A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update. I'm completely new to fanfiction & this is my first story, so the automatic instinct to remember to update this story isn't fully developed quite yet, haha. I hope to write more of this soon, as I have my lovely plot all mapped out & I'd love to see it through. Thanks for your support, especially those of you who've taken the time to see if I've updated. I do really appreciate it. :)
Bzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzz
"Uugh," Joanne groaned miserably as she instinctively rolled over on her couch to block the incoming sunlight from her window. "Mo, is that your cell phone vibrating or mine?"
Joanne received no answer. "Mo?"
Bzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzz
"Maureen," Joanne whined, "Could you please get the-"
It was at this point that the previous night's events hit Joanne as she sat up and gained more coherence. "Damn it," she thought, "I forgot about that dumb fight. What was it even about? Uugh, my head kills, how much did I drink last night?"
Joanne sighed and turned towards the clock. 6:34 AM.
Bzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzz
"Shit, the phone!" Joanne realized aloud. She leaped out of her comfortable position on her couch in search of her cell phone, figuring it was probably Maureen wanting to be picked up from wherever the hell she went after their fight.
"If it's at some other fucking girl's house, I'll kill her," Joanne thought bitterly as she dug through her purse. Pulling out her phone, she hit the on button, only to be greeted with the dial tone.
Bzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzz
Joanne figured the buzzing must be from Maureen's phone. "That must mean she's here at home" Joanne thought, ignoring the buzzing sound to instead search for her diva in the apartment. "Mo, are you home?" Joanne shouted through their home. "She's gotta be here if her phone's here. Ever since I bought her texting, she never lets that thing out of her sight."
She flew from room to room, making sure to double check for Maureen in each one, but she had no luck. Sighing, Joanne walked defeated back to her couch and plopped herself down.
"A few more hours of sleep won't hurt," she thought to herself, "And Maureen will probably be calling me soon anyways, so I might as well be well rested when I'm faced with the drama of having to chauffer her from wherever she ran off to."
Joanne gave into her instincts and was out within five minutes of lying back down.
xxx
When Joanne woke up, it was well past morning and the bright sky that had greeted her earlier was now full of murky clouds that made it look like a storm was looming. Joanne sat up from the couch and stretched her sore limbs. "Why have I been sleeping on this couch; it's beyond uncomfortable!" she thought as she pushed herself off of her comfy cot and towards her cell phone.
Her phone read '1 Missed Call.'
"Ha, I knew she'd call" Joanne said to herself, scrolling down to the number. She expected to see 'POOKIE'S LOVER' under her missed calls list. What she did not expect to see was what she was greeted with instead: 'Collins'.
Joanne immediately dialed Collins' number. Although Collins and Maureen were the best of friends (as indicated by the $1520 phone bill they rang up from texting each other constantly), Collins and Joanne weren't very close, and he rarely, if ever, called her about anything. In fact, the only time that he ever did call her was when he, Roger, and Mark needed help searching for Mimi. This made Joanne a bit uneasy, because Collins never just called to chat. It was always about something important.
"Hello?" Collin's familiar voice broke through Joanne's thoughts.
"Hey Collins....it's Joanne, uh, you, um, called me earlier, "Joanne spat out."God, could I trip over my words anymore?" she inwardly critiqued.
"Yeah, I did actually; I was trying to reach Mo. She was supposed to go with me to see that new improv group that's in town. We've had tickets for months and I'm sure she's been talking about it for even longer. It was today and she didn't show."
"What?" Joanne blurted, genuinely surprised. "She's been talking nonstop about that since you two heard about it."
"Yeah, well she didn't come. I tried her cell about five million times with absolutely no luck. Mark told me that you two had a fight last night and she stormed off. Do you know where she went and why she didn't come today?"
"No, I really don't Collins. I thought she said that she was heading your way to the loft, but now I'm worried. She wouldn't bail on you; she wanted to see that show."
"I know, that's why I'm worried. I called Roger, Meems, Angel, Mark, and just about every actor that Maureen's been in a play with, and none of them know where she is. She's never just run off without telling me what was up."
Joanne was starting to get more and more concerned with every word that Collins spoke.
"Maybe we should go out and look for her," Collins suggested, "She loves talking with the local venders. Who knows, maybe she decided to hit the streets for a bit of local conversation."
"You're right, maybe that's where she went" Joanne said, "I'll meet you at the loft in twenty minutes to help find her."
She hung up the phone and started towards the door, clad in only her tank top and pajama pants. Grabbing her coat and an umbrella on the way out, Joanne flicked off the apartment lights and scurried out into the streets. She wasn't sure why, but something about Maureen's situation didn't feel right to her. She and Maureen had fought before, but Maureen had never vanished from all of her friends like this before. And she would certainly never skip out on an improv date with Collins.
xxx
"Damn it damn it damn it damn it DAMN IT," a figure thought to himself as he approached a rustic looking beat up house. "This was NOT supposed to happen."
He trudged quickly past the front of the house and into the crumbling backyard. The faint smell of corroding metal hit his nostrils as he maneuvered around the overgrown, decaying roses that sprung up from around the untamed enclosure. The whole layout was bleak, but timeless, and the figure approached a wooden cellar door. He banged on it as softly as he could with his foot.
"My rose, my rose, my bleakest rose" he chanted quietly, making sure that he was not followed.
"You're happier dead, I do suppose" came an instant reply, and the cellar door flung open to reveal a cascading path of concrete steps leading down into complete darkness.
It was much too dark to see down into the cellar, but the figure knowingly began to make his way down the familiar concrete steps, taking one last look at the unconscious brunette that he carried in his arms. She was still out for the count. "I hope this goes well with the others..." he thought to himself. With one more step, the small traces of light that were previously visible vanished. The cellar door slammed shut.