It was more than perfect. What we shared everyday over our corrupted lives was worth the corruption, the fights, the tears, everything. Usually, this was the time when I would get bored, we would constantly fight, and then just break up. That wasn't near the case. Of course, unlike Mimi's accusations, we did fight, dumb things really, but nothing that lasted over two days. Actually, most of the fights were ended because I didn't like the thought of him sleeping on the couch, which he made himself do when he didn't think I was in a good mood. I remember the biggest fight that happened actually. He had come home early I guess, and I was out working.

Before I tell you this story, I have to tell you what I do for a living. It's not just drumming. No, that's a hobby. I could never make rent and food and clothing money off a few quarters a day. Although, people were often surprisingly generous, it still isn't enough to live off of. So, since I left school early, since I had nothing else, I sold myself. It's hard to tell people this, it really is. Innocent Angel, she's a hooker? Well, not so seriously anymore, with the AIDS and things, but the money from killing that puppy was going down, and I needed it. Collins had been working, but I felt bad, so every so often, when he was working, I'd go out. I could make over a hundred a night, so it wasn't something I did a lot, but when I came home that night, seeing him at home, well, it was hard.

So, Collins tutors on weekdays after morning classes, and he usually gets home late, like ten. I try to only stay out a few hours, get home at nine. That night I did get home at around nine, ready to go clean the messy make-up, change, the whole nine yards, even maybe cook out of guilt before Collins came home. I was too late. I walked into the apartment, not expecting anyone to be there. I threw my bag on the floor, and I heard something. Collins was at the windowsill smoking a joint. I jumped, once again, not expecting anyone to be there. My appearance spoke for itself really, red fishnets, five-inch stilettos, long curly black wig, dark make-up, really not something I would wear on a regular basis. He looked me over for a few seconds. I thought about bullshitting my way out of this, but I figured he needed to know. He probably didn't want to know, but he needed to. He put his joint down in an ashtray, and crossed his arms.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He asked me angrily. That pissed me off. I know he loves me, and gets worried, but there was no need for that attitude. I was all out ready to explain to him, but that got me fired up, and I had a few drinks earlier. I put my hand on my hip and pointed at him.

"Don't you give me that shit Collins. I come home after not seeing you for a good day now, and you give me that attitude. Oh no, that is not happening." I said, and I marched to the bedroom. I heard him run after my and grab my arm. He spun me around to face him.

"Angel, just answer my question, I have been waiting for you for close to five hours. Then I see you coming home, looking like you just came back from a slut fest, what the hell am I supposed to act like?" He asked, annoyance ever present in his eyes. I stared them down.

"Maybe if you would just trust me Collins. I'm not out to cheat on you every second I get." I told him.

"Then where were you?" He asked, and I ripped my arm out of his grip.

"Keeping us alive, that's what!" I shouted, the first time I shouted at Collins, at least in an angry way. He stepped back, giving me this weird look.

"What were you doing?" He asked again, and gently took both of my forearms in his hands, bending down and looked up at me. I turned my head, and shook it slowly. I was slowly dropping out of the ring. I was afraid, guilty, I couldn't tell him. "Angel." He said sternly but very softly.

"I'm not cheating on you Collins." I said, and looked him in the eyes, through my own that were becoming cloudy with tears. I was ashamed of myself.

"Then where were you sweetheart?" He asked, fully aware than his dignity and all that would be lost just by giving in to me. I couldn't take that; he didn't deserve this. "I don't care, tell me, you were out with Mimi doing lines, I don't care Angel, just tell me." He said, and I broke down. He frowned, and rubbed my shoulder. Sighing, her lifted my chin to look into my eyes. "It's that bad is it?" He asked, figuring I wouldn't be crying if I were just out with Maureen drinking a soda. I nodded my head. How could I tell him? What was even the right term, prostitute, hooker, slut?

At that moment, he sighed again, and picked me up like a small child, and placed me in his lap as he sat on the couch. He wiped the tears from my cheek, and kissed my temple lightly.

"Just tell me what it is baby." He said softly, and rubbed my back, and I knew from the pain in his voice, he hoped I was just snorting crack with Mimi at the club. I sat up, and looked into his eyes. I took his hand, hoping I wouldn't die telling him. My heart was beating so fast I could barely sit up.

"Collins…I really don't know how to tell you this, but I'm a…" I didn't know how to word it. I got angry with myself, I got angry with him. "I a fucking hooker!" I screamed, and broke down again into my hands. I felt him shift, and he lifted me up off him. I looked over at him, and wiped my face. He was getting up, and walked over to the door. "Where are you going?" I asked, pitifully.

"To the loft." He said, sounding as angry as anything, and shut the door. I shouted at the door afterwards, hoping he would hear my pathetic pleas and come back, and hold me. I didn't see him for three days.

I told Mimi about the whole idea, well, no duh. She was the reason he came back at all. She told him I wanted him back, I was a wreck, I needed him back. I knew she did, because on that third day, I sat, miserable, drinking lukewarm tea on my couch, and he came in. I wasn't dressed up, no make-up, nothing. Just a t-shirt and jeans. One of his t-shirts actually. When he walked in, I looked at him, stood up, and ran over to him. I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face in his chest, and just cried. He knew, and wrapped his arms around me, resting his face on the top of my head. I could figure we stood like that for about a half an hour.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled after a long pause. "I'm sorry I hurt you Collins." I told him, and he lifted my chin, and kissed me as sweetly as he possibly could. He let go, and I looked into his eyes.

"And I'm sorry. No matter what you were doing, I shouldn't have acted like that; it's your life Angel. You do what you want with it." He whispered, and I shook my head.

"No, I'm glad you got mad, I guess." I said, thinking. "You're just trying to save me, and I love you for it." I said, and he kissed me again, holding my hand softly, massaging the palm with his fingers. "I love you." I said inbetween kisses. He moans lightly in my mouth, holds me close. I can feel his hands wandering down my backside and I drop the kiss. "Collins…baby…can we…not?" I asked him softly, and he examined my face for a second, and nodded.

"Of course sweetie, I know, I should have." He said softly, and we walked to our bedroom. Of course, when we got in bed, we made out for an hour, but nothing else. Sex had another part in my life now, and for a few weeks it ruined that part of my life with Collins. He was very anxious, but patient. Just snuggling at the loft, where Roger and Mark were very happy to see us. The whole fight means nothing now of course. Collins sometimes teases me for it, calling me a slut, even declining sex, afraid that I would ask him for a bill afterwards. In retaliation, I would call him a pussy, and he would call me a liar, it didn't make any sense, that I was a gay man, so he couldn't be a pussy. He always won play fights; he had a good talent for that.

As we lay in each other's arms in bed, he would kiss me at random intervals, whisperings sweet nothings in my ear, making me giggle. It was like the night we met and made love for the first time. He was treating me like a queen.