Tango Lessons
By: Ethiwen
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT; the gods are -still- not that kind...no matter how much I pray...
Summary: Joanne seeks vacation and finds an unexpected surprise…can she cope?
Author's Notes: This chapter is up entirely because of my dearest friend. Our RPG's helped decide which tangent to take with this second chapter. Hope you like it. Reviews, as always, are welcome.
Warnings: I think that there's like…one swear word in this chapter…Be careful…or something…
Chapter 2: The Confrontation
Joanne saw the scarf first; Then the brilliant blond hair. You have got to be kidding me, she thought annoyed, of all the studios I could have chosen, why the hell did I have to pick Mark Cohen's!
"Uh…Joanne? You're my new client?" Mark asked perplexed. Joanne clenched her jaw, choosing not to say anything for the time being. This was too surreal, too bizarre. And besides, what would she say? Hi, Mark. I'm here for you to help me brush up on my tango skills? And admit she was coming to him for help? Not in a million years. Joanne Jefferson did not need help from Maureen's pathetic ex-boyfriend…well…at least not -again-.
Mark wore a wavering smile "Uh...okay…Welcome to Ambiguous. I'm Mark. I'll be your instructor…today. Shall we…um…begin? I know you've tangoed before, so we won't start at the beginning. How many years have you been tangoing?" Mark inquired, trying to allow formality to cover the awkwardness between them.
Joanne watched his face for a moment, his awkward smile a happier mirror of her stone expression. This was indeed awkward…So much for taking a break.
"Instructor today?" she mocked, not wanting her voice to show the vulnerability she felt, "You work here?"
Mark's smile faltered, as he shifted his gaze from her. "Actually…I -own- …here," he mumbled.
"YOU -OWN- HERE!" Joanne exclaimed! Woah, Joanne. Easy girl, she thought, Don't ever let them see you sweat. You're a lawyer for Christ's sake. You're -paid- to be frightening, and damn it, you're good at what you do. Stare. Intimidate. Never let them think they have the upper hand…even if they do.
"You own here?" Joanne demanded more insistently, "How?"
Mark winced. "Well…it's kind of thanks to you…at least partially. Buzzline managed to scrape a little money, and then another news show, a -real- news show, bought some of the footage I had already shot. With the profits from that I decided to do something that would keep making money…AZT isn't getting any cheaper." He smiled a slight half smile.
Joanne smirked. "Oh I'm glad Buzzline worked for you…really."
What was left of Mark's awkward smile fell away, and he clapped his hands together, and adopted a business-like tone. "So shall we…begin? Maybe we should start with a basic Molinete?"
"Uh…begin?" Of course Joanne. You're here to brush up on your tango skills. Amidst all the commotion, Joanne had completely forgotten why she was there, which brought her back to the fact that she was in Mark's tango studio asking him for -help-.
Mark placed his hands, fingertips touching, in front of him. "Yes. You -are- paying for Tango lessons after all."
-Lessons-. Tango -lessons-, he had said. As if she had -anything- to learn from Mark. Well…even if she did she certainly would not say so. But that posed a problem…what to say? Joanne had no idea how to respond without sounding hesitant or defenseless. So she relied on instinct, rather than thought, as she so often did in her profession.
"Not…lessons…-instructor-, she said with a slight edge. "Rather, I was hoping to get back into practice. You understand."
"I see," Mark paused, looking thoughtful, "Then the introduction will be lost on you. Are you ready to begin?"
"Whenever you are…instructor."
Mark cleared his throat, and nodded. "Now then."
Joanne chided herself mentally. What has your big mouth gotten you into this time? Mark, no matter what fabrications spewed from Joanne's lips, was the better dancer. Joanne knew that. She paused briefly, considering how she might get out of the hole that her words had dug. She decided, if only for a moment, to let her guard down and allow Mark to begin. But she could not -show- her weakness. She was playing the part now. She had to prove to Mark that she was in control, so that she could prove to -herself- that she was in control.
Joanne gazed at Mark, fearing him, rather than hating him. For once her face was not set in a stone expression, but rather an expression of apprehension. Moment of truth, Joanne.
"Okay…Mark." she said, using his name rather than his formal title. "I'm ready."
Stepping toward her, Mark adjusted his scarf and glasses, and extended his hand.
