"Harvey Firestein called. He wants his dress back," Roger said to Maureen as she entered the room.

She frowned. "Fuck you. It's a nightgown."

"What's happening?" Mark called as he entered the living room a few steps behind Maureen.

"Nothing, Marky," she smiled, wrapped her arms lightly around his neck. "Roger was just making fun of my nightgown."

Mark looked at Roger. "Oh?"

"He said it looked like something Harvey Firestein would wear," Maureen said, grinning.

"Who?" Mark said, confused.

"You know, the guy who plays the mom in the movie 'Hairspray."

Mark was silent for a moment. "That was a guy?"

"Don't tell me you seriously thought that that was a girl," Roger laughed. "Not with that hoarse voice."

Mark frowned. "Hey, I figured she smoked or something."

Maureen stifled a giggle.

"Don't you laugh at me now too," Mark pretended to complain, tugging on her arm.

"I'm laughing with you, Mark," Maureen grinned.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Sure. Hey Rog, where's Mimi?"

"In the bedroom. I think she's getting dressed."

"I'll see if she's coming," Maureen offered, walking over to Roger and Mimi's bedroom door and knocking quietly.

"Come in," Mimi called from the room.

Maureen opened the door, and found Mimi zipping up her skirt.

"Hey," Mimi greeted, tugging the skirt down so her now obviously pregnant belly held over the side. "This isn't even mine. It's Isabella's. From back when she was in college," she said, giving Maureen a pained look. She groaned. "I feel so fat."

"Aw, it won't be so bad. Just think, a few months now all of this'll be worth it."

"Yeah, but four more months can't be any farther away," Mimi scoffed, plopping down dramatically on the bed.

"It'll get better," Maureen said, walking over to hug her. "So, besides the weight gain…how've you been?"

"Well, I have to pee all the time, I throw up at night, I have indigestion, and I've started looking at maternity catalogues," Mimi grumbled, still self-conscience about her growing abdomen, she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Aw, cheer up," Maureen said, poking her arm. "That's just what comes with being pregnant. Just think of your mom. She had three kids."

"Yeah, she must've been fuckin' nuts," Mimi said, rolling over onto her side and clutching a pillow.

Maureen slid off the bed and sat Indian-style on the newly carpeted floor. "I've been thinking of having a baby of my own."

Mimi looked up from over her pillow. "You?"

Maureen nodded and giggled, childishly. "Yup."

"You mean…you and Mark?"

"No, me and that dresser," Maureen said, pointing.

Mimi grinned. "That's great, Mo! You'd make an awesome mom!"

Maureen sat on her hands and rocked back and forth slowly. "Yeah," she sighed, dreamily. "I don't know about Mark, though. I mean I'd love to have his son. Or daughter," she added. "But I just don't know if we're ready."

Mimi climbed down from the bed and came over to Maureen. "Eventually, you will be," she said.

There was a knock at the door.

"Meems?"

"Come in," Mimi said, and Roger entered the room, holding a margarita in his hand.

"What's the occasion?" Mimi said, looking at his drink.

Roger shrugged. "Do you need an occasion to drink?"

Mimi shook her head. "No…"

"What were you guys talking about?" he asked, taking a sip.

"Well, something I haven't had a chance to tell you…" she gave him a nervous look. "We're having triplets."

Roger began to cough, startled, and Maureen laughed.

"You're not serious, are you?" he croaked weakly.

Mimi giggled. "Late April Fool's day joke. Sorry."

"Don't do that," he said, shaking the glass at her. "You scared me to death."

"I can't help it, baby," Mimi grinned, clinging to his arm. "You're too easy to fool."

"No I'm not," Roger mumbled, placing her waist.

"Are you guys ready?" Mark called from the other room.

"Yes," Roger called back, picking both his and Mimi's coats up off from the bed.

"Well, we've got to hurry. I've got reservations."

"How did he get reservations again?" Roger asked Maureen, as the three of them started for the door.

Maureen shrugged. "Some weird connection with the guy who owns the place. I think he featured the restaurant in one of his independent films, or something. This is his way of paying him back."

"Not bad," Roger said, approving. He downed the Margarita and placed it gently on the counter. "Let's go," he said, cheerfully.

"Isn't that your third glass?" Maureen asked Roger, who had just asked for a refill for his beer.

Roger frowned. "I can't remember."

Mimi rolled her eyes and patted his hand. "Good. You'll be nice and drunk the rest of the night."

"Rog, you're wearing jeans," Mark suddenly noticed.

Roger looked down. "Yeah. So?"

"So, this place is real fancy. I think there's a dress code."

"Well sorry, no one told me ahead of time Roger said, placing his glass down for a moment. "I don't think I own a tie or suit or anything anyway."

"Yes you do," Mark said. "The one you wore to…" he stopped himself. He was about to add, The one you wore to April's funeral, but caught himself right before the words left his mouth.

"I don't remember wearing one," Roger shrugged, picking his drink back up.

Maureen shrugged, "I think he looks fine, Mark. Besides, it's not like anyone's gonna really be looking down there."

"Except for Mimi," Roger cut in, grinning.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Are you drunk?"

Roger rubbed his temples. "Don't think so."

Mimi sighed and toyed with the rim of her water glass.

A few moments later, the waiter came with their food.

"Bout time," Roger said, banging his palm on the table as he placed the food down on the table. "My girlfriend is pregnant," Roger announced to the waiter.

"Roger," Mimi hissed, turning red.

"Well, she is."

"Is that so," the waiter smiled.

"Yeah. She's having twins. That's why she's so huge. We can come back here again and you can see. Maybe you can have one of them," he laughed, and hiccupped.

The waiter gave him a weird look and picked up the empty tray, reporting back to the kitchen.

"Asshole," Mimi whispered, her cheeks flushed.

Mark and Maureen glanced at each other, uneasily.

"Hey, what's eating you two?" Roger said.

Mark shook his head. "Nothing."

"You should shoot some more movies, Mark. This place is pretty spiffy."

"Well, I haven't really had time," Mark mumbled. He hated when Roger got drunk as much as Mimi did.

"Hey, there," Roger said to the waiter as he came to refill Mimi's glass.

The waiter gave him a puzzled look. "Hi."

"That's my girlfriend," he said, pointing to Mimi.

The waiter nodded at him, slowly.

"I had another girlfriend once. Her sister," he said, pointing to Maureen. "No, wait…that was…Jan. Yeah. I dated her sister. She's dead now. She killed herself. Then she came along," he grinned, gesturing towards Mimi. "Not long after she died. You know, she used to work at the Cat Scratch Club."

The waiter was silent.

"You know, the place where those girls take off their clothes for money?"

There was a loud THUMP!, and Mark and Maureen looked up to see Mimi had balled up her napkin and thrown it onto the table. She quickly began to get up.

"Hey, where you going?" Roger asked, confused. "Don't be the party pooper."

"Fuck you," she hissed, grabbing her coat and storming out of the restaurant.

Roger seemed to sober up a bit. "Meems?" he said, coughing.

Mark looked at him with disgust. "I think we'll take a check," he said to the waiter, quietly.