[AN: This is where it starts getting to the good stuff. Review please!]
The neon lights reading "The Cat Scratch Club" stood out brilliantly against the black brick of the dilapidated building. Even from the outside, Mimi could hear the sounds of electric guitars and whistling men. The air reeked of marijuana and was infiltrated with thick smoke. And yet, Mimi knew this place all too well.
"Why the hell did I come back here?" she muttered to herself the night after her interview at the Life Café as she stood before this miserable place. "Why did I ever work here in the first place?" Before it had felt like a Mimi's days at the Cat Scratch Club were a lifetime ago. Now the memories came rushing back to her as she prepared to relive it all.
Mimi adjusted her bright orange tube top she had dug out of a box in the closet that had been marked "Mimi's Stuff and Some Other Shit" in Roger's sloppy scrawl. She took a deep breath (and practically choked on all the smoke) and entered through the back door. A huge man stopped her.
"I need an ID please."
"Oh, well I'm coming to talk to Bud. . ."
"I don't give a shit. Give me your fucking ID!" The man's expression changed. "Hey. . .you look familiar. Mimi? Mimi Marquez?!"
"Yeah. That would be me."
"Jesus Christ. I never thought I'd be seeing you again around here."
"Just let me in."
"Fine, fine." The man stepped aside as Mimi pushed passed him into a hallway with peeling, green paint on the walls. She walked down to the end of the hallway and knocked on a door marked "Office."
"Who is it?" Bud's voice called gruffly.
"Mimi."
The door immediately flung open.
"Mimi! Mimi, Mimi, Mimi!" the bulky man gave her a suffocating hug. "I'm so glad you changed your mind," he grinned.
"I just really need money."
"Interview backfired?"
"Yeah."
"I figured it would."
"Just shut the hell up and gimme a job!" Mimi growled. Bud knew she meant business, so he pulled out a notebook from a desk drawer and ran his finger down a list.
"We have an opening for a strip-ahem-I mean dancer every night from 11pm to midnight."
"I'll take it."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah."
"So yesterday you're telling me that you're better than this and you wouldn't be caught dead here and now you're taking a job. Interesting. . ." Bud began to mumble something to himself. "You can start tonight."
"What? Now?!" Mimi was baffled.
"One of our girls called in sick today. We need somebody to fill her spot. You know how it's done."
"But I don't have a costume or dance! I'm not ready. . ."
"To relive your past," Bud finished for her.
"Well, no. . .sort of. . ."
"You're old costume is still in the dressing room. You remember the lawn chair handcuff dance, don't you?"
"I think so."
"Good. You're on in 15." Bud left Mimi alone in the office.
Mimi put her head in her hands. "Oh God," she murmured as she made herself walk down to the dressing room. She knocked on the door.
"Come in! It ain't like you haven't seen us naked before!" called an irritating voice that was followed by laughter. The room was crowded with women all wearing fancy costumes adorned with feathers (that were soon removed when they walked on stage). Mimi was greeted by whispering and puzzled looks.
"Hey, Meems. I thought you were through with this shit," sneered a tall red-haird woman with fierce, gray eyes.
"I'm broke, ok?"
"Awww. You're poor boyfriend ain't bringing home the bacon anymore? Or is he too stoned to do much of anything?"
"Shut the hell up, Marcie!"
"He doesn't come around here anymore, does he? Do you give him free shows at home to keep him happy? That's probably the only reason he's staying around. I'm surprised it has lasted so long. Most men don't want a relationship with a whore."
Mimi ran toward her in a state of rage with a fist raised. "Don't you EVER, EVER talk shit about Roger and I! HE LOVES ME AND I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU SAY!" she threw herself on top of Marcie swinging her arms like a mad woman. Fists were flying everywhere, high heeled shoes kicked, and long nails scratched.
"Hey. . .HEY! BREAK IT UP!" someone shouted as the pulled the two women away from each other. "Damn, we've got ourselves a feisty one."
Mimi turned to see who was holding her wrists tightly behind her back and realized that it was Bud. "You hurt my girls, you lose your job!"he barked as he stormed from the dressing room. Marcie got up off the floor and wiped the blood from her nose and nursed a bruised cheek. All the women ran to comfort her and make sure she was ok while they looked at Mimi as though she was a disgrace. Mimi was breathing heavily as she tried to rid herself of anger. She silently made her way to the back of the dressing room and found her old, feathered costume in a box. Mimi tugged it on and fixed her make-up in the mirror. As she turned to go, she realized that the women were still giving her funny looks.
"Ya know what? Fuck you!" she cried as she hurried to her place backstage. She waited for her cue.
"Ready?" Bud whispered before he raised the curtain.
"I think so."
"And here we have one of our most famous dancers back at the Cat Scratch Club!" the announcers voice yelled. "The sexiest woman of them all. . .Miss Mimi Marquez!"
The crowd went wild with cheers. Men whistled and stomped their feet. Smoke swirled throughout the dirty room and the glow of each cigarette was visible in the audience. The curtain went up, the spotlight came on, and there was Mimi Marquez alone on the stage with a pair of handcuffs and a lawn chair.
"Here I am again," she thought to herself and began to dance.
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"What are you doing here?," Mark asked when he saw Maureen on the couch of his apartment.
"Waiting for Mimi. What are you doing here?"
"I was just out filming some. . .hey, this is my apartment."
"Oh, right," Maureen giggled.
"Where's Roger?"
"Band gig."
"Oh."
They were silent for a moment. "So, uh, Maureen, can I ask you something?"
Maureen nodded.
"What was up with you the other day? Something about a guy named Jeff and roses?"
Maureen gulped. "Oh, it was nothing."
"It didn't seem like nothing."
"Well it was."
"Ok. . ." More silence. "So how are things with Joanne?"
"Fine. Why are you asking? Are you concerned about our relationship? Do you have some kind of idea that I'm seeing other people? Well, I'm not! I would never cheat on Joanne! I love her!"
"Geez, Maureen. Chill. I was just trying to be nice," Mark said. "Are you seeing other people?"
"God, Mark! NO!" Maureen cried. Mark chuckled.
"Ok, ok. I believe you. I don't think Mimi's gonna be home for a while so. . ."
"Sure, I'll leave."
"I wasn't asking you to leave."
"Then what were you asking?"
"I dunno. . . things have always been awkward with you and I, you know?"
"Yeah," Maureen laughed. "Ever since I sacked you and became a lesbo." She became serious. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Mark."
"Stuff happens."
"No really. I am. I mean it."
"Some people don't realize their true sexuality until later in life."
"Yeah. . .you're right," Maureen replied and meant it. She shivered as she thought of Jeff.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, just cold."
"Oh."
"Hey, Mark? Can we talk?"
"Isn't that what we're doing?"
"No, I mean. . . I was gonna talk to Mimi but. . ."
Mark gave her a confused look.
"Ya know what? It's nothing. Stupid, actually. Just forget about it, ok?"
Mark continued to look confused, but he nodded. "Sure. But if you ever need to talk about something, you can tell me, ok?"
Maureen nodded, but she knew she didn't mean it. How could she tell Mark about that night with Jeff? How could she tell him that she might not be through with men?
How could she tell him that she was meeting Jeff again next week?
The neon lights reading "The Cat Scratch Club" stood out brilliantly against the black brick of the dilapidated building. Even from the outside, Mimi could hear the sounds of electric guitars and whistling men. The air reeked of marijuana and was infiltrated with thick smoke. And yet, Mimi knew this place all too well.
"Why the hell did I come back here?" she muttered to herself the night after her interview at the Life Café as she stood before this miserable place. "Why did I ever work here in the first place?" Before it had felt like a Mimi's days at the Cat Scratch Club were a lifetime ago. Now the memories came rushing back to her as she prepared to relive it all.
Mimi adjusted her bright orange tube top she had dug out of a box in the closet that had been marked "Mimi's Stuff and Some Other Shit" in Roger's sloppy scrawl. She took a deep breath (and practically choked on all the smoke) and entered through the back door. A huge man stopped her.
"I need an ID please."
"Oh, well I'm coming to talk to Bud. . ."
"I don't give a shit. Give me your fucking ID!" The man's expression changed. "Hey. . .you look familiar. Mimi? Mimi Marquez?!"
"Yeah. That would be me."
"Jesus Christ. I never thought I'd be seeing you again around here."
"Just let me in."
"Fine, fine." The man stepped aside as Mimi pushed passed him into a hallway with peeling, green paint on the walls. She walked down to the end of the hallway and knocked on a door marked "Office."
"Who is it?" Bud's voice called gruffly.
"Mimi."
The door immediately flung open.
"Mimi! Mimi, Mimi, Mimi!" the bulky man gave her a suffocating hug. "I'm so glad you changed your mind," he grinned.
"I just really need money."
"Interview backfired?"
"Yeah."
"I figured it would."
"Just shut the hell up and gimme a job!" Mimi growled. Bud knew she meant business, so he pulled out a notebook from a desk drawer and ran his finger down a list.
"We have an opening for a strip-ahem-I mean dancer every night from 11pm to midnight."
"I'll take it."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah."
"So yesterday you're telling me that you're better than this and you wouldn't be caught dead here and now you're taking a job. Interesting. . ." Bud began to mumble something to himself. "You can start tonight."
"What? Now?!" Mimi was baffled.
"One of our girls called in sick today. We need somebody to fill her spot. You know how it's done."
"But I don't have a costume or dance! I'm not ready. . ."
"To relive your past," Bud finished for her.
"Well, no. . .sort of. . ."
"You're old costume is still in the dressing room. You remember the lawn chair handcuff dance, don't you?"
"I think so."
"Good. You're on in 15." Bud left Mimi alone in the office.
Mimi put her head in her hands. "Oh God," she murmured as she made herself walk down to the dressing room. She knocked on the door.
"Come in! It ain't like you haven't seen us naked before!" called an irritating voice that was followed by laughter. The room was crowded with women all wearing fancy costumes adorned with feathers (that were soon removed when they walked on stage). Mimi was greeted by whispering and puzzled looks.
"Hey, Meems. I thought you were through with this shit," sneered a tall red-haird woman with fierce, gray eyes.
"I'm broke, ok?"
"Awww. You're poor boyfriend ain't bringing home the bacon anymore? Or is he too stoned to do much of anything?"
"Shut the hell up, Marcie!"
"He doesn't come around here anymore, does he? Do you give him free shows at home to keep him happy? That's probably the only reason he's staying around. I'm surprised it has lasted so long. Most men don't want a relationship with a whore."
Mimi ran toward her in a state of rage with a fist raised. "Don't you EVER, EVER talk shit about Roger and I! HE LOVES ME AND I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU SAY!" she threw herself on top of Marcie swinging her arms like a mad woman. Fists were flying everywhere, high heeled shoes kicked, and long nails scratched.
"Hey. . .HEY! BREAK IT UP!" someone shouted as the pulled the two women away from each other. "Damn, we've got ourselves a feisty one."
Mimi turned to see who was holding her wrists tightly behind her back and realized that it was Bud. "You hurt my girls, you lose your job!"he barked as he stormed from the dressing room. Marcie got up off the floor and wiped the blood from her nose and nursed a bruised cheek. All the women ran to comfort her and make sure she was ok while they looked at Mimi as though she was a disgrace. Mimi was breathing heavily as she tried to rid herself of anger. She silently made her way to the back of the dressing room and found her old, feathered costume in a box. Mimi tugged it on and fixed her make-up in the mirror. As she turned to go, she realized that the women were still giving her funny looks.
"Ya know what? Fuck you!" she cried as she hurried to her place backstage. She waited for her cue.
"Ready?" Bud whispered before he raised the curtain.
"I think so."
"And here we have one of our most famous dancers back at the Cat Scratch Club!" the announcers voice yelled. "The sexiest woman of them all. . .Miss Mimi Marquez!"
The crowd went wild with cheers. Men whistled and stomped their feet. Smoke swirled throughout the dirty room and the glow of each cigarette was visible in the audience. The curtain went up, the spotlight came on, and there was Mimi Marquez alone on the stage with a pair of handcuffs and a lawn chair.
"Here I am again," she thought to herself and began to dance.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What are you doing here?," Mark asked when he saw Maureen on the couch of his apartment.
"Waiting for Mimi. What are you doing here?"
"I was just out filming some. . .hey, this is my apartment."
"Oh, right," Maureen giggled.
"Where's Roger?"
"Band gig."
"Oh."
They were silent for a moment. "So, uh, Maureen, can I ask you something?"
Maureen nodded.
"What was up with you the other day? Something about a guy named Jeff and roses?"
Maureen gulped. "Oh, it was nothing."
"It didn't seem like nothing."
"Well it was."
"Ok. . ." More silence. "So how are things with Joanne?"
"Fine. Why are you asking? Are you concerned about our relationship? Do you have some kind of idea that I'm seeing other people? Well, I'm not! I would never cheat on Joanne! I love her!"
"Geez, Maureen. Chill. I was just trying to be nice," Mark said. "Are you seeing other people?"
"God, Mark! NO!" Maureen cried. Mark chuckled.
"Ok, ok. I believe you. I don't think Mimi's gonna be home for a while so. . ."
"Sure, I'll leave."
"I wasn't asking you to leave."
"Then what were you asking?"
"I dunno. . . things have always been awkward with you and I, you know?"
"Yeah," Maureen laughed. "Ever since I sacked you and became a lesbo." She became serious. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Mark."
"Stuff happens."
"No really. I am. I mean it."
"Some people don't realize their true sexuality until later in life."
"Yeah. . .you're right," Maureen replied and meant it. She shivered as she thought of Jeff.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, just cold."
"Oh."
"Hey, Mark? Can we talk?"
"Isn't that what we're doing?"
"No, I mean. . . I was gonna talk to Mimi but. . ."
Mark gave her a confused look.
"Ya know what? It's nothing. Stupid, actually. Just forget about it, ok?"
Mark continued to look confused, but he nodded. "Sure. But if you ever need to talk about something, you can tell me, ok?"
Maureen nodded, but she knew she didn't mean it. How could she tell Mark about that night with Jeff? How could she tell him that she might not be through with men?
How could she tell him that she was meeting Jeff again next week?