A/N- thanks again guys for your reviews, you rock! letmefly, that April scene from the previous chapter led me to write my one-shot, and not the other way around, but thanks anyway! always glad to read your compliments!

speaking of one-shots, check out Fae's one-shot The Ultimate Price!

back to the story now... in case you were wondering, the party's not over yet... and it's Marky's turn! enjoy! review!

Chapter Nine

Mark rubbed his backside, feeling the numbing schlapp Maureen had just given him. He sat back down with Michelle who wore a curious expression perched upon her jeweled eyes. Mark scratched his head and smiled meekly.

"I don't know what that was about," he said, "but I assure you, it was nothing. I'm really sorry."

She looked down uncomfortably, but then chuckled. "It's all right." She looked up at him, unsure at first, then asked something he wasn't expecting. "Is there something going on between you two?"

Mark shook his head vigorously. "No. Nothing."

She nodded, but suddenly looked away carefully. She pursed her lips and became silent, as if she had other things on her mind. Mark started to feel a shower of guilt and he knew that he couldn't be dishonest with her.

"Michelle, I have to tell you," said Mark doubtfully. He swallowed his nerves, but it felt as if he was going to develop a stutter. "Maureen and I... we were... we used to s-see each other and... it didn't work as p-planned."

"Was it mutual?" she asked quietly.

"We just liked different things. She liked strawberry, I liked vanilla. She liked big crowds, I liked small groups. She liked to make a scene, I just liked to film them."

"Didn't you have anything in common?"

"Oh yeah... women."

"Oh." She nodded as if she understood. She took a sip of her drink, and sniffed. "I don't know why anybody would leave a great guy like you. You're so adorable and kind... and well, I think she's missing out."

He smiled bashfully. "Thanks. You're sweet."

"Hello Mark."

Mark turned his head to see Collins standing right beside him. He gave Mark a broad smile and sat down next to him.

"Well, she's pretty," commented Collins looking at Michelle. She giggled and tried not to look at him. She began to turn a slight red.

"Collins this is Michelle. Michelle, this here is Tom Collins, one of the greatest, most intelligent, and caring beings on the planet," introduced Mark.

"Aw, thanks Mark, but you don't have to be so modest about me. I'm also quite handsome, open-minded and all with the drive of acting up and fighting aids." Michelle laughed and Mark felt relieved. "It's nice to meet you, Michelle."

"It's nice to meet you too."

Collins laid a firm hand on Mark's shoulder. "So Mark... you and Maureen... okay?"

"We're... sort of not speaking."

"Really? I saw some, um, action going on there."

"I think she's crazy, I don't know what she has under her sleeve, but I'm not buying it."

"I think it's what's under her breasts that counts, don't you think so?"

Mark felt a shiver down his spine and his cheeks turning warm. He wondered what Collins was trying to pull and prayed that he would stop, whatever moral lesson he had in mind. He knew he meant well, but he just wanted the humiliation to stop.

"Collins, please don't-"

"What do you think of her shirt?" asked Collins. "Do you think it's a perfect fit?"

"I d-don't know, I guess they're a perfect tit- fit! Oh damnit..." he said under his breath, and hung his head down it sheer mortification. He bit his tongue from screaming at himself for letting such a thing slip, and didn't dare glance over at Michelle or Collins. He shut his eyes tight, hoping for a moment, that Collins didn't have anything else in store.

"My, you've answered my thoughts while talking about something completely different. You truly are a philosopher's dummy," Mark heard Collins tell him, as he frayed his messy blonde hair. "I have to talk to you later, but now... kareoke!"

Mark's head shot up frantically, hearing that horrible seven-letter word. He reached his hand out, getting a hold of Collins' shirt which was untidily tucked out of his washed out blue jeans.

"Collins... not..."

"Mark, you must know that every party has to have kareoke. Especially if I'm hosting the party." He grinned stupidly again, and Mark knew he didn't stand a chance in convincing him to stop the madness. He'd rather have danced in his underwear with a lampshade on his head... Mark pressed his lips. Note to self: Burn that reel.

Everyone gathered around the living space while Collins turned on the kareoke set. Everyone had smiles on, all except for Mark whose nerves were running wild. He was not what one would call a decent singer, or a singer at that. He sucked, and might he add, sucked badly. He instantly knew that he was not going to be the type of father that would sing his little child to sleep, but the type who would buy a jazz singer to lullaby the kid. Roger, Mimi, and Maureen occupied the big sofa, while Collins' friends didn't mind the floor. Michelle took the reclining chair, while Mark sat on the edge of her hand rest. Collins untangled the microphone, and tested it quickly. He then plastered that funny grin again, and eyed them speculatively.

"Who's going to be brave and go first?" he asked.

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious who should go first," said Roger, stretching his arms out slickly. "It should be the... ahem... most experienced. The best singer in this room."

"I wouldn't call myself the best," said Collins kicking the floor in a false bashful way, "but thanks for the compliment." Roger shot him a playful look. "All right, Roger, you can go first! Ladies and gentlemen, lezzies and gays, AZT takers... and well Mark..." Laughter ensued. "Here I present to you one of the greatest rock and roll performers you'll never hear of... Rrrrrrrooogerr!"

"Thank you, thank you," said Roger, whistles and cheers picking him up as he stood. Collins tossed him the mic, who then took a seat next to Maureen. He winked at Roger, signaling that he was ready with the remote, whatever song he chose.

"I would like to dedicate this song to Mimi..."

"It's not Your Eyes again, is it?" asked Collins, in a sort of whiny tone. "Because I think we're all sick of that song." They all laughed.

"No, it's not Your Eyes, genius, but I'd like to also take this opportunity to thank you, Tom Collins, for killing the mood." More laughter. "It's a song that I think of every time I lay beside my Mimi."

"He thinks he's in some lounge, but he's not," whispered Mimi. Everyone giggled.

"Here's to you, Miss Marquez, Open Arms" announced Roger, in an over exaggerated Elvis type gyrate. A soft piano began to play in the background. "Lying beside you, here in my arms..." he continued the song with such beauty, and Mark knew Mimi felt the passion in his voice. The way she stared at him, the way she listened, Mark knew she loved him dearly. Everyone was silent during his serenade until...

"And so now I come to you, with open arms... La da da da... here by my side... and I don't know the words, but it doesn't matter..." Everyone laughed and then started booing him off. He grinned, and took a bow. They all applauded because despite not knowing the words, he was one hell of a singer. He took one final encore, and sang,

"You can see it in my eyes!" before handing it to Collins.

"How could you not know the words to that song?" asked Collins. "All right, by popular request, Maureen and I are going to sing-"

"Popular request?" asked Roger.

"Shut up Roger, I have the mic," said Collins. Mark caught Michelle laughing, and he smiled. At least she was having a good time. Perhaps this kareoke thing wasn't so bad after all... that is until Collins points the mic at him.

"A favorite of mine- Ain't No Mountain High Enough. Hit it!" The music started to come up from the speakers, and a clap to the beat arose.

"Listen baby! Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough baby!" His baritone filled the room as he gestured to Maureen. Then she sang.

"If you need me call me, no matter where you are, no matter how far, baba-ay." A new smile crept onto Mark's lips. When Maureen wasn't overreacting, her voice contained a great rhythm of jazz and blues, beauty and sexiness that could turn anyone on. He would kick himself tomorrow for noticing Maureen, but for now he just wanted to enjoy her singing. She had so much talent, and grace, and...

He really was going to hate himself tomorrow because now he wished he had his camera. It were moments like these where he missed the old days. He was very well aware that those days were very much over, but reliving them from time to time was nice. And it wasn't everyday that they were together singing kareoke in a somewhat undisturbed, tolerable manner. Shit, now he was really eager to find his camera. At first he kept telling himself that it was just a camera and that it could be replaced. Also, he didn't want Roger's well-predicted "I told you you would cry if you ever lose you camera" speech nagging at him all day, all week, for the rest of his life. But this time... he wanted his camera! He needed it to live, to survive, to...

"Ain't no mountain hi-igh! Yeah!" They both ended the song as Mark came back to reality. The last note was raspy and sweet for Collins, and high and soulful for Maureen. The room rocked with applause and cheers. Collins gave Maureen a bear hug, and they took a minute to take a couple of well deserved bows. Even Mark clapped, though he tried to convince himself that it was mostly for Collins. Maureen took her seat, and Collins again played Master of Ceremonies.

"Ooohh Marky..." he cooed and Mark covered his face. Everyone started wooing, and he could tell that he turned a bright red. And this was the time where Mark was glad he lost his camera. "Guess who's turn it is..."

"No..."

"Come on Marky," seconded Roger, poking his sides. "It's your turn!"

"Really, no..."

"I'll sing with you Mark," said Michelle.

"What?" asked Mark.

"GREAT!" exclaimed Collins. "What would you like to sing?"

"Michelle, I'm not a very good singer..."

"You'll do fine," she assured. She took the mic from Collins, and stood up. Roger pulled Mark up beside her, and then took his seat. He could hardly hold still, he was so excited seeing his friend give a performance.

"Anything you want Collins," said Michelle, as Mark tried to stop from shuddering. A river of shivers streamed down his body, and it didn't stop. His teeth started chattering which earned a few giggles from everyone.

"A Whole New World should be easy. Everyone knows that song," said Collins. "Presenting... Mark and Michelle."

The familiar melody to that oh so popular Disney tune came about, and Mark felt his throat tighten up. He couldn't make an idiot out of himself and just stand there like a party wrecking goof. But he knew when it came to singing, he was stuck in his Bar Mitzvah year. It was like a singing Mickey Mouse and Popeye the Sailor Man trying to pry in now and again.

"I c-can show you the world..." he managed to croak out softly. "Shining, shimmering, splendid...tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?" when he wasn't croaking, he was either off tune, or inconsistent with the melody. Then the higher notes came. "A whole new wo-erld." There went a crack, and Mark winced. He tried to continue with an little pain possible, but he couldn't seem to drown out the fits of giggles coming from behind him. "... or where to go, or say we're only dreaming." Phew. He got through the first part.

"A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew. But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you." Michelle looked at Mark with adoration, and Mark's jaw nearly dropped. She had a gorgeous voice. Everyone became silent to listen to the rest of the song. As she went on, Mark felt like he had this stupid look attached on his face that he couldn't get rid of. She sang with such ease that she didn't even have a hard time with the higher notes. Everyone gawked in such awe, that they hardly minded when Mark finished the song with her. When the song ended, a standing ovation almost knocked the ceiling off. Mark didn't bow, but allowed Michelle to take all the credit.

"Michelle, what a voice, a great addition to the gang!" said Collins, welcoming her into a hug. Mark sighed. At least they liked her.

"Yeah, but Mark, you sucked as always," laughed Roger. "I think I heard Roger Bart turning in his grave."

"Roger Bart isn't dead, idiot!" one of Collins' friend claimed.

"And it was Brad Kane!" another corrected.

"You college graduates have to nitpick everything huh?" asked Roger.

"At least I didn't forget the words," Mark backfired, and smiled. Roger flashed him his teeth, and then wrapped his arm around Mimi.

"Your turn, Mimi," said Roger, and kissed her cheek.

"Okay, but trust me. I'm bad... but I do it well," she said looking at Mark. Mark and Michelle took their seat, and Mimi did a bit of her dance for Roger, who was beaming proudly. She winked at Collins, and he got the signal. A sad, mournful air of music flowed in the room.

"Every night in my dreams, I see you... I fe-e-e-el you.. That is how I know you..go o-o-on..." She sang the words as if she was trying to mimic a great jazz legend, and although she was just as bad as Mark, she made everyone laugh. Now and then in the song, she swung her hair exaggeratedly, and wind-milled her hands convulsively, which reminded Mark of something Maureen would do. Luckily, no one else caught that similarity.

"YOU'RE heeeerreeee...there's NOOTTHIINNGG I fee-e-ear, and I know my heart will go o-uh-uh-on..." She was now kneeling in front of Roger, and had a tight hold of his shirt with a kind of passionate rage. "WE'LL staaaayyy...forEVER this wa-ah-ay! You are SAFE-" One step up. "-in my HEART-" Another step up. She was fully standing. "And M-UH-AY heart will go ooonnnn and..." Suddenly a loud fuse popped, gasps were heard, and the music died. Apparently she had kicked the chord out of all the excitement and overdramatic body language, and pulled the plug. Bursts of laughter erupted.

"Umm... thank you!" she said, and smiled widely. Everyone clapped, but there was more snorting and laughing than clapping.

"Great job, Mimi." Mark smirked. He suddenly turned to Roger. "Don't start."

Roger shook his head and started to do a horrible imitation of his dorky friend.

"A whole nn-e-w wooorrllll- croak!" For some reason, everyone found this a riot and began doing their own version of him. Lost and oblivious of their conversation, Mark tried to slip away without anyone noticing. He held Michelle's hand as he lead her toward the door.

"Would you like to go some where a bit more... peaceful?" asked Mark.

"Sure... how about my place? It's right down the hall."

"Um, sure." Mark knew that Michelle was a bit too innocent for the game they'd usually be playing in these type situations, so Mark agreed. Besides he wasn't the type of guy who would pull anything like that on a first date. They stole away as quietly as possible, and entered Michelle's apartment two doors away. As they stepped in, Mark paid her a compliment.

"You really sang beautifully. Why don't you go into Broadway or some other. You're in the right place anyway."

"Singing is more of a hobby. Oh shoot!"

"What?" he asked sort of absent-mindedly. Her place was awfully neat. Everything was a light color, it seemed that her favorite color was green, since everything was either lime colored or an aqua like turquoise. A lot of her furnishings were quite expensive, and Mark wondered why she didn't live in any place a bit more fancy. Her parents probably send her money every month; everything looked so classy. A frightened feeling snuck behind his neck. Could he afford a girl like her?

"The frame fell, see," she walked over to the leather sofa, and picked up a frame sitting on the couch. She took off her heels, and stepped onto the couch, and reached the frame up, trying to hook the frame to it. "Hmm... I remember being taller than this..."

Mark admired her for a second, then remembered his manners. "Here, let me do it."

"I've got it, I just need... to stand... on my tiptoes," she grunted and kept missing the nail. Mark stepped onto the couch and stood behind her. He was much taller, and he towered over her. He took the frame from her hands, and hooked the frame easily.

"Thanks," she said, and Mark made a sly move that he took from Roger. This better work, or I'll kill Roger in the morning, thought Mark abjectly. As he took one step down, to give her room, his hands followed down her arms, touching her skin gently. His fingers slid down the side of her waist, down her hips, and he placed his hands there as he brought himself down from the sofa. However, she stayed up there to straighten the frame, and observed it thoughtfully. Mark tried not to stare at her lovely blue jeans that were curving sexily up her thighs and swerving slightly...

"How's the view from down there?" she spoke softly.

"Huh?" Mark blushed. "It's lovely... I mean... what view?"

"You were looking at my ass, weren't you?" she asked, and Mark helped her down. She looked at him fondly.

"No! I mean... I've seen better... no, that's not what I mean. Mimi... I mean. " Mark sighed and gave up. "It's very nice."

She laughed, and took his hands carefully. "You're not a singer, I admit, but...do you dance?"

"I try... I can waltz alright, tango..." he trailed off.

"Then let's dance," she said, and turned on the radio beside her television. A soft jazz orchestra played, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands lingered down her hips. She laid her head on his chest, and they both listened to their soft breathing, as they swayed carefully to the music. He pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her skin on his, her elegant scent of perfume climbing cohering on his clothes. For a blissful moment, he was in heaven. His fingers made their way to the hem of her shirt, and he played with it cautiously.

"Don't," she whispered. He stopped, and ran his fingers down her back.

"I wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want me to," he said softly. And until the party ceased next door, they danced in each other's arms: A waltz, instead of a tango.