Really long chapter, because I probably won't be posting tomorrow or over the weekend. So enjoy. Also, the bus scene is the story of my life, because I usually get more sleep on the bus than at home. HaHa.Catholic school: leave your life at the front door.

Instead Of My Old Shit

The sun outside the university was bright. It burned Maya's eyes. She made her way across the parking lot, weighed down with books. She searched for the bus she was supposed to take home.

"Number 19," she mumbled. "Where is it?"

"Maya," called out a familiar voice.

"Nikole?" Maya laughed turning around. Nikole was wearing a matching uniform, only hers had a much shorter skirt.

"I didn't know you went here," she laughed.

"Yea," Maya said, tightening the grip on her books. "Tom works at NYU and he enrolled me. We get a cheap price."

"My mom made me go," Nikole laughed. She began mimicking her mother, "You need an education to fall back on. You don't want to turn out like your cousin, do you?"

Maya smiled. She loved Nikole. They were so similar.

"So you are a freshman?" Nikole asked her, taking half of Maya's books for her.

"Yes," Maya said. "You're a sophomore, right?"

"Frosh," Nikole said, blushing. "I got held back, because I missed the cut-off date."

Maya suddenly spotted her bus, over in the corner.

"Well," she sighed. "I have to catch my bus, but I will see you tomorrow."

"See ya!" Nikole gave Maya back the rest of her books.

Maya got onto the bus. She chose the first empty seat towards the front of the bus. She took off her sweatshirt and rolled it into a ball. She took one last glance out the window, before laying her head on her sweatshirt and closing her eyes.

o o o o o

Roger sat on his bed, trying to figure out how to tell Mimi what had happened in the bathroom. He knew she would freak and start crying. Surprisingly, he wasn't that shocked it had happened. Ever since Roger left drugs, Gordon has had it out for him. He wanted to just ignore it, but he couldn't endanger Mark. He wanted to tell someone, but he was afraid that Gordon might rebel and send someone for Mimi. The door suddenly opened and Mimi came in with a smile plastered on her face.

"Hi Roger," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled back and her smile instant. "What is wrong," she said, placing a hand on his cheek.

Roger let out a small laugh, despite of the situation.

"I really don't care if Gordon is threatening me, but once he brought you into it, I was pretty pissed. Then, I met some guy in the bathroom and he threatened Mark too and-"

"What are you talking about?" Mimi asked, with a weird expression on her face.

"Just listen," Roger sighed. "Like, he…he….well the guy was mad and kind of violent. He threatened to give Mark AIDS if I didn't go back to drugs."

"This is so fucking screwed up! Why?" Mimi stood up and began pacing.

"He just wants to mess with our lives. You know Gordon. He is always being a jerk and ruining everything!"

"Roger, do you think he is really going to go through with it?" Mimi said, as she stopped and looked at him.

"No," Roger said. "His life is full of broken promises and lies."

"I hope," he added silently to himself.

o o o o o

Maureen found herself, sitting on the roof of the loft with a pen and a microphone. Mark had told her about what the hospital had said. Maureen, being Maureen, decided to do what she did best: switch the attention over to her. She had huffed out of the room in a rage and told Mark she needed to find herself on the roof. Mark had just looked at her, but let her go.

"Don't jump," he said dully as she slammed the door.

Maureen glanced over the edge of the building. She sighed. Of course, she wouldn't jump. For one, it would be too messy. Two, when she died, she wanted an audience and a dramatic ceremony. She had thought at one time, that AIDS would be the perfect answer to a dramatic death, but too many people had it. She hated being the same as other people. She wanted to be different.

She leaned on the side of the building and stared down at the people passing by. A beautiful black woman, holding a young girl by the hand, turned towards the loft. Maureen stared down at her, trying to figure out why she was there. She walked downstairs and onto the landing.

"Joanne?" Maureen exclaimed. The woman who was standing at the bottom of the stairs gasped.

"Maur?" she said. Maureen nodded. Joanne suddenly coughed, "I mean, err, Maureen."

"What are you doing here?" Maureen said.

"I actually came to see if Mark was here," Joanne laughed. "I need to see if he wants to videotape a press conference for our commercial."

"Our?" Maureen asked.

"David and I. Have you heard of Hans & Jefferson Firm?"

"Nope." Maureen began to feel uncomfortable and inferior to Joanne. She was used to this feeling. She hated it, but continued to stand there.

"Well," she sighed, beginning her story, "I met him at a lawyer convention. He was in a firm and told me I should join. He was very impressed with my work. I talked to my boss, but he said they wouldn't accept any lesbians. I went to my parent's house, seeking help. My parents never really approved of you, so they set me up with a wonderful young man. He had just gotten out of a marriage. We have been dating since Christmas. That is when we took over the firm and here I am."

"Who is that?" Maureen asked as she bent down and looked at the little girl.

"David's daughter," Joanne sniffed. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to see Mark."

"You're not happy Joanne. I can tell," Maureen said, retreating down the stairs. Joanne stood, planted to the spot. She felt Maureen's stare, linger with her as the drama queen's footsteps echoed down the hall.

o o o o o

Mark sat in his room, staring out the window. He was starting to regret, shooting without a script. He had to start his job in two days and he had nothing to present to Alexi. All he had was his Christmas tapes, but they were strictly for his friends.

"Why did I ever decide to shoot without a script?" he asked out loud as he kicked the side of the couch and watched it tremble.

"I will walk outside and videotape the shoppers. Than I can do a documentary on last minute shoppers and how stress is the number one reason people die around Christmas," Mark thought out loud. He was sitting on the floor of his room. He had a bunch of reels lying around him. He stared into his camera and tried to figure out what to do next.

He had been suffering from writer's block since June, when April died. He hated writing scripts. They were tearing him apart lately. He sighed as he threw his pen on the ground.

After April died, he had less and less ideas. The only thing that actually had any purpose to film was Roger. He would tape his progress with his withdrawal. He loved the pain that was expressed through the lens. It made the audience feel as if they were going through withdrawal, along with the blonde haired rock star. All this filming was making him depressed though. He decided to think of new things to film, along with his suffering best friend. In July, he had taped rainstorms a lot, to match the anger and sadness that filled the loft. In August, he interviewed people on the street, but always got dirty glares or stupid comments from random pedestrians. In October, he had attempted to videotape a ghost or some spirit. He knew the idea was stupid, because he didn't believe in ghosts, but he was running out of ideas. After the ghost idea failed he started video-taping different fashions on the street, but Roger had called him a "fag" for caring about what people wore. After that, he never looked at an outfit on the street again. In November, he had asked his friends to be in a movie with an actual script. Of course, Maureen wanted to star in it, but the starring role was a male. Mark remembered pulling out the script and highlighting her part. She wanted more lines, but Mark had explained that he couldn't change the script. She pouted and ranted and yelled at him. Collins had agreed, but was never home, so there was no point. Benny had been long gone, so he wasn't even an option and Roger just told Mark to "fuck off!" A one-woman cast was pathetic and he knew it. Maureen had tried to convince him to make the show a monologue, but he refused, which sent her into an angry state. It was probably one of the unknown reasons she broke up with him.

"She broke up with me, because I am boring," he laughed out loud, in spite of the situation. He picked up the script that he was going to use for the movie. It was called, "In Debt." It was about a man, striving to support his family, his dream, and his temptations. The script was so stupid.

"Why would anyone want to watch something about a broke loser, who had dreams but couldn't fulfill them?" Mark knew the feeling of his character. Mark wanted to get out there and be known, but he couldn't. Roger had discovered he had AIDS and was dealing with withdrawal and Benny was making the rent higher everyday. He sighed. He hated the Bohemian life.

"I hate scripts too!" he exclaimed, combining what he said with his thoughts. He often did that, because there was no one to talk to around the loft. Once in a while he had a conversation with the young Spanish girl on the floor below them, but she was always high or on her way to work. It was hard enough, dealing with his best friend, who had just gotten over withdrawal; he didn't have to time to deal with more junkies.

"Screw it," he thought, picking up his camera and opening his door. Roger was sitting on the couch. He was tuning the guitar that he hadn't played since April died. Mark smiled. Roger was finally moving on.

"It is time for you to move on and start a new leaf too," said a voice inside his head.

He began filming the loft and narrating.

"December 24, 9 p.m. eastern standard time. From here on in I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it," he glanced back at the door to his bedroom, which was cracked open, revealing the many unsuccessful reels of tape. "Instead of my old shit!"