piece is basically what you see every single day, whether you're walking down the street, or you're looking for you're apartment window. If you live in New York, that is. A lot of the people in this collage remind me of my friends . . . some of them ARE my friends. So this piece if really about my friends, I guess," Maureen finished, flustered.
Mark and Jan began to applaud, and then the others did the same.
"Folks, I give you 'Reality Check!'" Jimmy said, as he and Mark and Roger revealed the rest of Maureen's work.
Mark and Roger watched happily, as Maureen was surrounded by admirers.
"How long have you been painting?" one asked her.
"Why have you been hiding these from us? They're BRILLIANT!" said another.
Maureen beamed, proudly.
Other people wandered over to look at the rest of the collages.
"You did great, Honey," Joanne whispered to Maureen.
"Thanks," Maureen whispered back.
"Ms. Johnson?" said one of the anonymous business men.
"Yes?" Maureen said, turning to him.
"My name's Oliver Caldwell. I've been looking for different pieces to put together an art gallery. Not one like this- I'm talking BIG. So far, I've collected eight different pieces from different artists. And of course, I'd pay you."
"How much?" Maureen asked, faintly.
He told her.
Maureen's mouth dropped wide open.
"Ummm, of course, that'd be great!" Maureen stammered.
"Here's my card," Oliver said, handing it to her from his coat pocket. "I'm in my office on weekdays, so you'll give me a call tomorrow then?"
"Y-Yes. Tomorrow," Maureen said, trying to catch her breath.
Oliver smiled. "Great. I've gotta go meet up with another client. But I'll see you around."
"Okay," Maureen said, shakily.
"Honey! That's great!" Joanne exclaimed once he'd left.
"What's great?" Roger asked, as he, Mimi, Mark, Jan, Collins, Frankie, Daisha and Isabella came up to congratulate Maureen.
Maureen was too flustered to speak, so Joanne told them.
"Maureen! That's fantastic!" Jan cried. "You're going to be famous!"
"Well, that's taking it a bit far," Mark laughed.
"Still, that's great, Maureen!" Frankie said, smiling.
"Thanks. And thanks for helping me with the food, Frankie."
"Don't mention it. Anything for a friend," she said, as Collins nuzzled her cheek.
"Maureen, this is great stuff!" exclaimed Mitch, as he brought Karen over.
"Hey, Mitch! I haven't seen you in years. And Karen! How are you?"
"We're great," Karen grinned.
"We've gotta run, guys. We're visiting Karen's folks. We'll see you all around."
"Bye guys," Maureen said smiling.
"Maureen, over here!"
"She's not used to the limelight, is she?" Isabella asked Roger, as Maureen was surrounded by more people.
Roger took one look at Mimi and Mark, and the two of them began to laugh, hysterically.
"What'd I say?" Isabella asked, confused.
***
Mimi yawned. It was almost Nine pm.
"You ready to go?" Roger asked her.
Sleepily, Mimi nodded. "I didn't get much sleep last night, so I'm pretty worn out."
"Me too. Mark, tell Maureen we said goodbye, okay? And tell her congratulations again!"
"I think she's heard that enough times today," Mark laughed, "But I'll tell her. Night, Roger."
"Night Mark."
"Daisha, let's go," Mimi said, tugging on her sister's arm.
"Okay, don't have a cow, I'm coming!"
"I'll see you later, Mimi," Isabella told her. "You should get some sleep. You look pretty worn out. And you have a nasty bruise on your cheek. What'd you do, walk into a wall?" she joked.
Mimi smiled, weakly. "Yeah, something like that. Let's go, Roger."
The three of them left.
"Who's that?" Jan asked Mark, pointing to a man talking to Jimmy.
He wasn't wearing a suit, neither did he have a briefcase. He didn't seem to be to friendly.
Jimmy was telling him something, and the man was listening carefully, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
A moment later, the man disappeared.
"Mo, do you know that guy?" Mark asked Maureen.
"Who?"
"The guy who was just talking to Jimmy."
"I didn't see him," Maureen shrugged. "But I'll ask him. Hey, Jimmy!"
"Yeah, babe?" Jimmy replied, to Joanne's disgust. "You having a good time?"
"Yes, Jimmy, thank you so much. I'm so grateful. I really owe you one," Maureen breathed.
"Anything for you, Mo."
"Jimmy, who was that man you were just talking to?"
"Which one?"
"The one who was writing something down that you were telling him," Mark cut in. "He just left."
"Oh, him," Jimmy said. "He was asking me for Mimi and Roger's address, so I gave it to him."
"You didn't know him?"
"No."
"And you just gave him their address anyway?" Mark exclaimed.
Jimmy shrugged. "I figured if he wanted their address, they probably knew he was."
"Did he tell you his name?" Mark asked.
Jimmy scratched his head. "Yeah, he did. J something. John . . . Jake . . . Joe . . ."
"Oh shit," Mark groaned. "Joanne, I need to use your phone!"
a/n: *Eerie music plays* Dad a daaaa!!! Coming up soon: Christmas Bells are RIIIINGGING. And Mari, if you're reading this- what do you get when you put a cupcake in an oven? A cupcake in heat. Wink Wink . . .