Disclaimer: All characters and story belong to Jonathon Larson.

The afternoon found Mark pacing in the "kitchen" of the loft. Fuming. Again. Maureen was supposed to have been home two hours ago. And she wasn't. Yet again.

Reading a book on the duct-taped couch, Collins glanced at him. "Oh, Marky, boy. Don't get your undies in a bunch." Mark whipped his head around to glare at the genius. "She'll turn up sometime. She always does."

Mark sighed before collapsing on a chair. Yeah, she would turn up. Probably smelling like some other guy's cologne. Then it would be the same story. She got sidetracked when she was shopping. She found another audition that took up most of the day. She had "pressing business" at work (though what "pressing business" meant working at a cheap diner, Mark couldn't figure out). Then there would be another argument, another fight, more accusations, more name-calling. Then she would leave in a snit, and Mark would be left home alone. Again. Then the whole crazy, pointless, tiring roulette would begin again with Mark pacing the kitchen, waiting for her to come back home.

The phone rang. Mark practically jumped out of his chair to reach it. Collins rolled his eyes. "Whipped," he muttered under his breath.

"Maureen!" Mark screeched into the phone.

There was no answer.

"Hello?" Mark demanded.

"Mark?" A raspy voice asked.

"Roger? What—"

"She's dead," Roger sobbed over the line.

Mark's body turned to ice. "What?"

Hearing Mark's tone, Collins silently closed his book and looked up at him.

"April. She's dead," Roger whispered.

"Stay there. We'll be there in five minutes."

Mark slammed the phone onto the receiver and yanked his jacket and scarf on.

"What happened?" Collins demanded.

"It's April. She's dead," Mark choked out. He dug through the junk on the counter to find a piece of paper and a pen.

"What! How!"

"I don't know." As Collins scrambled off of the couch and pulled his coat on, Mark hesitated for a second, considering what he should write. "Maureen--stay here. DO NOT LEAVE." His anger flared as he threw the paper on the table. Where the hell was Maureen when they needed her?

The two friends then raced out of the loft, both of them scared to think what they were going to find at April's.

Please review. I'd love to hear what you think.