Tango Lessons

By: Ethiwen

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT; the gods are not that kind.

Summary: Joanne, tired of her own mundane existence, seeks recreation…

Author's Notes: This story was a random muse. Many thanks to my dearest friend, for always being up for an RPG to help the writing process, being my tango partner, and for helping me get this from disaster to slightly acceptable. Reviews welcome.

Warnings: Bad language…references to sexual exploits.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joanne stared into the mirror, studying her chestnut complexion. It had been a long week. Maureen and she had broken up and gotten back together four times, due to Maureen's various…exploits…and yes, a little of Joanne's own controlling attitude. Joanne didn't think she expected much of Maureen. Just the simple decency of not flirting with every human being she saw. She felt she deserved at least that, simply for putting up with Maureen's drama. But Joanne could never leave Maureen, no matter what she did, for the same reason Mark never could. Joanne loved her. It was that simple, but at the same time full of the most baffling complexity, and it made Joanne's head spin. Mark was right, a fucking tango Maureen. But she wouldn't think of that now. The thought of Mark being right made her sick. She wanted to hate him. He was pathetic, and Maureen had left him for her, so Joanne had no need to be jealous…right?

Then that stupid riot broke out after Maureen's show, which meant as Substitute Production Manager, she had to deal with all the legal bullshit that went with it… (Not that that would be difficult…she was, after all, a lawyer by trade… just irritating.) Her parents wouldn't leave her alone about her mother's trial, which was set up already anyway, and it aggravated Joanne to repeatedly tell them, "No, there is not anything else we can do." She was a lawyer, for Christ sake, not a fucking miracle worker. Did it matter to them that they kept raising her stress levels with this idiocy, and their constant reminders that she was not the child they had wanted? Of course not, why would they? And if -that- wasn't enough, now she had to worry about taking that whiny brat Mark to Alexi Darling's, and saving his ass too.

Was that another wrinkle? Oh…I'm getting old at 28, she thought. Not that it was -her- fault that she was aging prematurely. Circumstances are circumstances, but Joanne's entire life seemed to be circumstance. She felt as though she had finally hit the bottom, where she no longer had any hope. She had resigned herself to a life of work and tedium. But even still, she desperately wanted a vacation; she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. She privately dreamed of Spain in the summer, and hoped one day she might really go there, with Maureen in tow if their rocky romance would hold that long. She longed for still, lazy days, bathing in the sun, and visiting ancient monasteries. But for now, she was too busy.

So the only option left was to find some activity within New York that she would be able to relax and have fun with. But she hadn't done anything recreational in so long, she had no idea where to begin. What was there to do in this city? Well it's New York, after all, she mused wryly, there has to be -something- to do. Then she remembered Mark and how out of practice she was when he came to help with Maureen's production. She knew what she would do.

Tango lessons.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joanne walked down the street, head up instead of down as usual, looking for the tango studio. She didn't know the first thing about dance studios, since she'd learned to dance in a dorm room, so she had randomly selected a Tango studio from the phone book. Bad idea, Joanne, she told herself, now you'll probably end up with some idiot instructor. Regretting her decision, but not wanting to waste her money, she glimpsed the studio and made for the door. Ambiguous. Interesting name for a dance studio…she thought. She walked in and went to the front desk. Here goes.

"Hello, my name is Joanne Jefferson; I have a private lesson at 4:30." The receptionist, a pert blond, smiled. "Of course Ma'am. If you would sit down in the waiting area, it should be just a few minutes. The Instructor is just finishing up with his last client."

Joanne sat down in a comfortable light blue office chair. At least the Instructor has a decent sense of style, she smirked. The office was decorated in shades of blue, rather than the traditional tango red. Fascinating, she observed dryly. She waited nervously for the instructor to call her in. She hadn't really tangoed in years. She was probably going to make a huge fool of herself. What am I doing? she scolded herself mentally.

"Chelsea, you can send in the next client," said a voice from the intercom. In the same instant the royal blue door opened and the previous client walked out. My turn to go through the looking glass, she thought. She got up and walked through the royal blue door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx End Chapter 1