Death of a Muse-Chapter 19
Legal disclaimer-Larson yes, me no.
Author's Note-My thanks for the reviews. Dennis Shaw, get out of my head, there's only room in there for me, Muhahaha! Sweetie-Huge virtual cookie on the way. Next few days will be insane, please understand if lack of update. Review please. It keeps me sane.
When they returned to the loft, Mary's surprise had been finished. Roger had gone onto rehearsal, his new song done, so Mark and Mary had the loft to themselves for a short while. She kept an eye on the time, knowing full well that she would have to go on to the theater in about an hour, but wanting to spend time with Mark after the emotional time with her own mother.
He hadn't noticed what she had done, so she smiled at him, walked a circle in the main room then pointed up. Mark followed her finger and stared. For the first time in years he realized that there was no draft in the loft.
"Mary, you didn't," he said, "How the hell did you get Benny to do that?"
"I reminded him that you guys had paid the rent," she replied, pulling Mark into a hug, "He owed you a habitable place to live, it's in the lease, Marcus, darling."
"I have tried and tried to get him to stick to it, but he kept saying that only a lawyer," Mark stopped, "You didn't."
"No, I didn't, but I wanted to," Mary said, "Benny was great though, considering the other thing I did. And I don't want to hear no, so take it as the Christmas gift it is."
"What did you do?" Mark asked.
"Paid January's rent," Mary looked at him, "And it wasn't with the Blaine monies, it was from what I made with the ABT."
"Mary, you can't do that," Mark protested, "That money is yours."
"And now it's paid the rent," Mary countered, "Mark, consider it a gift. I want it to stay that way. You and I are not about money, I told you that. Besides, I know how much you do for this household. You made me a part of it when you said to stay. It's my contribution not just for a roof over my head, it's for the sanity that you guys helped me keep in the past few weeks."
Mark looked at her. The green eyes that met his were far from the anger that he saw earlier. She was happy.
"No, we're not about money," Mark said, "I just don't want to have to depend on you."
"Don't ever expect to. The way my mother is working on the will, I probably won't have the money. You don't have to, this is a gift, Mark," Mary said, "Now just say thank you and we move on."
Mark drew her into a kiss.
"Thank you," he said, breaking the kiss, "and please don't do it again without discussing it with me."
"You're welcome," she smiled, "I promise I will, okay?"
"Okay," Mark said, "Besides, I did get paid for my movie."
"What did you wind up calling it?" Mary asked, turning from him.
"That's for Christmas Eve," Mark said, "I'm borrowing Collins' TV so that we all can watch it."
"I'm home early on Christmas Eve," Mary said, "They aren't having an evening performance after all."
"Really?" Mark asked, "That's fantastic."
"I know, I was going to surprise you, but seeing what you worked so hard on finally on the air, well, that's a big enough surprise," Mary said, gathering her dance bag, "The worst part is that it's time to go."
Mark stopped her and kissed her again.
"Dance like you mean it tonight," he said, "I'll be here when you get home."
Mary smiled, the first genuine smile Mark had seen in days.
"With that knowledge, I will."
Roger came home to find Mark sitting in the loft, staring out the window, occasionally drinking the hot tea that he had grown accustomed to seeing him with. Mark was in shirt sleeves, something hard to believe since they had gotten used to the chill in the loft. Roger found the room surprisingly warm.
"Mary's doing," Mark said, answering the question that Roger hadn't asked.
"I know, it's just different," Roger said, "You think she knows what she did."
"Take away one of our major complaints? Yeah," Mark laughed, "I thanked her, but told to at least talk it over with us before she talked to Benny."
"His reply was amazing," Roger said, "Have you read the letter from him?"
"No," Mark said, "What did he say?"
"Merry Christmas," Roger smiled, "It's one of those rare moments where Benjamin Coffin the Third had a heart."
"He still does, Roger," Mark replied, "I'll never forget the ride to the theater."
"Yeah, and we did talk," Roger said, "But something about him is still a little untrustworthy. I'm trying though."
"I know you are and I appreciate it," Mark nodded, still staring out the window, "Hey, you and Mimi need to stick around on Christmas Eve for about an hour before you go out anywhere."
"What's up?" Roger asked, joining him on the ledge.
"Believe it or not, Buzz Line is airing the movie," Mark responded, "Christmas Eve. I thought a little celebrating would be in order, Mary's off early, Collins is bringing his TV and Chang, I invited the girls, they're bringing some snacks, and thanks to Mary, I now have the cash for a nice meal at the Life."
"Sounds like a plan," Roger replied, "How did meeting Mrs. Blaine go?"
Mark took a moment to answer the question. The look he gave Roger as he sipped his tea said volumes. Roger studied the look that Mark gave him. It wasn't an easy meeting, he could tell.
"I understand Mary a whole lot more now," Mark replied, "Her mother is a piece of work. She actually asked me what I had to offer Mary for her future."
"You guys are only dating, not engaged," Roger stated, "Wow. Mary must have been pissed."
"She did everything calmly, but she was pretty mad," Mark's replied was muffled by his sipping his tea, "She's not really talking about it, but I think she's going to dance it out tonight. Supposedly her mother is going to the show, but I don't know. She's got more going on than I ever imagined."
"What?" Roger asked, "You want to talk about it?"
"Yeah," Mark replied, "First off, Mary is more connected than you think."
Roger got up and walked to the kitchen, looking for tea as well.
"How connected?" Roger asked.
"Have you ever heard of the Boston Blaines?" Mark continued.
He watched Roger's look.
"She's due to inherit eight million dollars," Mark stated, waiting for Roger to have the similar reaction that Mark had, "I know I felt the same way."
"That's shocking," Roger replied, "But it does explain a lot."
"How?"
"Her level of trust and her complete and total dedication to dance," Roger said, "Remember that she was completely dedicated to ballet until she met you."
"Yeah, I know, but," Mark started.
"But nothing," Roger interrupted, "She spent ten years of her life dedicated to the perfection of ballet. That's devotion, Mark. Like you with film. You know every thing you do when it comes to filming a scene. She sees it the same way on stage. Ballet is about perfection, and she's right on the mark with nearly every move. She's a perfectionist, but she's never had to worry about the rent, where her next meal was coming from, if she was going to be able to live the next morning."
"I know, I know," Mark replied, "She also has had to deal with not being able to trust a soul, thanks to the money. She even said that she has to protect herself from people who think they can be her friend for the money."
"Like I said, explains a lot," Roger replied, sipping his own tea, then adding sugar, "She has very little trust of people. You, Marcus, changed all that."
"She trusts me, I know that," Mark glared at the nickname, "I saw her with her mother. Roger, this goes pretty deep. She won't talk about it, but something happened."
"Yeah, that you can see," Roger looked at him, "She reminds me a lot of you. She's so detached it's almost like she's walking through life. At least that was noticeable when she first met you. After that whole McCardle business, she's engaging."
"I'm not detached," Mark replied.
"You were," Roger sat next to him, "After all the shit I put you through, it's understandable. It's called protecting yourself. She's getting you to engage, though. I like this, you're a new Mark."
"I'm not new, just in love," Mark said, "Anyway, what the hell do I do now?"
"That one is yours to figure out, Mark," Roger said, gently picking up his guitar.
Flexing his still bandaged hand he started to strum it. It needed tuning, but Roger was gently working on it. Grimacing slightly he played an old favorite.
"If you're going to start on Mussetta's waltz, I'm leaving," Mark stated, getting up.
"Hey, don't start, it's the first time in a few days that I can do this," Roger started, "And I do know other music…"
"Play it then, Mussetta is overplayed, Mr. Rock Star," Mark laughed as Roger gave him a one finger salute.
"Don't be a jerk, Cohen," Roger said, switching to 'Stairway to Heaven', "She does give a damn about you. Just know that."
Mark turned.
"What did she tell you?" he asked, watching the musician work.
"She has a lot on her mind, Mark," Roger stopped and put the guitar down, "She loves you. It's freaking her out, but she really loves you. She also loves the ballet."
"I know that," Mark said, "It's her life."
"And that's the point, Cohen, her life is the ballet. She's trying to figure out where you fit into it," Roger said, "Mimi went through this with me."
"And you with her," Mark replied, "Shit."
"And you don't realize that you're doing the same goddamn thing, Mark," Roger said, "At least you're not running away."
"You think she might?" Mark asked.
"Maybe," Roger said, "She's so confused, Mark, I don't know what she's going to do. She doesn't want to hurt you."
Mark was shocked by the admission. Mary had shared a lot with Roger. He wished she had shared it with him.
"I don't what to do," Mark said, "I told her I would wait, whatever it took."
"Good move," Roger replied, "My suggestion, be patient."
"Would you be this way if it was Mimi?" Mark asked.
"Yeah, I would," Roger replied, "And Mimi is like that, she just hides it better."
Mark smiled.
"So, what time are you playing tonight?" Mark asked, changing the subject.
"10:30," Roger replied, "What, you thinking of coming?"
"And bringing Mary, if it's cool," Mark said, "We should be going out and doing things that couples do."
"Well then, I look forward to it," Roger said, "I have to go get ready."
Mark went and sat back down on the window ledge. He had to get ready to.
It was a long night for Mary, and her days of not being in class were beginning to show. She hit every step with perfection, but her line was off, she didn't look like it flowed. Her ballet had been effortless up until this night, and she knew it was from the lack of classes.
As she finished the final bow of the night and headed for the dressing room, she saw the look of the director who was heading toward her and stopped him in his tracks.
"I know, don't even start, I'll be in class at 9 tomorrow," she said, "I have had so much going on lately that I have missed class, I am sorry, but I will be there."
The director didn't answer, only smiled.
"Thank you, you saved me from having to say it, but Mary," he began, "Considering all that you have been through, it was a great performance tonight."
"Thank you, I will improve it though," she said, "I am sorry. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," he said, "And get some form of sleep, will you?"
Mary sighed and headed to change. As she did, she couldn't help but notice that someone was waiting for her in the hall. Mark. She ran to the stage door, peeked out to make sure no one else was watching and kissed him passionately.
"And hello to you too," Mark said as they broke apart, "How was tonight?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," Mary said, "You want to go eat?"
"No, I'd rather go drink," she replied, taking his hand, "Let me go change and I'll meet you out here in ten?"
"You bet," Mark smiled, "And you look fantastic."
"Thanks."
When Mary emerged several minutes later, her long hair was braided behind her head, her skirt perfect and the long shirt she wore made her figure look amazing.
"Wow," Mark replied, "You look stunning."
"Thank you, and now where are we going to drink?" Mary asked, "It's been that kind of night."
"No problem, let's go where Roger is playing," Mark suggested, "Thought you might want a night of music that wasn't classical."
"Right idea, let's make it an early one, though," Mary replied, "I have to make sure that I am in class at 9."
"No problem," Mark said, putting a arm around her waist, "If you want to talk about it…"
"I don't, but thanks," Mary said, "Let's just go forget about the outside world for a little while, okay?"
"Done."