Author's Note:A short, angsty fic, my idea of a possible was Roger and Mimi met. I may use this story to set up another story. Enjoy!
She first noticed him on a crisp spring night in May.
Mimi Marquez was leading home Michael McKinnon, an Irish man who had offered her $5,000 to spend the night with him. Though Michael was incredibly drunk and had a family, Mimi put it out of her conscious. The rent wasn't going to pay itself.
As she opened the door to her building, Mimi felt a hand on her ass. Forcing a seductive smile, she looked over her shoulder at Michael, who was grinning stupidly at her. She turned away, rolling her eyes. "My loft's upstairs," she murmured as they stepped into the building.
Michael chuckled thickly, looking around the dark hallway. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make it that far. Wanna just fuck here?"
Fingering the five grand in her pocket, Mimi took a deep breath. "I insist. I have a bed, condoms, oil, handcuffs. Anything you need."
He perked up. "Handcuffs? You got handcuffs?"
Mimi seriously regretted mentioning handcuffs. "Yeah. So let's just head upstairs."
Nodding numbly, he started his rocky climb, Mimi following behind him. As they reached the flight below Mimi's, Mimi heard hushed voices.
"Hurry, April. I'm dying here," a man's voice groaned huskily.
Mimi heard a delicate sigh of frustration and pleasure. "How do you expect me to inject the damn thing with your hand up my dress?" a woman breathed sensually.
"Just do it," he said.
Mimi walked up a set of stairs to see a couple on a trashcan. The girl, a frail woman with red hair and chunky highlights, was sitting on the man's lap, a needle pressed into her vein. The man had short, blond hair and green-blue eyes, one hand covering the hand of the girl's, slowly pushing the heroin into her bloodstream, while the other was under her skirt, making her moan and lean her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed in obvious ecstasy.
Mimi watched in fascination as "April" pulled needle out of her arm and turned around on the man's lap, capturing his moth with hers.
The man slowly stood, lifting April gently up and pressing her against the wall in a powerful kiss. Mimi saw his arm muscles flex as he held April tightly against himself.
As the man started trailing kisses over April's neck, the girl turned to face Mimi, her expression changing from passionate to surprised.
"Roger!" she chirped. "Stop!"
"Why?" he panted, stepping away quickly.
April pointed at Mimi, who felt like a deer caught in headlights as the man christened "Roger" turned his electric gaze on her.
"Marquez! What the fuck are you doing?" Michael snarled, grabbing Mimi's arm and dragging her upstairs into her loft.
Mimi heard as she was rushed upstairs, "Now . . . where were we?" come from Roger.
When Michael roughly chained her to the bed, all Mimi could think about was how Roger had tenderly kissed April, protecting her in his strong arms. When Michael ripped off her clothes and started licking her, all Mimi could think about was how Roger had touched April in a way meant to please her, instead of himself. And when Michael impaled her ferociously, pumping his body into hers, when she cried out in pain, when Michael smashed his mouth onto hers and said, "Shut up, whore. This is all you'll ever be good for," all Mimi could think about was how when April had told Roger to stop, he had moved away.
Mimi lay on the bed as Michael recovered from his orgasm, picked up his clothes and threw a one hundred dollar bill on her body. "For the handcuffs," he explained, before leaving the loft.
Flipping the switch that opened the handcuffs, Mimi walked naked into the shower, washing Michael's saliva and semen from her body with cheap soap.
Two months later, as Mimi walked up the stairs to her loft after grocery shopping, she heard shouting coming from the loft below hers; Roger and April's.
"No! Oh my God, please no! April! Mark! APRIL!" Roger was screaming hysterically.
Mimi walked to the entrance to the loft, listening. The door was open.
"What's wrong?" another man's voice asked. There was a moment of silence. "Oh my fuckin' God," the man whispered.
"Mimi held her breath impatiently, wondering what happened.
"She's dead, Mark!" Roger screamed. "Dead! She fucking killed herself!" He stopped telling, starting to sob.
"But . . . why?" Mark said, sounding as if he was crying as well. "Oh my God.
"What?" Roger cried.
"Read this," Mark said.
Roger was silent. "What the fuck is this supposed to mean!" he yelled. "This is why she slit her wrists! Goddamn fuckin' son of a bitch . . ." He continued shouting obscenities. "I mean . . . I just . . . I've got to get out of here," he said desperately, storming out of the loft, onto the street.
Mimi stood quietly, her groceries in her hand. April had killed herself? Why? Poor, poor Roger.
The other man, Mark, started dialing the phone. "Maureen?" he said, starting to cry again. "It's Mark. No, I'm fine. It's April . . . She's dead. Of course this isn't a fucking joke! She slit her wrists! Roger just left. He found her in the bathtub. Just come here, honey, I'm so, so scared," he said thickly.
Mimi started up the stairs as quietly as she could, her groceries seemingly weightless. She didn't want to intrude on the group's grieving.
A/N: I may do a sequel kind of. If I did, it would be Mimi's thoughts during "Light My Candle" if this had really happened. Kind of confusing, but if I do it you'll see what I'm talking about. Keep R&Ring! SM
