“…So yeah, anyway, I just have to get a new apartment,” Freya gushed.

“Right,” Paul nodded, his attention had long ago become focused on a man reading a book titled How to Overcome the Hurt and Learn to Love Again: A guide for generous loving men whose lives have been destroyed by the whims of wily women.

“So you’ll lend me the deposit, right?” Freya continued.

“Ah huh,” Paul replied, his mind focussed entirely on the man and wondering who had hurt him? Would he overcome the hurt? Would he learn to love again and why on earth was he reading such tripe in a public place?

“I know this is like, totally short notice, but do you think we could get the money now?”

“Money? What money?” Paul asked, finally refocusing on Freya.

“The money I’ve been asking about for the last twenty minutes?” Freya replied with a small smile.

“Um, right,” Paul mumbled and padded down his jeans until he found his wallet. “How much was it again?”

“$5000,” Freya said blankly.

“Five grand!”

“I told you I needed more.”

Paul looked at his near empty wallet, his chequebook was at home and all he had was Gina’s bankcard, left over from the earlier shopping trip.

“Well?” Freya asked impatiently.

“Sorry, I’m not with it today,” Paul replied, thinking hard. He felt a growing nausea in the pit of his stomach over what he was about to do. “Where’s the nearest ATM?”

---

“Mmm, banging noise,” Brad mumbled, his mouth full of Fenny’s hair.

“Man hear bang, woman stay in bed,” Fenny mused sleepily and nudged him gently.

“Man ignore bang. Man and woman stay in bed,” he breathed and dropped several kisses on her neck. She turned over and he caught her in a tired kiss. He let a hand fall onto her tattooed hip while hers traced the letters of her name on his chest.

“BRAD, FENNY!”

“Shit, it’s Jenna,” Fenny groaned.

“What time is it?” Brad yawned, trying to find the light switch.

“Like I can see,” Fenny mused.

“Christ, it’s 9:15,” Brad gasped and started searching for his boxers.

“No wonder I don’t think I can walk,” Fenny giggled.

Brad grabbed a clean pair of boxers and pulled them on along with his jeans and headed for the door, making sure to hide scattered clothing along the way.

“BRAD,” Jenna yelled as the door flew open. “FEN…Oh, hey.”

“Sorry, we were ah, distracted,” Brad babbled.

“So I can see,” Jenna mused, noticing Brad’s lack of shirt. “Anyway, your little girl is asleep on my couch.”

“Right,” Brad nodded and followed Jenna back across the hall to her apartment. Lilly was curled up in a ball under a purple fluffy blanket on the couch. “What did you do to my child.”

“We played with the curling tongs,” Jenna smiled as Brad bent down to gently pick up Lilly in his arms. She gave a small whimper and then snuggled into his shoulder.

“Thanks for looking after her,” Brad whispered as he carried her to the door.

“Hey, if it means Fenny gets laid, I’m open to babysit anytime.”

“Oh, and what about me? What about my needs.”

“You’ve got hands,” Jenna smirked.

Brad looked at her coyly, decided not to respond, and went back to his apartment.

“Give it back, mutt,” Fenny cussed as she raced past Brad, chasing after Mochrie who’d taken off with her best underwear.

“Run Mochs run,” Brad teased as Lilly stirred in his arms.

“Is my room finished?” she asked sleepily.

“Ah, well…not quite,” Brad winced as he carried Lilly into he and Fenny’s room and placed her on the bed.

“Can I look?” she asked.

“Well, the thing is sweetie,” Brad sighed as he started to get her changed. “We didn’t do anything. Well, we did lots of things, just not your room.” Lilly’s bottom lip started to quiver. “That’s not to say that we’re not about to start right now. I promise you when you get up tomorrow your room will be all painted.”

“You what?” Fenny gasped as she wandered into the room inspecting the teeth holes in her favorite bra.

“Great!” Lilly grinned as Brad pulled on the last of her pajamas. “Night Daddy, night Fenny,” she chirped before diving under the covers.

Brad looked at Fenny and smiled inanely. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your dog has destroyed another one of my bras,” she remarked.

---

“I’ll buy you a new bra,” Brad announced weakly as he heard Fenny clanking about in Lilly’s room.

“Damn right you will,” she replied and thrust a paint roller at him. “By the way, why does your daughter looked like JonBenet Ramsey? Well, before she was murdered by her parents.”

“She was with Jenna,” Brad said, the look on his face expressing his thoughts of ‘Need I say more?’

“You do realise we’re going to be painting for hours?”

“What would you prefer, a few hours of painting or a few hours of Lilly whining?”

“I blame you for seducing me,” Fenny mused as she started painting around the window.

“You didn’t enjoy the hours of lovemaking then?”

“Lovemaking? It was full on animalistic sex.”

“Yes it was,” Brad mused, coming up behind her, his free hand dropping onto her waist.

“If you start that we’ll never get this done.”

“I’d rather make out with you than paint,” Brad pouted.

Fenny turned around, smiled sweetly and painted a large heart on Brad’s bare chest, between his nipples and past his stomach. “I’d rather make out with you too,” she cooed, standing on her toes to kiss him.

“So does this mean I get to paint around your nipples now?”

Fenny giggled and pushed Brad away. “Paint,” she ordered.

---

Gina wiped her hand across her forehead and looked around at the bathroom she’d spent a good two hours cleaning. The mould was finally gone and most of the tiles were now stacked just outside the door since they’d left the sanctity of the bathroom wall of their own accord. She pulled the once-pink rubber gloves from her hands and draped them over the disused towel rail as she heard the front door close.

“Finally, it awakes,” she mused and wandered down the hall to find Paul in the kitchen looking distracted.

“You’re so beautiful but oh so boring” Paul hummed as he decided to fill the electric kettle Gina had brought over. “And I’m wondering what am I doing here…”

“Simply Red,” Gina announced.

Paul turned to see her leaning against the doorframe. “What?”

Simply Red, you’re singing a Simply Red song.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, which is interesting because you don’t even like Simply Red.”

“Where’s the sugar?” Paul asked, grabbing a mug. “Sorry, I was in a café earlier and it was on the radio, it’s stuck in my head.”

“I thought you went home to sleep?” Gina queried as she passed him the sugar. “What were you doing in a café.”

Paul froze and tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Milk?”

“Paul, why were you in a café?” Gina asked, her voice falling to a serious tone.

He stopped making his cuppa, turned around and leaned against the sideboard. “I met someone.”

“A Mikey or Rich someone?”

“A Freya someone.”

“Paul,” Gina groaned. “Why did you meet her?”

“I kinda promised I would, I’d promised before you got back,” Paul said sheepishly as he avoided eye contact.

“Oh, that was nice of you,” Gina huffed, leaning against the opposite counter and crossing her arms.

“Genie…”

“So why’d you meet her? Not paying for her services now, are you?”

“Funny you should mention paying,” Paul said, his voice turning almost childlike. “See, the reason she stayed with me three days was because she’s having a lot of trouble with her flat mate. Well, more than a little actually…”

“Get to the point, McDermott.”

“I promised I’d lend her the money for a deposit on a new apartment. I was drunk but she held me to it and I couldn’t rightfully say no.”

“You leant her money? How? Your chequebook is at my place all you had was…” Gina paused and closed her eyes. “Please, please, tell me you didn’t.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Paul mumbled, pulling his fingers.

“How could you?” Gina gasped. “You gave my money to that wench.”

“I thought it might encourage her to leave us alone.”

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot,” Gina spat. “How much did you give her?”

Paul looked puppy dog eyed at Gina. “Five grand.”

Gina’s mouth open and closed a few times and she clenched and unclenched her hands. “You gave five thousand dollars of my money to…I’m…oh man…” she gave up trying to make a sentence and walked outside.

“I had to do it,” Paul declared, following her out to the porch. Gina turned around sharply and Paul was greeted by a stinging slap across the face. “Ow, fuck.”

“You’re an idiot,” she hissed. “Sorry,” Gina added and planted a kiss on his reddening cheek.

“I’ve been feeling bad about the way things ended between me and Freya. I hurt her and I hurt you and while I’ve made things right with you…”

“Oh don’t,” Gina sighed. “You haven’t made things right with me and you know why?”

“Because I’m an idiot?”

“Mostly, but because I don’t trust you. How can I trust you when you do stupid stuff like give large amounts of my money to ex-mistresses.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Gina breathed. “Every time we take one step forward and you take about ten back.”

“So, how can I start to even make this up a little bit to you.”

Gina thought for a moment. He looked adorably pathetic and she wasn’t one to really be money conscious but there was the principle of the whole thing and the image of Freya in a new apartment paid for by her hard earned money. “I’m going to make an appointment. We’re going to the bank to get a joint account. This way if you decide to donate any more money to your exes it’ll be ‘our’ money you’re fucking with.”

“Fair enough,” Paul nodded as Gina disappeared back into the house. He sunk onto the step, his head in hands.

---

Fenny woke to the vilest smell of turpentine before realising she and Brad had crashed on the couch. They were still dressed and covered in paint. The only upside being that Lilly’s room now painted and that would at least quell the beast until they got back from Vegas -VEGAS!

“Brad, wake up,” Fenny gasped. “The flight’s in two hours.”

“We’re leaving on a jet plane…” Brad mumbled.

“We haven’t even packed.”

“Packed?”

“Packed for Vegas,” Fenny sighed. “Remember, you’re performing there?”

Brad’s eyes shot open, “Shit!” He scrambled off the couch, the painted heart still on his chest. “We’ve got to organise Lilly, too.”

“Well I’ll have a shower and you can organise Lilly,” Fenny nodded. “Considering I might throttle her since we spent until 3am painting her damn room.”

“Fine, then you can pack our stuff.”

“I planned too.”

“Will you make sure my shiny silver shi…” Brad paused. “What’s that look for?”

“That shirt should never have been unveiled the first time. I’m not letting you force it on an unsuspecting audience again.”

“But it’s my special Vegas shirt,” Brad pouted.

“And they’re your lucky shorts, but I’m still not packing your shirt,” Fenny remarked as she headed toward the bathroom.

“That didn’t even make sense!” Brad called after her.

“Go tend to your child,” Fenny ordered as she descended into the bathroom. “While I get wet and naked.”

Brad looked toward the bedroom; he could see Lilly still fast asleep. He then looked back over at the bathroom the sound of the shower muffled. “The kid won’t wake,” he muttered.

---

Greg looked around the waiting room and the various other couples. All the men sat cross-armed and idly looking at the pictures and posters on the walls, while the women were buried in magazines. The tension in that one room was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

“Mr. and Mrs. Proops, Stuart will see you now,” piped up the receptionist.

“Why thank you,” Greg smiled and hummed the death march as he headed toward Stuart’s office. He hated Stuart. Yes, Stuart. Not Dr. Peterson. Stuart. Stuart the fucking hippie. Greg hated him more than Judy. At least Judy was a normalish person for a therapist. Stuart was always dressed in baggy beige pants with a matching collarless shirt. He wore love beads, was a vegan, animal liberationist, tree hugging, yoga loving freak, and Greg spent most sessions trying to decide if jumping from the third floor window of his office would be worth it.

“Greg, hi, come in,” Stuart perked from his yoga position on an Indian rug.

“What happened to the couch?” Greg asked blankly, looking for somewhere to sit.

“I’ve decided to conduct all my sessions on the floor from now on. I feel it brings us closer to mother earth.”

“But there’s just metal pylons and cheap concrete below us.”

“Ah Greg, you have to believe it to be the earth. Look further than the confines of your earthbound form.”

“Right, will do,” Greg muttered. “Stu, dude, if you haven’t noticed, my wife isn’t here yet.”

“She’s here in spirit, Greg. We’re all here in spirit.”

“I’d rather be in spirits, gin preferably,” Greg sighed.

“Have you and Jennifer worked on the things we discussed last time?”

“The colour-based honesty and trust exercises? Things were peachy until I was honest and asked her to wear a showgirl outfit. Now they’re kinda red and a bit black and blue.”

“Greg, things won’t get better between you and Jennifer until you start taking this seriously.”

“Dude, you have a kama sutra wall hanging. It’s just beyond me.”

“Making love is a sacred event in some cultures.”

“Ever made love to a gun-toting Mafia bitch who has both kidnapped and tried to kill you? Man, it’s awesome.”

Stuart stopped meditating and looked at him blankly, “What time is your wife getting here?”

---

“How do I look?” Paul asked as they approached the electronic doors of the bank.

Gina looked him up and down and adjusted his tie. “Better.”

They walked through the doors and were greeted by the sterile air-conditioned air.

“I hate banks, they’re big, and scary, and all the women have beards,” Paul huffed, looking overwhelmed. Gina led him to the enquiries desk and explained to the clerk that they had an appointment. A few seconds later they were in a tiny grey office being babbled to by a young man called Craig in a cheap suit.

“Right, so how can I help you?” Craig asked, clicking away on his computer keyboard.

“We’d like to set up a joint account,” Gina replied.

“Okay, and do you want it for saving, spending or both?”

“She wants it because I’m a fuck up,” Paul sighed.

Gina tried to hide her annoyance and smiled at Craig, “Both, please.”

“And your names would be?”

“Paul and Gina McDermott.”

“Paul McDermott, I thought I recognised you,” Craig perked. “I’m a huge DAAS fan.”

Paul gasped, “Oh my god, really?” He then fell sullen, “What a fascinating life you must lead.” Gina shot him daggers as she reeled off the rest of their details.

“Okay, I’ll just get the printouts,” Craig perked and disappeared from the room. Gina turned fiercely to Paul.

“Could you find an iota of maturity and act like my 40-year-old husband instead of an annoying five-year-old child?”

“I told you I hate banks,” Paul sulked.

“Well you keep saying you love me. Do it for that reason if nothing else.”

“Okay, I just need you to sign a couple of things for me,” Craig perked as he reappeared. Gina fell back to her interested fake smile and Paul sat up straight.

“Do we have to use those pens on those annoying little chains?” Paul asked.

Craig chuckled. “No, no just a normal biro here.”

Gina and Paul signed all the forms they were given, along with their brand new bankcards, and were then quickly ushered back out of the building before they noticed the exuberant fees they were forced to pay.

“You wanna go get something to eat?” Paul asked, unbuttoning his jacket and removing his tie.

“I’m going back to the house to start on the kitchen. You’re welcome to come or you can go apartment hunting with Freya.”

Paul released a breath through his teeth making it whistle; he was well and truly in the doghouse this time.

---

“Well, I think we’ve made some real progress today, Greg,”

“How? My wife was a no show?” Greg said bewildered.

“I personally felt her spirit in the room was us.”

“She called, told me her Aunt Jean had had another turn, and there was leftovers in the fridge.”

“She called because she cared…”

“She forgot I’m going to Vegas for the weekend.”

“Greg, you’ve got to stop looking for the negative in every situation.”

Greg noticed a large rubber plant in the corner and wondered how much it would hurt to strike Stuart the Hippie with its terracotta pot.