A/N: Inspired by one of our favorite numbers Tango: Maureen, the following chapter is dedicated to the release of the Rent movie soundtrack, which is TODAY (WOO HOO)!
Reviews are most welcome, as always!
Chapter Fourteen
"YOU'RE NOT CALLING MARK!" yelled Maureen before she slammed the payphone's receiver. "Damn it!"
The club was practically deserted except for her and three bartenders who polished glasses behind the counter, and raised their heads, surprised at her sudden outburst. Maureen shot them a dirty look and they resumed their work instantly. She stormed back to the small stage at the far end of the club, where her equipment suddenly broke down half an hour ago. There were cables and wires all over the floor and Maureen just stared at them cluelessly for a moment before she knelt beside the speakers. She had schedules for the tech staff to be there three hours before her show and, though she tried to call them to be there earlier because of an emergency, they were out of town, doing another job, and wouldn't be back until their appointment with her.
Maureen glanced at the clock that was hung above the counter. It was 1 PM, the tech staff would get there in 8 hours or more, and she needed her equipment to be fixed NOW. She had to do something. She had to try and fix it herself somehow. Maybe I'll get electrocuted by accident and I won't have to do this at all, which is only for the better, she thought bitterly as she picked some more cables from the floor and plugged them into one of the two huge speakers.
She didn't even want that gig, but she couldn't let Collins down. She wasn't in the mood for singing and entertaining people she didn't know but she felt as if she owed him that. They hardly spoke to one another in the passing month, and not only because of her bad mood after seeing Mark and Michelle in the hallway. When she went with Collins to meet his friend at his club the next morning, she realized he tricked her again. The club's name was Purple Sky. Several years back, when she had just come to New York, she used to perform there. It was also the place where she first met Mark, which was also thanks to Collins' generous help. Of course she didn't believe him when he swore he didn't know it was the same place. It wasn't like Collins, not knowing such a thing, but she acted as if she didn't care, as if nothing happened. She was too exhausted to argue with him anyway, after hours of crying the night before. Even though Collins tried to ask her what happened that made her lock herself in her bedroom, Maureen told him nothing. Instead, for the first time in her life, she accepted defeat. The show must go on.
Though she was edgy for the entire month, everything seemed to be in control. She and the band rehearsed in the club every morning and everything was going okay, until that morning, when Collins woke her up to answer an urgent phone call. It was one of her backup singers, who told her in a voice not higher than a whisper that there was no way he could perform that night. He had the flu and could hardly speak, not to mention sing. There was not much Maureen could do, because she remembered he didn't look so good when they finished their rehearsal the day before. Okay, two backup singers are as good as three, she convinced herself as she opened her closet and looked for the dress she was about to wear that night. It was plum colored, low cut in the back with spaghetti straps and knee lenght, but it mysteriously disappeared from her closet. She spent nearly an hour looking for it but had to stop when she realized she had to get to the club for final arrangements before their final rehearsal, and as if all that wasn't enough for one morning, while she was putting the mics in place, her damn equipment suddenly died out.
She called the tech staff but they were out of town. Her hands were shaking with anger and despair when she dialed Collins' cell number. I'll get to the hospital with a nervous breakdown when this day is finished, she thought as she waited for Collins to answer her.
And this was when Collins suggested quite innocently to call Mark for help.
Maureen wouldn't hear of it. The last thing she wanted was seeing him, she surely didn't need his help. Also, she wasn't sure she was able to handle face-to-face meeting after seeing him and Michelle kissing in the hallway a month ago. She was still devestated by it, as much as she tried to deny it or pretend that everything was okay. That gig just added some more unnecessary bagagge to her already shaken nerves.
She needed a cigarette, desperately, but she hasn't had her emergency pack with her for months now.
She cursed as she took some cables and crawled over to the speaker at the side of the stage. She had to get the damn thing working again, no matter what.
Another half an hour passed before she leaned back, sighing hopelessly and wiping sweat off her forehead. This is never going to work! She felt so dirty, sprawled on that dusty floor; all she could think about was that hot shower she would step into once she'd get the speakers working again…
Footsteps.
Maureen's eyes snapped open as she glanced up at the counter. As it appeared, the three bartenders who were there with her had gone. Someone entered the club but she couldn't see who it was. The club was dimly lightened by several lamps and faint sunlight from the street, and the entering figure looked like a thin, long shadow…
And then she became impossibly angrier when he approached the stage and she finally recognized him.
"MARK?" she asked incredulously as she got herself up from the floor, dusting off her jeans in the process. He looked different, she realized, but what was different about him? His clothes were definitely the same old Markish style. It might be his hair… it looked a little different yet Maureen couldn't quite figure out in what way. And then she noticed his unmistakable expression, that same happy, satisfied expression Michelle used to have every time they bumped into one another on the hallway. He didn't try to hide it from her or anything, on the contrary, he seemed to be quite proud of it.
Mark looked at her meekly, through narrow eyes, as if he wasn't happy to be there just as much as she wasn't happy to have him there. "Hi."
She let out a frustrated sigh. Damn you, Collins! "I told him not to call you!"
He shrugged. "That's Collins, but… can I help, since I'm here?"
Maureen looked at him. Sure, she needed help, but she didn't want to look too hopeless, and she didn't want HIS help, of all people. Yet, lacking any other possibility, she had to accept his help. "Fine, whatever, take your best shot," she sighed. She hated to accept defeat, especially in front of Mark. She felt exhausted and miserable. She just wanted to get that show over with. Why the hell am I doing it?
Mark joined her onstage and moved closer to the speakers. She followed him there as he observed the messed up cables she tried to plug into them. "I don't know what's wrong with it, it was fine when we left yesterday and now suddenly the mic's not working!" she rambled on, trying to stay distracted. All she kept seeing in front of her was the image of him and Michelle together. She couldn't stand it. It hurt too much.
Mark bent over to take a closer look at the chords snaking its way along the floor. "You're going to wreck the whole stage… you've got too many cables, you're gonna get a power overload…" he murmured as he removed some of the wires. Some of them were tangled together so he tried so separate them by yanking them out.
Maureen launched herself forward to stop him. "Hey, what the hell are you doing, don't touch that!"
He grabbed her wrist to keep her back, but he didn't use much force, as if he didn't want to hurt her. Her breath was caught in her throat as his hand circled her wrist. "Maureen, get away, I know what I'm doing! Look what you've done so far, it's a mess!"
Of course it's a mess, I'm an artist, not a technician, she thought angrily. She felt as if he was mocking her. "You always know what you're doing, right? The great Mark Cohen, always in control over his life." She didn't even mean it, but it was her fury that spoke out of her. She had to take it out on someone. Unfortunately for Mark, he was the only one around. "And I won't go back, I'm responsible for this equipment, I'll pay for it if anything happens, not you, so you better know what you're doing, pulling these out!"
Mark didn't respond to that. He just slapped one of the cables down, as if he was trying to contain himself from answering her back, then pulled out some more cables and went over to the other side of the stage, where he plugged them into a separate extention chord. He looked up at her and nodded towards the mic. "Try the mic. Say something, anything."
Maureen walked over to the mic. She tapped on it but it didn't echo back. It still didn't work. She sighed but tried it anyway. "Test one, two, three…" From some reason, it seemed to irritate Mark who stared at her for a split second before turning away from her.
"That drives me crazy…" he mumbled, mostly to himself, as he moved closer to the speakers and fiddled with some buttons there.
"What did you say?" asked Maureen, who was able to hear his silent complaint. She was getting more annoyed with each passing second.
Mark didn't look at her. His full attention was on the speakers. "What? I didn't say anything," he mumbled in return and kept fiddling with the buttons.
Maureen smirked. Don't argue with him, just leave it, she told herself in a hopeless attempt to regain every piece of self control that was still left within her. She tapped on the mic again. Still, no echo. She couldn't take it anymore. "Oh, DAMNIT!" she yelled, just as Mark switched something.
And the mic miraculously started working.
A loud screeching sound echoed through the club. It was so powerful, Maureen was sure it cracked each glass and bottle on the shelves behind the counter. She turned to face Mark, who was standing right next to the speakers as it happened. He looked wide-eyed, and he had his hands over his ears.
"SHIT! Maureen, don't DO that!"
For a moment, she forgot her anger, her jealousy, her pain. She was really worried about him. "I'm sorry! Shit, are you okay?" Then she pulled herself together and fought back the urge to go there and check on him. "So is it okay now? Can I go back to work now?" she asked impatiently, repressing every spark of concern before he'd notice it.
"NO you can't. Maureen, get away from there… sit down," he gestured at the tables offstage. "Let me take care of this, I've only got two ears…"
She stared at him as he went back to work. "Who do you think you are, bossing me around, Mark?"
"Do you want your equipment fixed?" he shot back.
"Yes I do, but I won't get orders from you like you're my father or my boyfriend or my husband, for God's sake!" He smirked. "What are you laughing at?" she steamed at him. "I need it fixed before everyone gets here, Mark, that means this afternoon. Can you or can't you do it?"
He shot her a dirty look. "With that attitude, I won't get it done at all. I'm tired of that… that…" his voice trailed off, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "That tone," he said eventually, in a lower voice, like he didn't have the nerve to say something else that was on his mind.
"You know what, I'm tired too. Don't do me any favors, I can do it alone!" She felt the stinging presence of tears of frustration, but hurried to push them back. She wouldn't humiliate herself by crying in front of him, she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her falling apart. She was stronger than that. She had to fight back.
"Where's your girl, by the way?" she asked icyly, "How is it that you didn't bring her here?"
Mark's eyes narrowed. He looked as if he longed to move closer and strangle her with the cable he held tightly in his hands but didn't have the nerve to. "Don't bring Michelle into this, she's never done anything to you," he warned her, in a tone as cold as hers.
She couldn't help but smile in satisfaction at his predictable reply. She shot him a look. "I meant your camera, Mark."
An involuntary blush crawled on Mark's face. "What do you care?" he mumbled weakly.
"I was just wondering, since you always bring that damn camera everywhere. Or maybe you don't have time for it now with Michelle around…" she didn't dare looking at him. She distracted herself by messing around with the cables on the floor.
"I told you not to bring her into this… and stop playing with these, you don't know what you're doing! You're gonna burn the whole club down!"
"I'm not!" Maureen was too furious to be aware of the fact that she was holding two bare wires. There was a small explosion as the two wires accidently brushed against one another, and she dropped them and moved back, panicked. "Oh, shit!"
"This is why I told you not to touch anything!" berated Mark as he grabbed her arm and moved her away. "I'm sorry for bossing you around but stop bossing ME around so I can fix your damn mic and get out of here!"
"You can get out of here right now, Mark, what's stopping you? I didn't even want Collins to call you!"
"Hey, I didn't want to do it either, but I'm doing it for Collins, not for you!" he yelled back as he pulled another wire out. The lights went out. Mark growled. "FUCK!"
"DAMNIT! What the hell did you do?" It was completely dark and she had no idea where he was, so she just turned to face the last spot she had seen Mark standing.
"It's just a little... technical difficulty... they're just lights." His voice sounded lower and was accompanied by a rustling sound, as if he was crawling on the floor. "Do you have a candle?" he suddenly asked.
Is he serious? "I'm not walking around with fucking candles in my bag, Mark. I would have had a lighter though, but as you well know I quit smoking, though I wouldn't mind a cig-"
"Maureen, shut up for a second, I can't concentrate with you rambling on and on!" Some more rustling sounds.
"You're bossing me again," she pointed out.
"You can never make this easy can you? You never make anything easy, that's why you're stressing, that's why you're such a drama queen... ah ha!" The lights flickered, then dimmed. "What the-" Mark stopped mid-sentence, scratching his head as if wondering at something.
Maureen didn't care about the lights anymore. "WHAT? If you have something to say to me, Mark, just say it! Don't throw these hints at me, just say what you think! I'm a big girl, I can handle it!"
Mark stood up. Maureen could see he was starting to get really furious himself. Maybe I shouldn't hold back, she told herself. Maybe what I need is a good fight.
"How can I put this in words you're able to understand?" he stopped for a second, as if thinking about it, then looked at her again. "Right... MOOOOOO!"
He did it so dorkishly but at the same time looked so proud of himself, Maureen felt like smacking him. "Don't you 'moo' me, Mark! And get the hell out of here, I'll do it myself!"
"Fine! But I won't forget that lame look on your face Miss Johnson, you lost!" His eyes were like two blazing saphires behind his thick glasses as he glared at her.
It took a moment before what he said had even begun to sink in. "LOST? What do you mean I lost? I never lose!"
"You can't face it, can you? I mean... you're miserable, and I'm not," he sounded proud of himself again, as if it was the most courageous thing he had ever said.
Maureen could not believe he had just told her that. She moved closer to him. "What?" she asked, glaring at him. She felt like punching him, kicking him, do something to wipe that expression off his face… but somehow was able to stop herself. "You know NOTHING of how I feel!"
"YES I do! I know everything of you feel. You feel horrible that you're alone, and that I'm with someone who actually cares about me. You feel exactly of how I felt... when I felt that way…" Though he didn't manage to sound so convincing towards the end, what he said hit Maureen anyway, just as he meant it to hit. She turned away from him. She couldn't face him. That was EXACTLY how she felt.
"Now if you stay quiet, I'll fix everything in a snap," his tone softened slightly, as if he knew she was hurt, "Can you handle that?"
Maureen slowly nodded. She still couldn't face him. "So how is it that you're here instead of with... her?"
Mark hesitated, but only for a second. "I was with her, but Collins called, so…"
"So you abandoned her to come here? How noble of you, Mark," she hoped the sarcasm in her voice was clear enough.
It was. "You know me, Mr. Nobility."
"So what did your father think of her? I'm sure he's happy you finally found the perfect girl to fit into the family, huh?" That was cruel, she knew perfectly well he didn't speak with his father for some time now, but she couldn't stop herself. She only wished she didn't sound as bitter as she thought she sounded.
Mark flinched. She wasn't supposed to notice that but she did. It made her feel even worse. She knew his unstable relationship with his parents was mostly her fault, because he chose her over his family.
"You're right," he said eventually, "She IS the perfect girl." It hit her straight in the heart, but it was only fair after what she'd just told him about his father.
"And she'll never embarrass you, she'll never stand between you and your family, she'll never dump you for a woman… but you know what's wrong with her?" she didn't really wait for him to answer. "She's as boring as you are."
Mark didn't look the least intimidated. "Don't you dare talk about her like that! She may not be as flashy as you are but that's fine! She's intelligent, she's pretty, she's kind…" For a second he looked uncertain at what he was saying, but soon he regained himself and kept talking. "And she'll be twice the person you'll ever be! She makes me happy!"
Maureen couldn't do much but stare at him in disbelief. That hurt. A lot. Was that what Mark thought of her now that he met that perfect girl? That she was a failure? Just because she dropped out of college and still didn't know what she wanted to do with her life?
She shot him a nasty glare. "Can you please fix my equipment and get the hell out of here?"
"Fix it yourself!" he threw a cable in her direction. It hit her on the side of her face and she felt a sting where it struck. Mark gasped when he realized it actually hit her, as if it wasn't his intention in the first place. "Gee, I'm sorr-"
"I want you out of here NOW," she snapped icily. She was hurt, but more of Mark's unexpected outburst than the cable that hit her.
Mark moved closer to her, his expression concerned. "Maureen, you're bleeding…"
She shoved his hand off abruptly. "Don't you dare touch me!" she warned. She touched her face instinctivally. He was right. She was bleeding. It didn't even hurt. "I'm serious, get the fuck out of here, Mark, get the fuck out of my life!" she grabbed a glass she spotted on top of one of the speakers and smashed it against the wall.
Mark ducked instinctively back and offstage, even though it wasn't even aimed in his direction. "Maureen, you're crazy, you know that?"
"If I am, it's your damn fault!"
"And you're crazy for blaming ME! I don't 'moo' or dress up in cat suits!"
"Never heard you complain about that cat suit before!"
"I was afraid it will make you do something like that!" he gestured the shattered glass behind her.
"I'll do it again with good reason. But this time it'll be in your face." Of course, she didn't mean that, but his expression was priceless. He looked terrified though he did his best not showing her that.
"Y- yeah? I- I'd like to s-see you try, Moo Girl."
She laughed. He was pathetic. "Moo Girl? Oh, for God's sake, Mark, you're so childish!"
"Me, childish? May I remind you who has that cat suit in her closet?"
"What does this have anything to do with what I've said?" she glanced around, looking for a glass she could pretend to be throwing at him, but the place was spotless. She got offstage and picked up a chair. "Hey Marky? Even been chased by a chair?" she asked innocently.
He looked at her wide-eyed and put his hands over his head as she grabbed the chair and raised it high in the air. "That's very mature!" he managed to say.
"I've never considered myself as one, as you so well implied a minute ago. I don't lie to myself as you do."
"So you admit it, you ARE crazy."
"I am NOT!"
"Here, you've just lied to yourself!"
"Stop calling me a liar!" she let go of the chair and it smashed on the floor.
"Whoa!" Mark ducked back,in an attempt to get away from her.
Maureen felt like punching him so she followd him. She tripped over a cable in the process and crushed to the floor.
And the lights went out again.
"Oh, SHIT!"
"Maureen, hold still!" Maureen couldn't help but feeling happy to hear that tone. He sounded panicked and somewhat concerned. Maybe he still cared, a little. "I just have to find that cable you pulled…" More rustles as he struggled with wires and cables in the darkness…
Something brushed against Maureen's leg. She shrieked in sudden panic. "What the hell was THAT?"
Mark stopped moving. "I didn't hear anything," his voice trembled slightly.
"No, something… touched me… shit, I hope there aren't any rats in here…"
"R- rats?"
"I hope not." Then she felt it again. It was the slightest touch against her leg, but it was unmistakable. Something was there. "Here it is again!" she smacked it without really thinking about it and then froze in sudden terror. Jesus Christ, did I just hit a hairy RAT? What was I THINKING?
She heard a sudden outcry of pain, and then Mark's voice, "What the-"
And only then it dawned on Maureen what was the hairy thing she had just hit. "Oh, shit, did I just-"
"Yes, it was my head you just hit, thank you very much! I can't see anything in the damn dark!" he yelled, frustrated.
It happened so suddenly, Maureen didn't even have a chance to scream or move back. She heard a bang, and seconds later something big and heavy landed over her just as Mark let out a terrified shriek.
THAT is definitely not a rat, unless that rat uses Mark's aftershave, she thought as she realized it was Mark who was laying on top of her. Just stay calm, play along, you don't really want him. "Hey! What are you doing? Get the fuck off me, Mark!"
Suddenly, the lights flickered on.
"Hellooo, what do we have here?" Maureen turned her head to face Collins, who was slowly approaching them with a wide grin all over his face. Mark turned to face him too and did a hopeless attempt to get off her. He was so surprised to see Collins there, he fell back on top of her again as he let out what sounded like a girly squeal. His face slowly became deep crimson.
Collins tried to remain serious, but he couldn't control his smile. "You know, the janitor's closet is a more suitable place. More privacy…"
"Collins, shut up!" yelled Maureen as she pushed Mark away and sat on the dusty floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Just checking up on how things are going." He eyed them mischiveiously. "So how things ARE going?"
"It's not what it seems," said Mark defensively as he got up from the floor. Maureen's eyes narrowed. He didn't even bother helping her up.
Collins shot them his best I-know-better look. "Sure, sure…"
"Nothing happened here," added Maureen as she got onstage again and tapped on the mic. Thank God, it echoed back. How the hell did that happen? "Test, one, two… patched! Now get the hell out of here, Mark!"
She didn't like that last look he gave her before saying, "Yeah, I'm out of here." He stormed out of the club with no further words.
Collins waited until the sound of his footsteps ceased, then turned to face her. "Okay, now that we're finally alone…"
"Collins, you better wipe that stupid smile off your face," snapped Maureen.
"Are you… okay?" he asked carefully.
Maureen glared at him. He looked so calm, she felt like strangling him. "What do you think? I have a show tonight and I'm less than ready for it, one of my backup singers is sick, I can't find my damn purple dress I planned on wearing tonight, my equipment broke down, I cut my face because of a damn cable, I nearly got myself electrocuted when I tried to fix this mess myself, and to top it all off, MARK shows up here because YOU called him! After I told you specifically not to! So no, Collins, I'm not okay! I'm about to have a breakdown and it's all your goddamn fault!"
"Hey, chill, Reeney-"
"I can't! I won't! Damn it, Collins, I could KILL you!"
"I just thought-"
"No, don't tell me, I know exactly what you thought! Let's get them together, maybe something will come out of that. Isn't that what you were hoping for? Well, forget it, Collins, it WON'T happen! Stop doing it, stop acting like fucking Cupid all the time, you're wasting your time!"
"If you think it's such a waste of time, how is it that you're so upset?" he looked at her intently. Maureen looked away. No, don't surrender to him, he can't know the truth. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you mad or anything… when you called and said you had problems with your equipment, Mark was the first I thought about who could fix it. I know you're nervous about tonight, Maureen, but try to calm down. You'll be great, I know you will," he moved closer and raised her chin so she'd face him. "We okay?"
Maureen slowly nodded. She desperately needed a shower. She had to get the scent of Mark's aftershave off her. It made her head reel. "Can we go home now?"
Collins nodded. "Sure, sweetie, we can go home. You need to get some sleep before your rehearsal later," he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out of the club.