Fenny trudged through the door of her apartment at whatever god-awful hour it was. Mochrie was sleeping on the couch and she had no idea where Jaguar was hiding. Fenny dropped her bag into an armchair and then sunk onto the couch with Mochrie. She was still in a daze: it’s not everyday you tell your family exactly what you think of them and then storm out and drive back to LA.

“Stupid fucking family,” Fenny sniffed, scratching Mochrie’s head. “I want my Brad,” she added as the tears started rolling down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back with the idea that she wasn’t going to let herself fall into some paranoid and depressed state. She quickly decided she needed to do something to take her mind off of how much her family would be plotting her ejection from their kin. She got to her feet and padded across to Lilly’s room, which was still stark with only the walls having been painted.

“This’ll do,” Fenny croaked and wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt before crouching down to get the top off a tin of paint.

By the time the sun was rising, Fenny finished painting the room, hung the curtains, and gave the bookcase, dresser and bed a new coat of paint. After she’d cleaned up, Fenny fell back onto the couch exhausted but feeling marginally better and let the rhythm of Mochrie’s gentle breathing as she stroked her fur send her to sleep.

Paul reached out a hand to grope what he was hoping was Gina’s thigh but discovered that unless she had a hormone problem, the only thing next to him was the cat.

“Where’s my wife,” Paul groaned sleepily as he blinked.

“She’s left you for the gardener,” Gina replied as she stood buttoning her shirt.

“Slut,” Paul mused, sitting up. “Why are you dressed and not draped across me naked?”

“Because I’m being forced to go in and film promos,” Gina sighed as she disappeared from the room trying to hurriedly get her earrings in.

Paul scurried out of bed, pulled on his jeans and found her making breakfast with the few groceries they had.

“But promos’ll take all day,” he whined. “Trust me, I’ve done thousands of the fucking things.”

“Any pointers?” Gina asked, taking a bite of her toast.

“Well, there’s a couple of looks you have to have,” Paul nodded. “Serious,” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Blank,” Paul looked doe-eyed and let his mouth hang open. “And of course, painfully happy,” he puffed out his chest and grinned broadly.

Gina giggled. “You’re too cute,” she perked and kissed him briefly before sticking the rest of her toast in his mouth. “I’ve got to go.”

“So what am I gonna do today?” Paul asked as he took a bite of the toast.

“Do you need to ask? There’s still tonnes of painting to be done, and thanks to your possum hunting skills, the roof needs patched.”

“That’s right, you go off and be glamorous and I’ll stay here and learn the ins and outs of roof patching.”

“Or hon, you could just call a professional who won’t make it worse.”

“Hey, I can patch a roof.”

Gina looked at him pained a moment, “You do what makes you happy.”

“I can’t, you’re going to work,” Paul teased taking another bite out of the slice of toast.

“Give you something to think about until I get home then,” Gina cooed and cheekily ran her fingers down to the waistband of his jeans. “Have a nice day,” she smiled and undid the button before turning and leaving.

“I hate when she does that,” Paul sighed. “Think of something unsexy…Greg in lingerie, Greg in lingerie, Greg in lingerie…”

“Daddy, do will still have to play the quiet game?” Lilly asked as Brad, with a raging hangover, struggled to open the door of the apartment. He noticed Fenny’s sleeping form on the couch and placed Lilly on the floor.

“Yes, because Fenny’s asleep,” he whispered.

“Can we wake her?” Lilly asked as Brad gently put the suitcase down.

“Why don’t you go and play in your room and I’ll wake her,” Brad smiled.

“That’s no fun,” Lilly pouted but did as she was told anyway.

Brad wandered over to the couch and Mochrie jumped down and slobbered all over his hands. “Stupid mutt,” he mused, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Fen,” he whispered and gently shook her arm.

Fenny let out a small groan and her eyes flickered open, “Brad.”

He passed her her glasses which had fallen on the floor. “What are you doing here, I thought you’d still be at your parents.”

Fenny sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, desperately trying to tame it. “I told you last night, we had a huge fight.”

“Yeah, last night’s a little bit hazy for me.”

“I’m not ashamed of abusing my siblings, or informing Daddy that he needs to be committed,” she sighed as he dropped onto the couch beside her. “But telling Mom we’re married, I’m in so much trouble.”

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over,” he soothed as she rested her head on his shoulder, his arms moving around her.

“No, no I’m going to be forcefully omitted from any family gatherings from now on.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Brad teased and gave Fenny a goofy smile.

“Your daughter is right, you are an ass,” she mused as she tilted her head so he could kiss her. Their lips had just touched when Lilly came bolting out of her room.

“Daddy, you gotta see what Fenny did!” she exclaimed excitedly as she took one of his hands and attempted to pull Brad off the couch.

“Fen?” he smiled as Fenny looked innocently back.

“Daddy!”

“Coming,” he laughed as Lilly dragged him into the bedroom. The bright colours hit him instantly and he found himself lost for words. “You did all this last night?”

“I had some issues to work through,” Fenny shrugged, coming up beside him, her arm wrapping around his back.

“Wow, what do you think, Lil?” Brad asked, looking at his daughter who was bouncing on her bed.

“I love it!” Lilly grinned, bouncing off the bed. “And Fenny got me paint like she said she would,” she added holding up the small paint palette and brush Fenny had left on the little table Lilly used for drawing.

“Well aren’t you just spoiled,” Brad declared. “Where’s my paints, huh?” he asked, looking to Fenny.

“Sorry babe, but she’s far more talented than you,” Fenny jeered. “And makes less mess.”

“I’m better with crayons,” Brad huffed. “Lil, what do you say to Fen?”

Lilly beamed and nearly leapt into Fenny’s arms, “Thank you, thank you, thank you you’re the best mom ever.”

Fenny hugged Lilly until the words sunk in and she felt like she was stuck in one of those television programmes with a voiceover:

And there it was, Lilly had called her ‘mom.’ She was officially Lilly’s stepmother, when from the very beginning this is what she feared most. To think she’d almost declared that this was her family now, Brad, Lilly and the pets….

“What’s wrong?” Brad asked when he realised Fenny had a blank expression on her face.

“Lilly called me mom,” Fenny replied as the child ran over to the bookcase to hunt out a Dr Suess book.

“Are you upset?”

“No?”

“Angry?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“I really don’t know,” Fenny replied. “I should shower,” she added and walked from the room in a daze.

Gina looked in the mirror at the thick make-up and awful hairstyle she’d been given along with a purple suit with lighter purple shirt that looked generally horrendous.

“Dear god, why?” she sighed, forcing herself to ignore the fact she looked like some sort of Star Trek-inspired eggplant, and making her way into the corridor where the news director and producer were chatting.

“I had to let him go, he was terrible.”

“How are we supposed to get someone at such short notice, huh?”

“There’s plenty of bloody graduates, surely one of them can read an autocue.”

“Excuse me?” Gina piped up. “Couldn’t help overhearing, I was wondering what you need someone for?”

“Had to fire one of the sports journos, and now we’ve under staffed,” the producer grumbled, glaring at the news director. “Our usual substitute is on holiday in Venezuela.”

“Well, if it’s any help, I know someone who’d be perfect. He’s had a bit of television training, is a sports nut, and if you don’t mind me saying so, he’s hot. Everything a good sports journo need be, right?” Gina perked.

The director and producer looked at each other a moment. “How quickly can he get here?” asked the director.

“Half an hour,” Gina replied, already grabbing her cell phone to call Danny.

“See, problem sorted,” the director perked and wandered off. The producer looked curiously at Gina.

“I like you,” he declared and disappeared. Gina shrugged and pressed the button to call Danny.

Paul stood blankly staring at the range of glues, plasters and general gap-filling agents in the hardware store. He picked up a tube of something but decided it didn’t look enough and then grabbed another product that looked like a gun and pretended to blow holes in some nearby paint tins.

“Can I help you, sir?” a voice perked up and Paul turned to see a young man in blue shorts and a t-shirt with the store’s logo on it next to him.

“That depends mate, are you au fait with patching paint roller-sized holes in rooves?”

“What type of roof?”

“A house one?” Paul shrugged.

“Right,” the man nodded. “Plasterboard?”

Paul looked blankly, “It scattered like snow when the roller went through it.”

“Can I ask why you were in the roof with a roller?”

“I was stalking a possum.”

“And you decided to attack it with a paint roller?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have a spade handy.”

“You realise possums are vicious creatures?”

“Why do you think I had the fucking roller?” Paul huffed, “Are you planning on guiding me to an appropriate product, or do you just want to discuss the local fauna a while longer?”

“Actually, you’ll need to go to a place that specialises in roof repairs,” the young man said bluntly. “We don’t really have anything appropriate here.”

“Right, so what you’re saying is although this is a hardware shop where you sell everything from pop up sprinklers to ten thousand kinds of nails, you don’t actually have something to fix a small hole in the roof of a suburban house?” Paul spat. The young man opened his mouth but couldn’t get a word in. “Does this happen often? Do people come here expecting to find products to fix small misdemeanours in their homes only to find that you are too inept to sell the right products? Meaning that busy people like me have to traipse all over town looking for something that’s probably in a small enough tube to shove up your arse.”

“Well actually…”

“Perhaps you should put up a sign listing the things you don’t sell, take out a full page advert in the fucking Australian. Hell, why don’t you just put it in one of your god awful television commercials. I’d like to see one of those fucking plasticine dogs make your pathetic lapse of customer satisfaction look cute.”

The young man looked stunned. “I can give you the number of a roof…”

“No, forget it, I don’t have the time, I have to take my mongoose to the taxidermists,” Paul huffed and marched out of the hardware store. The young man looked around agitated a moment and then took off to hide amongst the indoor plants.

“Can I come in?” Brad asked, poking his head around the bedroom door. Fenny was curled up on the bed in clean jeans and a shirt.

“Sure,” she breathed. “Where’s Lil?”

“Jenna was going to visit Jett’s sister who’s got a kid the same age, thought Lilly might want someone to play with,” Brad replied, flopping onto the bed.

“Jenna’s back with Jett? I thought he married some d-grade porn actress?”

“Well, Jenna has got one hell of a rock on her finger.”

“Brad, Jenna’s a shocker but she’s not into porn…is she?”

“You look at me like I’d know.”

“Well, I don’t watch porn.”

“Oh, and I suppose I do, huh?” Brad huffed and then looked sheepish. “Sometimes the adult channel has educational movies on.”

Fenny shook her head, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Brad replied, resting his head on her stomach. Fenny’s fingers instantly took to stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused.”

“I promise I’ve never encouraged her to call you mom.”

“I know, and I can’t really hold it against her since she’s only a kid.”

“Lil probably didn’t even realise she was doing it,” he sighed. “That was really sweet, you finishing her room.”

“It was therapeutic, kinda.”

“Speaking of therapy, have you listened to the answering machine messages?”

“No, I chose to ignore them stoically.”

“Your mom called, she’s worried about you and wants you to call her back.”

“Right,” she sighed. “It’ll go from ‘we don’t care honey’ to ‘I can’t tell the rest of the family.'”

“You don’t know that,” he scorned.

“I’m really not in the mood to deal with it right now.”

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked, creeping up to drop his head on the pillow beside hers.

“Gee, let me think,” she mused, gently stroking his cheek. “Your sideburns need trimming.”

“You want to trim my sideburns?” he smiled.

She poked his nose. “Moron. I was going to say, ‘Hey the kid’s out, ravish me’.”

He pretended to think for a moment. “I can’t. I’m abstaining, and I feel like crap.”

“I’m not abstaining though,” she pouted.

He bit his lip. “Okay, I’ll give it a go, but I’m not promising anything.” He brought his lips hungrily to hers and they shared a few heated kisses before he started delicately trailing kisses over her stomach. Just as Fenny was ready to roll over, pin him to the bed and tear off his clothes, Brad stopped and fell back onto the pillows. “Nope, my head kills, I can’t go on.”

“I’m seriously starting to hate you,” she grumbled, the air making the places he’d kissed tingle.

It was early evening when Gina finally found time to grab a doughnut from the channel ten cafeteria and was pounced upon by Danny, who hugged her so tightly she feared for the buttons on her eggplant-coloured jacket.

“Put me down, Brannigan,” she giggled.

“I love you,” he perked and planted sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“I’m going to assume by this outpouring of affection you got the job?”

“A television sports journalist. I got to interview the captain of the Sydney Swans today, you have no idea how deliriously happy I am.”

“Yeah I do, I’ve seen you drunk,” she chided. “It’s the least I could do, god knows you’ve helped me enough times.”

“I knew I could count on you, my little aubergine,” he perked.

“Yeah, call me that again and I grab the salad tongs and remove your scrotum.”

“I’m going to assume your day wasn’t quite as good as mine?”

“Oh, it was just so much fun having to spend all day with Freya, who only made me want to punch her fifteen times.”

Danny’s eyes went wide for a moment, “Speaking of her. You’ll never believe what she did?” Gina looked blankly at him as she took a mouthful of doughnut. “I woke up this morning to find her naked, in my bed with her hand down my boxers!”

“She did what?” Gina gasped.

“She thought I was Paul.”

Her expression changed to venomous. “I’m going to kill her, I’m actually going to kill her.”

“Might want to answer your phone first,” he said, hoping the phone call might stop her smearing Freya’s entrails over the green screen.

“Oh right,” she blinked and grabbed her phone. “Hello.”

“Hey gorgeous.”

“Pauly, what’s wrong?” Gina said, a small smile on her face. She was happy to hear Paul’s voice after her hell of day.

“Nothing, I wanted to wish you luck. I got Rich to help me bring the TV here so I could watch you.”

“Oh hell, don’t watch me, I look like a Trekky eggplant.”

“What?”

“Wardrobe department got stuck into me.”

“Will I recognise you?”

“Sure, I’ll be the one beating Freya with my swivel chair.”

“Hey, it’ll make great television.”

“Dan woke up to find that whore with her hands down his pants, Paul.”

“She did what?”

“She thought he was you?”

“Oh yeah, that’s an easy mistake.”

“Anyway, how was your day?”

“Well, I didn’t fix the roof because the hardware store people are incompetent, but I painted the study and my studio, and I took Troy to the taxidermists. Won’t get him back until tomorrow, and I think Archie is lonely.”

“I’m sure Archie will be fine. Did you feed Lewis?”

“I didn’t need to, he killed some small native creature in the backyard.”

“Oh, all right then.”

“Coleman you’re on in five,” announced the news director, marching into the cafeteria.

Gina nodded. “I’ve got to go, I’m on in five.”

“Okay, remember, you’re beautiful and a fantastic journalist, so there’s no need to be nervous.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gina giggled as she hung up, gave her phone to Danny and raced off to the studio.

Paul grabbed his beer, sat on the bare living room floor and switched on the television. The news was just starting with the reading of the headlines.

“Also tonight, a man who killed his wife with a table leg has been given only four years gaol time,” Gina declared to Australia.

Paul felt strange watching his wife on television considering he was the celebrity in their relationship, and it was usually his job to be the one on television. Still, at least the news was made 100% more interesting when you know what the newsreader looks like naked, how she sounds screaming your name in the throes of passion, and exactly where all her erogenous zones are.

“Oh god, I need to think unsexy thoughts again,” Paul gasped, realising that he was getting strangely turned on as Gina waffled on about some politician who visited a nursing home. “What’s something really unsexy? Oh, the other newsreader, George,” he declared, looking at the significantly older Greek man with a thick moustache. Paul concentrated as hard as he could on George, but it simply wasn’t working, all he could think about was Gina’s milky white thighs. “For once I’ll be glad to see Freya,” he huffed, grabbing Archie and sitting the gnome in his lap.

Greg glared at the older woman perched on the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and the television remote in the other.

“I’m so glad you’ve got cable,” Greg’s wife’s Aunt Jean chuckled. “I do love the Golden Girls.”

“Yeah, that Blanche is a babe,” Greg said without much conviction. He’d been pleased to return home to his wife, who was still amused by his drunken antics of the previous night. She’d said how much she’d missed him and kissed him tenderly, and then he’d heard the all too familiar cry of Aunt Jean: “Jenny dear, is there any more Pringles?” It wasn’t that Greg hated Aunt Jean, oh no, he literally despised the woman who, on his wedding day, had declared that she was shocked her Jenny hadn’t married her last boyfriend who was, by her standard, a far better choice and considerably better looking. Then on their first anniversary, Aunt Jean was inadvertently having her house fumigated for termites, and so their special anniversary dinner turned into takeaway and Greg having to sleep in the lumpy bed in the spare room. Yes, Aunt Jean had a history of making Greg’s life a misery, god knows what Satan’s employee of the month must have thought when she found out Greg had had an affair, and not once but twice. She probably went out and put a voodoo curse on him, while organising a divorce and finding her Jenny a much more suitable husband. The only pleasure Greg got out of this was the fact it must have killed her to find out they’d gone to counselling and he was still sharing her Jenny’s bed.

“Well, I’m off to check my e-mail,” Greg declared as he got to his feet and left the room without waiting for a reply from the woman. “I’d prefer to dismember your hideously beaten corpse, but my wife will be back from visiting friends in a hour,” he mumbled.

Greg slumped at the computer as it booted up and once logged onto the Internet was pleased to find an e-mail from Gina.

Fenny lay slumped on the couch watching some terrible romance; it was so tacky even she was disgusted she was watching it. The male lead was trying to woo the female lead by sending her flowers and cute little notes.

“Whatever happened to romance?” Fenny sighed as she heard Brad give a horrible snore from the bedroom and pulled a discarded marker pen from underneath her. She watched as the guy on screen left a single rose on the woman’s pillow and a note telling her that he loved her. Fenny couldn’t remember the last time Brad had bought her flowers, written her a sweet note, serenaded her, made dinner, cleaned the bathroom, checked the oil in her car or even done anything vaguely romantic. Sure he told her he loved her all time, but it all seemed very routine now: they got up, entertained Lilly, had dinner and fell asleep on the couch providing neither of them had work to do. If they went for dinner, Lilly came. If they tried to have a quiet moment, Lilly appeared wanting her Daddy, and if she wanted to do the wild thing with Brad, he was abstaining because he wanted to do more things, but it seemed they weren’t doing more things, just pandering to Lilly. Fenny let out a groan and switched the television off. She let out a sigh as she got to her feet and pondered trying to infuse some more romance into her relationship, spice up their marriage a bit. This all flittered out of her mind when she saw Brad sprawled on the bed with the covers tangled around him. Fenny crawled onto the bed and snuggled into his back, one arm wrapped around his chest, a leg tangled with his.

“I thought you were never going to stop watching that awful movie,” Brad said softly.

“I was waiting until you stopped snoring,” Fenny breathed, holding him tighter.

“I was faking it,” Brad mused. “You smell like popcorn.”

“Well I had to do something while you slept off your hangover.”

“You have a popcorn fetish we need to talk about.”

“Shut up,” Fenny giggled as Brad twisted his head as best he could to see her over his shoulder.

“Kiss me,” he declared.

“Yes sir,” Fenny smiled and moved closer to share a kiss with him.

“Mmm buttered popcorn,” Brad grinned lazily.

“You might be a moron, but you’re my moron and I love you,” Fenny giggled and they shared another kiss.

“And you’re my neurotic little artist and I love you,” Brad cooed, before they both dozed off.

It was dark by the time Gina got home and she was knackered and starving. She unlocked the door and didn’t even get into the hallway before Paul appeared.

“I can’t watch you read the news,” he declared bluntly.

“I was that bad?” Gina gasped.

“No, you were fantastic, but you kinda turn me on because I know what you look like naked.”

“Thanks honey,” she mused as she kicked her shoes off. “Do we have any food?”

“Not much. I can probably whip you up some scrambled eggs if you want?” he offered.

“That would be wonderful,” she yawned. “I’m fucked.”

“I’m not touching that,” he mused. “Oh, I’ve got something else to show you,” he added, grabbing Gina’s hand and leading her toward the bathroom. “I did some phoning around and got the bath re-enamelled.” Paul opened the bathroom door and then used a lighter to light a few candles. “Sorry I can’t switch the light on, but you know how light globes like to commit suicide around me.”

“Well done, we have a full functioning bathroom now, minus the light,” she perked, pecking him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Why don’t you test it out while I make your dinner?”

“That sounds like a great idea, but we don’t have any…”

“Bubble bath? Yeah we do, I bought you some especially.”

“My god, I’ve got alien Paul again,” she gasped.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy your bath,” he smiled and descended into the kitchen. Paul was busy with the scrambled eggs when he heard a shriek from the bathroom.

“Genie,” he breathed and bolted down the hall and threw open the door to find Gina standing at one end of the bath with a wet furry blob at the other end. “What the fuck…”

“There’s a possum in my bathtub!” Gina gasped.

“How’d it get — oh, new hole in the roof,” he mused, looking at the fresh hole in the ceiling.

“Well, don’t just stand there, get it out!”

“I’m not touching that,” he said and then giggled. The possum, looking petrified, scurried out of the bath, through Paul’s legs and ended up escaping through the cat flap. “It’s out.”

“You know what the most disturbing thing is?” Gina declared as she grabbed Paul’s arm to steady herself as she climbed out of the bath. “You’re still looking at where that possum was and I’m here butt naked.”

“I’ve been imagining you naked all day, I’m kinda over it now,” he shrugged. Her mouth fell agape and Paul started giggling again.

“Arsehole,” Gina mused as she pushed him back against the tiles.

“Your eggs are gonna burn,” he smiled.

“Screw the eggs!” she scorned as she brought her lips lustily to his. They were interrupted by a loud ‘plop’

“Ohh, possum has a baby!” Paul laughed as a smaller, soggy possum poked its head out of the bath.

“Dear god, you’re calling the council tomorrow,” Gina groaned burying her face into Paul’s shoulder.