Disclaimer- Jonathan owned them. He still does, forever. I'm just playing.
It Takes Three to Tango
Part 1
I'm Gone!
The words still echoed in her ears as she stormed away from the billiard room. She had no idea where she was going, or what she was going to do now. She just had to get away from all those people that stared at her as if she was crazy. Even if she was, it was none of their goddamn business. Her head was spinning madly after all that champagne. Four glasses, was it? Five? She couldn't keep up. How pathetic was that? She could hardly keep her balance. She noticed the staircase just before she bumped into it full force. She cursed it and strode forward. Her high heels clang against the parquet floor as she crossed the nearly deserted ballroom on her way to nowhere. A bottle of champagne on the bar caught her attention, and she snatched it before she could think better of it. A couple of waiters and the remaining guests raised their heads as she passed, looking at her strangely. It felt as if they were scorning her. The pretty waitress she was flirting with before was nowhere to be seen. Too bad, she thought bitterly. I could use some consolation now.
She had to get out of there. Out, that was a good idea. She pushed the heavy doors open and went out to the club's immaculate gardens. They caught a glimpse of them before when they were parking the car, and Mr. Jefferson couldn't stop talking about how beautiful those gardens were at spring time. A sudden chill ran through her and she embraced herself the best she could. It looked as if it had rained, but they were inside and didn't notice. Her teeth started chattering, and she thought of her jacket, laying someplace in the warm, cozy, snobbish club. She wouldn't dare going back inside to get it. She wouldn't dare facing anyone right now. Might as well freeze to death, she didn't care. Maybe it was for the better.
A wooden bench was hidden behind some thick rose bushes. She just sat still for a second, trying to calm her shaky nerves. Glancing at the bottle she grabbed earlier, she raised it to her lips and took a long sip. She closed her eyes in concentration, as if to track the liquid's way down her throat. Feeling too giddy to just sit and do nothing, she got up, leaving the bottle on the bench, and started pacing back and forth. The alcohol, although not as strong as she hoped for, still had its blessed affect on her, as always. Thank God for small miracles.
She could feel the remainders of adrenaline buzzing through her, slowly mixing with anger and fury. Not because of what had just taken place in there, not even because of Joanne. She was angry with herself. How could she lead her on like that when she knew it was hopeless? Why wasn't she smart enough to cut it off before it got too far? What was she thinking, agreeing to it in the first place? An engagement party? What the hell? Commitment? Yeah right. It could never have worked and she knew it damn well!
It's not that she was scared. Okay, so she was scared, but that wasn't the point. Or maybe it was? So she was terrified from committing herself to one person for the rest of her life. What's the big deal? Was that so wrong? She was young, why should she limit herself? She just wanted to make the best out of life. Commitment would only take her down.
She knew that this fear was the reason she could never keep up with a solid, long- lasting relationship in the first place. She just needed the distraction every now and again. She got bored easily, she always had. And it had nothing to do with the person she was in a relationship with. Really, it didn't. Mark was her first, just as she was his. She had never been into a relationship before. She had never dated the same guy more than three times. It was a kind of an unwritten rule. Up until Mark. She really didn't know how they got there. He wasn't her usual type, but there was something so sweet and childlike about him that fascinated her. She was full of doubts before their first date. They were so different; could they possibly get along? But surprisingly, they had the most amazing time together. Pretty soon she moved in with him, to the loft he shared with his friends, and before she knew it, it was their one year anniversary. He'd marry her if he could. He didn't have to say anything; she just knew he would. And the last thing she wanted was to hurt him with a refusal if he'd ever get the courage to propose, so she gradually backed away. In spite of the nonsense Roger fed him at the time, she never cheated on him. How could she? She loved him. She really did. She was just scared.
She found the perfect escape when Joanne came along. They met at the bar she was waitressing at. Joanne was there with her work colleagues, celebrating the ending of a case. The attraction was mutual, immediate, inevitable. It was weird, because even though she had flirted with women before, it was the first time she actually felt something back. It was Joanne who made the first step, slipping her a piece of paper with her phone number, and it took her some time to brew enough courage to give her a call and ask her for coffee. She had never intended to cheat on Mark, to do anything behind his back. It just happened, as cliché as it sounded. Joanne was everything that Mark wasn't. She was fire. She used to think of it as the reason for why they hit it off right away. They had almost nothing in common. At least this was how it looked like at first. But in spite of that, they had the most incredible couple of months. Why the hell did Joanne have to ruin everything with that big, scary word again?
She knew why Joanne was angry the day they had that appointment at Buzzline. She shouldn't have flirted with that secretary. But she couldn't help it. She never could. It was second nature to her; there was no harm in flirting. It was like a game, a game that she had to play every now and again to make sure she hadn't lost her touch. She always knew when to stop it. She had limits; she knew how to watch herself. She thought it was cute, the way Joanne got insanely jealous. It was something she never expected Joanne to do. And she would never admit it, but she was a bit jealous too, when she watched Joanne and Mark get along so well. But why, why, why did she have to get herself into that trap? Why did she have to act as if commitment wasn't a big deal when it was? Why didn't she just tell Joanne how scared she was? Joanne would have understood. She should have stopped it before it got too far, she scolded herself. Now who knew if Joanne would ever listen.
Somehow, she was able to ruin another relationship, another chance for happiness, and she hated herself for it. She hated hurting people, but somehow she always ended up doing just that. She was tired of it. Why couldn't she make it stop?
Tears. Oh no, not now, she thought, trying to wipe them as best she could without smearing her makeup. In spite of her dramatic persona, she hardly ever cried. Crying in movies didn't really count. The last time she had a real, good-for-the-soul cry was when April died, she suddenly realized. She remember how purified she felt afterwards, as if she got out all her grief and anger. But she would never admit it to others. As far as they were concerned, she was an emotionless ice queen. She never bothered to prove them wrong. At some point she started to believe it herself. She always felt as if she had to give some justification for her tears. This time, she blamed it on the alcohol.
Someone put something on her shoulder, putting an abrupt end to her reverie. She turned around, startled. "Mark."
There he was. Without his camera, she suddenly noticed, somewhat surprised. Somehow, he managed to look adorable in that suit he was wearing, that didn't match neither the dress shirt he had underneath or his tie. It was a bit short too, as if he wore it for his Bar Mitzvah years before and didn't buy a decent suit ever since. If it was another man wearing it, he had no excuse. Somehow on Mark, it looked just right.
"I thought I might find you here," he said lightly, but couldn't hide his worried expression when he noticed her tears. He didn't say anything about it though. "I thought you'd need this," he added quietly, nodding towards the jacket he had just laid on her shoulders.
Sweet Mark. She didn't deserve him. She never has. Yet at the same time she was so lucky to have him. He was so damn good to her and all she did was to keep him hurt and miserable. She felt like such a loser. "Thanks."
He hesitated, but then asked carefully, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," she answered shortly. I'm fine, she repeated with no words. She couldn't even convince herself.
"I didn't have a chance to congratulate you earlier. I guess it's kind of useless to do it now, huh?"
She smirked. I'd say, she thought, but didn't say anything.
They just stood there for a long moment in silence, observing one another. She wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wanted to scream at him to get lost, she didn't need his pity. But then there was this other part of her that wanted him to stay. She didn't want to be alone. And Mark would never criticize her.
"Look, Maureen…"
Or so she believed. She sighed. "Don't. I don't feel like talking about this right now, okay?"
He looked as if he disagreed, but then he thought better of it. "Fine." His gaze shifted towards the bottle of the champagne on the bench. She followed his gaze. It was nearly empty. "How much of this did you drink?"
"It helps me," she spattered, ignoring his question.
"Yeah, I can see that," he said, rolling his eyes.
He had that preaching tone. She didn't like it. She didn't need to be preached at now. She narrowed her eyes at him, but she could hardly focus. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Did you think of how you're gonna get home?"
"I didn't." Home. Where was that now? Joanne would probably want her out of the apartment they shared, the sooner the better. Where would she go? Would they let her stay with them in the loft for a while? Maybe she could move in with Mimi. Maybe Angel and Collins would take her in. Or maybe, if she'd run out of other options, the squeegee man would want some company. Yeah, she'd be okay; she'd manage. She always had.
Her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Before she knew it, she was falling. What the hell- "Hey, careful!" She heard Mark's voice, followed by his arms that were quickly wrapped around her to keep her on her feet. Strong arms. She didn't remember them like that. Could it be in her head? He held her tight, but still kind of gently, slowly leading her to the bench. He sat next to her, looking at her strangely. "Are you okay?"
She opened her mouth to say that she was, but suddenly, she wasn't. She got the strangest feeling, as if she was on a roller coaster. It was as if the whole world was spinning around her as she was slipping down and down and down... Cold sweat was gathering on her forehead. She could hardly breathe. She let her head drop on his shoulder.
"Maureen…?"
She raised her head to look at him. His grayish blue eyes were sparkling with concern and slight panic, half hidden by his glasses. She loved his eyes. She loved him. No, wait, she didn't. She loved Joanne. Joanne loved her. But Mark loved her too, right? She knew he was still in love with her, she-
"Mo-"
She was perfectly fine. Everything seemed to be so clear all of a sudden. Too clear. Maybe she had lost consciousness. Maybe she fainted. It felt as if she was watching everything from outside her body, watching herself sitting there with her ex-lover. Was Joanne her ex-lover now, too? Would Mark fill that empty place in her heart now? But it wasn't empty; Joanne still owned it, no matter what. But she loved Mark. Honestly, she did. Could she have both? Would they want her? Would they take her back after everything she had put them through? Would they ever forgive her? Would she forgive herself?
Before she could think better of it, which, considering all the amount of alcohol she had consumed already, she probably couldn't, she grabbed Mark's hideous tie and pulled him closer to her, until their lips crushed against one another with a passionate kiss.
To be continued! (grins evilly)