TWO DAYS LATER
"Here we go," Roger sang, as he pushed Mimi down the hospital wing in a wheelchair. "You ready to come home?"
"Yeah. I don't know why the fuck I have to sit in this wheelchair, though. It's my arm that's hurt, not my legs."
"Hospital policy," Roger said, shrugging. "Besides, once you get into the car, you won't need it anymore."
He pushed Mimi out into the lobby, where Maureen's car awaited them. She had lent the car to Roger, since he didn't have one of his own.
"Can you get in alright?" he asked her, as he opened the car door.
Mimi nodded, and crawled into the passenger seat besides Roger.
"Okay. Let's put on some music, shall we?" he said. He pressed a button and one of Maureen's mix tapes began to blare loudly, playing 'Karma Chameleon' by the Culture Club.
"Or not," he turned it off. "What is this crap, anyway?"
He pressed the 'Eject' button, and squinted at the writing along the cassette tape.
"Maureen's Fetishes Side 1. Hmm. Figures," he said, tossing it into the backseat.
Mimi giggled.
"Does your arm hurt, babe?" he asked her. Her arm was resting in a sling that came around her neck.
"Nah. They gave me some painkillers."
"So you want to go back to the Loft, then?"
Mimi nodded.
"Right-O" he said, pressing down harder on the pedal.
"They're doing the autopsy tomorrow," Mimi told him.
"I know. The cops told me."
"What will that accomplish? It's not like he drank arsenic or something."
"They want to see how hard I hit him," Roger said, uncomfortably. "They also want to see whether is brain was damaged or not."
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes. But I shouldn't be. I did nothing wrong. I was protecting us."
Mimi chewed her lower lip, not knowing what to say.
"You know what they do for patients who've been shot?" he asked her, trying to brighten her mood as they got out of the car.
"What?"
"They get an exclusive piggy-back ride up to the Loft," he said, grinning.
"Ooh. Sounds tempting," she said.
"Get on."
"MeOW," she giggled, as she climbed onto his back.
"Going up," Roger announced, as they started up the steps.
***
"Hey guys," Mark greeted them, as Roger lowered Mimi to the ground. "Meems, you got flowers."
"I did?" she asked, surprised. "Who're they from?"
Mark read the card. "Dear Mimi, You have our best regards, and we hope you're well again soon. Love, Mitch and Karen."
"That was nice of them," she smiled, as she held the flowers to her nose.
"Mitch's a good guy," Roger said. "I should know. I lived with him for four months."
"So when do you have to go to the hospital again?" Mark asked Mimi.
"I have to go the weekend before Christmas. So in a few weeks," she said.
"Where's Jan, Mark?" Roger asked, suddenly.
"At her Mom and Dad's house in Ardsley," Mark said. "I miss her."
"And this is the only time you've ever been away from her," Mimi laughed.
"Ardsley . . . is that near Scarsdale?" Roger wondered, aloud.
"Yup. So we didn't exactly grow up too far from each other."
"April told me she lived in Connecticut."
Mark shrugged. "That's just what she told me."
"Weird," Roger said, frowning.
He turned to Mimi. "You want something to ear?"
"Nah. I'm pretty worn out from all the pills they've been giving me. I think I'm gonna go lie down."
"Alright. Call me if you need anything, alright?"
"Okay. Night guys."
"Sleep tight," Roger said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Mimi disappeared into their bedroom and closed the door behind her.
"She seems a little off," Mark said to Roger.
"Mark, she's just been shot, and her stepfather is dead- of course she's a bit off."
"How's she taking it? I mean the whole thing with Joel?"
"She's not sad or anything. She hated him. If she could she probably would have killed him herself. But she's just really nervous about this whole thing with the cops."
"Aren't you?"
"Yes," Roger admitted. "But I've got to put on a brave face. I'm the one who got myself into this, right?"
Mark shrugged.
"So I'm going down to the police station tomorrow," Roger said, softly. "They'll tell me what's going to happen then. And what they found during the autopsy."
"Oh," Mark said, awkwardly. He didn't know what to say.
"Yeah. I think I'm gonna go lie down with Mimi," Roger said suddenly, standing to his feet. "You'll be alright by yourself?"
"Yeah. Separation Anxiety is a bitch. But what can you do," he shrugged.
"Sorry, Mark."
"It's fine. She'll be back Friday."
"Well that's good, at least. Only two days away."
"I don't think I could wait more than two days," Mark laughed.
Roger grinned. "I'm happy you found someone, Mark."
"Thanks. So am I."
"I'll see you later?"
"Sure. If you're not out for the rest of the night, that is."
"Alright. In that case, goodnight," he grinned, as he sauntered off into the bedroom.
Mark sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen.
A few moments later, the phone rang.
"Yeah?"
"Is that how you answer the phone? Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Hi, Jan," Mark said, relieved. "It's good to hear the sound of your voice."
"God, I know. Same with you. I feel like it's been months since I've seen you, and I only left last night."
"So how's the visit going?"
Jan groaned. "My parents are the same as usual. They nag me about every little thing I do, and every other word is 'That's not what your sister used to do.' It's hell."
"Speaking of April, you said you grew up in Scarsdale."
"Yup."
"But April told Roger she lived in Connecticut."
"Oh . . ." Jan paused for a moment.
"You still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
Mark waited for her to explain.
"WE didn't live in Connecticut. April did for about a year. My parents sent her to a rehab up there. She was a Heroin addict. She came back home after nine months." Jan sighed. "Some help that was to her. And even after that, my parents still expect me to model my life after hers."
"April was in rehab?" Mark asked, surprised.
"Yup. Didn't work. Obviously."
"How long ago was this?"
"She had just turned eighteen . . . so it was about five years ago."
"Oh." Mark twirled the phone cord around his finger.
"Are you going to tell Roger?"
"I guess so. Eventually. That is, if it's alright with you."
"If you think he should know, just tell him. I don't want you to feel that you need to hide stuff from your best friend."
"I'll tell him later. He's already stressed out with what's happened with Mimi, and the whole thing with the cops," Mark said, lowering his voice just to make sure Roger wouldn't overhear him.
"How is Mimi, by the way?"
"She's doing great. Her arm hurts her still, but the hospital gave her a prescription for some painkillers. Roger's going to go fill it out tomorrow. After he gets back from the Police Station," he said, uneasily.
"Do you guys have any idea what's going to happen?"
"Well, the autopsy's tomorrow. The police will probably tell him the outcome, and what's going to happen to them. Roger told them that the whole thing was out of self defense. I think they believe him, but they just have to keep all options open."
Mark heard Jan sigh.
"Everything will be fine," he assured her, though he had no way of knowing.
"I hope so. Listen, Mark, I told my parents about you, and they want to meet you. I'm going to be at their place for Christmas and I was wondering . . . do you want to come with me?"
"Sure," Mark exclaimed. "You're sure it's alright with your folks?"
"Positive. It's alright with you being away from your friends during Christmas, though?"
"I'm sure they'll understand."
"Great! I'll let my parents know as soon we I get off the phone with you."
"Okay," Mark couldn't help the smile that came across his face.
"I've gotta go, my mom wants me to help her get dinner ready. But I'll see you on Friday, okay?"
"I can't wait."
Jan laughed. "Neither can I. I love you, Marky."
"Love you, Jannie."
"Ugh. My mom used to call me that when I was little," Jan groaned.
Mark laughed. "Bye Jan."
"Bye."
Mark hung up the phone.
***
"What time do you want me to pick you up?" Joanne asked Maureen, as they pulled up beside the building where Oliver worked at.
"In about an hour. Not too long."
"Okay. Good luck, Honey."
"Thanks, Pookie," Maureen smiled. She leaned over and gave Joanne a peck on the cheek.
"Don't be late," she warned, jokingly.
"I won't. See you at six," Joanne said, as Maureen got out of the car.
"Bye," Maureen said, as Joanne pulled away.
"Can I help you?" the doorman asked Maureen, as she entered the building.
"Yes . . . Caldwell . . . Oliver Caldwell. What floor is he on?"
The man walked over to his desk and checked. "He's on the twelfth floor. Room One-Oh-Four. You want me to give him a call and let him know he's got a visitor?"
"No. It's okay. Thank you, though," Maureen said, as she headed for the elevator.
She got inside, and pressed the button. She tapped her foot impatiently, and finally the elevator reached its destination.
Maureen slid out, and searched for room number 104.
It didn't take her long to find.
Maureen knocked on the door, cautiously.
"Come in," Oliver's voice called from the other side of the door.
"Maureen! I wasn't expecting you."
"I know I should have called, but there's been some trouble with a some friends of mine, and my mind just got all jumbled," she apologized.
"That's alright. Anything I can do to help?"
"No, it's fine. Thank you, though."
"Don't mention it. So, remind me why you've come to my office?"
"My artwork," Maureen reminded him.
"Oh yes. Well, I've gotten two more artists to contribute to the collection since the last time I've seen you. I've seen their work though, and none of them are nearly as good as you are."
"Thank you," Maureen said, blushing.
"It's true. You've got a real talent, Maureen. Or do you prefer me calling you Ms. Johnson? It is MS. Johnson, correct?"
"Yes . . . I'm not married," she said, feeling flustered.
"Alright. Where were we?"
"You were telling me about your other clients," Maureen reminded him.
"Oh, yes."
"Did they come into your office as well."
"Well, no," he said, blushing. "Only you."
Maureen frowned. "Why?"
"I get a vibe from you, Maureen," Oliver said, neglecting to call her Ms. Johnson.
Maureen felt his hand over hers.
"A vibe?" she asked, nervously.
"Yes. A good one, mind you. You're a very attractive woman, Maureen."
"Thank you," she giggled, uncertainly. He wasn't bad himself. He had natural tanned skin, and powerful green eyes, and his head was adorned by wispy, yet full dark brown hair.
Maureen stared into his eyes for a moment, and then quickly looked away.
"Do you agree with me? That me and you have a lot in common?"
"Well, I . . . I don't know you that well, Oliver."
"True. But I'd like to get to know you better," he said, coming closer to her.
"Oliver, I . . . I have a girlfriend. And aren't you married?"
"Divorced," he corrected her. "And you haven't been branded a lesbian for life, have you?"
Maureen winced at his use of the word, 'Lesbian.'
"No . . .," she said, slowly. "But Oliver . . ."
She was silenced by his mouth pressing roughly against hers.
Maureen was startled, but found that she couldn't pull herself away from him.
Her arm dangled around his neck, and Oliver made a pleasant murmuring sound as he began to kiss her neck.
His hand found its way under her skirt, and began to crawl up her thigh, when Maureen pulled away.
"Oliver, I can't," she exclaimed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"You can't deny we have good chemistry," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"I . . . I have to go," she said, stupidly, as she reached for the doorknob.
"Alright, go. But that doors open whenever you want to return," Oliver said.
"Bye," Maureen said, slamming the door.
Neglecting the elevator, she rushed down the stairs, and sat on the steps outside the building, and waited for Joanne.
She tried to block out what had just happened in her mind, but all that she could think of was Oliver. His lips against hers, his warm touch, his eyes.
Maureen shook her head, and struggled to stop thinking about him.
A few minutes later, Joanne pulled u in front of her.
"Hey, honey," she said, as Maureen slid into the seat beside her. "How'd it go?"
"It went alright," Maureen said, quietly.
"Any idea if you're going to be a world-famous artist, yet?" Joanne teased.
Maureen shrugged,
She stared out the window, stared at the emerald statue outside the building.
It was the same color as his eyes.
a/n: I had to give Maureen some stage time. More exciting things coming up, I swear!
"Here we go," Roger sang, as he pushed Mimi down the hospital wing in a wheelchair. "You ready to come home?"
"Yeah. I don't know why the fuck I have to sit in this wheelchair, though. It's my arm that's hurt, not my legs."
"Hospital policy," Roger said, shrugging. "Besides, once you get into the car, you won't need it anymore."
He pushed Mimi out into the lobby, where Maureen's car awaited them. She had lent the car to Roger, since he didn't have one of his own.
"Can you get in alright?" he asked her, as he opened the car door.
Mimi nodded, and crawled into the passenger seat besides Roger.
"Okay. Let's put on some music, shall we?" he said. He pressed a button and one of Maureen's mix tapes began to blare loudly, playing 'Karma Chameleon' by the Culture Club.
"Or not," he turned it off. "What is this crap, anyway?"
He pressed the 'Eject' button, and squinted at the writing along the cassette tape.
"Maureen's Fetishes Side 1. Hmm. Figures," he said, tossing it into the backseat.
Mimi giggled.
"Does your arm hurt, babe?" he asked her. Her arm was resting in a sling that came around her neck.
"Nah. They gave me some painkillers."
"So you want to go back to the Loft, then?"
Mimi nodded.
"Right-O" he said, pressing down harder on the pedal.
"They're doing the autopsy tomorrow," Mimi told him.
"I know. The cops told me."
"What will that accomplish? It's not like he drank arsenic or something."
"They want to see how hard I hit him," Roger said, uncomfortably. "They also want to see whether is brain was damaged or not."
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes. But I shouldn't be. I did nothing wrong. I was protecting us."
Mimi chewed her lower lip, not knowing what to say.
"You know what they do for patients who've been shot?" he asked her, trying to brighten her mood as they got out of the car.
"What?"
"They get an exclusive piggy-back ride up to the Loft," he said, grinning.
"Ooh. Sounds tempting," she said.
"Get on."
"MeOW," she giggled, as she climbed onto his back.
"Going up," Roger announced, as they started up the steps.
***
"Hey guys," Mark greeted them, as Roger lowered Mimi to the ground. "Meems, you got flowers."
"I did?" she asked, surprised. "Who're they from?"
Mark read the card. "Dear Mimi, You have our best regards, and we hope you're well again soon. Love, Mitch and Karen."
"That was nice of them," she smiled, as she held the flowers to her nose.
"Mitch's a good guy," Roger said. "I should know. I lived with him for four months."
"So when do you have to go to the hospital again?" Mark asked Mimi.
"I have to go the weekend before Christmas. So in a few weeks," she said.
"Where's Jan, Mark?" Roger asked, suddenly.
"At her Mom and Dad's house in Ardsley," Mark said. "I miss her."
"And this is the only time you've ever been away from her," Mimi laughed.
"Ardsley . . . is that near Scarsdale?" Roger wondered, aloud.
"Yup. So we didn't exactly grow up too far from each other."
"April told me she lived in Connecticut."
Mark shrugged. "That's just what she told me."
"Weird," Roger said, frowning.
He turned to Mimi. "You want something to ear?"
"Nah. I'm pretty worn out from all the pills they've been giving me. I think I'm gonna go lie down."
"Alright. Call me if you need anything, alright?"
"Okay. Night guys."
"Sleep tight," Roger said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Mimi disappeared into their bedroom and closed the door behind her.
"She seems a little off," Mark said to Roger.
"Mark, she's just been shot, and her stepfather is dead- of course she's a bit off."
"How's she taking it? I mean the whole thing with Joel?"
"She's not sad or anything. She hated him. If she could she probably would have killed him herself. But she's just really nervous about this whole thing with the cops."
"Aren't you?"
"Yes," Roger admitted. "But I've got to put on a brave face. I'm the one who got myself into this, right?"
Mark shrugged.
"So I'm going down to the police station tomorrow," Roger said, softly. "They'll tell me what's going to happen then. And what they found during the autopsy."
"Oh," Mark said, awkwardly. He didn't know what to say.
"Yeah. I think I'm gonna go lie down with Mimi," Roger said suddenly, standing to his feet. "You'll be alright by yourself?"
"Yeah. Separation Anxiety is a bitch. But what can you do," he shrugged.
"Sorry, Mark."
"It's fine. She'll be back Friday."
"Well that's good, at least. Only two days away."
"I don't think I could wait more than two days," Mark laughed.
Roger grinned. "I'm happy you found someone, Mark."
"Thanks. So am I."
"I'll see you later?"
"Sure. If you're not out for the rest of the night, that is."
"Alright. In that case, goodnight," he grinned, as he sauntered off into the bedroom.
Mark sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen.
A few moments later, the phone rang.
"Yeah?"
"Is that how you answer the phone? Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Hi, Jan," Mark said, relieved. "It's good to hear the sound of your voice."
"God, I know. Same with you. I feel like it's been months since I've seen you, and I only left last night."
"So how's the visit going?"
Jan groaned. "My parents are the same as usual. They nag me about every little thing I do, and every other word is 'That's not what your sister used to do.' It's hell."
"Speaking of April, you said you grew up in Scarsdale."
"Yup."
"But April told Roger she lived in Connecticut."
"Oh . . ." Jan paused for a moment.
"You still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
Mark waited for her to explain.
"WE didn't live in Connecticut. April did for about a year. My parents sent her to a rehab up there. She was a Heroin addict. She came back home after nine months." Jan sighed. "Some help that was to her. And even after that, my parents still expect me to model my life after hers."
"April was in rehab?" Mark asked, surprised.
"Yup. Didn't work. Obviously."
"How long ago was this?"
"She had just turned eighteen . . . so it was about five years ago."
"Oh." Mark twirled the phone cord around his finger.
"Are you going to tell Roger?"
"I guess so. Eventually. That is, if it's alright with you."
"If you think he should know, just tell him. I don't want you to feel that you need to hide stuff from your best friend."
"I'll tell him later. He's already stressed out with what's happened with Mimi, and the whole thing with the cops," Mark said, lowering his voice just to make sure Roger wouldn't overhear him.
"How is Mimi, by the way?"
"She's doing great. Her arm hurts her still, but the hospital gave her a prescription for some painkillers. Roger's going to go fill it out tomorrow. After he gets back from the Police Station," he said, uneasily.
"Do you guys have any idea what's going to happen?"
"Well, the autopsy's tomorrow. The police will probably tell him the outcome, and what's going to happen to them. Roger told them that the whole thing was out of self defense. I think they believe him, but they just have to keep all options open."
Mark heard Jan sigh.
"Everything will be fine," he assured her, though he had no way of knowing.
"I hope so. Listen, Mark, I told my parents about you, and they want to meet you. I'm going to be at their place for Christmas and I was wondering . . . do you want to come with me?"
"Sure," Mark exclaimed. "You're sure it's alright with your folks?"
"Positive. It's alright with you being away from your friends during Christmas, though?"
"I'm sure they'll understand."
"Great! I'll let my parents know as soon we I get off the phone with you."
"Okay," Mark couldn't help the smile that came across his face.
"I've gotta go, my mom wants me to help her get dinner ready. But I'll see you on Friday, okay?"
"I can't wait."
Jan laughed. "Neither can I. I love you, Marky."
"Love you, Jannie."
"Ugh. My mom used to call me that when I was little," Jan groaned.
Mark laughed. "Bye Jan."
"Bye."
Mark hung up the phone.
***
"What time do you want me to pick you up?" Joanne asked Maureen, as they pulled up beside the building where Oliver worked at.
"In about an hour. Not too long."
"Okay. Good luck, Honey."
"Thanks, Pookie," Maureen smiled. She leaned over and gave Joanne a peck on the cheek.
"Don't be late," she warned, jokingly.
"I won't. See you at six," Joanne said, as Maureen got out of the car.
"Bye," Maureen said, as Joanne pulled away.
"Can I help you?" the doorman asked Maureen, as she entered the building.
"Yes . . . Caldwell . . . Oliver Caldwell. What floor is he on?"
The man walked over to his desk and checked. "He's on the twelfth floor. Room One-Oh-Four. You want me to give him a call and let him know he's got a visitor?"
"No. It's okay. Thank you, though," Maureen said, as she headed for the elevator.
She got inside, and pressed the button. She tapped her foot impatiently, and finally the elevator reached its destination.
Maureen slid out, and searched for room number 104.
It didn't take her long to find.
Maureen knocked on the door, cautiously.
"Come in," Oliver's voice called from the other side of the door.
"Maureen! I wasn't expecting you."
"I know I should have called, but there's been some trouble with a some friends of mine, and my mind just got all jumbled," she apologized.
"That's alright. Anything I can do to help?"
"No, it's fine. Thank you, though."
"Don't mention it. So, remind me why you've come to my office?"
"My artwork," Maureen reminded him.
"Oh yes. Well, I've gotten two more artists to contribute to the collection since the last time I've seen you. I've seen their work though, and none of them are nearly as good as you are."
"Thank you," Maureen said, blushing.
"It's true. You've got a real talent, Maureen. Or do you prefer me calling you Ms. Johnson? It is MS. Johnson, correct?"
"Yes . . . I'm not married," she said, feeling flustered.
"Alright. Where were we?"
"You were telling me about your other clients," Maureen reminded him.
"Oh, yes."
"Did they come into your office as well."
"Well, no," he said, blushing. "Only you."
Maureen frowned. "Why?"
"I get a vibe from you, Maureen," Oliver said, neglecting to call her Ms. Johnson.
Maureen felt his hand over hers.
"A vibe?" she asked, nervously.
"Yes. A good one, mind you. You're a very attractive woman, Maureen."
"Thank you," she giggled, uncertainly. He wasn't bad himself. He had natural tanned skin, and powerful green eyes, and his head was adorned by wispy, yet full dark brown hair.
Maureen stared into his eyes for a moment, and then quickly looked away.
"Do you agree with me? That me and you have a lot in common?"
"Well, I . . . I don't know you that well, Oliver."
"True. But I'd like to get to know you better," he said, coming closer to her.
"Oliver, I . . . I have a girlfriend. And aren't you married?"
"Divorced," he corrected her. "And you haven't been branded a lesbian for life, have you?"
Maureen winced at his use of the word, 'Lesbian.'
"No . . .," she said, slowly. "But Oliver . . ."
She was silenced by his mouth pressing roughly against hers.
Maureen was startled, but found that she couldn't pull herself away from him.
Her arm dangled around his neck, and Oliver made a pleasant murmuring sound as he began to kiss her neck.
His hand found its way under her skirt, and began to crawl up her thigh, when Maureen pulled away.
"Oliver, I can't," she exclaimed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"You can't deny we have good chemistry," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"I . . . I have to go," she said, stupidly, as she reached for the doorknob.
"Alright, go. But that doors open whenever you want to return," Oliver said.
"Bye," Maureen said, slamming the door.
Neglecting the elevator, she rushed down the stairs, and sat on the steps outside the building, and waited for Joanne.
She tried to block out what had just happened in her mind, but all that she could think of was Oliver. His lips against hers, his warm touch, his eyes.
Maureen shook her head, and struggled to stop thinking about him.
A few minutes later, Joanne pulled u in front of her.
"Hey, honey," she said, as Maureen slid into the seat beside her. "How'd it go?"
"It went alright," Maureen said, quietly.
"Any idea if you're going to be a world-famous artist, yet?" Joanne teased.
Maureen shrugged,
She stared out the window, stared at the emerald statue outside the building.
It was the same color as his eyes.
a/n: I had to give Maureen some stage time. More exciting things coming up, I swear!