Chapter 17
Legal Disclaimer-Larson's estate owns them, I only rent.
Author's Note-December 25th, 10:29 PM-Merry Christmas.
Reviews appreciated. Begged for, thanked. You know, the usual. Oh yeah, DRAMA alert.
As morning dawned, Mark Cohen thanked his luck that Mary was asleep in his bed. He knew that she was tired, so he left her alone, kissing her on the forehead, then heading out of the cold bedroom. She had wrapped herself up in the comforter during the night, his own blanket now covered her as well. She looked so peaceful, he was sad to leave her.
He walked into the main room of the loft, rubbing the sleep out his eyes. He put his glasses back on to the sight of Roger, sitting on the edge of the windowsill, drinking coffee and scribbling intensely in his notebook. Mimi had left already, her job at the bookstore requiring early hours for the holidays.
"Hey," Mark said, startling Roger, "Morning."
"Good morning, Mary still out?" Roger asked, eyes still in the book.
"Cold, she danced her heart out last night," Mark replied, looking at his mug sitting on the counter, hot water on the hot plate, "Tea?"
"And Captain Crunch," Roger smiled, "We had a little extra money this week."
Mark opened the cabinet. The beloved cereal that he and Roger had fought over for years was in front of him. He took the box out, opened it, noticed that he was the first one to open it, and smelled the sugary goodness. It was going to be a good day.
"God, I needed that," Mark laughed, noting Roger giving him a strange look, "You didn't eat?"
"Not hungry," Roger said, writing down a lyric in his notebook, "Had a song wake me up this morning, and I knew that if I didn't start on it, I would…"
"I'm all for artistic jones', just don't forget to eat and.."
Roger held up the AZT bottle. It rattled when he shook it.
"I know, I took it an hour ago," Roger smiled, "I got it under control Mark, don't worry."
"I will always worry, Roger, its part of my nature," Mark looked at him, "How are you, by the way?"
Roger held up his hand. The small bandage that Mary had expertly placed on his hand was still in place. He flexed it then got back to his writing.
"Nice job on your hand, who did it? Mimi?" Mark asked, pouring the hot water into his tea.
"No, Mary," Roger replied, getting up to refill his coffee, "She's quite a woman."
"I know," Mark smiled, "Last night was amazing. The ballet was more than I expected."
Mark looked at the answering machine. It was flashing.
"You pick up the messages?" he asked.
"Fuck no," Roger replied, hitting the listen button, "Let's see what Benny wants now."
The tape rewound, they heard the usual "Speak" then started to play.
"The following is for Mary Blaine. This is her mother, Margret Blaine. She needs to meet me at the theater before the show tonight, I need to talk to her. I know that you gentlemen are helping her, it's appreciated, but, I need her someplace where I know where she is. That's why I hope you will give her this message, or I will surprise her tonight. The choice is yours. If she wants to call me, I'm at the Hilton on Broadway."
"Wow, and I thought my mother was the queen of guilt trips," Mark said, "Mary warned me about her, but she's .."
"Like ours," Roger said, "Explains a lot. Mary and I talked last night. Turns out last night was big for her."
"Yeah?" Mark asked, "She okay?"
"Lots on her mind," Roger said, "She needed a friend, I was happy to oblige. You better go wake her up though, that sounded like a mother on rampage call."
"It was," Mary said, yawning in the doorway, "Damnit. I just had the night of my life and she's in town to ruin it."
"I thought she supported your dancing," Mark said, leaning over to kiss her as she walked by.
She returned the kiss, but the tension was readable. She was angry.
"The theater supports it, they actually pay me a small stipend to live in the dorms and dance. My mother on the other hand," Mary continued, finding her usual mug and pouring coffee in it, "Wants to run my life. Dancing is my only escape from her. She wanted me to stay in Boston."
"Oh," Mark replied, his look of sympathy mirroring Roger's, "Is it better if you go…"
"And see her before she shows up to the theater, yes," Mary replied, "I don't want to drag you into this, but it won't be a good meeting. With Erin's death, she's going to want me to come home, Mark. I don't intend to. Ever."
"Mary," Mark said, putting down her coffee, "I'll go to the ends of the earth for you, what do you want me to do?"
"Shoot me now," Mary replied, "Please."
Roger formed a gun with his fingers and shot her, winking at her.
"Thanks," Mary smiled grimly, "She's the travel agent for guilt trips. I love her because she's my mother, but I left when I turned twenty for a reason. The money that ABT offered me got me out of there."
"Does she know that you have a life outside of dance?" Roger asked, "She might not be too good to Mark."
"She'll have to be," Mary replied, "She's going to have to deal with the life I have outside of dance. If not, she'll never know about it."
"Okay," Mark replied, "Let me get dressed and I'll go with you."
"Thank you," Mary replied, downing the rest of her coffee, "And Roger, thank you for listening last night. You gonna be here most of the day?"
Roger looked up from his notebook.
"Yeah, why?" he asked.
"I have a surprise for you guys, and I want someone home to get it, K?" Mary smiled as Mark came out of the bedroom dressed, "Give me a second, Marcus, and we'll jet."
She headed toward him and kissed him deeply. Breaking the kiss, she slapped him on the ass and headed into the bedroom. Mark blushed but continued to get dressed, pulling on his shoes.
"I still can't used to you being called Marcus," Roger said, shaking his head.
"Still beats Pookie," Mark smiled, "You good though? Aren't you playing tonight?"
Roger laughed.
"Yes mother," he replied, "I'm singing tonight, can't really play yet. Thanks for asking and good luck, I have a feeling you'll need it."
Mark sighed. He hoped he wasn't right.
Mary was fully angry by the time she and Mark reached the Hilton. Mark knew that Mary had a temper, it was evident by the experience with McCardle, but also, she was so angry that her body language screamed to leave her alone. The look in her eyes screamed it as well.
"Whatever you do, keep me calm," Mary asked, "I'm so sorry to drag you into this, Mark, but she's gonna make me crazy."
"You told me that she was tough," Mark said, "After hearing her on the machine, how tough is she?"
"Tough, angry Irish woman," Mary replied, as they entered the Hilton, "Think your mother with horns."
Mark shuddered. He and Mary had the family talk a few weeks ago, his admitting to not returning to Scarsdale because of his mother, Mary's that she turned to dance to get away from her mother. He knew something was very wrong with her relationship with her mother, but to see her reaction to it was unsettling. He knew that he would at least be her rock.
"Not that bad," Mark smiled, "You know she does care about you."
"Yeah, and my checkbook," Mary said, scowling, "You don't know about the Boston Blaines, do you?"
"Boston Blaines?" Mark asked, "Mary, what are you saying?"
"I'm not the financially poor dancer that you think you know," Mary said, settling into the chairs in the lobby of the hotel, "Mark, My family has been in Boston for over 60 years. The business of art and antique dealing was very profitable and well, I managed to get the dance genes in the family. Quite the scandal. My gram was pretty supportive of my dancing, my mother wasn't. Gram left me a great amount of money. Mom's not too happy about it, and at every opportunity wants to make sure that I don't have it."
"How much are we talking about here, Mary?" Mark asked, "I mean your mother just wants to make sure that you have an inheritance."
"It's eight million dollars, Mark," Mary said.
Mark's look of surprise saddened Mary. She met his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm a millionaire."
Back at the loft, Mary's surprise was a bit startling for Roger. The repairmen started on the skylight about an hour after Mark and Mary left. When he asked about it, they handed him a letter from Benny. Mary had called him and reminded him about the lease that the boys had, and she had also paid the month's rent. Happy Christmas it said. Roger was stunned, but also welcomed the lack of cold in the loft. It was about time they were warm.