FEBRUARY 2
"Mark?" Jan called as she hopped over dozens of cardboard boxes, three wooden chairs and a table on her way down the hall to the loft.
"Hey, Jan," He greeted her from the open door.
"What the hell is all this stuff doing out here?" she asked, as she leapt over another box.
"Roger and Mimi are turning the dining room into a nursery for the babies. Since we never use it."
"Oh. Well you ought to move all that out of there, before someone seriously hurts themselves."
"Will do. They're selling the furniture."
"What's in the boxes?"
"Old china and silverware, stuff like that."
Jan nodded, slowly.
"What's the matter?"
"I just got a call from my mother. My great aunt Patricia died in her sleep this weekend."
"I'm sorry," Mark said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Jan shrugged, "Yeah, I'm okay. I only met her a few times. Most of them were when April and I were little."
Mark nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, comfortingly.
"The thing is, the funeral's next week, and my parents want me to stay at their place for the next two weeks. The whole family's gathering up there. So I won't be able to go to Chad and Karmine's wedding with you. I'm sorry."
"Jan, it's fine," Mark assured her. "I totally understand."
Jan chewed on the corner of her lip. "Are sure?"
"Yes," he insisted, "You can't help a family crisis."
Jan smiled. "Okay. Thanks for understanding. I was afraid you'd be upset that I wouldn't be able to come to the wedding with you."
"Nah, it's cool. I'll probably end up dancing with Roger's sister, Rachel . . ."
Jan raised her eyebrows.
" . . .Who's ten," he finished.
Jan laughed. "Oh, so now you're a cradle-robber?"
"You know it," Mark said, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.
Jan giggled and pushed her dirty blonde hair behind her ears. "Does Roger know of your future plans?"
Mark put a finger to his lips. "Haven't told him yet . . . shhhh."
"I won't tell," Jan said, winking.
"Mark, Jan, tell me what you think," Mimi announced, as she walked into the room. In each hand she held a sample of paint color in each hand.
"Okay, tell me which you like better," she said, pressing them both against the wall. "Lavender with an Off-White trim? Or Off-White with a lavender trim?"
"I think the Lavender with an Off-White trim looks nice," Jan offered.
"Mimi, has it occurred to you that you might have boys? Not just girls?" Mark asked her.
"Yeah. So?"
"Well, personally, if I was a boy, I wouldn't want to be in a pink room."
Mimi groaned. "Fuck, Mark, did you have to point that out? Now my whole idea is ruined."
"Sorry," Mark said, quickly.
"I'm sure the color won't matter to the babies . . . at least not when they're first born," Jan said quickly, but Mimi had already turned on her heel, yelling, "Roger! We need to pick a different color!"
"I shouldn't have set her off like that," Mark said, once she'd left.
"It's not your fault. She's pregnant, she's going to be feeling moody for a while now."
"Yeah, you're right. Poor Roger."
"What about poor Roger?" Roger asked, as he walked into the room.
"Nothing," Mark said, "Do you guys know what color you're painting the walls?"
"Yup. We decided to go with Lime Green walls, with a White trim."
"Lime green?"
"Hey, it's not as bad as it sounds. It'll turn out fine."
"I'm sure it will," Jan assured him.
"Thanks. So Mimi and I are going to go and get the paint, and the rollers. We're going to paint the walls later this afternoon. You guys game?"
"I can't" Jan apologized, "I've got to go back to my place and start packing for my parents' place."
"You're leaving TODAY?" Mark exclaimed.
Jan winced. "Tomorrow."
"Shit."
"I'm sorry, Mark, I tried to work out just staying over the weekend with my parents."
"It's not that," he said, "I just thought I'd be able to spend some more time with you."
"When I get back, we'll have all the time in the world," she assured him, smiling.
Mark smiled back.
Roger began to hum to the tune of 'L-O-V-E.'
"Shut up!" Mark snapped, snapping out of his reverie to kick Roger's foot.
Roger laughed. "Sorry, you were going all loopy on me."
Mark rolled his eyes and turned to Jan. "So you have to leave now?"
Jan winced and nodded.
"Okay," Mark sighed, gloomily. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "I guess I'll see you in two weeks, then?" he asked.
Jan nodded. "Of course."
"'Tis twenty year 'til then," Mark sighed, dramatically.
Roger laughed. "Hello! Get this boy some help! He's reciting lines from Romeo and Juliet!"
"Two weeks, Romeo," Jan winked at Mark, and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
She grabbed her purse and gave one final wave before closing the door quietly behind her.
"You gonna be alright?" Roger asked Mark.
Mark shrugged. "Yeah, it's only two weeks."
"Two weeks can feel like forever."
Mark shrugged again. "I'll be alright."
"Alright, if you're sure," Roger said. "You wanna come with me and Mimi to get the paint?"
Mark furrowed his eyebrows. "Um, it sounds like fun, but . . ."
Roger laughed, "It's alright, you don't have to come."
Mark grinned. "Thanks"
"No problem. What'll you do in the meanwhile?"
Mark shrugged. "Read something. Sleep. Glory in my own misery," he joked.
Roger rolled his eyes.
"Ready to go, babe?" Mimi asked Roger, as she came in.
"Yup," Roger said to her.
He turned to Mark. "So I'll see you later, then?"
Mark nodded.
"Okay. Bye," Roger said, as he and Mimi left the Loft.
Mark gave a long sigh and wandered into his bedroom and shut the door.
***
"Pookie, will you get that?" Maureen yelled at Joanne from the bathroom, as the phone began to sing.
"I can't! I've got my hands full!"
"Never mind, I've got it," Maureen called back, flushing the toilet as she got up and ran over to the phone.
"Hello?" she said, breathlessly.
"Maureen, it's Oliver- wait, don't hang up yet, I've got something important to tell you."
"What is it?" she growled.
"Alright, so I showed one of your paintings to another agent, who's been looking to purchase pieces of art for her own line . . ."
"How did you get my artwork?" she demanded.
"Jimmy showed me one or two paintings that you'd left behind at the gallery . . ."
Maureen groaned. "That fuck."
"Anyway, Maureen, this woman s offering you a really great deal- she'd pay you a large amount of money for both of the paintings, and she'd show it in her line- she'd give you total credit, of course, along with the other artists."
Maureen thought about it for a moment. "How much?" she asked, carefully.
Oliver told her.
Maureen's eyes widened.
"It's a good deal, right?"
"Yes," Maureen admitted.
"So that's for the two paintings that Jimmy showed to me EACH. But what would REALLY be the bread-winner would be that huge collage you made. You know, the one where you have magazine cut-outs of different places in the city . . ."
"Reality Check."
"Yeah, that's it."
"That one's of sentimental value," Maureen said. She didn't bother to tell him that it was because pictures of her friends were in it. He'd probably been too ignorant to realize it, anyway.
"Are you sure? Because that's your best piece, Maureen."
"I'm sure."
"But the other two you're fine with?"
"Which ones are they, exactly?"
"Perspective of a Petal and Moonlit Night."
"Oh." Maureen twirled her short curly hair around her finger, anxiously.
"So it's okay with you?"
"Yes. Yes, it's fine."
"Okay, that's great! This is going to be great for you, Maureen."
"Alright," she said, flatly. She didn't want him to think she'd forgiven him for that day.
"So I'll speak with you later, then?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Talk to you later."
"Bye."
Maureen hung up the phone.
"Who was that?" Joanne asked, as she entered the room, toweling off her hands.
"It was Oliver," Maureen said, and she told her what had happened.
Joanne's eyes widened. "Honey, that's FANTASTIC!" she exclaimed, hugging Maureen tightly. "I'm so proud of you!"
"Thanks," Maureen giggled, hugging her back.
"Have you heard from the agent yet?"
"No, but Oliver's going to call me back later to go over more details."
"You're not selling 'Reality Check,' are you?"
Maureen shook her head. "No. I told him that one's not for sale."
"Good," Joanne breathed. "I'd never let you sell that."
"I know," Maureen said, smiling.
Joanne linked her hand through Maureen's. "You want to go out to celebrate?"
"Just the two of us?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Okay. Where?"
Joanne shrugged. "The Life Café. Anywhere."
"Anywhere BUT The Life Café. I think Seb's getting fed up with us," Maureen laughed.
"Somewhere else, then. Lunch's on me," Joanne announced.
Maureen grinned. "Thanks, Pookie."
"No problem. You ready to go now?"
"I'll go get my coat."
***
"This is so fucking heavy," Mimi complained, as she lugged the can of paint into what was now going to be partially turned into the nursery.
"Here, let me," Roger said, retrieving it from her.
Mimi smiled. "Thanks, baby."
"No problem. So . . ." he looked around them. "You wanna do this ourselves?"
Mimi shrugged. "Sure. How hard can it be? Just let me change into some old clothes so I don't get any of mine messed up."
"Alright."
A moment later, Mimi returned.
"Old clothes, huh?" Roger smirked.
Mimi was wearing an oversized T-shirt of his, and a pair of his torn jeans that were about twenty sizes to big on her.
"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, tying her hair back up into two messy buns on either side of her head.
"Not at all."
"Good," she grinned. "Is Mark going to help us?"
"Nope. He went out."
"Alrighty, then." Mimi stared at the tray of Lime Green paint, and the rollers. "How the fuck do I do this?"
"Haven't you ever painted anything before?" Roger asked her.
"Not really."
"Just roll the roller into the paint, and roll it out onto the wall." He showed her how. "Nothing to it."
"Okay," Mimi said, picking up a roller that was twice her size. "Let's get to it."
About an hour passed by, and they were finishing up on one of the walls.
Suddenly, a mischievous mood came upon Roger.
He glanced down at the roller he had, which was covered in paint, and then he glanced at Mimi, who was busily painting the wall, obliviously. She had a speck of green paint on the tip of her nose, but she continued on, not caring.
Roger stifled a giggle as he raised his paint roller, and quickly pressed it against her cheek.
Mimi dropped her roller, startled. "What the fuck was that for?" she demanded.
Roger laughed. He couldn't help it. She looked too ridiculous standing there in clothes that were for someone ten times her size, and paint smeared across her face.
Mimi's anger soon faded away.
"You're going to get it now," she warned, picking her roller back up.
She aimed for Roger's face, but he quickly turned his back to her, so she caught his shoulder.
"My turn!" he announced, picking up an extra paintbrush and smearing it across her forehead.
"Roger!" she squealed, as they began to dab at each other with the paint.
"You look like Bozo the clown," she noted, as she splashed the paint onto his nose.
"Who?"
"You know, when you see those commercials for The Big Apple Circus?"
"You're saying I look like a clown?" Roger exclaimed, pretending to be angry. "Now you're going to get it.
He picked up the nearly empty bucket of paint, and poured it onto her head.
"ROGER! YOU FUCKTARD!" she exclaimed, between giggles, "That was the last of the fucking paint!"
"We have two other buckets," he said, winking at her.
"You asshole!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him and knocking him to the ground.
They were rolling around on the wooden floor, covering each other in paint when Mark entered the apartment.
"I thought mud wrestling was for pigs," he said, observing the two of them.
Mimi held up a brush. "You want some?"
"No," he said, quickly, practically bolting into his room.
"That's what I thought," Mimi giggled, dropping the brush down.
Roger looked around the room. "We really made a mess."
Mimi nuzzled her now paint-covered cheek into Roger's shoulder. "Yeah. But that was the most fun I've had in a long time," she laughed.
"Yeah, but we should still clean it up. You wanna go take a shower, and I'll start wiping this up?"
"You sure?" she asked him, standing to her feet.
Roger nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."
Mimi turned to go.
"Mimi?"
"Yeah?" Mimi said, turning around.
She yelped when she saw Roger reaching out towards her with one of the rollers, and quickly ducked into the bathroom and locked the door.
Roger chuckled softly, and began to mop up the mess, whistling to himself joyously.
a/n: Yeah, Mimi and Roger + Paint = Big Mess. But that was fun. Anyway, I know I've been an ass about updating, but I'm a lazy old fart, what can you do? I hope you liked Roger's musical 'numbers.' ;-)
"Mark?" Jan called as she hopped over dozens of cardboard boxes, three wooden chairs and a table on her way down the hall to the loft.
"Hey, Jan," He greeted her from the open door.
"What the hell is all this stuff doing out here?" she asked, as she leapt over another box.
"Roger and Mimi are turning the dining room into a nursery for the babies. Since we never use it."
"Oh. Well you ought to move all that out of there, before someone seriously hurts themselves."
"Will do. They're selling the furniture."
"What's in the boxes?"
"Old china and silverware, stuff like that."
Jan nodded, slowly.
"What's the matter?"
"I just got a call from my mother. My great aunt Patricia died in her sleep this weekend."
"I'm sorry," Mark said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Jan shrugged, "Yeah, I'm okay. I only met her a few times. Most of them were when April and I were little."
Mark nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, comfortingly.
"The thing is, the funeral's next week, and my parents want me to stay at their place for the next two weeks. The whole family's gathering up there. So I won't be able to go to Chad and Karmine's wedding with you. I'm sorry."
"Jan, it's fine," Mark assured her. "I totally understand."
Jan chewed on the corner of her lip. "Are sure?"
"Yes," he insisted, "You can't help a family crisis."
Jan smiled. "Okay. Thanks for understanding. I was afraid you'd be upset that I wouldn't be able to come to the wedding with you."
"Nah, it's cool. I'll probably end up dancing with Roger's sister, Rachel . . ."
Jan raised her eyebrows.
" . . .Who's ten," he finished.
Jan laughed. "Oh, so now you're a cradle-robber?"
"You know it," Mark said, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.
Jan giggled and pushed her dirty blonde hair behind her ears. "Does Roger know of your future plans?"
Mark put a finger to his lips. "Haven't told him yet . . . shhhh."
"I won't tell," Jan said, winking.
"Mark, Jan, tell me what you think," Mimi announced, as she walked into the room. In each hand she held a sample of paint color in each hand.
"Okay, tell me which you like better," she said, pressing them both against the wall. "Lavender with an Off-White trim? Or Off-White with a lavender trim?"
"I think the Lavender with an Off-White trim looks nice," Jan offered.
"Mimi, has it occurred to you that you might have boys? Not just girls?" Mark asked her.
"Yeah. So?"
"Well, personally, if I was a boy, I wouldn't want to be in a pink room."
Mimi groaned. "Fuck, Mark, did you have to point that out? Now my whole idea is ruined."
"Sorry," Mark said, quickly.
"I'm sure the color won't matter to the babies . . . at least not when they're first born," Jan said quickly, but Mimi had already turned on her heel, yelling, "Roger! We need to pick a different color!"
"I shouldn't have set her off like that," Mark said, once she'd left.
"It's not your fault. She's pregnant, she's going to be feeling moody for a while now."
"Yeah, you're right. Poor Roger."
"What about poor Roger?" Roger asked, as he walked into the room.
"Nothing," Mark said, "Do you guys know what color you're painting the walls?"
"Yup. We decided to go with Lime Green walls, with a White trim."
"Lime green?"
"Hey, it's not as bad as it sounds. It'll turn out fine."
"I'm sure it will," Jan assured him.
"Thanks. So Mimi and I are going to go and get the paint, and the rollers. We're going to paint the walls later this afternoon. You guys game?"
"I can't" Jan apologized, "I've got to go back to my place and start packing for my parents' place."
"You're leaving TODAY?" Mark exclaimed.
Jan winced. "Tomorrow."
"Shit."
"I'm sorry, Mark, I tried to work out just staying over the weekend with my parents."
"It's not that," he said, "I just thought I'd be able to spend some more time with you."
"When I get back, we'll have all the time in the world," she assured him, smiling.
Mark smiled back.
Roger began to hum to the tune of 'L-O-V-E.'
"Shut up!" Mark snapped, snapping out of his reverie to kick Roger's foot.
Roger laughed. "Sorry, you were going all loopy on me."
Mark rolled his eyes and turned to Jan. "So you have to leave now?"
Jan winced and nodded.
"Okay," Mark sighed, gloomily. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "I guess I'll see you in two weeks, then?" he asked.
Jan nodded. "Of course."
"'Tis twenty year 'til then," Mark sighed, dramatically.
Roger laughed. "Hello! Get this boy some help! He's reciting lines from Romeo and Juliet!"
"Two weeks, Romeo," Jan winked at Mark, and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
She grabbed her purse and gave one final wave before closing the door quietly behind her.
"You gonna be alright?" Roger asked Mark.
Mark shrugged. "Yeah, it's only two weeks."
"Two weeks can feel like forever."
Mark shrugged again. "I'll be alright."
"Alright, if you're sure," Roger said. "You wanna come with me and Mimi to get the paint?"
Mark furrowed his eyebrows. "Um, it sounds like fun, but . . ."
Roger laughed, "It's alright, you don't have to come."
Mark grinned. "Thanks"
"No problem. What'll you do in the meanwhile?"
Mark shrugged. "Read something. Sleep. Glory in my own misery," he joked.
Roger rolled his eyes.
"Ready to go, babe?" Mimi asked Roger, as she came in.
"Yup," Roger said to her.
He turned to Mark. "So I'll see you later, then?"
Mark nodded.
"Okay. Bye," Roger said, as he and Mimi left the Loft.
Mark gave a long sigh and wandered into his bedroom and shut the door.
***
"Pookie, will you get that?" Maureen yelled at Joanne from the bathroom, as the phone began to sing.
"I can't! I've got my hands full!"
"Never mind, I've got it," Maureen called back, flushing the toilet as she got up and ran over to the phone.
"Hello?" she said, breathlessly.
"Maureen, it's Oliver- wait, don't hang up yet, I've got something important to tell you."
"What is it?" she growled.
"Alright, so I showed one of your paintings to another agent, who's been looking to purchase pieces of art for her own line . . ."
"How did you get my artwork?" she demanded.
"Jimmy showed me one or two paintings that you'd left behind at the gallery . . ."
Maureen groaned. "That fuck."
"Anyway, Maureen, this woman s offering you a really great deal- she'd pay you a large amount of money for both of the paintings, and she'd show it in her line- she'd give you total credit, of course, along with the other artists."
Maureen thought about it for a moment. "How much?" she asked, carefully.
Oliver told her.
Maureen's eyes widened.
"It's a good deal, right?"
"Yes," Maureen admitted.
"So that's for the two paintings that Jimmy showed to me EACH. But what would REALLY be the bread-winner would be that huge collage you made. You know, the one where you have magazine cut-outs of different places in the city . . ."
"Reality Check."
"Yeah, that's it."
"That one's of sentimental value," Maureen said. She didn't bother to tell him that it was because pictures of her friends were in it. He'd probably been too ignorant to realize it, anyway.
"Are you sure? Because that's your best piece, Maureen."
"I'm sure."
"But the other two you're fine with?"
"Which ones are they, exactly?"
"Perspective of a Petal and Moonlit Night."
"Oh." Maureen twirled her short curly hair around her finger, anxiously.
"So it's okay with you?"
"Yes. Yes, it's fine."
"Okay, that's great! This is going to be great for you, Maureen."
"Alright," she said, flatly. She didn't want him to think she'd forgiven him for that day.
"So I'll speak with you later, then?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Talk to you later."
"Bye."
Maureen hung up the phone.
"Who was that?" Joanne asked, as she entered the room, toweling off her hands.
"It was Oliver," Maureen said, and she told her what had happened.
Joanne's eyes widened. "Honey, that's FANTASTIC!" she exclaimed, hugging Maureen tightly. "I'm so proud of you!"
"Thanks," Maureen giggled, hugging her back.
"Have you heard from the agent yet?"
"No, but Oliver's going to call me back later to go over more details."
"You're not selling 'Reality Check,' are you?"
Maureen shook her head. "No. I told him that one's not for sale."
"Good," Joanne breathed. "I'd never let you sell that."
"I know," Maureen said, smiling.
Joanne linked her hand through Maureen's. "You want to go out to celebrate?"
"Just the two of us?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Okay. Where?"
Joanne shrugged. "The Life Café. Anywhere."
"Anywhere BUT The Life Café. I think Seb's getting fed up with us," Maureen laughed.
"Somewhere else, then. Lunch's on me," Joanne announced.
Maureen grinned. "Thanks, Pookie."
"No problem. You ready to go now?"
"I'll go get my coat."
***
"This is so fucking heavy," Mimi complained, as she lugged the can of paint into what was now going to be partially turned into the nursery.
"Here, let me," Roger said, retrieving it from her.
Mimi smiled. "Thanks, baby."
"No problem. So . . ." he looked around them. "You wanna do this ourselves?"
Mimi shrugged. "Sure. How hard can it be? Just let me change into some old clothes so I don't get any of mine messed up."
"Alright."
A moment later, Mimi returned.
"Old clothes, huh?" Roger smirked.
Mimi was wearing an oversized T-shirt of his, and a pair of his torn jeans that were about twenty sizes to big on her.
"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, tying her hair back up into two messy buns on either side of her head.
"Not at all."
"Good," she grinned. "Is Mark going to help us?"
"Nope. He went out."
"Alrighty, then." Mimi stared at the tray of Lime Green paint, and the rollers. "How the fuck do I do this?"
"Haven't you ever painted anything before?" Roger asked her.
"Not really."
"Just roll the roller into the paint, and roll it out onto the wall." He showed her how. "Nothing to it."
"Okay," Mimi said, picking up a roller that was twice her size. "Let's get to it."
About an hour passed by, and they were finishing up on one of the walls.
Suddenly, a mischievous mood came upon Roger.
He glanced down at the roller he had, which was covered in paint, and then he glanced at Mimi, who was busily painting the wall, obliviously. She had a speck of green paint on the tip of her nose, but she continued on, not caring.
Roger stifled a giggle as he raised his paint roller, and quickly pressed it against her cheek.
Mimi dropped her roller, startled. "What the fuck was that for?" she demanded.
Roger laughed. He couldn't help it. She looked too ridiculous standing there in clothes that were for someone ten times her size, and paint smeared across her face.
Mimi's anger soon faded away.
"You're going to get it now," she warned, picking her roller back up.
She aimed for Roger's face, but he quickly turned his back to her, so she caught his shoulder.
"My turn!" he announced, picking up an extra paintbrush and smearing it across her forehead.
"Roger!" she squealed, as they began to dab at each other with the paint.
"You look like Bozo the clown," she noted, as she splashed the paint onto his nose.
"Who?"
"You know, when you see those commercials for The Big Apple Circus?"
"You're saying I look like a clown?" Roger exclaimed, pretending to be angry. "Now you're going to get it.
He picked up the nearly empty bucket of paint, and poured it onto her head.
"ROGER! YOU FUCKTARD!" she exclaimed, between giggles, "That was the last of the fucking paint!"
"We have two other buckets," he said, winking at her.
"You asshole!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him and knocking him to the ground.
They were rolling around on the wooden floor, covering each other in paint when Mark entered the apartment.
"I thought mud wrestling was for pigs," he said, observing the two of them.
Mimi held up a brush. "You want some?"
"No," he said, quickly, practically bolting into his room.
"That's what I thought," Mimi giggled, dropping the brush down.
Roger looked around the room. "We really made a mess."
Mimi nuzzled her now paint-covered cheek into Roger's shoulder. "Yeah. But that was the most fun I've had in a long time," she laughed.
"Yeah, but we should still clean it up. You wanna go take a shower, and I'll start wiping this up?"
"You sure?" she asked him, standing to her feet.
Roger nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."
Mimi turned to go.
"Mimi?"
"Yeah?" Mimi said, turning around.
She yelped when she saw Roger reaching out towards her with one of the rollers, and quickly ducked into the bathroom and locked the door.
Roger chuckled softly, and began to mop up the mess, whistling to himself joyously.
a/n: Yeah, Mimi and Roger + Paint = Big Mess. But that was fun. Anyway, I know I've been an ass about updating, but I'm a lazy old fart, what can you do? I hope you liked Roger's musical 'numbers.' ;-)