Hiya! I got this from a prompt telling me to write something about a character being left my another character, but I just can't stand unhappy endings, so there's some MoJo fluffiness at the very end.
Also, I thought you RENT-heads would find this kinda cool. In this magazine I was reading, I saw an article written by a guy named Mark Cohen. I am now fully convinced Marky lives a double-life as a pediatrician. And then, at Red Lobster, our waiter looked exactly like Wilson Jermaine Heredia (did I spell that right?). His name was Ariel, which I'm pretty sure is a girl's name (no offence to any guys named Ariel; I'm just going by The Little Mermain). My mom even made up this story about how I had a friend and he looked just like her cousin so I could take a picture of him (what? How many guys would like to hear they look like an actor famed for playing a drag queen? I didn't want to insult him). Just thought you'd find that interesting.
Maureen yanked off her waitress apron as she made her way up to her and Joanne's apartment and stuffed it into her bag. She was tired; working at a local diner was not her forte. But it would all be worth it when she would give Joanne the engagement ring that was on layaway. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Joanne herself. A big diamond surrounded by two smaller rubies, Joanne's birthstone.
Maureen unlocked the door as quietly as she could, trying to sneak in like a little cat as to not wake Joanne. The lights were still on, making the self-proclaimed drama queen raise her eyebrows. She tip-toed into the dinning room where Joanne sat at the table.
"H-hey, baby!" Maureen said, scratching the back of her head nervously.
"Where were you?" Joanne's polar stare ripped through Maureen; especially through her heart.
"Just...kinda...well...hanging out." Maureen's voice raised slightly, proving she couldn't lie to Joanne. She never could lie well to those whom she loved.
"With who?"
"Just a few buddies-you don't know them."
Joanne got up and came towards Maureen, until there was only an inch between them. Maureen could hear Jo's ragged breath accompanied by her own.
"Why do you smell like beer?" Joanne asked. Damn those drunken old men that stampeded in, just trying to cause trouble.
"Well, my friends were having a few...you know how that goes. Peer pressure, I guess..." Peer pressure? God, that was horrible.
"You were sleeping with someone, weren't you?"
The question echoed through Maureen's head. Here while she was working her ass off, Joanne thought she was cheating. Yes, she took the late night shift, but that was only because she didn't want any of the Bohos to see her and tell Joanne. Even if she swore one of them to secrecy, they'd tell someone else, who'd tell someone else, who'd tell Joanne.
"Well, were you!" Now Joanne was shouting. God, Maureen hated it when Joanne shouted.
"No!"
"Liar!" Jo stomped over to the counter, where her back was to Maureen.
"Baby," She cuddled over to her lawyer, fitting Joanne's shoulder blade to the crook of Maureen's nose like a puzzle. "I didn't...Believe me..."
"I wish I could. But I can't." She took a deep breath. "Get out."
Maureen stepped back. "W-what?"
"You heard me: get out."
That's it. Things had gone too far. Maureen was going to tell her. "Just let me explain-"
"No!" Joanne walked over to the microwave and turned the dial to twenty minutes. "Any thing you want better be out by the time this dings or I'm keeping it."
"But-"
"You don't have much time, unless you only want the clothes on you back," Joanne said in a monotone. Maureen knew it was to hide what ever emotion (anger? Sadness?) Joanne was feeling. She always used it when extremely upset. Maureen just didn't expect Jo to ever use it on her.
In a teary fluster, Maureen rushed to the bedroom, where she grabbed miscellaneous t-shirts and jeans and jackets. She really didn't care about what she got, and she really couldn't see due to her watery eyes. She saw her cowbell sitting on the dresser and she dug through her underwear drawer where she found a picture of the ring that she was hiding. She tucked the photo inside the bell and sat it on the bed, hoping Joanne would get the message she was trying to get across. If Maureen couldn't explain, then Joanne would just have to figure it out.
After getting a few more things, Maureen heard the timer ring. Slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder, she went out to the kitchen, where Joanne was turned to the wall. Maureen walked over to the door, but before she left she had to say one more thing:
"I love you."
Maureen lied curled up on Collins' couch. Well, more like curled up on Angel's lap.
"Shh...It's okay, sugar," Angel cooed, rubbing the sobbing drama queen's back.
"I wasn't doing anything wrong!" Maureen yelled, though muffled by Angel's sweater. "I was working-working! Me! I just wanted to give her something nice..."
"I know...I know..." Angel continued.
With a sigh, Collins stood up from Maureen's un-Angeled side, grabbed his jacket from the armrest, and headed towards the exit.
"Baby, where're you going?" Angel asked.
"You'll see," he responded, and left.
The next fifteen minutes didn't change. Maureen kept crying, Angel kept soothing, and the room kept getting smoky (Maureen guessed Angel was baking cookies by the burnt chocolate chip smell, but didn't want to leave her). Then, the metal door slid open, revealing Collins and Joanne.
Maureen's legs forced her to stand up (her reflexes were used to greeting Joanne with a running glomp), and she couldn't help but notice how wet Joanne's face was. Jo held out her arms. "Honeybear?"
Maureen released the urge in her and ran over to Joanne and gave that loving tackle-like hug to Joanne. Tears begun running like a marathon on Mo's face. Both women chorused in "I'm sorry"s, though Joanne's, despite evidence of previous breakdown, was a lot more composed.
"I saw the ring; it's gorgeous," Joanne whispered.
"I know. I was just working-"
"I know."
Collins grinned before asking Angel, "Ah, don't you just love the smell of dramatic lesbian makeups in the morning?"
"The only thing I smell is burnt...SHIT!" Angel rushed into the kitchen. When she came out, she was carrying a tray of what looked to be very brittle hockey pucks...or possibly burnt shit. "Cookies anyone?"
Hope you like. Reviews are gold. Thanks for reading!