“I really have to go now,” Gina announced as she got to her feet.

“Well that’s no fun,” Fenny huffed.

“At least you don’t have to go back to my desk,” Gina grumbled.

“I want the job of picking the page three girl,” Paul perked.

“I’m going to assume she’s topless, right?” Fenny sighed.

Paul grinned and nodded. Fenny rolled her eyes.

“So where are you guys staying?” Gina asked as she slid her bag over her shoulder.

“Some overpriced hotel,” Fenny shrugged. “Although, by rights we should be crashing at your place, since you’ve done it numerous times to me.”

“I only have a one bedroom flat and a futon,” Gina declared.

“Well call me unoriginal, but I could take the futon and your husband could share your bed,” Fenny suggested.

Gina and Paul looked at each, trying to read what each other was thinking, but failing miserably. Gina let out a sigh and dug her hand into her bag.

“Fine, you can stay with me,” she announced and chucked her keys to Paul. “You might need to go shopping, I don’t have a lot of food.”

“You paying?” Paul asked. Gina narrowed her eyes. “We’re your guests.”

“You are so lucky we’re in a public place,” Gina mused as she headed toward the door, ruffling Paul’s hair as she went.

Gina’s flat was in a small, quiet street, and up a narrow flight of stairs. If Paul hadn’t been there, Fenny would have been completely lost. Paul unlocked the door and they staggered inside with their bags. Both stopped to look around. It seemed no matter where Gina lived, it always looked homey. Her usual array of odd items littered the shelves, along with piles of books, papers and magazines.

“They say your living room reflects your personality,” Paul announced as he sauntered into the kitchen.

“Are you saying Gina is a mass of information, stuffed giraffes and a futon?” Fenny asked.

He looked at her strangely. “Yes, and you’re mentally cluttered with an appalling taste in painted borders.”

“That was there when I moved in,” Fenny defended as she located Gina’s bedroom.

“You think we should go shopping first?” he called as he checked out the fridge.

“All I want to do is sleep,” she called back.

Paul shut the fridge door and hunted out Fenny, who was flumped on Gina’s bed.

“What ya doing?” he queried as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Admiring Gina’s mattress,” Fenny chided. “And look what she keeps next to her bed,” she added and pointed to a picture on the bedside table. Paul smiled as he wandered over and picked it up. It was taken in Gina’s apartment back in Australia, after they’d gotten back from the whole “Ritza” thing. Brad had set the timer on the camera and they’d all piled onto the couch, Brad at one end with Fenny and Gina in the middle, Greg at the other end and Paul had lain across them all.

“I wonder why she picked that one?” Fenny yawned.

“I bet she didn’t,” Paul smiled and opened up the frame. He produced another photo and sniggered.

“What’s that one of?” Fenny asked, sitting up.

“You can’t see,” Paul declared and quickly put it back as he held the frame away from her. “It’s a personal thing.”

“It’s not you naked is it?” Fenny cringed.

Paul raised an eyebrow and placed the frame back on the bedside table. Fenny looked at it for a moment and turned her attention back to Paul.

“So, are you coming shopping with me?” he asked.

“I really, really want to sleep,” she sighed and lay back down.

“No stamina at all,” he teased. “Ok, I’ll have a shower and then go. You get some sleep,” he added, before leaving the room.

She closed her eyes and felt the jet lag descend on her. It had been such an emotionally draining day, night, whatever it was, too much for her to deal with right now.

Brad had given up phoning Fenny and decided the direct approach was best, so why he’d been standing outside her apartment practicing speeches for 20 minutes was beyond him.

“Hi, I’m Jenna,” a perky voice announced.

Brad was shocked out of his nervous state and dropped the bunch of flowers he was holding to the ground. “Hi,” he managed to reply as he bent down to retrieve them.

“You can’t possibly be looking for Fenny?” Jenna smiled.

“Actually I am,” Brad replied. “Do you know where she is?”

Jenna looked at him curiously for a moment. “You’re from that show aren’t you? What’s it called, the one hosted by that fat guy…Whose Line.”

“Yeah, where’s Fen?” Brad repeated.

“That show is, like, so funny,” Jenna beamed. “You’re cuter in real life though.”

“Thank you,” Brad smiled, his eyes noticing Jenna’s breasts bouncing along as she did. He shook his head. “Fenny, where is she?”

“England,” Jenna chirped. “Yeah, is she doing some art for you or something?”

Brad looked at the flowers he was holding and wondered if Jenna had two brain cells to rub together. “What’s she doing in England?”

Jenna thought for a moment. “No idea, something about haircuts.”

“Haircuts?”

“Fringes,” she shrugged.

He let out a sigh. “Right, well thank you Jenna.”

“Hey, you don’t know Paul, do you?” she asked.

“Paul who?”

“Um, he’s a necrophiliac,” Jenna perked.

It didn’t take a miracle to work out who she was talking about. “Bye Jenna, have some flowers,” he mused as he thrust the flowers into her arms and headed for the elevator. What had possessed Fenny to go to England? Why did she have to run away when things were going nicely for a change? Brad felt the urge to punch something, but the only thing around was an old lady with a poodle.

Paul sauntered through the electronic doors of TESCO and was greeted with the roar of small children and screaming mothers. He disliked supermarkets and this wasn’t going to help. He grabbed a shopping trolley and began to stalk the aisles for food. What did you buy for two chicks and a guy, and wasn’t that just the start of a bad sitcom? He decided to start with the simplest items: milk, bread, sugar, and chocolate. He turned down the breakfast foods aisle and was forced to wait while a stressed out mother and her two children decided between Coco Pops and Froot Loops, before he could grab a box of Cornflakes. After that he had to navigate around a gathering of old people who were discussing hip replacements as he attempted to grab a couple of frozen pizzas. Things ultimately got worse when he was pondering whether to buy bananas or apples and a woman about his age approached him and announced,

“Excuse me, are you Paul McDermott?”

Paul felt his skin crawl — he thought he looked inconspicuous enough. He rarely got recognised, why now? He could have lied, but he had a feeling this was the most excitement the poor woman had had in a while.

“Dang, ya caught me.” He smiled and was soon trapped in a conversation about how the best moment of her life was when he’d once sung “World’s Greatest Kisser” with his groin in her face. On the outside Paul was polite and happy, on the inside he would rather be having the shit kicked out of him by Ritza’s heavies.

Gina spent the rest of the afternoon in a mood that was scaring her colleagues. She had both a renewed sense of enthusiasm and a desperate desire to go home and just look at Paul. Since there was obviously a prominent wall of “let’s just joke about everything” between them, she wasn’t expecting much more. Although, it surprised her that she felt butterflies in her stomach when she arrived home. Gina unlocked the door with her spare set of keys, and wandered into the flat. The news was on, some boring political story, and Paul was sleeping on the couch. She walked over and watched him sleeping for a few moments as she dropped her bag into a chair and slid her jacket off.

“I’m watching it,” Paul mumbled.

“Through your ears, huh?” Gina teased.

“My third eye,” he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Where’s Fen?”

“Sleeping in your bed, baby bear.”

Gina giggled and shook her head. “Did you go shopping?” she asked, sauntering into the kitchen.

“Yes and I vow I never will again,” he called as he sat up.

“Why?” she asked as she switched the kettle on.

“Whinging children, screaming mothers, obsessed DAAS fans,” Paul grumbled as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh you poor dear, it must have been hell for you.”

“Hey, I beat off a group of ten-year-olds to get you a tin of Quick,” Paul declared.

“My hero,” Gina smiled, their eyes finally meeting. She felt herself blushing for no reason and turned away.

“Genie, can we be serious for a moment, like stop all joking around?” Paul asked, his voice serious.

“Yeah,” Gina nodded as she fumbled with the teabags.

“Can you stop with the fucking tea as well.”

“Sorry, I was just…shit!” she cussed as the jar slipped from her hands and the teabags fell at her feet.

“Butterfingers,” he sighed and bent down to help her pick them up.

“Would you believe I’m shaking?” Gina asked as the last of the teabags was put back in the jar and placed back on the counter.

“You think you’re the only one?” Paul replied.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the kettle boiled. They looked up at the same time, and realised what they saw was the same: longing, loneliness and a million reasons to feel guilty.

“I’m so sorry for fucking Jenna,” Paul breathed.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Gina sighed.

“Aren’t you even a bit angry?” he asked, this point having troubled him all afternoon.

“Furious, but how much I’ve missed you has overridden any desire to hit you with kitchen implements,” Gina said with a small smile. “Do you hate me for coming to London?”

“Of course I do, but I’m still going to walk over there, take you in my arms and kiss you,” Paul replied, raising an eyebrow. He swaggered to where Gina was leaning against the counter and cupped her face in his hands. She closed her eyes as his lips captured her in a kiss and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Fenny rolled over and blearily read the time on the clock, it was 7:00. She’d have to get up and shower if they were to going to make Greg’s gig. She couldn’t believe she’d slept for so long and would have to belt Paul for not waking her earlier. Fenny sat up and fumbled for her glasses, pulling them on as she staggered out of the bedroom. There was some horrendous game show on TV, which she chose to ignore and headed toward the bathroom. She made it to the door, stopped and took several steps back and looked in the kitchen. If Paul and Gina had been any closer they would have been sucked into each other’s bodies. Fenny couldn’t help but smile; that was the Gina and Paul she was used to.

“The bed’s free now,” she announced, sauntering to the door of the kitchen.

Paul and Gina jumped a mile and looked slightly embarrassed they’d been caught.

“Man, since when did you get up quietly?” Gina gasped.

“Actually I tripped over the rug, but I don’t think you two would have heard a nuclear explosion,” Fenny teased.

“Shit, we’re going to Proops’s gig aren’t we,” Paul breathed as he checked his watch.

“Yep, I’ve just got to have a shower,” Fenny smiled. “Unless either of you want a cold one before we go?”

“I think you should attack her with kitchen implements,” Paul mused looking back at Gina.

“I’ve got a great tenderising mallet,” Gina perked.

“I was thinking an apple corer up the clacker,” Paul grinned.

“What’s a clacker?” Fenny asked, slightly concerned.

Both Paul and Gina smiled at each other, then her.

“On second thought, the need to shampoo is overwhelming,” Fenny babbled and dashed into the bathroom.

“I don’t have an apple corer,” Gina said blankly.

“I don’t think you’d get one up Fen’s clacker,” Paul said matter-of-factly.

“Oh don’t go there,” Gina groaned.

Paul giggled and then mimed inserted an apple corer up someone’s butt, complete with sound effects.

Gina couldn’t help but laugh. “You have some serious problems.”

Both Gina and Paul had managed to restrain themselves and get changed by the time Fenny was out of the shower. It didn’t take her long to get ready and soon they were halfway across London in a taxi.

“We’ve got a bit of time, want to stop for dinner?” Gina asked.

“We haven’t got that much time,” Paul pointed out.

“There’s a McDonald’s round the corner,” Gina countered.

“Sounds good to me, I’m starving,” Fenny perked as the taxi slowed outside the luminous McDonalds restaurant. They slid out of the taxi as Paul paid the driver, then bustled into McDonalds. Gina and Fenny both ordered McChickens and Paul, being a typical male, ordered a Big Mac. They picked the table that was furthest away from noisy teenagers and happily started stuffing their faces.

“So Fen, you’re yet to tell me why you’re here,” Gina announced as she stole several of Paul’s fries. He retaliated by drinking half her chocolate thick shake.

“Paul invited me,” Fenny replied casually, picking up some lettuce that had fallen onto the wrapper.

“Paul?” Gina asked, snatching her thick shake back.

“She pashed Brad,” Paul replied.

Fenny looked out the window, mentally making a note to hurt him with a heavy object later.

“You’ve seen Brad? When did you see Brad? And why were you kissing him?” Gina gasped.

“He was working on a movie, and suggested me to do the poster. We ran into each other at a photo shoot. I invited him for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Gina cut in.

“I took some cooking lesson, granted I’m no master chef but…”

“Get to the bit where he kissed you,” Paul piped up, stealing Gina’s thick shake again.

“We basically flirted the whole evening and when he left he kissed me,” Fenny sighed.

“I thought you said she kissed him,” Gina said, poking Paul.

“She did,” Paul replied. “She ran into him the next day and sucked face.”

“It just kinda happened,” Fenny whined. “It wasn’t meant to.”

“But he wants you back right?” Gina perked.

“It’s not going to happen, we just fuck each others lives up. It’s better we just move on,” Fenny declared.

“By wanting to screw each others senseless,” Paul smirked.

“I hate you,” Fenny grumbled, screwing up a napkin and chucking it at Paul. It bounced off his nose and onto the floor.

“Hey, you could have had my eye out,” he scorned.

“I told you, you guys were meant for each other,” Gina said proudly.

“You said Angelina and Billy Bob were made for each other, and look at them, she’s got some refugee kid and he’s bonking half of lower America,” Paul huffed.

“I also said you were good in bed,” Gina scowled, narrowing her eyes.

Paul chewed on his straw for a moment. “You’re totally right, Fen and Brad are the ultimate couple,” he chirped.

Fenny rested her head in her hands. Not only was she now forced to think about Brad, but she was stuck with Paul and Gina who were obviously sharing one brain.

A short while later, the three musketeers found themselves centre front in a small theatre. This was Greg’s new venue, and one which was making Paul uneasy: the Ambassadors Theatre. He’d preformed there many times, although this was his first time as an audience member.

“I feel so weird,” Paul mumbled.

“No, you feel a need to get up on stage and be the centre of attention,” Gina chided.

“Have you performed here?” Fenny asked.

“Yeah, I’m surprised Genie hasn’t shown you the video evidence,” Paul mused.

“Sorry, but the long hair and the fact that I know you were malodorous have stopped me sharing those charming moments,” Gina countered.

“Thank Christ for that,” Paul sighed.

“Although now you’ve mentioned it, I might have to,” Gina teased as the lights went down and Greg was introduced.

Greg swaggered out on stage, greeting the audience. He usually didn’t pay much attention but three familiar faces caught his eye. He had to stop himself from announcing “You bastards,” and instead went into a few gags about how stupid Americans are. He felt quite uncomfortable having those three particular people there and it wasn’t helped when they started heckling.

“SHOW US YOUR GREMLIN, SPECCY,” Gina yelled.

“DO THE SWISS CLOCK DANCE,” Fenny added.

“COME ON YOU FERTILITY SYMBOL, SHOW US YOUR HOLLOW CHOCOLATE EGGS,” Paul bellowed.

“What?” Gina and Fenny said together.

Greg let out a cackle and had to stop himself from falling into uncontrollable giggles. “I could reply with a witty, cutting comment, but I choose not to. I will hurt them later when I can find something to inflict long lasting and potentially lethal pain on them,” he announced calmly.

The audience roared with laughter and Greg continued.