NOVEMBER

CHAPTER 9

[A/N: A major secret is revealed about Jen. ;) Enjoy.]

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When the road gets dark

And you can no longer see

Let my love throw a spark

And have a little faith in me

 When the tears you cry

Are all you can believe

Just give these loving arms

A try baby

And have a little faith

Have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

Jen rolled over, her arms brushing the cold sheets of Roger's side of the bed. It was a little after 8. She had been asleep for close to two hours, and probably would have easily slept through the night if Roger's voice hadn't woken her up from the other room.

She slid out of bed and wrapped the sheets around her bare body. Making her way over to the closet, she rifled through a few things before digging out an old New York Giants jersey. She pulled it on as long as with a pair of his boxers and opened the bedroom door.

He was sitting propped up against the couch, tuning his guitar and singing a few lines back and forth. His eyes were closed, so instead of walking over to him, she leaned up against the doorframe and watched him.

"Have a little faith, just a little faith in me," he sang, strumming out a few chords. Jen saw him frown, and then place his guitar to the side.

She cleared her throat a little and walked into the living room then. He looked up and grinned at her. "Hey."

"Hey."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah. I think you wore me out," she smiled.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up her back. "Want me to wear you out even more?"

Jen laughed and shook her head. "No, I definitely have to go out in a little bit. I have to—um, grab a few things from my apartment and head over to Michelle's," she said quickly.

"Oh. Okay. I have practice with the guys anyway," he added. He looked a little disappointed. "What time are you leaving?"

"Around 9."

"Yeah. Me too."

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"Jen? You almost done?" Michelle hollered, knocking on the bedroom door.

"Yeah."

"We have to be at the bar for 9:30!" she added. Michelle returned to the mirror and added more eyeliner to her lids and fluffed her wavy hair. "You know how the crowd is tonight."

"I know." Jen came out of the bathroom, carrying a pair of heels and fishnet stockings.

"What's with you tonight?"

"I don't know. What if he shows up there?"

"Who?" Michelle asked. She was pulling her own stockings on.

"Roger."

Michelle laughed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. "There are about 50 cabaret and strip bars around the city. I doubt he'd show up at this one tonight. Besides, didn't you say that he's at band practice?"

Jen nodded and pulled on her coat. "Yeah."

"So then what are you worried about?"

"I don't know."

Michelle raised an eyebrow at her and pocketed her apartment keys. "You're not about to back out, are you? Because Nadia and Aimee are the only ones out there with us tonight. Charlene and Julie called out sick last minute."

"No, I'm not backing out. Let's just go, okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

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"I can't believe they conned us into coming to a strip club," Mark groaned. He stepped out of the cab, followed by Collins. Maureen had just paid the driver and stepped back onto the curb, wrapping her free hand around Joanne.

"For the last time Mark! It's not a strip club, it's a bar!" Maureen sighed. They passed the bouncer and walked inside, quickly finding a table near the stage.

"With a seedy cabaret act," Collins chuckled.

"If I'm not mistaken, you both were the ones who wanted out of the loft," Joanne reminded them. She grabbed a cocktail off of the tray and took a sip of it. "And for your information, they do have live bands play here, so it's not just a cabaret."

"The nights the bands aren't playing it is," Mark added. He grabbed a beer off the tray as well. "And me leaving the loft wasn't my choice. Roger wanted some time alone with Jen."

"Already? Isn't that a little too soon?" Joanne asked. "I mean, they've only been together for a week, or something."

"I don't know," Mark said. "It's not really my business."

"Are you or are you not a straight man?" Maureen asked. "Therefore I'm sure you'll love to see girls in fishnets, bras, and mini panties strutting around."

Mark shrugged. "So these two lesbians walked into a bar…"

"MARK!"

"Jeez, sorry," he apologized.

Maureen stood up just as the girls came on stage. "Now who wants to dance with me?" she asked, grinning. Joanne shook her head and Maureen decided to drag Mark with her. Instinctively he reached out for Collins, who laughed and pushed his arm away.

"You're on your own."

"I'm not dancing with you."

Maureen sighed and pushed him towards the bar instead. "Fine. We'll go to the bar instead," she practically shouted at him. When she realized he wasn't moving, she shot a glare at the back of his head. "Jesus Christ Mark! What's your problem!"

Mark looked over to the stage. "Um. Maureen."

"What?"

Mark pointed and Maureen's eyes followed. "Oh my god." Maureen squinted at the stage where Jen, Michelle, and a few other girls were doing a karaoke to Donna Summer's 'Bad Girls' and a pretty risqué cabaret act to follow. "Mark."

"That's not her. That can't be her," he said. Sure enough as Jen walked closer to the edge of the stage, he knew it was her. Even through all the makeup.

"Mark, we can't tell Roger. He'll flip."

Mark nodded. He knew that even when Roger was still with Mimi, he hated the fact that she danced for money. Mark could only imagine what his reaction would be now if he ever saw Jen here. "Yeah. We definitely can't tell him."

Collins walked over, followed by Joanne. "Are my eyes fooling me or is that Jen up on stage?"

"It's her."

"But why?" Joanne asked. "I thought she had a pretty decent job. I didn't think she'd need to show off her body like that."

Mark shrugged. "I don't know, I mean, she's had to raise Abby on her own for three years. Maybe the cost—" He stopped in midsentence. Maureen was furiously tugging on his sleeve.

"Houston, we have a problem," Collins said, pointing near the door of the club. Roger had just walked in with Wes, Evan, and Travis. All of them were laughing hysterically as they passed the bouncer.

"…costs were high," Mark gulped.

"Oh shit," Maureen whispered. "What the fuck are we going to do? He's going to go off on Jen if he sees her like that!"

"Considering they just took their relationship to the next level," Mark said. He saw Evan, Travis, and Wes scatter throughout the club, and Roger making his way towards them.

"It's too late to slip out the back, isn't it?" Collins asked.

"Collins!" Maureen scolded. "Honestly."

Roger grinned and walked over to them. "Didn't know you guys were gonna be here tonight."

"Yeah well, um, we wanted to get out of the building," Mark said, stealing a glance at the stage. "What are you doing here?"

"We decided to go for a drink after practice. Had no idea about the girls on stage though," he added, laughing.

Maureen took his arm in hers and led him away from the stage. "Hey Rog? Maybe we should go sit down over here? Or maybe have a smoke outside? Or something?"

Roger stared at her. "Why?" He shot a look at Mark, who was staring distractedly at the stage. "What's going on? What aren't you all telling me?" He looked up at the stage. "Is that Jen? What the fuck is she doing up there?"

Mark could tell Roger was getting angry, and fast. "We seriously didn't know about this Roger."

"So what, she lied to me? She told me she was going to Michelle's!" He looked over at the stage again. "The fuck? That is Michelle!"

"We're really sorry Roger. We didn't know," Maureen added. "We thought—"

"Fuck what you thought. This un fucking believable. My girlfriend's a fucking cabaret dancer. Guys are getting off right now on watching her up there."

"Roger—"

"Shut up Mark. Fuck. I'm leaving. I'll fucking see you at home," he spat. He brushed past Collins and Joanne.

"Fuck," Mark said.

"I still don't get him, even after all the years I've known him," Maureen said sadly, watching Roger's retreating back.

Collins sighed. "Just give him his space. I think that's all we can do for now."

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It was a little after 1 when Jen walked back in the pitch-black loft. She struggled out of her coat and dropped her bag onto the side just as the living room light turned on. "Jesus Christ Roger, don't do that," she smiled as he stood up. She walked over and gave him a hug, and when he didn't return it, she stepped back and frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"Where were you tonight?"

"With Michelle. I told you that before I left," she said. Jen walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

"You're fucking lying. I saw you fucking dancing when I was with the guys. We went out to get some drinks after practice, and you were on the fucking stage whoring yourself to a crowd of college students and old men."

Jen turned around and stared at him, gripping the glass of water in her hand. "Okay."

Roger glared at her. "Okay? All you can fucking say is okay?"

Jen stared at the floor. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Then don't say anything if you're going to fucking lie to me some more."

"Roger I—"

"I told you I don't want to here it. Just go and fucking whore yourself. It's what your best at?"

Jen advanced towards him. "Excuse me? Where do you get off on saying shit like that? Let me tell you a thing or two. You try raising a hyperactive three year old with no money and barely a college degree and see what you end up doing. I didn't ask you for one fucking thing—no child support—not even a birthday card. I NEVER ASKED YOU. Where were you when Abby was born? Where were you when she asked me for the first time how come she didn't have a father like all the other kids? You were probably in the back of an alley someplace, shooting up and fucking your junkie girlfriend," she shouted at him. She bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes. "And if anyone's a whore around here, it was them—not me."

"Don't fucking talk about them like that! April and Mimi weren't whores!"

"Oh, so there were two of them then?" she said bitterly. "Congratulations Roger."

"You don't fucking know. You don't fucking know shit about me or them or anything anymore. I'm not 18 years old anymore—I'm not the same person I was back then," he yelled at her, stepping towards her.

"Yeah? Well neither am I."  As she backed up, her right foot caught the edge of his guitar case and she tripped, her ankle twisting as she landed.  "Fuck!" she shouted, reaching over to hold it with her hand. "Pick up your fucking shit!"

"It's not my fault you didn't see it!"

She groaned and brought herself to her feet, limping towards the bathroom. "Just shut the fuck up. Shut up, I can't take you." She reached for the handle to the bathroom door.

"You were the best lay I had in awhile, if it makes you feel any better," he spat after her. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, considering you're probably with a different guy every night."

She stared at him before bursting into tears and slamming the door in his face.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. He stared at the closed door and heard Jen crying from the inside over the water that was running in the tub.

It was then that the memories of the night he and Mark had found April. The water in the tub—the blood—it was too much for him to handle and he started pounding on the door, just as he had done almost 3 years before. "Jen. Jen, I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," he said. He heard the water swishing around in the tub and knew she had probably gotten in and was also ignoring him.

"Go away," he heard her whisper.

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I seriously didn't mean what I said."

"If you didn't mean it you wouldn't have said it. Just please leave me alone."

"Okay. I'm gonna go sit on the couch."

"I don't care."

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Twenty minutes had passed with the occasional swish of water emitted from the tub. At least she was still moving around. Roger figured that at least by now the water would be freezing, and that his best bet was to attempt to break into the bathroom. He grabbed a piece of wire from the kitchen drawer and stuck it through the lock. He jiggled it around a few times and finally it gave through. At least the loft was good for one thing—shitty doorknobs.

The door creaked open, and he found Jen still sitting in the tub. A towel was draped around her shoulders, her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her head was resting on top of them.

"Jen?"

"What?" she asked. Roger could tell from the door that her teeth were chattering. He didn't even hesitate as he climbed into the tub, fully clothed. He winced as he sat down. Sure enough, the water was ice cold.

"Jen, the water is freezing," he said. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her towards him, running his arms up and down her back.

"Then why are we still sitting in it?"

"I don't know," he grinned. It was then that he noticed how swollen her ankle looked—it had even started turning colors. "Let's get you out of here, okay?"


She shrugged, but complied and wrapped her arms around Roger's neck. He carefully lifted her out and wrapped her in two dry towels before picking her up again. He pushed open his bedroom door and set her on the bed.

Jen ran her fingers through her hair and reached for his t-shirt and pulled it on over the towel before shedding it. She then pulled on a pair of his boxers, trying not to put any weight on her foot. "Do you have—"

Roger crouched in front of her and pulled her against him. "Yeah?"

She shook her head and buried her face in his neck. "I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry you saw me there tonight. I should have told you—"

"Shh." Roger rocked her against him. "It's okay. I'm the one that's sorry."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry Jen."

"I know."

Roger stroked her hair as she wrapped her arm around his back. "I'll get you some Tylenol and ice in a minute."

"I guess so."

Roger kissed the top of her head. He had to do something to fix everything—and fast.

You can be mad in the morning
I'll take back what I said
Just don't leave me alone here
It's cold baby
Come back to bed

What will this fix?
You know you're not a quick forgive
And I won't sleep through this
I survive on the breath
You are finished with

You can be mad in the morning
Or the afternoon instead
But don't leave me
98.6 degrees of separation
From you baby
Come back to bed…

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Lyrics:

"Have A Little Faith in Me" – Mandy Moore Cover

"Come Back to Bed": John Mayer