Chapter Text
If Mary Jo has a bit of a hero worship thing for Julia, it’s only because she’s the most incredible woman person she’s ever met. Objectively.
When she’d finally divorced Ted, she’d second-guessed every decision she’d made since she was 18 years old, and then here comes this woman who not only has an opinion on every subject under the sun, it’s never occurred to her that any of them could be wrong . It’s exhilarating, watching Julia rip someone a new asshole on the regular (although she’d never call it such, because not only is Julia Sugarbaker the Terminator, she’s Miss Manners, to boot). So if Mary Jo gets a bit of a dreamy look on her face when Julia starts yelling about this or that, it’s only because she’d like to be her.
She thinks.
It does feel a bit like fate, to land at Sugarbaker’s after the last few years. Charlene had mentioned Julia in passing when she had worked for Hayden, but an offhand “oh, that Mrs. McIlroy is just the most dignified woman you’ve ever seen, I swear” didn’t encompass what a revelation Julia was. Mary Jo always imagined widows to be frail and timid, as a concept. Julia is… a tour de force. And full of surprises- every time she reveals something about herself, Mary Jo locks it away in her mental rolodex: studied at the Sorbonne, kicked out of her sorority, appears to dislike her sister but would kill on her behalf, always the smartest person in every room, slow to smile, but when she does it’s probably like an angel revealing itself to you. She wonders if Julia keeps track of her biography: single mother, alleged prude, daughter of a vet and yet a surprisingly incompetent dog owner, big haired and small-breasted, always a bridesmaid, never again a bride.
Mary Jo couldn’t tell you what possessed her to ask Julia flat-out “do you think I’m sexy?”. By all means, Charlene should have been her go-to for that reassurance, what with being best friends and all, but well, Charlene’s life is just like those romance novels she loves so much, with passion and uncontrollable lust and whirlwind affairs, and Mary Jo’s never felt “ ike a fire was burning her loins with desire ” once in her life, so maybe Julia’s opinion is just a bit more relevant.
She doesn’t say “yes,” but then again, she doesn’t say “no,” either.
_
Mary Jo likes JD. He’s fun, and he gets it, and he’s a man in Atlanta who didn’t vote for Ronald Reagan, and that’s as close to perfect as anyone could hope for. And, it’s kind of nice to commiserate with Julia about having boyfriends (well, Julia hates that word- ‘gentleman callers,’ then) who travel so much for work. Not that she’s constantly looking for similarities between the two of them, or anything. But, they are pretty similar, in the big picture. Parents to the children of the world, as it were. So when Julia agrees to ditch work for a day fishing, Mary Jo feels like the luckiest girl in the world. If this is how Suzanne felt at Miss Georgia World, well, Mary Jo can see the appeal of pageant life.
Julia decides to go all-in on the experience, and grabs a twelve-pack of PBR en route to her grandfather’s farm. The beer is, as expected, terrible, but drinking it feels like sticking it to the man, and despite the fact that it would be more palatable if she chugged it, Mary Jo tries to savor the experience as she listens to Julia regale her with tales of her wilder younger days.
“The first time I got arrested, Suzanne was in kindergarten, and she gave me quite the lecture about appropriate behavior for ladies. It’s amazing how two people from the same flesh and blood can be so different, isn’t it?”
“Hmmmm, I know what you mean. My brother’s idea of art is belching the ABC’s.”
Mary Jo has been drunk in her presence before, but never drunk and alone with Julia. Not that that would be a problem, other than losing the respect of her boss (and friend? Mary Jo thinks that word applies, but a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign does not a power dynamic eliminate).
Julia’s laugh is more intoxicating than the cheap beer. That might be a problem.
“You know, all of this Atlantic City nonsense makes me want to just say to hell with all of the stuff I do to look out for other people. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I put myself and what I want first. Certainly not since I’ve been in the double digits!”
Julia raises an eyebrow, making that slightly-predatory smile that convinces Mary Jo that she can, in fact, read minds, which is both a terrifying and wonderful thought.
“And what, pray tell, would that look like, Mary Jo? What is it that you want?”
Before she can think any better, Mary Jo feels herself lean in, close enough to see the faint edges of Julia’s now-worn lipstick, to hear the slow, measured exhale from her flared nostrils.
And just like that, Julia lurches away from her, gleefully shouting, “we got a bite!!!!”
Mary Jo’s not so sure she loves fishing anymore.