Fenny and Gina crouched in the car, weighing their options, waiting for something dramatic to happen. All was still. Then there was a shot fired, and a flurry of dust kicked up by the bullet just outside Fenny’s window.

“We’re gonna die,” she sobbed quietly, trying to calm herself.

“Fenny,” Gina hissed, “stop it. These guys don’t want us, they want them. Ritza and Rona aren’t gonna stop and worry about us with someone pointing a gun at them. I want you to open your door and run for it. There’s trees all along the road you can hide in.”

There was a shot, this one from Rona, and it was followed by the ping of metal on metal.

“Are you insane?” Fenny gasped, trying to be quiet. “They’re gonna shoot us!”

“They’re not gonna shoot us,” Gina assured her. “We’re more likely to get shot sitting here in this car than we are if we get outta here. So, on the count of three. First, make sure your door’s unlocked.” Fenny glanced over to the lock, which was undone, and nodded at Gina. “Okay. One, two, THREE!”

Gina opened her door and sprinted as fast as she could away from the car towards the cover of the nearby trees. “What the fuck?!” she heard Ritza exclaim from behind her, then a startled scream and another shot, though she wasn’t sure from whom.

The worst case scenario running through her mind, Gina was certain that Fenny had been shot, and it was all her fault. She paused and looked back to see Fenny sprawled across the dirt, face down and still.

“Ritz, grab her,” Rona shrieked, and Gina made a mad dash to the trees but was soon tackled around the legs, she and Ritza falling to the ground in a heap. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do this, but fuck it,” Rona yelled, and let loose a terrifying round of shots into the car, then all was quiet except for Gina and Ritza yelling at each other as Gina was wrestled upright and dragged back towards the car.

“Fen!” she cried as Fenny was pushed against the car so Rona could open the door. “You’re okay!”

Fenny frowned at her, and they were both shoved into the back seat again. “No thanks to you,” Fenny grumbled. “You and your brilliant ideas.”

“What happened?” Gina asked.

“I tripped,” Fenny declared angrily.

“Tripped?”

“Yeah.”

“Over what?”

“How the hell should I know. If I’d seen it, I wouldn’t have tripped over it, would I? Just about broke my knee, too.”

“I’m sorry, Fen,” Gina grumbled. “I was trying to help.”

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Rona demanded as she and her sister situated themselves in the front. “I could kill you, right now, I saved a bullet for each of you!”

Fenny collapsed back onto the seat, suddenly wary of what punishment she and Gina had earned themselves for their daring piece of bravado. She hazarded a glance back at the car behind them, but couldn’t see through its tinted windows, full of holes as they may have been. It was obvious, though, that whoever had been in the car was dead. A chill ran up Fenny’s spine. They were dealing with cold-hearted killers now.

“Another stalled car,” Greg chimed as a black vehicle came into view.

“If you stop to help this group of heavies, I swear to god I will rip out your esophagus,” Paul growled.

“It’s been shot at,” Brad gasped. Greg slowed down. “Why are you stopping?”

“I don’t know, it could be important,” Greg shrugged as he pulled to a stop in front of the car. “What if it’s some little old lady who got in Ritza’s way?”

“I don’t care,” Paul said. “I will have nothing to do with a bullet riddled car.”

Greg hopped out and was followed reluctantly by Brad. Greg put his hand against the driver’s window and peered in as Brad peered through one of the bullet holes. “Christ!” Greg yelped, jumping back.

“He’s dead!” Brad cried, stepping away hesitantly.

“They’re dead, dude. Two of ‘em. Eyes are open and they’re all bloody and everything. Oh this is so not looking good,” Greg said, running back to the car, hands trembling against the steering wheel as Brad buckled himself in securely.

“What did I tell you,” Paul chastised. “Never investigate a bullet riddled car if you aren’t prepared to see dead people, which I’m not. Now drive.”

Greg was somehow insulted, but was too shaken to complain, so he raced from the other vehicle as quickly as he could.

Fenny and Gina had managed to fall asleep, but when the motor stopped, they were jolted back into awareness. “Get out,” Ritza commanded as she opened Gina’s door and grabbed her arm, Rona doing likewise to Fenny. They looked blearily about as they tried to take in their new surroundings. Gone were the scattered hills and gum trees; this was the city, and not the best part of it, from the looks of things.

The hotel was a bit shabby and tacky-looking from the outside, and when they were dragged into the lobby, the only word that came to mind was “horrifying.” The color scheme could not have been worse, and was obviously a remnant from someone’s 1980s idea of “bitchin’.” Peach walls, stained cream carpets, grey furniture. They could only hope that the rooms would be better.

They weren’t.

Fenny and Gina were quickly bustled into a room with the same color scheme and faux-wood furniture. At least the television worked.

“I really am sorry,” Gina said softly as Fenny fiddled with the remote control.

“Yeah I know,” Fenny sighed. “Sorry I fucked things up.”

“Well at least we’re all in once piece.”

“For the time being, anyway.”

“Until you find a way to mess things up again.”

As Fenny opened her mouth to counter Gina, the door opened and Ritza barged in. “Put these on.”

They took the proffered bundles of black fabric. “Like hell I will,” Fenny groused, glaring at the cocktail gown.

“Why?” Gina demanded. “You’re not getting weird on us, are you?”

“You’re gonna go down to the casino,” Ritza explained, “and you can’t go around in those outfits you’ve got on now. But I’ll have you know we have connections, and you won’t be able to leave without Rona and me on your arses with our guns, so don’t even think about pulling another one of your pranks. You’ve got ten minutes.” And she slammed the door.

“This is not cool,” Fenny sighed.

“What happens if we don’t?” Gina mused.

“We get another slap to the face.”

“Well at least we get out of the room for a while,” Gina sighed.

“Think we could tell someone to call the police?”

“They’d think we’re drunk, I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna have to put this on, aren’t I?” Fenny asked. The dress had spaghetti straps, a low back, and a full length skirt, all of it too confining for her taste. Gina’s was no better; sleeveless, revealing, and short of skirt.

“If you laugh at me, I’ll kill you,” Gina breathed as she retreated into the bathroom to change.

“Where do we go now?” Brad asked, looking around the city and its bright lights, such a contrast from the bleakness they had driven through so far.

“Probably find someplace to stay,” Greg shrugged. “Get hold of a phone book, call every hotel we can find and ask ‘em if there’s a neurotic bitch called Ritza booked there.”

“How ‘bout here, this is as good as any, nice and inconspicuous,” Greg said, pulling up to a grimy hotel. The others shrugged noncommittally and the three of them wandered into the lobby.

Brad chuckled to himself as Greg stopped dead in his tracks. “Nope,” he grinned, grabbing Greg by the elbow as he tried to leave again, “you picked the place, you gotta stay here.”

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

“This is the hotel we stayed at when Greg was nearly killed and then promptly rescued by cleaning implements,” Brad giggled.

“What?”

“We’ll explain later,” Greg huffed and marched up to the front desk to arrange for rooms.

“Hey, you don’t happen to have a Ritza Crispin registered here, do you?” Brad asked.

The bored receptionist flipped through a few sheets of paper and nodded. “Yeah. Room 317.”

“You’re kidding,” Greg gasped.

“No,” she assured him.

“You are a genius,” Brad said, patting Greg on the back.

“He’s a lucky bastard is what he is,” Paul said, taking his key and marching away to find his room.

“Could you call her for us?” Brad asked the receptionist. She nodded reluctantly and dialed.

They waited anxiously. “She’s not answering,” she announced.

“Must be in the casino,” Brad shrugged.

“Fucking casino,” Greg murmured under his breath.

“Damn, and I left my broom at home,” Brad said, shaking his head and trying not to giggle.

“Shut up,” Greg grumbled, trying not to think back to being beaten in a storeroom and the humiliation of being rescued by his drunken friends. “We’re gonna need clothes,” he announced.

“Clothes?” Paul chimed from the elevator. “Let’s go.”

Fenny couldn’t work past the image of her dress suddenly slipping off her body, and she continually fiddled with the straps. Gina tried to find a way to make the shoes she’d been given shrink half a size so that when she took a step her heel wouldn’t slip out of them. “If they don’t go to prison for kidnapping us, they should be put before a firing squad for giving us these outfits,” Fenny grumbled as they stepped out of the car.

“No funny business,” Ritza barked as they entered the casino.

“Yes Mum,” Gina cooed.

Ritza and Rona disappeared into the crowd. “Who do you think their ‘connections’ are?” Fenny mused.

“Probably aren’t any,” Gina shrugged.

“I’m not planning on risking it. I couldn’t run away with my sneakers on, I’d kill myself with heels.”

“And that knee. You look so funny with that limp.”

“Thank you,” Fenny grumbled. “You want one to match?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Gina giggled. “What do you wanna do?”

“You mean you wanna gamble?”

“Yeah, why not? If the psychos get to have fun, so should we. At least until they’re good and distracted.”

“I’m not good at betting or cards or anything. As we’ve seen, I’m not the luckiest person on the planet.”

“Poker machines then.”

“Whatever,” Fenny sighed, following her.

Greg, Paul, and Brad entered the casino clad in rented suits. “I feel the part now,” Paul said. “Chasing down evil-doing women in a casino, catching them at the roulette wheel, ‘red 27’, this is more like it.”

“You’re having too much fun,” Brad chided.

“Let’s find ‘em,” Greg ordered. “Split up.”

“Right,” the others agreed, and wandered off into the casino.

“I gotta go to the toilet,” Gina announced after wasting $20 on the machine.

Fenny rolled her eyes. “I still say that sounds incredibly wrong.”

“Restroom then,” Gina huffed, slid off the stool, and wandered away. “My god,” she grimaced as she caught sight of herself in the mirror in the bathroom. “Look what they’ve done to me.”

After she had washed her hands and tried to adjust her dress to be a bit less…horrific, she headed out of the restroom back to Fenny, wondering if her machine had been taken yet, as she was planning on getting those twenty dollars back. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind, and she thought maybe Ritza did have heavies around. She was rushed into a dark room, a broom cupboard, and the door slammed shut. She was silent for a minute, not sure what to do, when the light flicked on. “Greg!” she gasped. “What’re you mmmmm…”

He grabbed her tightly, his fingers playing over the exposed skin of her back and neck as he kissed her hungrily, and she was quick to react, kissing back fervently. “Ever do it in a broom closet?” he panted.

“I’d like to,” she smiled, trying to swallow a bit of her need for him. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you,” he said, kissing her again.

“Can we get out of here, far away from here?” Gina asked against his lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying myself, but there’s these women around, and, you’d never believe this, but they’re trying to kill us.”

“Why’s Ritza letting you wander the casino without a bodyguard?”

“Oh, she wants us to think that she’s got heavies around watching us, keeping us from bolting. I think she’s full of shit.”

“Well she might not be,” Greg sighed. “We should make sure. I think you should get back to Fen, make sure nothing bad happens.”

“But Greg…” she protested.

“We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can,” he cooed.

“Promise?”

He placed one more soft, sincere kiss on her lips. “I promise.” He opened the door and motioned for her to step out. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She squeezed his hand and left the closet, which he closed and then left a minute later. Gina wandered back towards the poker machines.

Fenny sighed and put yet another coin in the slot. “I told her I was no good at this,” she mumbled to herself. Someone slipped into the seat next to her as she pushed the buttons hopelessly. “I’m sorry, could I ask you to maybe use the next machine over—” Her jaw dropped as she turned to face him. “Brad!” she exclaimed, then felt foolish. “Brad,” she said softer, “how did you find us?”

“Greg’s dumb luck,” he answered. “You look nice,” he said, giving her an approving once over.

“Please, I look like the class whore at the prom,” she scorned, glancing at him sideways. “Ritza’s idea.”

“Well it’s certainly not the dress I would have chosen for you, but…you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m so glad to see you’re all right.” He reached over and rubbed her knee, almost as if to assure himself she was real.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she breathed, blushing like a school girl. She had always been a sucker for a guy in a nice suit, and the red shirt he wore just made her tremble. “Okay, you’re gorgeous,” she smiled. “Does this mean you’re rescuing me? Can we leave yet?”

“I dunno, we have to find Gina and the other guys,” Brad said, glancing around.

“Gina went to the restroom, she should be back any minute.” Brad nodded, and they found themselves smiling at each other lovingly. “So it’s true?” Fenny asked.

“What?” He reached out for her hand.

“You and Ritza, that it wasn’t your child?”

“Of course it’s true. We can be together. We’ll get Ritza put away, and her warped sister, and things can get back to normal again. We can start over completely.”

“Your offer still standing, about me moving to LA?”

“Of course,” he agreed, sounding a bit surprised. “I’d love that.”

“I love you,” Fenny breathed, leaning over to kiss him softly.