“We should find Pauly,” Gina announced as the crowds began to thin. “There’s probably obsessive fans hanging around in dark corners ready to attack him for an autograph, we should be around to save him.”

“You go ahead and save him, I’m gonna do something vicious to the creep,” Fenny scorned.

“Like what?” Gina asked bemusedly, knowing Fenny didn’t have any ability to be truly vicious, not to Paul anyway.

“I dunno. Where can I get a couple fishhooks and some petroleum jelly?”

Gina paused to glance at her strangely before leading Fenny towards the crowd of manic fans where the three significantly inebriated men were surrounded. Gina wasted no time pushing through the crowd while Fenny lurked behind a bit, making her way towards them a bit more cautiously.

“Hey, you’re Fen, right?” one of the young fans perked. Fenny just scowled at her. “Is it true you’ve got yourself three men?”

“Fuck off,” Fenny huffed, and decided Gina’s idea was better. She shoved her way towards Paul.

“Genie,” he cooed as she appeared, abandoning the autograph he was signing to let her wrap herself around him. “Did you like the show?”

“You were brilliant as always,” she smiled, “even if you were a bit intoxicated.”

“A bit,” Fenny huffed, earning herself a sneer from a pack of hormonal teenagers who were still vying for a bit of attention from Paul. “You’re an evil, evil man and I hope you rot in hell for tormenting people the way you do,” Fenny grumbled, smacking him on the arm that wasn’t occupied by Gina. Paul giggled to himself until Fenny gave him a hard punch in the shoulder, which just made him go into hysterics for no real reason.

“Time to get back to the hotel, don’t you think?” Gina asked sweetly, causing the remaining fans to groan in protest. “Oh, stop your whinging,” she chuckled.

“Aw, but Genie, I’m not finished with my drink,” Paul pouted.

Fenny narrowed her eyes, grabbed the beer from Paul’s hand and promptly poured it on the ground. “Now you are.”

Paul dropped his jaw in shock as Fenny slipped the empty stubbie back into his hand with a smirk. “You, you…” he gasped, heartbroken.

“I love you Paul,” someone cheered from the crowd.

“I love you Paul,” Mick scorned mockingly. “What about me, no one loves me…”

“Fenny can love you,” Paul chuckled.

“Keep digging, McDermott,” Fenny growled. “I’ll meet you guys at the car.”

“Aw, you hurt her feelings,” Cameron pouted as Fenny headed back through the crowd towards the car Gina had rented at the airport. “Let’s follow her, cheer her up.”

“Oh god, we should follow them,” Paul laughed, “or they might start plotting against me.”

“You already lost your beer, what more could they do to you?” Gina countered.

“Good point,” he giggled.

Gina reached up and pulled him to her in a kiss, deep and slow, pleased by the murmur that rose from the crowd as Paul tried to keep enough composure to return the kiss. When Gina finally pulled away from him breathlessly, they were greeted by an enthusiastic round of applause from the three leaning against the car, while the fans were dissipating.

“Voyeuristic bastards,” Paul laughed as he wandered towards the car with Gina’s hand in his.

“So, Brad, how do you know Gina?” Freya asked as she watched Brad pour her another glass of wine. The bottle was by that point half empty, and although Brad had probably had twice as much as Freya had, she was certainly beginning to feel its effects. “I mean you must know her pretty well if you’re staying with her.”

“Oh yeah, we’ve known each other for years. I mean she is Fenny’s best friend,” Brad shrugged.

“You and Fenny are close then?”

Brad gave a short harsh laugh. “Something like that. We were engaged.”

“Really?” she gasped. “I had no idea.”

“You’re good at that,” he sighed.

“What happened between you two?”

“We’re both fuckups. I’d rather not talk about it,” he pouted. The feelings of confusion about Fenny and Ritza were beginning to surface again.

“Okay,” Freya shrugged and downed half her glass in one gulp. “Oh hey, do you know who Gina’s boyfriend is?”

He looked at her carefully. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, some bloke’s been sending her flowers using some strange nickname, she won’t tell me anything about it and Paul doesn’t know who he is.”

Brad smiled into his wine and shrugged as he reached for the television remote to click it on. “Haven’t heard anything about any boyfriends,” he declared, flipping through a few channels. “Oh look, a documentary on spontaneous human combustion,” Brad perked. “There is hope after all…”

“Aah, back at the glorious Adelaide Hilton,” Gina chimed as the five piled into the lobby. They quickly organized themselves three rooms, as far away from the second floor as they could get, at Fenny’s request. The boys wasted no time in inviting the girls to the bar, and for reasons they weren’t even sure of, they agreed.

“That really was a terrible thing you did to Fenny,” Mick chastised Paul as they wandered through the ground floor of the hotel. “Even if she is a slut, there’s no need to humiliate her publicly.” Fenny narrowed her eyes at him, not sure this was sort of sympathy she wanted. “How would you like it if she stood up and said nasty things about you to a paying audience, huh?” Mick continued.

“She did,” Paul countered. “Told them about Tai Chi.”

“Yes, but you were getting paid to mess with her,” Cameron said, “she was acting out of self defense.”

“Besides, it’s your own fault for wearing the velour anyway,” Mick nodded.

“Well it’s Fen’s fault for fucking five…no, sorry, got carried away there for a second. Three men at a time.”

“You didn’t say it was all at once,” Cameron gasped.

“It wasn’t,” Fenny declared angrily. “You people are sick.”

Paul raised a drunken eyebrow at her.

“Ooh, lookit that,” Cameron perked suddenly. “An indoor pool…”

“Wow,” Mick gasped. “Let’s go check it out.”

“It’s a hole in the ground filled with water and toxic chemicals,” Fenny frowned. “I don’t see what’s so spectacular about it.”

“Yeah, but this one’s inside,” Gina smiled, following the others into the room.

Fenny and Gina dropped their bags on a table and wandered around the pool as the men yelled obscene things to listen for the echo, giggling away like schoolchildren.

“Goat sucker!” Cameron yelped, smiling at his own voice bouncing off the tiled walls as Mick belted out a couple lines about Osama. Gina sat at the edge of the pool, enjoying the warmth that floated up from the heated water.

“Get stuffed,” Paul called, smiling at the echo until both Cameron and Mick each grabbed an arm, cackled “Good idea mate,” and tossed Paul into the water.

“Dickheads,” Paul growled at them once he’d surfaced, splashing them a few times for good measure. “What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for Fenny,” Mick said resolutely, and Cameron nodded. “And for making us late for the gig.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Paul gasped as he swam towards the edge of the pool to climb out. On the way he reached up, grabbed Gina by the ankle and pulled her in with him. After much sputtering and splashing about, Gina righted herself and managed to stand, grateful she was at the shallow end. “Hi Genie,” he grinned. She spat a mouthful of water directly in Paul’s face. “Wait for me?”

She rolled her eyes as he pulled himself out of the pool, and Fenny began backing away. Laughing in spite of herself, she took off running down the side of the pool. “Fen, can’t you read the signs, don’t run on the pool deck!”

“That’s good coming from you, McDermott. When’s the last time you followed the rules?” she called over her shoulder and proceeded to run straight into Cameron, who was taking off his shoes. The collision slowed her down just long enough for Paul to catch up with her, swing her into his arms and throw her into the pool. He fell in after her, the alcohol in his system not helping his sense of balance, and just as Paul surfaced, Cameron flew off the diving board into the center of the pool.

“I give you a 9.4,” Paul cheered as Cameron beamed at them, “but you won’t get such a good score from the French jud—” Suddenly he disappeared under the water and Fenny swam up near Gina.

“Give me back my shoe,” she demanded through breathless laughter.

“That’s what you get for pulling me under like that,” Paul chided and tossed Fenny’s shoe towards the door. She shrugged and pulled her other sneaker off, noticing Gina had already had the sense to remove her own shoes.

“I give us five minutes before the staff realizes we’re here and we’re banned from every Hilton in the country,” Gina laughed.

“Nah, three,” Paul countered and dunked her.

“Is that someone’s phone?” Mick asked through the shirt he was pulling off. Something vaguely reminiscent of a Bach fugue echoed off the walls over the shrieking and laughter.

“Fenny’s,” Gina called back to him as she pushed Paul under the water. Mick looked around, noticed Fenny was swimming to the bottom of the pool, shrugged to himself, and dug into her purse to pull out the phone.

“Hi,” he chirped into it. “Yeah, this is Fenny’s phone. No, she’s at the bottom of the pool right now, can I take a message? Oh wait, here she comes, she’s got her glasses back now. Wanna talk to her? Okay, just a minute.” Mick put his hand over the phone and held it out to Fenny. “Some prick named Andy,” he shrugged as she hoisted herself out of the pool, pulling at the clothes as they clung to her. She took the phone from him and watched as he dove into the pool, narrowly missing Paul on the way in.

“Hello?” she chuckled, a bit out of breath as she folded her glasses and set them next to her bag.

“Fen? What’s going on? Why are people screaming, where are you?”

“It’s an orgy, Andy.”

“A what?” he shrieked.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“I wanted to talk to you. Who was that that answered the phone?”

“I dunno, some drunk friend of Paul’s who was taking off his clothes,” she chuckled.

“Fen, what’s happened to you?”

“I’m having fun,” Fenny said curtly. “Something you’re obviously not familiar with.”

“Hey Fen,” Paul called and she looked over. He held up his hand in a mime of holding the phone out, so she did so. “One, two, three,” he counted in, and everyone in the pool yelled, “Fuck off!”

“So there,” Fenny laughed into the phone. “Look, security’s coming, I gotta go. Stop calling me. I don’t have anything more to say to you.” With that she hurriedly turned off her phone, shoved it back in her bag, and ran to retrieve her shoes as the pair of approaching uniformed figures opened the doors to the pool.

“Shit. We’re lonely and out of booze,” Brad sighed, turning the wine bottle upside-down to emphasize his point.

“Maybe Gina’s got something else to drink?” Freya suggested.

“Nothing fun. She’s a tea, um, what’s it called, a tea…”

“Tea drinker.”

“No, tea counter?”

“Tea collector?”

“Teetotaler!” Brad chimed. “That’s the word. Doesn’t drink alcohol.”

“All of that for a stupid word like teetotaler,” Freya giggled.

“Just for that, no more wine. Not that we have any anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure Gina’s got something around to drink, for when Paul comes to visit.”

“I’m sure she’s got more than just booze,” he said with a smile.

“What does that mean?” she queried.

“I honestly don’t know.”

She squinted at him. “You’re a strange little man.”

“I’ll have you know I’m not that little,” he countered. “I’m gonna go snoop around the kitchen.”

“I’ll help,” Freya chirped, and together they dragged themselves off the couch. “Ooh,” she squealed as her high-heeled shoes suddenly were too much for her intoxicated mind to wrap around and she fell in a giggling heap to the ground.

Brad looked down at her, her skirt up around her thighs, blouse half off one shoulder. “You’re clumsy when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she pouted, kicking off her shoes but not moving to get off the floor.

“Women never admit they are,” Brad mused.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.”

“I know,” he smiled smugly. “You’re sexy when you’re on the floor. Or that could be the wine talking.”

“I like the way the wine thinks,” Freya giggled and wrapped her legs around Brad’s right knee, pulling him down on top of her. He paused a moment, one hand on either side of her neck, pulling on her hair as he held himself up. Then he crashed his mouth down on hers in a sloppy lust-driven kiss, which she returned ardently, fingernails pulling at his clothes until she pushed him onto his back to straddle him around the thighs. When she sat up to undo his pants, she smacked her head against the side of the coffee table and half-collapsed onto his chest with a pained whimper that turned into a drunken crop of giggles.

“Bedroom or couch?” Brad asked.

“Anything’s safer than the floor,” Freya smiled as she pulled up his shirt and nipped at his stomach.

“Bed,” Brad chuckled. “One of us’ll fall off the sofa.”

“What’re we waiting for then?”

“For you to get off me and lead the way.”

Freya crawled off him and he pulled himself to his feet. She stumbled over her shoes again and they disappeared, snickering, groping and lightheaded, into Brad’s bedroom.

Fenny lay curled in bed, the television on but muted. Thanks to Paul, she’d ended up in the room next to that shared by Mick and Cameron. They’d carried on drinking from the minibar after they’d been banished to their rooms by security, and were having some sort of discussion about the gig that rapidly descended into whether they were big enough stars to trash their room. It was decided they weren’t but it would be fun to trash it a little bit anyway. Just as Fenny was getting ready to inform them that a bathtub full of beer was not the optimum environment for a goldfish and she wasn’t sure where they were going to find a goldfish so late at night and with such a high blood alcohol content, things went quiet. She could only hope they’d slipped into unconsciousness and not fallen from the balcony as they flicked cigarette butts at passers by.

Still, it was better than having to listen to Gina and Paul screwing each other senseless, which was probably why they had taken the room across the hall.

“Shit,” Fenny gasped as the sudden realization hit her and she leaned over to grab the phone. “Of course your phone is turned off,” she mumbled as the mechanized voice told her he was unavailable, and she opted to leave him a voicemail message. “Hi Danny, it’s Fen. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I got to Gina’s and we, well, we’re in Adelaide with Paul and some friends of his for some absurd show they’re doing.” She sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry, but I needed to get away for a while, things have been really confusing lately. I think…. Call me when you get the chance and we’ll talk.”

She hung up without saying goodbye for fear it would come out as “I love you.” It may have been true, but to hear it from her own voice would only serve to confuse her more. She lay back in bed, turned off the television, and commanded herself to sleep, hoping to god that she wouldn’t dream.

Danny sat at the table eating dinner alone. He’d tried waiting for Fenny, but by nine o’clock it was apparent that she wasn’t planning on returning. She was probably somewhere with Brad. After all, Fenny loved Brad – even if she hadn’t admitted it, her demeanor and that tattoo on her hip would have made it perfectly clear. Brad was an American television personality who’d been with Fenny for years, off and on. They’d made it through some rough times, and now that Andy was gone, what was to stop them from being together again? Certainly not Danny, he was just a convenient distraction. He’d been happy with his role at first, but now he was cursing himself for falling in love.

The idea of Fenny in bed with Brad gave Danny a jealous pang in his chest that he hated himself for. If Fenny was happy, he should be pleased, right, even if it wasn’t him that was making her happy? That’s what they say in the movies. And in the movies, the guy always chases down the girl so that she can choose the right man for her. Danny didn’t dare try that, he was afraid he knew where he would fit, and he didn’t like it.

On the other hand, she had said she’d call, and yet she hadn’t. Maybe something had happened to her? She could have gotten lost or hurt or worse. Danny grabbed his cell phone to call her, only to find it was dead. “Dammit,” he hissed, dropping it on the counter to charge it.

He moved to the couch to pick up her sketchbook. Flipping through the pages with the futile hope her phone number would be written in it somewhere, he wished he’d written it down somewhere himself rather than depending on his electronic phone book, and tried to ignore the carefully sketched images of Brad’s face. He ran across Gina’s address first, and decided a visit was in order.

A harsh rap on the door woke Brad and he stumbled out of bed, blearily pulling on his pants and grabbing a shirt as he went to answer it. Tripping over his own shoes in the hallway, he let out a shriek and thumped the wall in frustration as he stomped through the darkened apartment. “What?” he growled as he threw open the door.

“Um, hi.” Danny’s heart fell to the floor at the sight of him, rumpled, only half dressed, obviously dragged from bed and displeased he’d had to leave Fenny’s side. “Sorry, I was, um, looking for Gina?”

“She’s not here,” Brad said, significantly milder in tone now that the unsettled feeling of a hangover was beginning to settle over him. “She’s in Adelaide with her husband. Is there something I can do—”

“God Brad, I really, I have to go,” came a voice from down the hall. “I don’t know what—” A woman appeared in the living room and froze when she saw there was someone at the door.

Brad turned away from her and let his eyes settle on the floor, letting Danny see the shame in his face. It was enough to quiet the rage Danny was feeling at seeing the man Fenny loved caught with another woman.

“Er, I’d stay and help you clean up,” she gestured to the coffee table and the toppled wine bottle and pair of empty glasses, “but I have to go. Paul, you know. I’m sorry.” She leaned down to retrieve her shoes from the floor.

Paul? Danny suddenly felt he’d been dragged unwillingly into one of the worst soap operas imaginable, and it was beginning to become more than he could handle. The woman who could quite possibly be Paul’s girlfriend slipped out the door, not daring to look either man in the eye as she slipped past.

“Right,” Danny breathed, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll see if I can catch Gina later.”

“Should I give her a message or something?” Brad asked wearily.

“No, thanks, that’s alright.” With a polite smile he turned and headed home, still alone and even more confused.

Brad closed the door and leaned against it miserably. What in the hell had compelled him to sleep with Freya? Too much wine, obviously. Paul would kill him, Gina would probably arrange for him to be given a medal of honor before killing him, and Fenny…well she’d have already ripped off his scrotum with a rusty trowel after finding out about Ritza, she’d probably just outright crucify him. Dejectedly, he grabbed the bottle and wineglasses off the table and took them to the kitchen.