A/N: Thank you for reviewing. Any suggestions or ideas for chapters would be much appreciated.

"I bet she's a real slut."

Joanne looked up from her paperwork and stared across the table at her girlfriend quizzically. "...Who?"

"Mark's girlfriend. I bet she's a slut." Maureen was sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, munching on some cereal, her eyebrows furrowed.

Joanne shook her head, smirking. "Okay, ever since he told us he's not single anymore, this is what you have been obsessing over. Do you wanna know what I think, honeybear?"

"What?"

"I think you're extremely jealous of Mark's girlfriend."

Maureen was slurping the remaining milk in her cereal bowl when she realized what Joanne had said. She put the bowl down, revealing a classic milk moustache on her upper lip. "What?! I am not jealous. I have you, pookie. Why should I be jealous?"

"Because he was your boyfriend for years, Maureen. I mean, I'm not mad at you or anything. I don't blame you for being...concerned." Joanne tried to hide her laughter at Maureen's milk moustache.

Maureen scooted her chair over next to Joanne and rested her head on her shoulder. "So you're not angry?" she inquired innocently.

"Nope."

"Fine, I'm jealous. Not of her, just of the fact that he...doesn't make googly eyes at me anymore. I was always amused by that."

Joanne smiled. "I think you still have a special spot in his heart, Maureen."

"Yeah, and it better be a big spot with my name imprinted on it in pink. Lots and lots of pink." She looked up at her girlfriend, prompting Joanne to burst into fits of laughter.

"What?" Maureen asked.

Joanne shook her head, handing Maureen a napkin. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

Mark was home alone. And he quite liked it that way.

For one thing, Roger wasn't home to torment him about his phone conversation with Collins (or "Stephanie") for at least the tenth time that morning.

And for another, Mimi's presence had not been graced upon him that morning either. Which meant he didn't have to keep lying about his "girlfriend", or talk about his "girlfriend" or call his "girlfriend" for a while. Mark never liked lying. It wasn't his 'thing' as Maureen had always put it.

Maureen.

He pushed the thought of her out of his mind and tried to focus on reading The Village Voice.

Just when he thought he could have some peace, he heard a voice calling out to him from outside: "Hey, throw down the key!"

It was Collins, no doubt. Mark sighed and got up from the couch, walking over to the fire escape and peering down below. Collins was tapping his foot impatiently and waiting for Mark to throw down the key. As Mark did so, Collins characteristically flipped him the bird before heading toward the door.

Mark closed his eyes and shook his head. He would be getting an earful from Collins, that was for sure.

The sliding door opened and Collins stomped into the loft, throwing the keys at Mark. "I think I deserve an explanation, Mark," was the first thing he said.

"Hello to you too, Collins," Mark grumbled, "And I know, I'll explain everything. Stop freaking out; you're starting to sound like my mom."

Collins rolled his eyes and took it upon himself to flop down on the couch.

Mark sighed and sat down beside him. "Okay, so first of all, I don't have a girlfriend."

"No shit, man." Collins pulled out a joint from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth for good measure.

"Oh, God...Is it that obvious?" Mark adjusted his glasses nervously.

"You called me in the middle of the night saying how much you love and miss me. I think it was very, very obvious."

Mark crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. "Well, not to Mimi. She believed I was talking to Stephanie. It worked out just fine on my end." He looked at his friend, who was not amused at all. "So I guess I owe you, huh?" he added.

"Hell, yeah. It was damn lucky that Angel was asleep when you decided to cast me as the Juliet to your Romeo, you jackass. That was pretty much the most traumatic experience of my entire life."

He began to imitate what Mark had sounded like in a high-pitched, squeaky voice: "You should get some reeeesssst! Oh, Steph-uh-nie, I loooove youuuu!"

Mark pushed Collins off the couch. "Shut up!"

At this point, Collins was sitting on the ground where Mark had pushed him, laughing hysterically. "Man...I dunno how long you're...gonna be able to...pull this off," he managed through his chuckles, "Maureen is going to find out."

"You're not making things any better."

Collins looked up at Mark. "Neither are you, lover boy."