Note: Okay so this is the first one-shot. Hope you guys like it. More one-shots to follow. Thanks so much for all the input. I'm going to do as many of the voted-for and requested ones.
Mark stepped out of the bathroom and gave a few final swipes to his hair. Roger whistled and set down his guitar.
"Where the fuck're you goin'?" he asked with a laugh.
"Nowhere."
"You and Maureen got a hot date?"
"No time soon."
"Marky? You all right?"
"Take your AZT."
Mark picked up his scarf and headed for the door. Roger jumped up and grabbed his arm.
"Mark, seriously. What's goin' on?"
"I'm going out."
"Alone?"
"Yes, alone. I'm a big boy. I can even tie my own shoes," he said with a smirk.
Roger let go of his arm. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What?"
"Your camera. You never go out alone without that camera."
"Tonight I do."
"So you're going out alone without Maureen and without your camera."
"What the hell do you want me to say, Roger?"
"How about you just tell me what the hell's going on?"
"She cheated."
"What?"
"She fucking cheated, okay? She cheated and I'm going out."
"You okay? I mean, going out alone or whatever?"
Mark's voice quieted. "I'm fine."
An hour later, Mark finished his second beer. He could feel a slight buzz. Just enough that he felt some of the tension leaving him. Again. She'd cheated again. The first time, she'd been drunk. Fine, whatever. But now she cheated again. Mark had stormed out before she even finished saying anything.
"Buy you a drink?" a voice beside him said.
Mark turned his head and saw an African American woman in a business suit sitting down beside him.
"Aren't I supposed to ask you that?"
She smiled, blushing slightly. "Guess I'm not one for convention."
Mark accepted the beer from her and raised it in her direction. "To hating convention."
"Amen."
They drank and sat for a minute in silence. Mark glanced over at her. She was something. Her short black hair was just wild enough to give an edge to her otherwise polished look.
"So what brings you here?" she asked.
"Just hoping for a good time. You?" Mark tried to sound flirtatious, but knew it had never been his forte.
"Same," she said, a small smile gracing her lips.
They finished their drinks and Mark insisted on buying the next round. By the time those were gone, he felt looser, more relaxed. More daring.
"You, uh, you wanna dance?" he asked, trying not to slur.
She nodded and stretched a hand out to him. Mark took her hand and led her to the dance floor. It wasn't so much a dance floor as an empty space between the bar and the tables. They swayed unsteadily, holding onto each other. After a few minutes, Mark laughed.
"I'm not a very good dancer," he said.
"Me either," she slurred, giggling.
They headed back to the bar and ordered more drinks. Mark smiled at her and, on alcohol-driven impulse, leaned in for a kiss. He half-expected her to slap him. The filmmaker was pleasantly surprised when she slipped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss.
The next morning, Mark opened his eyes and groaned, shutting them again. The woman from the bar lay curled up beside him, her head on his chest. He remembered in an instant everything that had happened. The kiss, paying the tab, the cab ride to her apartment. He remembered the kissing, the caressing, her mouth, her hands…His eyes opened when he felt her shift away from him.
"Um…hi," she said, blushing.
"Hi," Mark said, feeling his own cheeks flushing. "You, um, sleep okay?"
"Ye-yeah. You?"
Mark nodded, then groaned. "Shit…you got any aspirin though? My head's killing me."
"Mine too. I'll be right back."
He found his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed and slipped them on. The woman, he noticed that she slipped a robe on first. Maureen never did that. She'd strut around the loft, not caring at all about Roger or anyone else seeing her. This woman, she was different. Shyer, more reserved. Mark frowned at the thought of Maureen….What the hell was he going to do?
The woman came back with a couple of aspirin and a cup of water. Mark took it and smiled gratefully.
"I, um, I'm just going to go get dressed. I have to go to work."
"Yeah, I, uh, I gotta get going too."
Mark leaned over the side of the bed and found his boxers. He slipped them on under the blankets before getting out of bed. Pulling up his jeans, he tried not to panic. What the hell had he been thinking? What if this woman thought it meant something? Shit, what if it did mean something?
The woman pulled another business suit from her closet. It looked like the one from last night, just a different color. She bit her lip and frowned.
"Um, look, about last night…we were really drunk."
Mark nodded. "Yeah, yeah we were."
"Let's, um, let's not make a big thing of this, okay?"
Mark sighed in relief. "Oh, good. I was afraid you'd think…"
"I worried the same thing about you…so, um, it's fine. We're two consenting adults who met, had a little too much to drink, and spent one night together."
"Exactly. Perfectly normal," he said as he pulled his sweater over his head. "And now I'll just find my shoes and I'll be on my way."
The woman smiled, looking as relieved as Mark felt. "Thanks."
"You too."
Mark slipped his shoes on and left. It took him a minute to get his bearings and figure out which direction was home. He was nearly at the loft before he realized he didn't even know the woman's name.
Four Months Later…
Mark sighed, wondering why he hadn't just told Maureen no. He approached the makeshift stage and looked around. No sign of Maureen. A woman knelt in front of the mixers, mumbling to herself.
"Excuse me? I'm looking for Maureen. She called—" he stopped when the woman stood up.
The woman from the bar. Mark's eyes widened and he tried to stop blushing. "Um…hi."
The woman frowned, eyes full of embarrassment. "Wait—you're Mark?"
How the hell did she know his name? Unless… "Joanne?"
She nodded, shifting around. "I told her not to call you."
"That's Maureen," he said with a shrug. "But can I help since I'm here?"
"I hired an engineer," she said quickly.
"Oh, okay. Well, um, nice, uh, nice meeting you again," he mumbled as he turned away. This was Joanne? The woman from the bar was the woman Maureen had cheated with?
"Wait," Joanne said. Mark froze but didn't turn back. "He's three hours late."
Shit. Mark turned back, trying not to make eye contact. He unwound his scarf and knelt, staring at the wires tangled on the floor and plugged into various parts of the mixer.
"The samples won't delay, but the cable—"
"There's another way." Mark pointed to the microphone. "Say something. Anything."
"Test, one-two-three—"
"Anything but that," Mark said.
"This is weird," she said quietly.
"It's weird," he agreed.
"Very weird."
"Fuckin' weird."
