Cat Scratch: The Story of Mimi Marquez

Sexy Voice Man

I wandered back into my apartment, after of course; I made contact with Sexy Voice Man. I heard two people hurrying down the stairs, and listened to an argument between Benny and camera boy, but the next words out of Benny's mouths surprised me the most.

"Roger, you're looking good for a guy coming off of a year of withdrawal." I only knew he was talking to Sexy Voice Man, because of Roger's (Yes. I can finally stop calling him Sexy Voice man!) reply. Withdrawal. That meant…if that meant what I thought it meant, than Roger would understand how easy it is to be addicted to smack, a lot less explaining later on…

"What do you want Benny?"

"Well, my investor-"

"You mean your father in law?" There was a new edge in Roger's voice now; obviously Benny had gotten him in the right spot.

There was so much for me to wonder about Sexy Voice Man-Roger. There was something in the way that he moved, and spoke-he had a mysterious aura, the kind that screams, "I'm hurting, but I'm gonna pretend to be a tough guy, so fuck you." Hm. That's alright, I like tough guys who play hard to get. I started to sweat just a bit, usually an excuse for me to jump for my precious drug, but I had other things to be concerned about. I wanted-needed to know more about him.

I wanted him so bad, and I had never even talked to him. So much for the fearless Mimi Marquez, who can strip herself of all dignity for a room of drunks, but can't even muster the guts to say hi to a hot guy. Pathetic. Not that I had much time anyway. I sighed, guys can be frustrating.

I continued to listen to Roger and camera boy's argument with Benny. I gathered that camera boy had recently been dumped by his girlfriend for a girl, which judging by his cute laugh, and amused tone, Roger found funny and also that Benny had once lived in the loft, with Roger, camera boy, Maureen(camera's boy's girlfriend gone lesbian) and Collins(Maybe the guy who got the keys to the upstairs loft earlier?).

My mind wandered, until I heard a pair of people making their way up the stairs, camera boy bitching and complaining the whole way.

"Why do you still laugh about Maureen? It's not funny! And who does Benny think he-"

"Shut the fuck up Mark." Mark. Okay, so camera's boys name is Mark. That's easy to remember. Roger (Like I'd ever forget) and Mark. Simple enough. I settled into the chair, considered getting up to prepare my smack, which I could tell my body was craving.

A few minutes later, when I did get up, I found myself walking past my needles, and out of my apartment, guided by the light of my candle.

I was startled, yet also satisfied when I saw Roger, guitar in hand, walking into his loft, looking defeated. That meant he was alone, I had heard Mark leave a few minutes before.

Now was my chance. I felt a mischievous look come across my face, and knew what I needed to do. It may seem almost desperate, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I blew out my candle, and walked to the door of Roger and Mark's loft. I closed my eyes, breathed, and knocked on the door. What's the worst that could happen?

He answered faster than I thought he would, and obviously thinking I was Mark, opened the door.

"What'd you forget?" I held my candle at him, hoping I sounded sincere, yet seductive at the same time.

"Got a light?" I watched as his eyes quickly moved up my body, and stopped on my face, "I know you." I didn't wait for an invite, and walked past him into his loft. "You're…You're shivering." Wow. He really sounded like he cared. I didn't notice the tremor until Roger did, to be honest. It was something I was used to and usually didn't feel anymore.

I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to face him. "It's nothing, they turned off my feet, and I'm just a little weak on my feet." I wouldn't let him see how desperately addicted to heroin I was yet. "Would you light my candle?" I looked down slightly, and noticed that he was wrapping me in his leather jacket. So far, so good. I decided to take a chance, "What are you staring at?" He had been secretively sneaking peeks, but I knew he was watching me, as I moved through his loft.

"Nothing," Wow. What a wuss. "Your hair in the moonlight." Maybe, not so much of a wuss. More sweetheart like now. "You look familiar." He lit my candle with a match.

He had probably seen me at the club, but I didn't want to share my job quite yet. I stumbled slightly, trying not to pass out. I needed my fix soon. Roger reached out and kept me standing somewhat straight.

He looked me right in the eye, before sincerely asking, "Can you make it?" I couldn't tell him about the drugs yet, so I made yet another excuse.

"Just haven't eaten much today," I told him, as I pulled myself away from him to walk away. "At least the room stopped spinning…Anyway…" Staring again. He was so busted, "What?" I asked him curiously.

"Nothing," Back to wuss Roger apparently. "Your smile reminded me of…" A sad look crossed his face, so I tried to get the focus back on me.

I pretended to be annoyed, "I always remind people of…Who is she?" He stuttered a bit before answering.

"She died. Her name was April." Aw, well that means he's single, I think. I secretly blew out my candle, when I was sure he wasn't looking.

"It's out again." I showed him my candle. "Sorry about your friend." I added as an afterthought, hoping I sounded sincere. "Would you light my candle?" We stood awkwardly as he lit my candle again.

"Well?" He said.

"Yeah…" I said. "Ow!" I immediately brought my now burned finger up to my mouth.

"Oh, the wax. It's-" I decided to take a huge chance.

"Dripping! I like it between my-" moving myself closer to him, until he interrupted.

"Fingers! I figured." He said, jumping away from me. Maybe I went too far.

"Oh well. Goodnight." I handed him back his jacket and made my way towards the door. I blew out my candle and began searching for my stash. It wasn't there. I knocked at the door again, this time, rather annoyed.

"It blew out again?" Roger asked, sounding almost amused. I was frustrated. I needed my smack…NOW. I didn't even care about telling him I did it anymore. I needed it.

"No, I think that I dropped my stash!" I exclaimed, searching my body for the drug I knew wasn't there.

"I know I've seen you out and about…when I used to go out." He just didn't get it did he? "Your candle's out." Who cares about my stupid candle?

I threw my arms up and sighed angrily, walking back into the loft. "I'm illin'. I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure!...Is it on the floor?" I bent down, making sure my ass was visible to Roger.

"The floor?" he mumbled uneasily. He was cute when he sounded embarrassed. I decided to have some fun with him. I looked back at him, ass still in the air and smiled.

"They say that I have the best ass below 14th street." I watched him gawk, "Is it true?"

"What?" he asked, a little too quickly.

I decided to stop being a tease for once in my life, and brought myself into a sitting position. "You're staring again."

It was fun, watching him stutter. "Oh no-" he smiled, "I mean you do-have a nice-You look familiar."

"Like your dead girlfriend." Wow. That sounded bitchy. Oops. I continued to look, he started helping.

"Only when you smile," he replied, "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."

"Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work." I paused, not believing that I was telling him. "I dance."

He looked rather amused, and breathily answered me. "Yes! They used to tie you up," he said, rather accusingly.

"It's a living." I said, defending my job.

"I didn't recognize you, without the handcuffs." He said smirking. He was making fun of me! The bastard! I decided to stop it from going any further. I held out my candle again.

"We could light the candle." I caught an apprehensive look he gave me. I was shaking pretty bad now. "Oh, won't you light the candle?"

He looked almost sad for a minute as he lit my candle, before continuing.

"Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're 16." He told me matter of factly. Damn. Busted. Wait. Maybe not…

"I'm 19," I told him, trying to hide the annoyance out if my voice. I stood up, "but I'm old for my age. I'm just born to be bad." I continued, walking away. I really didn't like where this conversation was going.

"I once was born to be bad," he continued, "I used to shiver like that."

God damnit, he could see right through me. Think fast Meems, think fast.

"I have no heat I told you!" He wasn't buying it, I could tell by the look on his face.

"I used to sweat." Oh. He was good.

"I got a cold." Desperate, I know. I wish he would have believed me.

"Uh-huh, I used to be a junkie." He said. He wasn't exactly being nice about it. Maybe he's really not interested, than again, maybe he actually cares.

"But now and then I like to feel good."

"Uh-huh." We stood there silently until he obviously saw something on the floor. He bent over to pick it up. My stash!

"Oh, here it i-" he said, suddenly stopping himself. I needed to get my hands on that smack.

"What's that!?!" I asked him, getting closer.

"Candy bar wrapper." He said, obviously hiding something.

"We could light the candle," I said, moving closer. Surprisingly, he didn't move away. Instead, he reached out and put out my candle.

"Oh, what'd you do with my candle?" I asked him. He sat down hurriedly, obviously to stop me from getting my hands on the heroin that was now sitting in his pocket.

"That was my last match," he said casually. I climbed so I was almost sitting on him. I sat down very close to him, and he let me.

"Our eyes'll adjust. Thank God for the moon." I said. He looked up at me with a smug look on his face before continuing.

"Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street." Bastard. That could have been really romantic, you know with only the moonlight and such, but like every other guy, he had to go and ruin. Oh well.

I put my hand into his, and playfully felt it with both hands. "Bah Humbug, bah humbug."

He looked weak and surprised for a few seconds, as if he had forgotten what it felt like to have someone that close. "Cold hands."

"Yours too. Big, like my fathers." I needed my smack, and I knew just how to get it.

"Do you wanna dance?" I asked him, pulling out off of the couch.

"With you?" God, how dense could he be?

"No," I said playfully, "With my father."

He looked nervous, "I'm Roger."

"They call me," I began to circle him seductively, "They call me Mimi." I said, reaching into his back pocket and taking my heroin. I showed him my prize, before casually walking out of the loft. He'd had enough for one night.

I walked downstairs to my apartment, heroin in hand. Who knows, I thought, maybe I'll have Roger's hand in mine, instead of the smack soon enough. I can't get ahead of myself, that's how the strong fail.