All Wet
By Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com

Fandom: Pre-RENT (movie)
Pairing/characters: Joanne/Maureen, Joanne/Other
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Joanne Jefferson's defined, in control life is turned upside down when she comes across one Maureen Johnson.

--

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I know I would apologize
If I could see your eyes
Cause when you showed me yourself
You know
I became somewhere else

But I was caught in between
All you wish for and all you need
I picture you fast asleep
The night mare comes
You can't keep away

-- 'In the Sun' Joseph Arthur

--

Suffocating in the silence of her own apartment, Joanne was in no mood to be alone.

To be alone would mean giving in to the chaos in her brain, and she couldn't handle it – the cacophony of thoughts threatened to split her head open as it was.

Antonia had been instrumental in keeping her sanity. As long as she had the other woman, willing and ready in her bed, she had her focus, an ability to concentrate on the beauty before her, explore every crevice, seek out every source of pleasure.

Consequently, Antonia called her the best lover she ever had.

But her lover had left for the evening, and after turning up the radio so loud that it rattled her skull and brought the doorman knocking telling her of complaints from her neighbors, she grabbed her trench coat and headed out into the night.

Not in the mood to be anywhere, Joanne didn't know where she was going, until pure habit forced her into a cab, and up the steps of an upscale high rise.

The doorman, Jimmy, she remembered, offered her a smile and a bow, and let her into the hallway, pressing the fourteenth floor.

It was how she found herself staring through the open doorway at Cindy. Her friend, upper lip white with bleach, green scrub painted on her face, toothbrush hanging out of the corner of her mouth, looked like some sort of clown.

"MoAnne?" Cindy mumbled around her toothbrush, face constricted by the green mask she wore. "What're you doin' 'ere?"

She smiled weakly. "I have no idea."

--

Sitting on Cindy's couch was familiar. She had been here before, and she sunk in the leather, down, eyes closed, fingers buried in her hair.

The soft sound of jazz floated in around her, and she smiled morosely. Cindy remembered which of her cd's she liked. Some cold and smooth pressed against her fingertips, and lifting her head, Joanne closed her hand gratefully around the condensing beer bottle.

Weight settling in beside her shifted the cushions, as Cindy, the ends of her hair wet with water, rubbed vigorously at her face with a towel, perhaps in an effort to let what she had just spilled sink in completely.

"Wow," Joanne heard, and she grimaced, lips against her beer bottle, tilting it back so that the bitter liquid spilled onto her tongue. "I mean" wow."

"Glad you're amused," she muttered.

Cindy was sitting with her back completely straight, towel in her lap, face flushed and bright. "Okay," she began, after a moment. "Let me recap: just to get this all straight."

"Be my guest," Joanne answered, slumping into the leather couch, tipping the bottle once more against her mouth.

"So" your girlfriend's brother – who has AIDS and is dying – wants you to convince your girlfriend to drop the biggest case of your career because he's too scared to do it himself. Meanwhile, you go to court next week, and your boss is so amped up on this case that dropping it might actually RUIN your career, and your girlfriend, who is also your client, is so attached she might flip out. And NOW, you've gone and fucked it up even more by accidentally making out with your girl Maureen in a public bathroom, who showed up at your doorstep while Antonia was naked. And now she's pissed at you over that, and you haven't even brought up the dying brother lawsuit thing."

She shut her eyes, a bitter grin pulling at her lips. Cindy did have a knack for summing things up. "That about covers it."

"Wow." Cindy exhaled loudly, shaking her head in wonder. "Joanne, you are so fucked. I mean, really, and truly fucked."

"I know."

"And not in a good way."

"I know."

Her friend curled her leg from under her, shoulders coming down in a slouch. "Geez." Snatching Joanne's beer from her fingers, she took a long gulp. "Sorry," she said, when Joanne glared. "You got the last cold one. We're sharing."

Joanne head fell back against the cushion, fingers massaging at her temples. "You know, a month ago? I was fine. My life was relatively well and balanced. I was sane. What the hell happened to me?"

"Well" Maureen, for one thing."

"Maureeeeen," she responded, feeling the word out, the image of the woman behind the name conjured up, however unwillingly, lounging against her doorway. "Maureen Johnson. She's crazy. She's nuts."

"Uhuh," Cindy answered, peering into her bottle, as if checking to see if there was anything left. "And you're nuts about her."

Joanne was too tired to protest the sentiment. "I don't know why. She's crazy. She's a narcissist and she's mean. And she leaves her bras behind and comes and gets them when there's naked women in my livingroom."

"As in more than one?"

"Just the one was enough." Wincing, Joanne let out a sudden growl, hands balling into fists. "And Antonia was perfect, you know? She was the perfect package. Beautiful and smart and high class and funny and it could have worked with her. I know it could have."

"Really?"

"Well, why wouldn't it?"

"Because she's just like every other woman you've ever dated and in three months you would have been bored stiff," Cindy stated dryly, giving up on the bottle and tossing it beside her on a nearby cushion. "And did I not mention it was a bad idea to get involved with a client?"

"No, you didn't," Joanne said, somewhat snappishly.

"Well, I thought it."

Joanne inhaled through her nostrils, a loud rush of air. "Fuck it," she said, palm up. "It doesn't matter. Because I'm done. I'm done with women. Unless Antonia doesn't dump me on my ass tomorrow when I tell her about Hector and dropping the lawsuit. Then I'll keep her. And I'll find Maureen, and I'll kick her ass."

"Before or after you lose control and pull her pants off?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, calling it as I see it." Cindy's response was dry. "Because as far as I can tell? Self control around that woman is not your strong suit. It's more than just good sex for you, honey."

"Does it matter?" Joanne blinked, headache pounding at her, like an angry gong. "Does it? She's still with her precious 'Marky'. She's not leaving him. I am what I am to her – good sex, and that's all. Fuck Maureen." Her eyes widened and she swiveled her head to her friend. "And don't say I already did and that's what got me into this mess."

Cindy waved her hands in front of her face, the picture of innocence. "What? I didn't say anything."

"And who the hell is Hector to do this to me? To ask me to singularly fuck up every part of my life just because he can't face his damned sister himself? God, you know what I should do? Not tell her. Tell him to tell her himself and leave me the hell out of it. To grow the hell up before he dies."

The tears took her by surprise, wetness against her cheeks so shocking she paused, reaching up and wiping at the moisture with her fingers. Voice caught in her throat, Joanne closed her eyes and shuddered, suddenly angered when more tears drifted down her cheeks.

"God" dammit"" she breathed.

She was left alone for a moment in her silence, until familiar arms curled around her shoulders, reeling her in. By instinct alone, Joanne turned, blindly settling into the embrace, wet tears staining the milky white throat.

Cindy was gentle, rocking her like she would a child, knuckles against her cheek. "Hey" Hey." Her voice was careful, kind. "You'll be fine. You'll do the right thing, because that's what you do. Even if it ends up ruining your career," she added, and Joanne laughed desperately. "Because that's who you are. And you'll get through it. Because you're amazing and stubborn and that's why I love you." Lips brushed her forehead. "And as for the rest of it" you do what makes you happy. The rest will fall into place."

Joanne's eyes closed, and she breathed in raggedly, absurdly fragile, fingers gripping tightly to the sleeves of Cindy's flannel pajama top.

"You're crazy," she muttered between sniffles, and Cindy laughed, pulling her in tighter. "Thank you," she added.

"Bye me more beer," Cindy said, rubbing circles into her lower back. "And we'll call it even."

--

Joanne had always made a point of including Maureen in every aspect of her life, as long as Maureen was willing. That meant the country club, office parties, drinks with clients. Maureen was always entertaining and sometimes a liability, but she was enthusiastic and unforgettable, and while sometimes Joanne would regret bringing her along, particularly when Maureen found herself connecting a little TOO well with another female, she had always promised to never make Maureen feel less than her partner.

Hector's funeral, however, was simply an event Joanne would go to alone, and while Maureen must have understood her reasons, it wasn't something she took lightly.

Jealousy wasn't usually a trait Maureen came to have – in fact, Joanne suspected that if Maureen ever even thought Joanne would be up for a threesome, there'd be another woman in their bed immediately – but the name Suddleson was always avoided between them, and for good reason.

"You're not going," she said, and it wasn't a request. "You're not going because it has nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with her. I'm paying my respects to a friend. I have no interest in revisiting what happened and for your own sake, you shouldn't either."

It wasn't a threat. It was fact, and Maureen's mouth shut, jaw squared with uncomfortable anger.

"I know," Maureen said, and for once Joanne thought she saw shame, trickling up her cheeks in a soft blush. "But she'd take you back in a minute." Breaking her gaze, Maureen stared at the floor, looking suddenly like a lost, scared child.

"And what?" Joanne asked, shaking her head, suddenly gentle. Coming forward, the cupped the strong chin, looked into dark green eyes.

"You forgave me."

"So I'll forgive her?" Joanne sighed, palm spreading against the chin until she could slide her thumb across the pronounced cheekbone. "I already have, honey. As messed up as all that was. But I'm not in love with her. I never was. Being with her was about not being with you."

Maureen blinked, as the statement sank in the air, and Joanne sucked in her breath, shaking her head in bitter wonder.

"God," she whispered, and the faintest smile floated on her lover's lips. "Don't," she warned. "Just don't."

Maureen's expression was almost relieved, and Joanne sighed raggedly, when her girlfriend slid her arms around her neck, and lay her cheek against her shoulder.

"We are a pair," Maureen sniffled. "The pot and the kettle." Shaking her head, Joanne's mouth pressed together, and wondered what to do with her impromptu, instinct driven baby. "Joanne?"

"Yeah, baby."

"I love you." The words were said fiercely, fighting, determined words.

Despite the drama, Joanne knew it was true. "You're still not coming."

A beat, and then Maureen held her tighter. "I know. It's okay."

It was.

--

"You haven't told her."

Head lifting, Joanne took in the sight of her girlfriend's twin brother, leaning into her office, one hand on her doorframe.

"Hi," she answered, settling back into her seat, clicking her automatic pen erratically with her thumb. "No, I haven't." Hector looked visibly disappointed, arms falling to his side. "We had a fight," she explained, somber and professional. "Needless to say, it wasn't a great time to bring it up."

Hector shook his head, obviously frustrated, as he fell into her seat, fingertips tapping against his thigh erratically. "The trial's getting closer."

"And you don't think I know that?" The words were snap, and immediately, Joanne clamped her mouth shut, regretting her tone. Breathing out raggedly, she pulled at her tie, a nervous tick, and looked at her friend. "I understand you're nervous, Hector, but you have to understand, that if I don't do this right, I could lose your sister, and my job."

The ramifications weren't pleasant, and it was comforting that at least Hector seemed to understand, eyes closing at the utter impossibility of the situation.

"I don't want that," he said thickly. "I don't. I don't want to fuck you over anymore than I have to-"

"I know," she responded quietly, sitting still. "And I'll do my best to make it happen. One way or another, I won't be taking you to court."

Hector was still, quiet, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, eyes bloodshot and tired. Cracking a tired, weak smile, he shifted in his seat. "So wha'd you guys fight about?"

Joanne couldn't help the bittersweet laugh, as she shook her head and cocked her head. "You think I'm going to tell you?"

"We're friends," he insisted. "Come on. I live for my sister's misery."

"Well, I don't," she said, smile twitching at her lips.

"You should. She's a snake. A viper." He sucked air between his teeth, and she laughed, tossing her pen into his lap. "Heeey"" Squirming, he grabbed it, and clicked the top, smile fading as he inspected it. "Thanks, Joanne. I've been a coward my whole life. That's what my dad and my sister's say. Maybe it's true. I don't want to die a hero. I just want to live, you know? Like a man. Until I'm done living." Eyes on the floor, he seemed lost, in another world.

Quietly, Joanne took him in. "You know you're not dead yet."

He glanced up, studied her. "Know what the upside is about dying, Joanne? You stop being afraid. You stop giving a shit about what other people think and you start living, you know?" Joanne's eyes dropped down, breaking the gaze, breathing in a bit unsteadily. "You know what? Bring her in tomorrow. Sit her down here. Me, you and her. I'll tell her. I'll tell her myself." He nodded, resolutely, a soldier in his own war.

--

Antonia was acting oddly. She wasn't calm. She wasn't collected, but twitchy, distracted. This wasn't her lover, and Joanne, already nervous given the shaky state of their relationship, didn't want to venture a guess as to what was wrong.

Her girlfriend had chosen Indian food, and she focused on her food with startling concentration, breaking off pieces of naan and swirling the flat bread in her crushed peas.

"You're still upset," Joanne said finally, dropping her fork.

Oddly enough, Antonia seemed startled. Hazel eyes jerked up to meet her own intensely, and she sighed raggedly. "No," she answered, somehow heavy, somehow tired. "I'm" I am upset, but""

"Look, I should have been honest." Antonia shuddered and glanced away. "The thing with Maureen and me, it was-"

"Joanne""

"It was complex. And" convoluted and a little messy. Obviously, I should have come clean with you. I didn't expect her to show up like she did-"

"But she did and it was for a reason, right?"

The uneven, upset tone had Joanne sucking in her breath, a tense reaction. "Yes, it was for a reason."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

The tightness in her chest was suffocating, and Joanne sat, frozen, as she stared into the eyes of her lover, discovering the other woman completely still, waiting for her answer.

She hesitated, but Joanne couldn't be a hypocrite, and so she exhaled and glanced away. Her answer was evident enough.

"It doesn't change how I feel about you, Antonia."

"I slept with her."

At first, the statement didn't seem to make sense. Joanne's head rose, took in the woman across the table, the flat, haunted stare.

Her heartbeat erupted suddenly, blood rushing to her head, and Joanne shook her head, unsure what that meant, suddenly dizzy.

"What?" she whispered.

Antonia swallowed, eyes moist and voice even, almost defiant. "I slept with Maureen. Last night. After I left your apartment."

- end chapter