"Hey Mimi, thanks for getting ready with me," Joanne smiled as she dug through her purse, searching for her favorite tube of lipstick.
"No problem," Mimi smiled as she dug around in her drawer for a skirt. "It's fun to have some girl time. What are you gonna wear tonight?"
"Um, probably my jeans and the new blouse I got a few weeks ago. You?"
"Well, I really like this skirt," Mimi said, holding up a pink plaid skirt that appeared to be a stretched out headband. "But I like this one, too." In the other hand was a similar skirt, but this one was black and sparkly. "What do you think, Jo?"
"Erm… the pink one?" Joanne said, not sure if there was much of a difference or if Mimi really cared.
"Cool," she smiled, slipping out of her jeans and wiggling into the skintight mini-skirt. She tossed on a black tank top, her cleavage pouring out the top and resumed her place in front of her vanity, applying pink lipstick to her pouting lips.
"So is Roger's band any good?" Joanne asked, hoping to get some info out of Mimi, as she ran a comb through her short hair.
"Yeah," Mimi nodded. "They're super good. Probably my favorite band ever."
Joanne nodded understandingly. "What's their name?"
"The Well Hungarians," Mimi said, snapping a barrette into her dark hair.
"Cool," Joanne sighed dreamily. That's so clever… "Roger's really cute."
"I know," Mimi giggled. "He is. My Rogie…"
"Your Rogie?" Joanne asked curiously, sitting on the edge of Mimi's bed.
"Yeah," Mimi nodded, spinning around to face her friend. "He and I are… sort of a thing…" she smiled. "We've liked each other since freshman year but it's never been 'official'," she said, quoting official with her fingers.
"Oh," Joanne said, her heart sinking into her chest. "Cool."
"He's gorgeous," she said, fanning herself. "Well, are you ready to go?"
"Yeah, sure," Joanne said, her smile fading.
"Okay," Mimi said, grabbing Joanne's hand and her purse before dashing out the door.
"Come on Mark," Roger shouted as he thumped down the stairs. "You're gonna be late, which means I'm gonna be late which means there will no longer be a lead singer for my band."
"I'm coming!" Mark shouted back, emerging from his bedroom and following Roger, nearly tripping down the stairs.
"You boys behave!" Mrs. Cohen shouted from the kitchen. "Mark! Curfew is midnight! Roger, are you spending the night?"
"Most likely!" he shouted back, grabbing onto the scruff of Mark's jacket and hauling him towards the door. "Bye Mrs. Cohen!"
"Bye Mom!" Mark choked as Roger dashed towards the door. "Jeez, Rog," Mark said, rubbing at his neck when Roger let go. "What's the rush?"
"Don't you wanna get to your date on time?" he asked, jamming his keys into the ignition.
"It's not a date…" Mark mumbled, his face turning a lovely shade of red.
"If it's not a date, then why are you blushing? And wearing the one sweater you own without a stain on it?"
"I…" Mark stumbled, buckling himself in. "I just…"
"You're just going on a date," Roger laughed.
"Well, why are you in a hurry, huh? Mimi gonna be there or something?"
"I dunno," Roger shrugged. "And I don't care. She needs to get a life. And leave me the fuck alone."
Mark chuckled. "Mimi's nice. Behave yourself."
"I know she's nice, but I'm not interested."
"So it's someone else?" Mark asked.
"Shut up, Mark," Roger snapped as they pulled up towards the pizzeria. "Out. And behave yourself," he said, mocking Mrs. Cohen. "See you at the gig."
Collins stood awkwardly in front of the pizzeria, leaning against the brick wall. He was trying to be inconspicuous about being there. It seemed like the teen 'hang-out' from what he had seen. Surely he would stick out. Of course, he had forgotten that only a few years ago he was hanging out in places like this. He looked up when he heard two vaguely familiar voices heading towards him. It was that Hispanic kid… Angel. And Maureen… Mark's ex. Anger flooded him for no apparent reason other than she had dumped Mark. Collins ducked his head as they passed, hiding both his recognizable face and gently clenched fists.
His gaze rose when he heard a car door slam and a light male voice call a goodbye. Mark was walking towards him, a beat up green car roaring away from the curb at his back. Collins couldn't help the grin that spread on his face when he saw the blond boy. He took the moments in which Mark was approaching him to look him over. Loose-fitting jeans, beat up shoes and a bright blue sweater that matched his eyes combined to make him appear more gorgeous than he already was. Whoa, Collins, you better stop it, man. He's a student, a small part of his mind reminded him. A much bigger part of his mind told the smaller part to go fuck itself.
"Hey, Mark," he greeted, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. Mark blushed slightly, his pale cheeks growing rosy.
"Hey, Collins, how've you been?" The boy sounded more uncomfortable than usual. Collins supposed that maybe he shouldn't have worn jeans so loose that they were practically falling off of his hips, or an open shirt over a wifebeater. But hey, if Mark was noticing, then his mission was accomplished.
"Can't complain. You hungry?" Collins gently took Mark's hand in his own, chuckling quietly at the way the boy's eyes widened at the contact. The blond nodded and followed Collins into the restaurant. Collins grinned. This would be a very interesting night.
Angel sat sort of awkwardly across from Maureen in the pizza place. They had ordered a pizza to split five minutes ago and hadn't said anything since. Angel was beginning to zone out when Maureen's voice jolted him to the present.
"Hey, did I tell you that I love how you're wearing eyeliner?" Angel grinned at her, secretly relieved. He had put the stuff on out of habit when getting ready and he didn't realize that he was wearing it until he saw himself in the rearview mirror.
"Thanks, Mo," he replied. He looked across at her, observing. She looked really pretty tonight, with her dark hair wild around her pale face and a black shirt clinging perfectly to her torso. Her jeans were just tight enough to catch someone's eye. "You look spectacular," he said smoothly, grinning. He was so absorbed in her that he didn't notice Collins and Mark enter and sit in the booth behind theirs.
Roger sighed as he whipped into the parking lot at CBGB's, nearly hitting three cars as he parked his. Tossing the door open, the blond stepped out, plucking the cigarette from his lips and stomping it out on the tar. He scuffed slowly across the parking lot, only pausing when he heard his name being called out. Figuring it was a bunch of freshman fan girls, Roger continued walking.
"Roger!"
Roger's ears perked up as he recognized the second voice.
"Joanne?"
"Hi!" she called as she and Mimi jogged over towards him.
"Hey," he smiled at her, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You came."
"Of course we did!" Mimi exclaimed, stepping forward.
Roger nodded, stepping back a bit, before looking back up at Joanne. "I'm uh, really glad you're here."
"I knew you would be," Mimi grinned as she linked her arm through his. "Come on, babe, let's go inside."
Roger glanced down at her, an annoyed look plastered on his face. He glanced over at Joanne, catching the slight disappointment in her face before Mimi dragged him off towards the hall.
"Come on, Jo," Mimi called over her shoulder.
"I'm uh, gonna wait… for Maureen and Angel out here, okay?"
Mimi stopped and spun around. "Oh, come on inside. I promise you won't feel like the third wheel."
Joanne shook her head, forcing a smile. "S'okay. I'll wait. See you inside in a bit, yeah?"
"Okay, if you're sure," Mimi shrugged. "Come on, Rog."
Roger's eyes never left Joanne as Mimi dragged him towards the club, but Joanne didn't notice. She'd busied herself with the small hole in her jeans, not wanting to see Mimi with Roger, while she waited for the others to arrive.
Maureen was rather distracted at dinner. She hadn't looked away from Angel for more than two seconds all night. She absent-mindedly picked up a slice of pizza and aimed for her mouth while the two talked. A blob of sauce dripped down from the pizza and landed right in her lap.
"Shit!" she whispered, dropping the slice back onto her plate and grabbing a napkin. "Guess I should be paying more attention to other things. Damn it." She tossed the dirty napkin back up on the table and sighed, glancing down at the stain on her jeans. A familiar squeaky voice caught her ear and she turned around to see a blond cameraman walking with a certain computer aid over to an empty booth a few seats away. "Is that… Mark?"
Mark was just getting comfortable with being in Collins's extremely handsome and flirtatious presence when he heard an all-too-familiar voice say his name. He looked past Collins to see a certain dark-haired diva staring back at him. He froze.
"Mark? Mark, you okay, man?" The filmmaker jumped a bit when he felt Collins touch his hand. His pale cheeks flushed. Collins had a concerned frown on his face.
"Uh… yeah…" he said weakly, his eyes returning to Maureen, who looked as surprised as he did. Collins turned his head to see what Mark was staring at.
"Ah." The matter-of-fact sound caught Mark's attention. Collins was now looking down at the table, dejected. A moment later he was studying Mark's face. "You wanna get out of here?"
The understanding tone in Collins's voice managed to thaw Mark's frozen body. He wrenched his neck into nodding. The two got up from their booth and made to leave, but…
"Marky? What are you doing here?" Shit… Mark stopped in front of Angel and Maureen's booth, Collins behind him. A rather nervous chuckle escaped from his lips, making the tense silence even more so. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but nothing was coming to mind.
"Well - "
Mark squeaked a little when he felt two strong arms slide around his waist. The solid body at his back didn't help his nerves either, though it did send a tingle of happiness down his spine. Collins leaned forward to rest his chin on Mark's shoulder, whispering, "Let me handle this…" The blond didn't say anything before Collins started 'explaining.'
"We're here for the same reasons you are, Maureen… Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got a show to go to… You ready, Mark?"
He sighed softly when Collins pulled him a little closer. "Yeah… Bye, Maureen, Angel," he said in a somewhat forced voice. Collins led him out of the pizza place, their hands joined. Nothing was said during the two block walk to the club. Outside of the place, Mark tugged on Collins's hand so that he'd face him. "Thanks." He was staring at the ground so hard that he missed the big grin on Collins's lips.
He was very aware of said lips in the next moment when they were pressing against the back of his hand. "You're welcome."
Mimi perched herself on an amp, crossing her long, thin legs. She noticed the bassist of the Well Hungarians, Evan, checking her bare limbs out. A sultry smirk crossed her lips. Evan was always staring at her whenever she came to band rehearsal or one of their gigs. He was cute in a… bassist sort of way, but she'd never choose him over her Roger. Speaking of him, where was he? "Ted?" The tall, thin keyboardist turned, fixing his always unhurried gaze on her. "Do you know where Roger is?" she asked in whiny voice.
"I think he's in the green room with Dylan," he said quietly, moving back to his instrument. Mimi carefully rose from her perch, winking at Evan as she strutted backstage to find her man.
"-And I think we should change our name to something more witty. Well Hungarians is nice and all, but we need something funnier… Like, Giving You Herpes. So when we introduce ourselves, it's like, 'Hey, we're Giving You Herpes!' Or maybe the Disabled, so if people don't like us they say, 'Oh man, I hate the Disabled!' and people will be like, 'You're so horrible!' Or - Hey, Mimi." The eager drummer fell silent when Mimi entered, looking her up and down.
Mimi grinned cattily at Dylan. "Hey Dylan… mind if I talk to Roger… alone?" she asked, her voice dripping with innuendo. Roger glared at her from the couch.
"He might not, but I do."
The guitarist's cold voice startled Mimi. Nevertheless, she smoothed her arm up the doorjamb, stretching her curvy figure into a sexy pose. "Ah, baby, you sound tense… Shall I fix that?"
Roger stood, stalking towards her angrily. "No. Get out of here, Mimi."
She lowered her arm. Her brown eyes narrowed at him. "What?"
"I told you to get out of here. You're nothing but an easy lay, Mimi, and I'm far from interested. Now stop bothering me and acting like I'm your fucking property or something!"
The Latina propped her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was an angry shriek. She whipped around, shoving Dylan aside as she stalked out of the club. That asshole! What was he thinking? Well, he certainly would never win her back now! Mimi walked down the streets aimlessly.
After what seemed like hours, she stopped in front of an unfamiliar building. She did, however, recognize the address. A smirk curved her plump lips. She pushed open the fancy glass door and struck a little pose for the doorman. "Mr. Coffin, please," she purred.
