Brad slumped back in bed and pulled the covers over his shoulders with a mumbled, “We’ll talk in the morning, huh sweetie?”

“No,” Fenny all but growled, pulling the sterile comforter away from him. “What the hell was all that about then?” she snapped, her voice devastatingly low as she tried not to let Lilly hear her.

“All what?” Brad groaned, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“Getting wasted before a gig and putting me in the position you did. And don’t pull that McDermott shit on me again, because that’s not an excuse. You know you don’t have nearly as much of a tolerance to booze as that idiot does, as evidenced by the many times he’s drunk you under the table and then kept going until he joined you. And he doesn’t have a child he’s supposed to be a role model to, thank god.”

“Come on Fen, Lil doesn’t know what was going on.”

“She’s four, Brad, she’s not stupid. Even though she’s a kid she can tell when her dad’s made an ass out of himself by falling asleep when he’s supposed to be working.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t whined so much and just kept the kid at home, she wouldn’t have had to see it.”

Fenny glared down at him. “What, it’s my responsibility to watch your child while you drink yourself stupid in Vegas?”

Brad leaned back in bed and pressed his fingers against his eyes. “Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m not ready to be a fulltime father? It’s not fun anymore, sometimes I just want my life back. I mean I didn’t fucking sign up for the job, did I?”

Her jaw dropped as she scowled at him, and she had to remind herself that Lilly was still in the bathroom and didn’t need to hear the full scale attack that was building in her. “Well you’ll get no sympathy from me, asshole,” she hissed, and he jerked his head up, a bit surprised by the venom in her voice. “You bloody well did ask for this when you screwed Ella. And I certainly didn’t ask to be a stepmother, it’s hard enough watching over one underdeveloped, helpless human being, I don’t need Lilly as well. But since you’re too incapacitated to help her get ready for bed because you’re a fuck up, looks like I’m going to take control and continue to take care of your responsibilities.” She tossed the blankets back over Brad’s chest and stomped towards the bathroom. “My god, no wonder they want me to take his place,” she murmured to herself.

“What?” Brad demanded, rolling over abruptly and groaning slightly at the swimming of his head that followed.

“Nothing, go to sleep.”

“First it’s wake up, then go to sleep, there’s no pleasing—”

Fenny wandered into the bathroom with a roll of her eyes and decided to ignore him. She found Lilly sitting on the counter brushing her teeth. “You washed up and gone potty?” Fenny asked. Lilly nodded tiredly and Fenny couldn’t help but smile. “Then spit and rinse and we’ll get you to bed.”

“Is Daddy okay?” she asked around a mouthful of toothpaste before she obediently spit and rinsed.

“He’s gonna feel really icky in the morning, which means that as soon as you wake up you have my permission to jump on his bed and turn up the TV as loud as you want.”

“Okay,” Lilly agreed, nearly asleep as Fenny picked her up again and carried her to the queen sized bed next to Brad’s and got her tucked in. She was asleep before Fenny changed into her pajamas.

Paul wrenched the front door open and glanced at the squirrelly man outside who seemed to have brought along a few young boys to scuffle in the front yard. Paul raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Hi there,” he chirped after an awkward moment. “I’m Scott, guess I’m your new neighbor.” Paul nodded blankly — he’d been all set to roll around on the living room floor with Gina, the last thing he wanted was the neighborhood welcoming committee. “Right. Well, not the best way of introducing myself I guess,” Scott continued, “but the kids here kicked their ball over the fence into your yard, we were kinda wondering if we could get it back?”

Just as Paul was getting ready to tell them to get stuffed so he could get back to dinner, Gina appeared at his side. “Sure, come on in,” she perked. “Honey, let them in and I’ll show the boys to the back door.” With a subtle sneer he stood aside, holding open the door as Scott stepped inside and the two boys, who looked to be maybe twelve and eight, dashed towards the back yard.

“You’re doing a great job fixing this place up,” Scott nodded as he looked around. “We were beginning to get the feeling this old house would rot before anyone was brave enough to take it on.” Paul halfheartedly returned the friendly laugh from his new neighbor. “See you had a bit of a mishap with the painting?”

“What?” Paul asked, looking longingly over at their makeshift picnic in the living room.

Scott gestured to his own face with raised eyebrows. “The orange paint?”

“Oh, no. That’s from an ancient Lithuanian foreplay ritual.” Paul smiled as Scott visibly flinched.

“I thought you and Rich smeared each other with the paint,” Gina countered with a grin as she reappeared. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” She turned to the startled neighbor and said soothingly, “Ignore him, he’s inhaled a bit too many toxic fumes today, he’ll be fine.”

Scott gave a nervous smile. “Well, we should leave you to your redecorating. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names?”

“Gina and Paul,” Gina smiled, extending her hand. Paul followed suit and allowed his hand to be shaken until he jumped at a sudden sound from outside. They all turned to a window to watch the ball bounce hard off the side of the house and into the older child’s forehead.

“Thanks for your help and welcome to the neighborhood,” Scott said hastily. “Come on kids, let’s leave the poor people alone.” The two boys came in through the back door, one bouncing the ball on the floor as he cackled at his older brother, who had his palm pressed to his forehead as he scowled. Paul followed them and quickly shut the door with a mocking little wave.

“Thank god for that,” he sighed, leaning against the door.

“What, I thought they were nice,” she argued.

“Genie, the neighbors have kids,” Paul whined.

“Yes they do,” she agreed. “Welcome to suburbia.”

“What did I do to deserve suburbia?”

“You married me. Now shut up and finish dinner,” Gina commanded as they settled on the blanket again.

“I thought we had better plans than dinner.”

She shrugged and took a bite out of her piece of chicken. “The sooner we eat the sooner we can get back to my apartment, and the sooner I can get that paint off you.”

“Would that involve you, me, the shower, a loofah, and that new shower gel of yours by any chance?”

“Perhaps.”

Paul perked up a bit at her mischievous grin and dug out a forkful of coleslaw.

Ritza’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a knock at the door. It took her a moment to get her bearings, as she didn’t actually remember getting into her room or falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was the self-pity drinking game she and Greg had started: a shot of tequila for everything they could list that was going wrong with their lives. Ritza had polished off the bottle with the declaration, “I haven’t gotten laid in a month.” Greg had laughed at her in a stupid, drunken cackle, declared her the winner, and that’s where her memories stopped.

Another knock jolted her from her thoughts and she tumbled out of bed, noticed the hotel robe was on the other side of the room and decided she couldn’t be bothered, and opened the door a crack, blinking at the harsh light from the hallway. “Good morning sunshine,” Greg chirped.

“Yeah,” she agreed, trying to wake up.

“Can’t say I ever pictured you a pink checked flannel nightshirt girl,” he mused, wandering into her room as she went back in. “Here, I brought you a present.”

She flumped on the bed and looked up at him as he dropped three aspirin in her hand. “You are a golden god,” she declared as he popped into the bathroom to fetch a glass of water.

“How you feeling?” Greg asked, watching her down the pills.

“Apart from my head wanting to explode, surprisingly good considering the amount of tequila I think we drank last night. You?”

“Same. The guys are gathering downstairs for breakfast, you’re invited.”

“Oh, no, really, I’ll just order up some toast or something, I’m fine.”

“No, come on, it’ll be fun. The guys would love to see you, we’ve told them all the stories,” he beamed. “And we can talk in innuendo and confuse Jeff and Kathy. Jeff just hates being out of the loop. And we can berate Brad for being an irresponsible idiot and a sloppy drunk.”

A smile spread across Ritza’s face. “It might be nice catching up with the guys again. And since you’ve offered to pay, sure.” Greg opened his mouth to protest the matter of the bill but she stood up and put her hand on his chest, guiding him backwards towards the door. “Now get out, I need to get dressed.”

“Not like I haven’t seen it before,” he smiled.

“Not sober you haven’t,” she countered.

“Come to think of it, I’m still feeling a little buzzed.”

“I’ll meet you at the elevator in five minutes.” She opened the door and gently shoved him into the hallway before firmly closing and locking the door.

“Spoilsport,” Greg called through the door and stuffed his hands into his pocket to wander towards the elevator. He turned the corner and glanced up to see Fenny and Jeff standing by the elevator.

“Morning Greg,” Jeff chimed.

“Hey Proopdog,” Fenny perked.

“Hi. Ritza’s coming to breakfast with us, just waiting for her to get dressed.” Fenny raised an eyebrow at him. “No we didn’t. Had a bit too much to drink last night and retired to our own bedrooms.”

“Who exactly is Ritza again?” Jeff asked.

“One of Brad’s exes and an old drinking buddy of mine,” Greg shrugged. “Speaking of drunks, where’s Señor Lame Ass?”

“Wasting away in Margaritaville,” Fenny shrugged. “Lil woke him up about half an hour ago, he declared he’s going to die, I told Lilly to get him up and ready for breakfast and decided it’s his turn to be a mature parental figure so I can go downstairs and get myself a chocolate milkshake.”

“At this hour?” Jeff asked incredulously.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” she countered.

“You were such a normal person before you met Gina,” Greg sighed.

“And anyway, I like the knowledge that Brad, in the midst of his raging hangover, now has to cope with Lilly singing along to Dora the Explorer while demanding he get up and get her food, which is what she was doing when I left.”

Ritza sauntered up behind them still looking a bit worse for wear. “Very spiteful for such an early hour, Fen. I’m proud.”

“The man brings out the best in me,” Fenny smirked.

“Yeah, if it weren’t for him, we never would’ve gotten you on stage,” Jeff said.

“Please, let’s not discuss it, I’m too hungry and tired to be accommodating or modest.”

“You know, it was your improv skills that first attracted me to you,” Greg mused and Fenny rolled her eyes.

“And what first attracted you to me?” Ritza asked as he leaned on the elevator button.

“The way you handle a gun, always a turn on. That and a bottle and a half of fine Mexican tequila.”

“And what first attracted you to me Greggy?” Jeff cooed, batting his eyelashes as the elevator opened.

“I’ll let you know,” Greg grinned and jumped inside, followed by giggling Fenny and Ritza and playfully pouting Jeff.

Gina pulled up outside the television studio and parked her car, killed the engine, and sat there clutching the steering wheel. It had been ages since she’d been a newsreader, and it wasn’t until she was so close to starting her new job that she finally realized just how nervous she was. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and leapt out of the car before she could rationalize going home and crawling back in bed with Paul, who had still smelled pleasantly of cucumber and melon shower gel when she’d woken him up to say goodbye and ask him to finish the kitchen to make it look a bit less like the inside of a piece of crockery.

She marched into the studio where she met briefly with the news director who gave her a quick pep talk before sending her over towards the wardrobe and makeup departments. She was fitted with a sharp business suit, and as the wardrobe head made her final adjustments, Gina was handed the most recent draft of the news rundown with which to acquaint herself. It was just a run-through, but her hands still shook a bit as she held the sheets. As soon as wardrobe had finished with her, she was hurried to makeup, where she was told to sit in the chair and wait to be attended to.

Skimming through the notes she’d been given, she noticed it was turning out to be a slow news day, nothing out of the ordinary; politics, economic crisis, crime outbursts, celebrity stories and a video of a cat raised by ducks at the end to brighten the watcher’s spirits after countless stories of death, corruption and the impending downfall of society.

Gina glanced up and caught sight of herself in the mirror, and straightened herself up a bit. She looked every bit the news anchor. The smile slipped from her face as she saw in the mirror another form sit in the seat next to her.

“Gina, it’s so good to see you,” Freya beamed, clutching Gina’s arm. “Imagine, the two of us working together again, it must be like fate or something.”

“Yeah, fate, karma, destiny, Satan’s cruel joke, something like that,” Gina agreed.

“And you know, it’s really perfect timing, I was looking for someone to come with me to look at apartments. I’ve had some trouble with my flat mate—”

“I’m shocked,” Gina declared dryly.

“—and I’ve got to find a new place. I’d appreciate your help and I really trust your judgment and advice.”

Gina had to physically bite her tongue to prevent herself from “advising” Freya to fuck off, leave the country, get a job doing something she was actually qualified to do (although Gina wasn’t sure where a professional ditz could get employment), and most importantly, stay away from her husband. However, as much as the idea appealed to her, she didn’t need to impale the weather girl twenty minutes into her first day on the job.

“Besides, it’ll be fun,” Freya continued, grinning at Gina who hadn’t taken her eyes away from the mirror yet.

“I’d love to give you some advice on where you can—”

“Freya, we need you over here,” an unidentifiable voice boomed.

“Thanks so much Gina, I’ll talk to you later then? We’ll make plans.” Freya hopped off the chair and flipped her hair back nauseatingly. “Oh look, here comes Megan, she’s the makeup artist, you’ll look nice when she’s done with you, I’m sure of it.”

Gina stared blankly in response as Freya smiled excitedly down at her.

“Well, I really should go, things to do. It’s so busy around here,” she gasped. “See you in a bit, and good luck.”

“Break a leg out there,” Gina chirped. “Literally if possible,” she murmured under her breath.