Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, the Rolling Stones, or Aerosmith (though it would be cool if I did).
The dance floor was in front of the bridal table. On one end of the area lay the video equipment, and the projector screen was set up on the opposite wall.
Maureen, Collins, and Mark casually strolled over to the equipment side of the room, stopping a few feet from the table.
"Ok, Maureen." Collins nudged her. "You're on."
The brunette sauntered over to the table.
"Hey," she said, putting on a bright smile.
The guy manning the equipment looked up from his magazine. "Hi," he said cautiously, and turned back to his reading.
"I bet you're bored," Maureen continued.
Video Guy looked up again. "Yeah..." His eyes widened as Maureen leaned over the table, giving him a full view of her very low cut top.
She giggled. "You're kinda cute." He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but couldn't help from glancing down a few times.
"How 'bout you and me go get a few drinks?"
"Huh? Oh, I don't—I have to—I can't," Video Guy sputtered.
"Oh, come on," Maureen pouted. "Just a couple?"
"But—I have to work." He grudgingly turned his face back to his magazine.
Maureen hesitated, and glanced back at Collins and Mark, shrugging. Keep going, Collins mouthed.
She turned back to Video Guy, who was seemingly determined to remain engrossed in his reading. She reached over the table, plucked the magazine away from him, and threw it on the floor.
"Let's go, Pooky," she said, yanking Video Guy out of his chair and toward the bar. She winked at the boys as she passed by them.
Collins and Mark scrambled over to the table. Moving quickly, they replaced the video in the projector with Mark's film. Slapping the cover shut, Mark slipped the old film into his bag, and followed Collins toward their table.
"Are you kidding me!" Joanne screeched. "Aerosmith totally kicks the Rolling Stones' ass any day."
Roger gulped another mouthful of beer and slammed the bottle down, shaking the pile of bottles in front of them and spattering the table with more liquid. "You are so high, you don't even know what you're talking about! The Stones kill Aerosmith!"
"You are insane!"
"No, I—." Roger gasped as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him out of his chair. "Hey," he whined. "My beer!"
"Let's go, boy," Collins said, letting go. Roger promptly fell on his face. "Are you drunk?"
"No," the musician sneered, struggling to his feet. Collins picked him up by the arm until he found his footing. When he dropped the arm, the rocker dropped, too.
"C'mon! We don't have all day!"
"I know, I know," Roger muttered, trying to get his feet under him.
Collins rolled his eyes, hauled his friend up, and half-carried, half-dragged him through the room.
"Where're we goin'?" Roger slurred.
"We're watching the show at the back, so when they come to murder us, we can leave right away."
"Oh... Where's Marky?"
"With Maureen," Collins huffed. He noted that the room seemed a lot bigger pulling a 22 year old man behind you. "Ok, Rog, help me out here. You're not exactly a ninety pound ballerina."
"Heh. I like ballerinas."
Mark and Maureen were waiting by the entrance when Collins and Roger showed up.
"What's wrong with him?" Mark asked.
"He got drunk in the ten minutes we left him alone." Mark and Maureen gave Roger a look.
"What?" he asked, leaning against Collins.
Maureen opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the voice of Alison's father: "Can I have your attention?"
The room quieted.
"Before we begin with dinner, I would like to present a small video we have set up to honor my beautiful daughter Alison and her wonderful new husband, and my new business partner, Benjamin." Benny and Alison stood and acknowledged the applause.
Business partner? The three sober friends looked at each other. "Sellout," Maureen whispered viciously.
"If you will, please?" Mr. Grey nodded to Video Guy, who, Mark saw, looked a little out of it.
"What did you do to the guy?" he asked Maureen.
She shrugged. "Kept him busy."
The lights dimmed.
Through the darkness came, "Heh. Busy. Bzz-ieee. Buzz. Buzz."
"Shut up, Roger."
"He just hit me!"
A chorus of shushes filled the room.
Then the projector turned on.
A shirtless chest filled the screen.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," onscreen Benny muttered as he stepped back from the camera.
"Is it on?" Alison asked.
"I think so."
Confused whispers filled the hall.
Gasps soon followed as the horrified guests watched as onscreen Benny and Alison proceeded to have sex.
The gasps turned into shrieks. Then one lone scream pierced the darkness. Mark whipped his head around toward the table just in time to see Alison faint and fall down. Next to her now-empty chair, Benny sat stoically and unmoving, except for his pulsing jaw muscle.
Mr. Grey jumped out of his seat and screamed, "Stop!"
The projector turned off, the lights came up, but it was too late. The damage was already done.
As chaos ensued, the four Bohemians slipped out the entrance and into broad daylight, their revenge complete.
April looked up when the loft door slid open. "Hey. How'd it go?"
"It was perfect," Maureen giggled.
Collins and Mark dragged Roger over to the couch and dropped him unceremoniously next to April.
"What's wrong, baby?" she asked.
"Baby sick," Roger whimpered, cuddling closer to her and laying his head on her shoulder.
"Yeah, you tend to smell after downingwho knows how many beers and puking your way across the city." Collins grinned when April wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Didn't we learn last time to keep Roger away from the free beer?"
Mark chuckled as he pulled the film reel and his camera out of the bag. "Y'know, I kinda feel sorry for the guy," he began. "I mean, we did ruin his wedding..."
"Oh, he deserved it," Maureen said, plopping into a chair.
Mark considered that for a moment. "Yep, he did."
A comfortable silence followed, until:
"Guys, pick up." Benny. "I know you're there. Answer." He paused, as if waiting for someone to get the phone. No one did.
"Ok," he finally said. "Fighting about it won't get anywhere, so I'll be the first to admit that I deserved it. 'k? I'm sorry."
The five friends looked at each other in satisfaction.
"Why the fuck are you apologizing!"The whiny voice filled the loft. "Give me the damn phone!" Alison screeched. A crackle came over the line as the reciever changed hands. Then:
"YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU, YOU SLIMY, SMELLY PIECES OF SHIT! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO PAY! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL! I--!"
Mark pulled the plug out of the wall.
A collective sigh filled the room.
"Well, that was fun." Maureen said.
I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for all the wonderful reviews.