Good News and Brews!|(mark/rog) INACTIVE

[ROGER DAVIS]

Okay, so he was giddy, there was really no hiding it. Mimi was at work (and had been since the early morning) so Roger had no one to talk to about the phone call he had recieved from the owner of the Pyramid Club. They wanted to book Roger again, after two years, they wanted him back. The owner was a portly man that Roger was sure had ties to some sort of shady underground, but it didn't matter because he was paying. A real gig. After so long, a real paying gig. He tried to figure out what he'd do with the money; 250 bucks. He'd buy Mimi flowers and dinner and maybe take her to get something nice to wear. Maybe buy Mark some groceries to last more than a week. There was AZT for the month that needed to be paid for. It seemed like whenever they had money, it flew right out the window again. Maybe he was never supposed to be famous and rich. Maybe they were always supposed to be just getting by.

But, right now, Roger needed to go upstairs and give Mark the news about the gig, and to give him the 100 bucks that the girl had given him in the park for singing.

Sliding out of the window to Mimi's apartment, he climbed up the fire escape to the Loft's window, rubbing the dirty water spots with his sleeve from the rain they had the night before. He peered in, and saw no activity in the Loft. Was Mark even home? He pushed open the window and climbed in, shutting it behind him. He brushed his pants off and noticed that a pot of coffee was brewing on the hot plate. He moved, pouring two cups (though he wondered if Mark had simply left the hot plate on and left). Hopping up onto the metal table, he crossed his legs indian style before he moved, pressing the button down on the blinking answering machine.

SPEEEEAK.

"Roger, it's your mother. Roger, honey, call me. I want to know when it'll be okay to come out--"

"Never."

"And I just want you to know, honey, that I spoke with your grandmother. She's sending you and Mark and the gang some sweaters but she needs to know the sizes of the girls. Call me. Love you, sweetie."

The click of the answering machine made Roger sigh, and he stared at it before he looked up, hearing movement. "Mark! Get your ass out here! I bring good tidings of great joy!" Roger paused, hearing nothing.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaark!" Roger said loudly, drawing out the word as he brought the coffee cup to his lips, taking a sip and pulling back. "Fuck. Hot." he whispered, and then frowned, looking towards the hallway to his old room and Mark's room.

"I'm drinking all your coffee and eating your food!"

[markcohen]

Mark was currently in Roger's old room, frantically reaching his right arm around under the bed; could it be any closer to the floor? He had recently started turning the room into his new dark room, but it was proving to be difficult. It was like Roger had the whole place booby-trapped before he left. Mark had just been innocently trying to fix the handle on his camera, when the entire thing had broken off and managed to roll under the bed. How it happened, he did not know.

He just managed to stick his head under to get a better look when the familiar yell of 'Maaaaaaaaaaaaark!' rang out.

Mark cursed and withdrew his head, but not before banging it against the metallic frame. He cursed even louder, "Fuck!" He drew himself unsteadily to his feet, one hand rubbing his head while the other dusted him off.

I'm drinking all your coffee and eating your food!

"Like hell you are!" Mark muttered furiously, bolting from the room with the one hand still clutching his head. He scowled at Roger, squinting slightly when he stepped into the brighter room.

"Put the coffee down if you want to live," Mark threatened, but he was grinning, "That's my last pot, and I have no idea when I'll be able to get more."

[ROGER DAVIS]

Like hell you are!

A smirk crossed Roger's face as he watched Mark come from the hallway, rubbing his head and trying his hardest to glare at him. "Oh, really? Stop me." Roger commented, lifting the coffee cup to his lips to take a sip. Mark spoke again, threatening death for drinking his precious coffee, and Roger rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a fucking drama queen. And if you wanna kill me, you're gonna hafta get in line." Roger commented and hopped down from the metal table before digging into his pocket. "This, my dear friend, is not my usual mooching visit. I bring good news."

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the hundred dollar bill he had gotten from Juliet, pressing it against Mark's chest. "And before you ask: yes. I am moonlighting as a male prositute now."

Moving over, Roger collapsed into the green armchair, smirking at Mark. "And free up your calender for two weeks from now. Ten PM til Midnight."

[markcohen]

Mark frowned while his hand unconsciously reached up to grasp the bill Roger pressed into his chest. His eyes flicked down and nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw the amount. Sure, a hundred wasn't much, but it was still great.

And before you ask: yes. I am moonlighting as a male prositute now.

Mark grinned, nearly forgetting about the pain in his head. "Well, I'm proud of you Roger. Your first real job in a long time." He chuckled and made his way over to the coffee-holding hot-plate, where his amused look turned into a disgruntled frown. He turned to Roger and lifted a hand once more to rub his head.

And free up your calender for two weeks from now. Ten PM til Midnight.

"Why would I want to do that? I am not going to be your first costumer."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"You know, my dipshit of a dad told me something once; y'do something good? Might as well get paid for it." Roger told Mark as he heard the man comment on his fictious sex worker job. "I happen to rock people's worlds. What can I say? God blessed me with a gift. He doesn't seem to get tired of me making women say his name, either, 'cause he hasn't mentioned anything."

There was something crunching under his body, and Roger reached under, grabbing an outdated copy of the Voice from underneath where he was laying on the couch. He glanced at it, not seeing anything seriously, before he tipped the edge of the newspaper down to look at Mark, eyes showing mock hurt and saddness.

"You know what? I'm crushed. After all we've been through? Y'hear that? You hear that sound? It's my heart breaking and blowing away with the wind." Roger asked, and then shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I'd charge you double, anyway." Roger wanted to prolong the suspense as long as possible, but it didn't seem like Mark was getting the hint. Roger moved the paper back up, pretending to read it again.

"You know, you're right. There's no enough room up on the stage of the Pyramid Club to fuck me for two. solid. hours." Roger tried to sound indifferent about the whole thing, but the smile couldn't be chased off of his face, and he tipped the corner of the paper back only slightly so he could glance at Mark.

[markcohen]

Mark snorted and rolled his eyes upward, "Oh, I am so sorry I crushed your fragile and delicate heart." He turned back to the empty coffee pot, ready to stare at it's emptiness sadly until Roger offered to go out and get him some more--

"The Pyramid Club?!" Mark cried, spinning around, "Holy crap, they want you back? But I thought the owner hated you ever since you... was it his daughter or his wife?" He paused, his eye opening wide. "Is it just going to be you? Performing, I mean? Or is it going to be... all of the guys?" Mark cringed. The ex-members of the Well Hungarians had never like him. They had once locked him out of one of their gigs. When it was freezing. He had nearly died of hypothermia until Roger found out. It wasn't pretty.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Liar. You know you love me."

Roger felt himself smirk as Mark spun around, exclaiming at the mention of the Pyramid Club. "The owner does hate me. And it was his daughter, remember? The pretty redhead? I wouldn't touch his wife with a ten foot pole and I am upset and a little disgusted that you'd even think that I would sleep with her. She's--she's disgusting." Roger made a face and shuttered. "I don't think there's enough alcohol in the world. His daughter, however...you know, I probably would have dated her, Mark. She was a good girl. Why she decided to fuck with me is beyond me."

"However, from what Tim told me; you remember Tim, right? Dude that got us drinks when we were underage? He told me that the owner found out that I had AIDS and wanted to kill me until he got Becky tested. She was clean (which I totally knew she was going to be, by the way) and she begged him to bring me back to the club." he shrugged slightly, turning the page on the paper he was glancing over. "I don't think we're allowed to talk, however. Or I'm allowed to look at her. Or anything, really."

Mark asked if the other members of the Well Hungarians were going to be there, Roger shook his head. "I haven't talked to any of them since April died. Last I heard, Fredrick's living in Chicago. Had a baby girl or something. Francis moved to California to like, become a star. Or a drug addict, I don't know. Howard moved to Jersey with his girl." Roger felt a slight sigh escape his lips. "I think it's safe to say, dude, that the Well Hungarians are no more. Besides, I almost killed Francis that one night he fucked with you. If it makes you feel any better, I threw a phone at his head."

Roger tossed the paper to the side. "So it's just me." Roger paused, picking at a stray string on his sweat pants. "Dude, I'm--I'm nervous. I mean, like...it's been two years since I've played in front of people."

[markcohen]

Liar. You know you love me.

"Yeah, yeah. Like a brother." Mark pulled out a clean coffee cup walked over to the ratty sofa, and plunked himself down next to his spare camera. He then proceeded to grab Roger's cup of coffee and dumped it's contents into his own cup. Mark sputtered on the foul tasting liquid, "Ugh, it tastes like ass. Why is everything we own shit?"

"Tim? Yeah, I remember him. He was like this weird combination of you and Collins put together." He chuckled at the thought, and then laughed harder when Roger continued. "Ha! Daddy Lard Ass actually put a restraining order on you!"

"Well that's too bad. You guys were almost good... thirty percent of the time." Mark paused, and frowned, "Just a phone? Really? Remember Maureen freaked out on him completely? Now that was funny. Too bad I was as sick as a dog to remember that clearly."

Mar grinned and pulled out his camera, "Come on, you've played in front of me. And my camera. And Mimi. And I know you would play in front of the others of they didn't laugh at you." He then added in a lighter tone, "You've been through a lot Rog. Just give yourself some time. Don't think about it too much and you'll do fine."

He lifted the camera higher, "Now smile and get your guitar!"

[ROGER DAVIS]

"Because we're poor." Roger stated at Mark's question about why everything was horrible. "However, that will soon change. At least for a little bit. I'll get you good coffee." Roger said, nodding, though he paused. "Well, it won't be good, but it'll be decent. It'll actually be a brand name."

"Hey. Daddy Lard Ass did not put a restraining order on me. He told Francis to tell me that if I ever touched his daughter again, he'd get the Irish mob on my ass. Which totally was not true by the way. The only person that puts Roger Davis on lockdown is me."

"Maybe we were good. Put sooner or later, she'd see how much of a dick I was. April saw it alot. Mimi's seen it. You've seen it." Roger let himself shrug. "Thirty-percent of the time we weren't sleeping together. I'll have you know, Mark, that seventy-percent of the time, we were completely and utterly bad. She was the worst. God that girl did shit to me." Smirking, Roger recalled the incident with Maureen. "I had to stop her from choking him. Seriously, she was pissed. And before you say I didn't like, defend your honour or some shit, the douchebag had to get six stiches in the top of his head because I threw the phone at him."

When Mark pulled out his camera, Roger felt himself smile slightly. "I know I can do it. It's just--getting up there and doing it. And actually doing it sober." Roger pointed out, knowing that there were only a few times that he had done it sober. When Mark ordered him to smile and get his guitar, Roger smirked, moving up from the couch to his old bedroom. It almost looked as if it was being transformed into a dark room of some sorts. He reached into the closet, grabbing the acoustic guitar that he had stashed there. He walked back out to the large living room, sitting back down on the couch once more next to Mark, knees against his chest.

"I wonder if Angel would be willing to do drums. I could get Henry to come over; he owes me a few favours. Then I could actually have a band instead of it just being solo. Hell, Maureen could do back-up vocals since she always did them before."

[markcohen]

I know I can do it. It's just--getting up there and doing it. And actually doing it sober.

Mark snorted, "Well that is a problem, isn't it? I think I only went to one show were you weren't drunk- I'm not factoring the other guys in." He paused, a look of faux-thoughtfulness on his face, "You could always do what Maureen used to do when she got stage-fright." He already laughed at the idea. "You know what? Nevermind. I don't think your crazy enough."

He grinned when Roger came back from his room with his acoustic guitar. "Like what I did to your room? It's been great having the whole place to myself..." Mark could have rolled his eyes at the sadness in his voice. He adjusted his camera so he could get both Roger and the guitar in the shot.

"I think Angel'll love doing drums... and Maureen will do anything for attention." Mark sighed deeply, "And honestly, who doesn't owe you a favour?"

Before Mark could ask how much they were paying him, the phone began to ring. The shrill noise cut through the air like a knife.

SPEEEEAK.

"Mark? Mark, are you still screening your calls? You know I don't like that, sweety, and your answering machine is getting a tad bit annoying--" Mark resisted the urge to stuff his fingers in his ears. "--Anyway, I spoke to Cindy yesterday, and she said she would love to see you at Andrew's bar mitzvah next Saturday. She wants you to call her... and bring Roger when you come. You know how much the family loves him."

Mark glared sourly at his best friend.

"Call me when you get this! Love Mom!"

"...Wow..." He held his breath, "I know I've asked this a thousand times, but can I join your family? And you know your mom called, right?"

There was a pause, "So how much are they paying you?" He asked, hoping they could just ignore the interuption.

[ROGER DAVIS]

"The only show that I wasn't drunk was the show I met April at." It was probably the reason why he remembered it so clearly. Why he remembered what she wore, what colour lipstick she had on. How she smiled. Roger's thoughts were broken when Mark spoke of Maureen. Roger pursed his lips, as if truely thinking about it, and then shook his head. "I'll pass, thanks."

"You're turning my wonderful room into a Dark Room." However, Roger resisted the urge to comment about how it had been nothing was really changing. It had been a dark room for as long as he could remember. When Mark spoke of Angel, Roger nodded. "Yeah, I figured she'd wanna do it, and as long as Maureen doesn't make it the Maureen Band with Roger doing Back Up, I'm all for our little Diva making an apperance."

The shrill sound of the phone made Roger's head turn, and he idly plucked on the guitar, eyes watching the neck. Mark's mom's voice made him look towards the answering machine, smirking at the woman's chastising of the metal box. At the mention of Cindy, Roger's mouth dropped open, a smile threatening to break his face in two as he paused, and then lifting his hands up in triumph, silently mouthing the word 'SCORE' as Mark's Mom stated that Cindy wanted Roger to come to Andrew's Bar Mitzvah.

"I love you, too, Mom!" Roger said to the answering machine, as if the woman would be able to hear him. "Yes! See! I told you your sister still likes me. And yes, I know my mother called. And yes, you know my mother would like, instantly take you. If you want to come into my family with my fucked up dad, you're more than welcome to. You can deal with some of his shit for a while."

"How much? Um, 250. I think. With tips, who knows. Hopefully people'll tip. I hate that people go see music or whatever and don't tip. It's like, I know I do it for the music, but I also do it for the flow."

[markcohen]

"Your room is not wonderful. It's a horrible deathtrap that was begging to be turned into a dark room." Mark winced and raised his hand to rub at the bump he had earned in there.

He grinned broadly at the topic of the Maureen Band. "If you let Maureen take over, the gig will turn out great. Like it or not, she's a performance magnet."

Mark shot Roger a horrified, angry look, "You. Are. Not. Going." He stated firmly, his glasses flashing. "Cindy does not like you. She never did. Her three kids- who she made with her husband!- like you. You've brainwashed my family into liking you. But Cindy never did. I'm sorry Rog, but it's true." Mark had no idea why he was wasting his breath on this. He had this conversation with Roger before, and it always turned out the same way... "And your not going." He added again.

"Well I'm not going to tip. I'm saving this hundred."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"My room is so wonderful." Roger protested. "Don't be jealous 'cause more shit happened in my room than yours." Roger threw out with a slight smirk. "But fine. If you wanna turn it into a dark room, do whatever you want. Keep my bed in there, though. I may need it every once in a while."

At Mark's horrified look, Roger rolled his eyes. "God, you're such a girl. Cindy likes me. Your mom likes me. Even your grandma likes me. Her three kids like me. I can't help it if you and your father are the odd men out and don't like me." Roger stated honestly, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "And yes. I completely snakecharmed my way into your family. If that was the case, I woulda skipped your family and just snakecharmed my way into your sisters panties. And yes, I am going. I've got an invite whether you like it or not. And don't think about leaving, either. I'll just follow you and show up."

When Mark stated that he wouldn't top, Roger rolled his eyes once more. "You're such a jerk. Oh well, I'm sure I'll have someone that'll give me double. Hey, you know what? Just for that, I'm calling Cindy and telling her she should come down to see me play. And then what'll happen after that? " Roger asked, and then spoke in sing song. "Roger's gonna get some backstage action." Then again, Roger didn't n eed Cindy to get backstage action. All Roger needed to do was make sure Mimi was backstage when he walked off the stage. He paused, the smirk trying to stay small on his face but it grew.

"...I wonder if Cindy would be down with a threesome with Mimi." But before Mark could protest, Roger held up his hands with a laugh. "Dude! Kidding! Don't get your panties in a twist."

[markcohen]

Mark snorted, "Right. Because your going to want to sleep around chemicals and fixer? If I want to move your bed, I'm going to. Besides, you sleep on the couch more than anything. Better for you to snore out here than next to my room."

"I like you," He protested mildly, "I just don't like you being around my family..." Of course, he regretted his words when Roger spoke again. "You don't have a car!" Mark snapped, hoping the discussion was over.

His hands clenched into fists. Sure, he wasn't exactly found of his sister, but still. He'd received plenty of tormenting on the subject by Roger over the years, and it was really, really starting to get to him.

"There's no way in hell Cindy would go to your show. She hates rockstars." Lie, lie, lie. Half of her boyfriends over the years were in some form of band or another, (was that where Roger got hope?) and she loved going to their gigs and going all out with them backstage. The reason he knew this? She had drunkenly gushed it to him one night.

Mark still found it amazing she settled down with someone like Ken, a mild-mannered lawyer from Texas. Every time Mark saw the man, he was more and more whipped. It was pathetic.


...I wonder if Cindy would be down with a threesome with Mimi.

"Do you want me to kill you?" He demanded furiously, and mashed his teeth together when Roger told him to chill out.

"Stop fantasizing about my sister then."

[ROGER DAVIS]

"...dude, I injected heroin into my veins and snorted cocaine for nearly four years. I don't think a little chemical and fixer is gonna bother me." Roger told Mark honestly, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I like this couch anyway."

"I don't think I need to remind you that it's not that hard to get a car in New York." Roger replied honestly, though when he said it, he instantly regretted it. However, Cindy was spoken, Roger rolled his eyes. "Liar. Cindy loves rockstars. Everyone loves rockstars. We're cool."

When Mark demanded if Roger had a death threat, Roger smirked slightly. "Chill out, Cohen. And see, here's what I don't get. You don't like your sister. You avoid her like the plague. Let you get all like, your shit in a twist 'cause I've got the hots for her. I mean, I get you're her brother...but seriously, you avoid her like she's the walking death."