It looked like the sun was finally trying to rise. Fenny had been staring out the window into the stormy darkness of morning for the last hour, waiting for the sun to come up, and when it did, it only cast a faint silver glow in the sky and did little to improve her mood. Still, she decided she needed to get out and actually try to clear her head, put things into perspective. As she got dressed, she glanced out to the stretch of beach visible from the hotel and decided that was as good a place as any to go, and in minutes she was bundled up and heading down the street.

The ocean air was thick and cold and reminded her of home, except LA rarely had weather this stormy. Los Angeles really had little in common with, well, anywhere really, but still, going into the television studio had been a chilling reminder that Brad was back home with his teething daughter as tapings for Whose Line were wrapping up. She thought back to some of the fond and not-so-fond memories of watching Brad perform for the cameras. Fenny wanted so badly to forgive him, to leap back into his arms and even play second fiddle to his daughter, but she knew that she would only be setting herself up for more hurt with whatever wholly asinine thing Brad would do next time around when he decided she wasn’t as important as she liked to think she was.

Really there was no way around any of it, she was relatively certain she’d end up crushed eventually, it was just a matter of when. Hell, she was crushed already. Not only that, there was sand in her shoes.

The wind picked up and she pulled her woolen coat closer up around her neck as her hair whipped around her. The beach was empty but for a few surfers who had braved the early hour to take advantage of the turbulent sea, and the desolate shoreline and her significantly gloomy mood reminded her of that music video, “Yellow,” wasn’t it? She began to sing to herself carefully, whispering the words.

I swam across, I jumped across for you

Oh what a thing to do

Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line, I drew a line for you

Oh what a thing to do

And they was all yellow

You’re skin, oh yeah you’re skin and bones

Turning to something beautiful

And you know for you I’d bleed myself dry

For you I’d bleed myself dry

She sat in the sand to listen to the distant roars of thunder.

Gina’s body slammed against the door of his dressing room and she pulled Brad against her to kiss him deeply. His hands pulled harshly at her hair, and, in one ferocious movement, she ripped his shirt open, scattering buttons across the room. As her hands went for his belt, he reached under her sweater. “Not yet, Braddles,” she cooed. “Let me.”

She pulled off his belt smoothly and cracked it like a whip, and as he stood staring down at her lustily, she pushed him backwards onto the couch. Brad, a bit startled yet infinitely pleased, watched as Gina carefully, slowly, stripped off her clothes, dropping them in a neat pile on the counter, enjoying his anxious squirming as he watched.

She took a few steps towards the couch and straddled him, leaving a trail of nibbling, licking kisses down his chest as he smoothed his hand up her bare thigh. There was a knock at the door. “Bloody hell,” Gina grimaced.

“Ignore it,” Brad pleaded.

Gina jolted awake at the sound of the second knock and jumped out of bed. “What?” she growled at the maid.

“Would you like me to clean your room?” she perked.

“Does it look like I want you to bloody clean my room?” Gina snapped and shut the door in her face. She turned to find Paul still asleep, curled up in a ball along the edge of the bed, and the idea of pushing him off was even more appealing than before.

He didn’t need her, he’d made it clear that that was how he felt. He couldn’t even put his tie on straight by himself and he’d nearly killed himself trying to make one meal, but because she had cared about him enough to ask him to come have dinner with her, he was convinced he was being treated like a child. What kind of a man was that?

“I don’t have to take this,” she mumbled to herself and headed for the bathroom to gather her things. It was then the memory of the dream hit her. Of all the insane themes for a recurring dream, why did it have to be screwing Brad? What would Freud have to say about that one? Probably that she was one screwed up woman that should be on some seriously heavy medication, and he would be absolutely right.

The rolling motion of the waves seemed to put Fenny into a trance, and she played the same thoughts over and over in her head, and she still couldn’t make heads or tails of it all, and was beginning to think maybe she could just fake her own death and move to Scotland to be a barmaid or something. Anything was better than going home to the mess she was in. She frowned at the ocean, trying to hold back the feeling of tears pricking at her eyes. Damn depressing weather….

“Something wrong?” a voice chirped, and Fenny nearly jumped out of her skin. “Sorry,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry, what?” She looked up at him, a young man in jeans and a Billabong sweatshirt, with wet, shaggy sand-colored hair and a wide grin. A surfboard topped with a duffel bag and a wetsuit had been dropped a few feet behind him, and he sat down next to her.

“I said, something wrong?”

“What makes you say something like that?” Fenny grumbled.

“Don’t see many women sitting all bundled up on the beach at sunup in the middle of a storm like this, do you, especially not a Yank.” He smiled at her, but she still looked down at the sand. “You ok?”

“You know, people keep asking me that,” Fenny mused, “and I never know what to say.”

“Sounds like you’re not ok then.”

She shrugged dramatically.

“I’m Will, by the way.”

“Fenny,” she announced.

“So, Fenny,” he smiled, “what’re you doing in Melbourne?”

“Came with some friends of mine, they were visiting me in California, had to come over for…some work.”

Will nodded at her for a moment. “So, what’s on your mind?”

Fenny shrugged. “It’s more complicated than you could ever believe. We’ll just say I’ve got problems at home and I’m nowhere near sorting them out.”

“You wanna talk about it?” She glared at him incredulously, and he chuckled. “The advice of a stranger can be helpful. The most unbiased opinion you’ll ever get.”

“I’ve tried talking about it,” she said. “Talking about my problems only confuses me more.”

“Wanna talk about something else then?” Will asked.

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Squid, fondue forks, the world economy, footy—”

“That’s all you Aussies think about, isn’t it?” Fenny asked, finally breaking into a smile. “You and your football.”

The sky seemed to open up suddenly and it began to pour. Fenny looked up into the rain, her glasses instantly covered in little droplets of water.

“Come on,” Will said and grabbed her by the hand to drag her up off the sand. “Let’s get you somewhere dry.”

Together they ran up the beach into a small parking lot. He opened the passenger side door of an economy car, and she hesitated a moment, remembering what every relative, teacher, and news program had told her growing up, about not getting into strange people’s cars, but when the sky lit up with lightening and her body shook with the thunder, she jumped into the car.

An immediately close peal of thunder made Gina flinch and she almost considered crawling back into bed to hide under the covers with Paul’s arms around her. But if he didn’t need her, she sure as hell didn’t need him. She was a big girl, and she wasn’t going to let herself fall to pieces over some thunder.

Another clap of thunder and the windows rattled. “What the fuck…”

Gina threw her pajamas into her bag disappointedly; she was really hoping to get out of the room before Paul woke up. The last thing she needed was another fight. “Go back to sleep,” she grumbled. “Just thunder, it’s still early.”

“What’re you doing?” Paul asked blearily as he rubbed his eye.

“Go to sleep,” Gina commanded.

“Where’re you going?” He sat up and frowned at her.

“Home,” she huffed. “Why should I hang around here if I’m so unneeded? It’s a waste of both our time.”

“Genie,” Paul cooed, “darling, come on, don’t be stupid.”

“Oh, first useless and now stupid, huh?”

He closed his eyes, realizing he was digging himself in deeper. “Please, I don’t want you to go back to Sydney. We haven’t seen each other for months. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t need you, I was tired and grumpy and I’d had a rough day and I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, please.”

“No, you made it perfectly clear that you were happy when we weren’t together, so fine, do your fucking play, I’m going back home.”

“Genie, baby,” Paul cooed, stepping towards her as she hurriedly folded her clothes to put in her suitcase. “I don’t want you to leave. I was miserable when we were apart. I do need you.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I love you,” he said softly.

He had been hoping for an apology, a hug, a smile, anything but the scowl he got in return. “I’m leaving,” she barked, slammed her case shut and stormed out the door.

Fenny’s mind was reeling, trying to remember how she had gotten to this point. She remembered the short drive to Will’s tiny apartment, trying to work the tangles out of her windswept and rain-soaked hair as he made a pot of tea, the conversation about his desire to visit California and her telling him not to bother, and his announcement that he needed to get out of the wet clothes…

And now here she was, sprawled out underneath him in bed, both panting for breath, her hips aching up towards his as her hands explored his unfamiliar body, thin, muscular, young. Fenny was craning her neck, urging his lips towards the right spots as he moaned into her flesh and the harsh rain pelted against the window.

Gina stormed down the hall with her bag and pounded on Fenny’s door to announce that she was going and to ask what Fenny’s plans were. There was no answer, so she knocked again, just waiting for Paul to storm out of the door of their room. He didn’t, and that just proved her point further, he honestly didn’t think he needed her, and it annoyed her even more.

“Fen!” she cried through the door as she gave one last knock. “Fine,” she hissed when she got no reply, and headed for the elevator. In spite of herself, she cast a few hopeful glances down the hall and grew even more dejected at Paul’s reluctance to appear. “Get stuffed.”

“Fuck,” Paul grumbled as he stared at the closed door and pulled on his discarded clothes from the night before. He wanted to follow her to Sydney, but he knew he couldn’t, he still had so much to do in Melbourne. His only option was to convince her to stay, and that would be no easy task, but it was one he was willing to try for.

“I guess you have to get back to your friends,” Will said as he noticed Fenny glancing around the room, taking inventory of where her clothes had been tossed. When the pulsing of blood through her body had quieted enough for her to regain rational thought, she realized what she had done, and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die, or at least get back to her hotel where she could take a scalding hot shower, during which she would probably sob her eyes out and come to the conclusion that Brad wouldn’t want her anyway.

“I need to go,” she babbled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you must think of me, I’m, I’m not normally like this.” Unless Greg is involved, she thought to herself. Fuck.

He glanced over at her as she tried to get dressed under the covers, the wet fabric doing little to facilitate her efforts and her sudden attempt at modesty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take advantage of you,” he said.

“You didn’t, it was me,” she said. “You’re not married, are you?”

“Um, no.”

“Good.”

“That your problem at home? I mean, having sex with a married guy?”

“That, Will, was just the beginning.” Fenny slipped out from under the covers, suddenly guilty that her clothes had gotten them damp, and pulled on her sweater, shivering at the cold, wet contact.

“Let me just get something on and I’ll drive you—”

“Don’t,” she said, and he stood in the middle of the room with a quilt wrapped around his waist. “I’d rather walk.”

“You sure? It’s raining.”

“Honestly I think that’s the least of my problems right now.” She hopped around in a tight circle as she struggled with her shoe.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“Don’t be,” she said, resting a hand on his arm. “You were great.” Fenny smiled sadly and left the room, picking up her jacket on the way out. She stepped into the pouring rain and headed for the hotel, trying to figure out what she could say to Gina if she’d noticed her absence.

Fenny, soaked to the skin and stoically ignoring the stares of the hotel staff and few people milling about the lobby, leaned on the elevator button. The walk had done nothing to improve the situation and she felt ready to cry and had to bite her lip to keep from breaking down. When she had left the hotel she was angry at Brad for abandoning her, and now she was furious with herself for, in effect, abandoning him. The guilt of knowing she’d slept not only with another man but with a stranger was unbearable, and knowing that was what had made her lose Brad the first time and that Brad’s own infidelity had led to their current situation—

“Fenny!” Gina yelped as the elevator doors opened.

“Gina,” Fenny breathed, not sure what to say or do. Then she noticed the bags as Gina stepped out into the lobby. “Where’re you going?”

“Home. Where’ve you been?” she asked irritably.

“Oh, um, out.”

“Oh my god, you’ve had sex,” Gina declared.

“Um, but, er—” Fenny stammered.

“With a surfie, Fen, really,” Gina admonished.

Fenny’s mouth hung open and her brows furrowed. “How’d you—”

Paul tumbled out of the next elevator to find Fenny gaping at Gina and Gina smiling oddly at Fenny. “What’s going on?”

“Fenny fucked a surfie,” Gina announced.

“Oh no,” Paul sighed, “why?”

“Because I’m stupid,” Fenny hissed. “Leave me alone, I’m going to my room to hang myself.”

“Fen,” Gina called after her as she trudged towards the stairs.

“What?” Fenny peeled off her jacket and turned around.

“I’m going to Sydney.”

“Please, Genie,” Paul began, “don’t go, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know if you want to stay here to be unappreciated by the arse I married,” Gina said, ignoring his protests, “or if you wanna come with me or if you wanna go home or what, but I’m going to Sydney and nothing,” she continued, glaring at Paul, “is gonna stop me.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go with,” Fenny nodded miserably. “Maybe there’s a fun way I can fuck up my life there. I’ve never liked Melbourne,” she grimaced.

“Well good, you can keep Genie from doing something stupid,” Paul said, and Gina glared at him. “I’m not helping things, am I?” he asked Fenny. She shook her head at him. “No, didn’t think so. Right. I’m going back to my room now before I do something stupid.”

“Can you spare a minute while I grab my things, put on some dry clothes?” Fenny asked Gina.

“I’ll wait here,” she said, scowling at Paul as he pressed the elevator button.

“Be down in a few,” Fenny said as the door opened and she and Paul slipped inside. They leaned against the back wall of the elevator and looked at each other. “Has it occurred to you,” Fenny asked, “that maybe you and I aren’t meant to deal with other human beings?”

“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said the entire time I’ve known you,” Paul mused.

“Yeah, but don’t listen to me, I decided to get fucked by a surfer as a means of dealing with my grief that my fiancé has an illegitimate child. That, my friend, is not the workings of a sensible person.”

“Yeah, well I’ve just alienated the woman I’ve been fighting for by telling her I don’t need her, apparently, and to prove how much I need her she’s flying halfway across the country and, chances are, she’ll end up in the arms of someone who does need her, most likely Proops.”

“So,” Fenny mused, “who wins the ‘most screwed up life’ contest this time?”

“I think it’s another draw. I wish you’d win one of these, it’d make me feel better.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” The doors opened and they stepped into the hallway. “Tell you what. I’ll try to talk some sense into Gina if you promise not to tell anybody what I did this morning.”

“Deal,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“See you around, huh?” Fenny smiled.

“Absolutely.”