Chapter Sixteen: Seasons of Love B

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT.

Note: One change I actually did like that they made in the movie from the Broadway show was that when talking about Buzzline, it's Mark who says that he can't work for them because it's selling out and not Joanne. I mean, the show might be sleazy, but Joanne is a corporate lawyer from an Ivy League school. Surely she can't talk…

Okay, even though I still don't have any idea whatsoever what to film but somehow footage keeps amassing itself. Maybe if I just keep hanging out with all these drama queens, my movie will make itself. It's a hell of a lot more likely than Roger's song writing itself after all. He never seems to notice that he produces at least two songs a day, but I won't tell him. After all, if he realizes his goal in life is complete, he may decide to just stop bothering and then I might actually have to go back to being Benny's friend and pay rent and get a job and…yeah, Roger must never know the truth!

In the meantime, the stairs by our apartment has become a very popular hanging out place. I sure hope Benny wasn't right about all those homeless people relieving themselves, there. Just in case, I won't sit down, just filming all my friends who are. I started this when I actually saw Roger – yes, THAT Roger – laughing when he was out with Angel and Collins. She's a bloody miracle worker, isn't she?

Of course, I'm also superimposing that song Maureen made us all sing for her protest against classifying time by months or weeks over the laughter since just a bunch of people laughing would be boring and it was just lying around anyway. She made Benny show up, too, which was kind of awkward as Roger still hates him.

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear." You know, I bet Maureen made Joanne calculate that for her.

Oh, and I also got some footage of Mimi modeling her new leopard coat. Seriously, with all the money that girl spends on heroin and whatever else strikes her fancy…how much does she make at that strip club anyway? I refuse to believe she can't afford rent. And, of course, I'm continuing my mission to film every homeless person in New York.

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure…measure a year?" I'm not entirely sure why we said 'measure' twice. Maybe it was a typo? Anyway, that was the time Angel showed up not in drag to ask about his new nail polish…wait, do I refer to Angel as a guy when not in drag? If only using 'it' didn't sound degrading, my life would be so much easier…

"In diapers, report cards, in spoke wheels, in speeding tickets?" I'm still not sure why we can't just measure it in minutes like we have been doing for the rest of the song, but then I didn't write it. Besides, Benny is the only one of us without AIDS in a heterosexual relationship at the moment, so since he doesn't have any kids, chances are we won't either and we're not old enough to need diapers ourselves, so…the no kids means no report cards. Maureen might actually get a speeding ticket as Joanne is too sensible to drive too fast and Benny's too busy trying to be respectable to bother with it. I have a bike, so I guess I could measure a year in how many times I have to change it but…that's kind of inconsistent, right? I mean, some days I don't bike as much as others and if I run over something, the tire is likely to need replacing…besides, I still don't get what's wrong with measuring time by a time interval like, say, minutes.

"In contracts, dollars, in funerals, in births?" I guess, as a lawyer, Joanne could measure it in contracts. Maybe Benny, too. The rest of us are too free-spirited for real jobs…Mimi might have a contract, though… And most of us don't make enough money to measure it that way. Since our lack of real jobs means no pay day, it's pretty difficult. Half my friends are dying, so I SUPPOSE I could measure time by funerals, but that's kind of depressing. And seriously, highly doubting a birth will occur. "In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes?" Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you! "How do you figure a last year on Earth?" Wow, that's ominous. Oh, crap, it looks like the camera was on Mimi and Roger when those lyrics were playing! I hope nothing happens…

And…now we cut to the New Year's celebration. "Figure in love! Figure in love!"

"Eight, seven, six, five…" Wait, I thought you were supposed to count down from ten? And I know that none of us has a television because we're too bohemian, but surely Maureen and Joanne do! Why are they here?

"Figure in love!" Wait, this song turned into something about math? When did that happen? This makes about as much sense as Maureen's acid trip about Cyberland.

"Four, three, two, one!" Happy New Year! Everyone's hugging and kissing everyone and despite the fact that this isn't just restricted to cuples…I'm still the odd one out. Why does this keep happening?!?!

"Measure in love! Seasons of love…Seasons of love…" With that Maureen's crappy song about God knows what ends and we can celebrate the fact that we're all actually still alive in peace. Mark wouldn't understand, but this is a big achievement for those of all who have been dying for years.

"Hey Mimi! Mimi! Mimi!" Mark gets Mimi's attention through sheer force of annoyance seeing as how she was rather busy making out with me. "Give me your New Year's resolutions."

Mimi laughs like she can't believe that Mark just asked her that. "I'm giving up my vices. I'm going back to school."

"Oh, that's very good," Mark says, sounding impressed. I'd be more happy for her if Mimi hadn't told me the other day that she feels the whole point of New Year's resolutions are to break them as fast as she possibly can. So…I guess this means she's not actually going to do anything different, then? "How about you, Roger?"

Trying not to follow Mimi's example – but let's face it, at the rate I'm going I probably will – I shrugged and say, "Finish a song."

Mark looks slightly panicked at that. Strange… "Yeah, maybe this year?"

I give him the middle finger and walk on, leaving him to interrogate the next couple.

"And who are you two supposed to be?" Mark asked Angel and Collins. Uh, no, Mark. Very tacky. You don't ask who they are SUPPOSED to be. That's like asking a child what their drawing is supposed to be. They're going to get offended no matter how badly drawn it is or how obscure the costume. Instead, you are supposed to say 'tell me about it.'

Fortunately, Collins and Angel are pretty good-natured people in general.

"Bond. James Bond," Collins said, staggering a little. He is SO drunk.

"And Pussy Galore," Angel adds, giggling. "In person."

"Very nice," Mark nods, letting them walk by as he turns his attention to – who else – Maureen. "Ooh lal la…" Wait…so he didn't ask them about their New Year's resolutions? The hell? I knew I should have dressed up… I was going to be Emo Man but Mimi couldn't find her eyeliner…Maybe I should have asked Angel.

Maureen, naturally, felt the need to freak Mark out by pantomiming drop-kicking his camera. How did they stay together for so long? "What do you want, huh?" she asked, smiling and faux-kissing the camera.

"Well, you can take the girl out of Hicksville but you can't take the Hicksville out of the girl," Mark noted. Wait…that's kind of random. Is it because she's in a spandex cat suit or something? I don't get it…maybe it's an inside joke?

As they were the last of the procession, Mark elected to walk with them.

"Heard you got a job offer," Maureen said awkwardly as Joanne took yet another swig of alcohol. That girl is really getting drunk, huh?

"No," Mark denied, even though it was totally true. "It was just that sleazy news show Buzzline wants to take a meeting."

"We're gonna need an agent!" Maureen announces, excited.

"'We?'" Mark asks, sounding amused.

"Hey, listen, mister," Maureen tells him, dancing ahead to avoid Joanne's drunk, possessive hand on her ass. "I am the reason you got on TV in the first place. Oh, my God!" Uh-oh…Maureen's ideas usually end in someone either getting arrested or an explosion. Or both. "You know what? We'll do another protest?" About WHAT? CyberArts? No one cares, Maureen. If it weren't for Mr. Grey's extreme reaction and Benny's fear of an explosion, no one probably would have shown up. "And this time, you can shoot the entire thing for the TV show." Right, because that doesn't sound staged at all.

Joanne caught up with Maureen and tried to claim her again, but Maureen batted her off, her attention still on Mark, who was squirming uncomfortably. "No, I'm not interested. I'm sorry."

"What?" Maureen whined, looking crushed. Does she even really care beyond getting herself on TV more?

"Because working for a show like Buzzline…" Mark trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate way to describe the horrors of doing so. "That's completely selling out." Oh, now he's done it. He's invoked the two heinous words that there are no counter to, unless Maureen wishes to become like, dare I say it, Benny.

Maureen groaned, looking defeated even as she danced ahead a few more steps. She really can't stand it when people get clingy. "Okay…" she conceded. "But it's nice to dream."

"Well, maybe," Mark said neutrally.

Finally getting fed up of Joanne's drunken yet silent jealousy, Maureen grabbed Mark's camera and stayed safety ten feet away. Wow, brave girl… "Give me that! I'm sick and tired of you always-"

"Maureen…you're going to break it," Mark complained, showing clearly that he's still in love with her as he didn't immediately tackle her and grab it back. Or maybe it's because Joanne might misinterpret it and he's scared she'd kick his ass.

"HI, Mark!" Maureen greeted him mockingly. "Happy New Year!"

"This is not my Bar Mitzvah!" Mark said, advancing on her. I can sense there's a story somewhere…

- -

Several hours later, I finally got my camera back and we headed back to the apartment. Even Maureen and Joanne, for some reason. At some point during the night, Joanne had run out of alcohol and as she started to sober up, she got progressively grumpier.

Roger and Mimi were still in front. "Out of all the years I've been in New York, I've never gone to Times Square for New Year's," Roger was telling Mimi.

"Really?" Mimi sounded amused.

"I don't think I wanna do it again," Roger confided. "I think that was enough."

"It was a little like a moo-fest," Mimi conceded. I hoped to God that Maureen didn't hear that lest she start another impromptu protest about Elsie.

Suddenly, Roger stopped and stared at the door in horror. "Mark?"

Uh-oh… "What?" I asked nervously.

"Check out the door," Roger indicated the silver object adorning our door.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, moving closer to inspect it. "Guys, there's a padlock on the door." Does…not…compute…

"Benny," Angel deduced. "Hold on. Hold this, honey," she said, handing her bag off to Collins and walking towards the conveniently placed trash can right outside of the building. "I saw this on television. Watch."

"Baby, what you doing?" Collins slurred as Angel picked up the trashcan, turned it upside down, and started shaking the trash out of it.

"You'll see," she sing-songed, "be careful now." With that, she picked up the trashcan and headed towards the door.

"You're drunk," Collins accused, as though he were one to talk. I think I may possibly be the only sober one in the group right now.

"No, I'm not," Angel lied. "Okay, watch." She banged the trash can on the lock. "That's so heavy."

"Watch your fingers," I cautioned but made no move to stop her. Another bang and the lock was gone.

Everyone cheered but I couldn't help but feel a little disheartened. Sure, it's great to be able to get back in the building, but that seemed almost…too easy. I was planning out an elaborate break-in party where we'd use rope to lower ourselves in or blowtorches to destroy the door…Stupid Benny and his stupid crappy security…crap, now I sound like Roger!

"That's my girl," Collins said proudly.

"Yeah," Mimi congratulated her best friend. "NOTHING like Pussy."

"Let's go," Angel said, leading the way.

"Here you go, baby," Collins handed her purse back.

"Thank you," Angel accepted it graciously. "Door open."

"That's a full-service woman you got there," Roger remarked, sounding a little envious.

"That was great," Mimi said happily.

"Gonna put that trash can back?" Collins inquired.

"No."

Our euphoria lasted until we reached our apartment. Roger and I entered first and just wordlessly wandered in, wondering where all of our stuff went. Who would want to rob US? Of all people? We don't even pay rent!

"Oh, daaaaaaamn…" Collins said when he saw the sorry state of our place.

"Typical," Angel remarked.

"He took all our stuff…" Roger said sounding, dare I say it, SHOCKED. You'd think he'd expect if from Benny by now, seeing as how he's convince he's evil.

"Mine too," Mimi drawled, reaching our apartment after apparently having already checked hers. How did she do it that fast? Were Roger and I frozen in horror for THAT long?

"What a frigging sweetheart," Maureen growled, a bag of chips materializing in her hands. Okay, seriously, we couldn't have been out of it for THAT long. Hm, she'll plan another protest about this?

"What do we do now?"I ask, throwing my hands in the air. I mean, besides actually paying rent, of course. Seriously, I'm open to suggestions at this point, people.

"Well," Joanne offered, sobering up quickly now that her legal advice was in demand, "technically now that you're inside you're squatters. You can't be arrested. Benny can't throw you out on the street. It'll give you and Roger time to get some money together."

Wait…so after we break and enter we can't be arrested if we don't leave and we can't be evicted? Sweet! Why in the world would we get some money together if we can just stay here for free anyway? I mean, yeah, our stuff's gone, but you can't have everything, right?

Roger made a face to show he wouldn't be contributing and Collins started laughing as he pulled his sunglasses down, knowing there was only one option left open to me. Hopefully, as long as nobody said it, I could just ignore it.

Naturally, Maureen took it upon herself to crush my hopes.

"There's always Buzzline," she pointed out, crunching a chip.

Why do I love her again?

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