AN: Eh, heheheh...

Alison: OH, GET ON WITH IT!

Okay, okay! Look, I'm sorry there hasn't been an update since...last Christmas..(:whack:OW! I know, I know!) and, well, since I got back, I've been working on it, and then...

My Internet went down.

BUT! Thanks to public Internet at the library AND the portable memory disk I got for Christmas, I finally present you :horns blowing: CHAPTER 25! And it has puppies! YAY PUPPIES!

"Ow. Pin's sticking me in the boob." Maureen winced at the dressing assistant. The assistant sighed. "Ms. Johnson, we need to double check these dress sizes. I can't imagine how-"

"Mo?" Mimi asked, undergoing her own fitting (which, to the truth wasn't going as well, due to her ever-increasing tummy). "Did you pad today?"

Maureen grinned, and produced two breast enhancements. "What? I needed to see if they work with the dress."

"MAUREEN." Mimi and Tara yelled. "Two weeks, Mo, can't you just take this seriously?" Tara flopped in one of the chairs in the dressing room. "I don't need this."

"There's still time to get out of this, y'know? Hey. Watch your hands," Maureen swatted the assistant away from her chest. "I'm not trying to break up you and Marky, but lemme tell you- he's not Mr. Lasting- Commitment."

"So says the girl who dumped him," Mimi muttered under her breath. "I heard that!" Maureen retorted.

"It's just...stress...I can't believe this. I am getting MARRIED." Tara buried her head in hands. "Six weeks ago, I dump the guy, he comes crawling back-"

"And you fall for it," Mimi finished. "We know, we've been there."

Bump. Mark's head made contact with his computer screen. Was this all that he had to look forward to for the rest of his life? Filling out TPS reports and making the quarter's stock quota. "God, what am I doing?" He thought that before almost selling his soul last year.

Well, at least this time he had a bit of a saving grace. Collins managed to weasel him an application to the Angelika's ("Old student of mine works there," he explained) independent film festival- for up-and-coming directors. And the perfect entry for it- of course, what else?- "Today 4 U."

Said film was waiting in his bag to be dropped off at the theater, along with script and his application. Only a matter of-

"Marky!"

Daisy. Goddamnit. The blonde (who still seemed very infatuated with Mark) was draping herself over the cubicle wall. "Can I ask a favor?"

Mark took off his glasses and sighed. "What now?"

"Well, see, I've got this friend, and she needs help with something."

"Which is...?" Oh God. Please, don't let be what he was thinking it was.

Bel had managed to get her fitting done early, saying that she needed to hit the hospital. Which was true. Unlike Mimi, Bel did keep her word- if she said she was going somewhere, she went there and do what she needed to.

Mami peppered her with the usual amount of questions- how far along Mimi was (three months, but it's showing), what Roger was like (a few beans short of salad, in Bel's honest opinion) and if Bel was going to school ("I'm taking a semester off," was all she said).

Now for objective two: find the Man so she could find Paul.

Thankfully, the brown stained purveyor of narcotics was down in his usual spot in St. Mark's Place. "Sweetheart!" he cried, throwing his arms up in order for a bear hug, but Bel just turned him down. "Ain't seen you in a few days. How's Cutie Pie doin' with that baby and all?"

"I never told you she was pregnant-"

"Hell, don't take a blind man not ta notice. Unless she been gaining pounds- no offense, Sweetheart?"

"Sure. Say, have you seen Paul- you know, erm, Tough Guy?"

Black toothed smile. "Tough Guy? He's been at that fancy yuppie bar. But he come down, I's gotta bone to pick with him."

"Mojito time, ladies!" Maureen sashayed out of the wedding dress place.

"Mo. I CAN'T DRINK." Mimi rolled her eyes at Tara. "'Sides, I gotta go see Mami down at the hospital."

"You're no fun." Mo turned to the bride-to-be. "Whaddya say, Mrs. Cohen?"

"Lemme call Dave first and check on his side of things."

"Goodie! There's a bar right there. Let's go use their phone." Maureen grabbed the other two's hands and headed off.

Walking in, Mimi realized that this bar wasn't the best idea. "Mo! We can't be here!"

"Um, one, it's not a gay bar. Two, it's not a biker bar- though I'd LOVE to go into one those some-"

"Three," Mimi said, "We'll be behind rent for a month! God, I know this place, too." Noticing Tara's raised eyebrow, she explained simply, "Benny haunt back in the day."

"Well, whatever. You two are no fun."

Tara sighed and went up to the bartender, leaving her maid of honor and bridesmaid to bicker about payment. "Look, I know he doesn't have a tab-"

"Meems, look over there." Maureen jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"At the neon sculpture?"

"Uh, no."Maureen clarified her pointing by jabbing her finger at a group of frat boys (well, they looked like frat boys) in the corner. "Guy on the left end. That's Bel's boyfriend, right?"

"Oh Christ. It is." Paul was, indeed, sitting off in the corner with a group of his friends.

"Hit him up! It won't be that bad."

Bel had decided to forgo meeting up with Paul and just went back the loft. Hey, at least she knew where to get him if she needed him.

But right now, she wanted marshmallows covered with peanut butter.

Her head stuck in the cabinet, hunting, someone started knocking at the door. "It's open!"

"Hey, Bel." She popped her head out, semi-victorious. "Mark, aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Half day. I needed to come home and call Rabbi Schulman anyway. Wedding stuff"

"Uh huh." Bel focused her attention from Mark to the wiggling bag Mark was carrying. "So, what's possible dinner tonight?"

"Only if you like that kind of Chinese food." He reached into it. "Meet my commitment standard."

Pulled out of the bag was an ten week old brown fuzzy puppy, who was immediately plopped down onto the kitchen table. "Bel, this is Sandy."

"Sandy."

Mark shrugged. "Her owner came up with it. I'm too lazy to change it."

"And why are you giving Tara a dog?"

Daisy's favor had turned out to be requesting adopters for a friend's purebred border collie who had, well, got around. "It's a litter of mutts, and no one's going to take them," Daisy had explained. So Mark felt some pity. Come on, being so bourgeois about puppies? He was taking one out of pure spite. "I felt sorry for it."

"O-kay. Please say that thing is trained."

"Apparently she is." Mark went over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. "How'd the fitting go?"

Bel rolled her eyes. "Besides my niece or nephew and Maureen, the people there hate us."

"Mo, I can understand. Meems...erm..."

"Say it. She's fat."

"She's pregnant. She's supposed to put on weight."

"Whatever. But the dresses are ready, so we've got that outta the way."

"Okay." Mark scooped up Sandy and put her back into the bag. "I've got shit to do, Bel. Me and Tara'll be up later."

"All right." Bel opened up her marshmallow bag and grabbed the peanut butter. "What the- COHEN! SHE ATE MY SNACK!"

AN: The fact that Sandy is a. part border collie, b. named after a Springsteen song, and c. loves peanut butter has nothing to do with the fact that my puppy, coincidentally, shares all three characteristics. Except my baby's name is Rosie.

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