“You’ve done a lot of stupid things, McDermott,” Paul muttered to himself as he sat forlornly in the middle of the dining room. “A lot.” He glanced over at the one freshly painted wall and took another gulp from his beer. “But this, this was probably the worst you’ve fucked up in a very long time.” The stereo, playing loudly from the bedroom, filtered music through the walls, down the hall and across the ventilation system to play “No Aphrodisiac” for probably the four-hundredth time since he’d set the CD to repeat the song. His initial plan had been to let Gina cool off a bit, but that had quickly settled into drinking, wallowing in self-pity, and painting as a therapeutic/apologetic gesture.

Maybe it was the somber blue tone of the paint he was using? Maybe it was the six pack he’d gone through since Gina had left? But visions flitted through his mind of Gina leaving him for a devastatingly handsome man who would treat her properly and worship her the way she should be worshiped and not let ex-girlfriends continually ruin their lives, and Paul himself being left to be a miserable lonely old man who would sit around making everyone feel sorry for him because he was a screw up. No, he wouldn’t be lonely, he’d still have Troy. Troy and Archie, theirs were the only lives he couldn’t completely ruin. He’d rescued Troy from a dead madman and saved Archie from the doldrums of the hardware store, and they seemed happier for Paul’s efforts.

Yes, it was definitely the beer.

He slumped forward and rubbed his hands over his face, the dried paint on his fingers scratching his skin. He would almost know how to deal with things if Gina had yelled at him as she was prone to do. A heartfelt apology, a bit of puppy dog eyes and a tender kiss would lead to makeup sex in the new shower and the only memory of the fight would be the afterglow. But Paul had managed to do more than just anger her; he’d hurt her, and that almost scared him.

There were very few times in their relationship that he had seen her look so crushed that hadn’t had anything to do with gun wielding maniacs, and none of them had ended well. This was definitely a situation a dozen roses would not fix. Sitting on the floor getting pissed wasn’t helping the situation a whole lot either, but it wasn’t digging him any deeper either.

Heaving a sigh as the song started over again, he grabbed the bucket of paint and a brush and moved towards the blank wall before him.

Greg flumped into the chair as the waitress dropped his menu on the table and wandered off again with a short stark smile. He idly wondered what his wife was up to and tried not to think about how much better he could have done at the craps tables if she had been around to be his good luck charm. Instead he tried to calculate how much he’d actually be making this weekend, subtracting the amount he was going to lose to the casinos from his paycheck.

“Hi Unkie Greg,” Lilly chirped suddenly from his side, causing him to jump into the air.

He shook his head at her as she climbed up his chair. “Look at you, you’re full of the monkey man’s genes. Poor kid. Where’s your keeper?”

“Huh?” she asked, scrunching up her face at him.

“I’ve got her for the morning,” Ritza announced as she slid into the seat next to him, “handing her back over when they emerge for feeding.”

“God, all you women sneaking up on me,” he huffed as Lilly climbed off his chair onto the next one over. “Anyone else joining us for lunch?”

“We ran in to Chip and Drew on their way out, said the guys are heading out to one of the locals’ places off the strip. I think it makes Drew feel special.”

“Nah, he saw the same story on the channel 11 news I did, you’re supposed to get bigger winnings in those places.” Lilly stood up on her chair and reached across the table for the menu, then folded it open and glanced it over. “Need some help there?” Greg asked.

“No,” she shrugged.

“Why don’t you tell the kid she can have cotton candy and caramel apples for lunch?” Ritza teased. “Corrupt her more before her parents get down.”

“Can I?” Lilly gasped.

“No,” Ritza said firmly. “It’s not on the menu.”

Greg leaned back in his chair. “So now it’s waiting for Fen and Brad to drag themselves out of bed?”

“Maybe we should go up there with the fire hose, cool ‘em down.”

“Hi Daddy,” Lilly chirped loudly as she noticed Brad and Fenny wandering over. She slid from her seat and rushed over to him and he scooped her up in his arms, setting her on his lap as he and Fenny sat at the table. “You feeling better Daddy? You don’t wanna still die do you?”

“No, of course not. I’m feeling much better, Fenny helped me a lot.”

Greg let out a snicker and Fenny shook her head crossly, then ignored the raised eyebrow he gave in response. “Thanks again Ritza,” she said as she reached for the menu.

“Not a problem, we had fun.”

“So, what did you get up to all morning kiddo?” Brad asked.

“We played games and got lotsa tickets,” Lilly beamed.

Brad glanced over at Ritza. “We went to Circus Circus and played in the arcade. The kid’s a whiz at Whack-a-Mole,” she explained.

“They were ally-gators,” Lilly corrected pointedly. “And lookit what I got, Daddy.” She proudly held up a pink striped bag and pulled out a casino key chain, a tiny stuffed cat and a pair of Groucho glasses, complete with nose and mustache, which she popped on. “I got glasses like Fenny.”

“No, you’ve got glasses like Unkie Greg,” Fenny smiled, “and a nose to match.”

Greg scowled at Fenny as he reached over to take the glasses off Lilly. “Don’t, I’m still too hung over for a snide remark. Besides, the mustache isn’t a good look on you kid.”

“You men have got to stop drinking before you’re expected to be entertaining,” Ritza said, shaking her head at them.

“What do we get to do after we eat? Can we play more games?” Lilly asked, tugging at her father’s sleeve before a sudden thought seemed to strike and she turned to Fenny. “Are you gonna do another show Fenny?”

“Yeah, are you Fenny?” Greg asked.

“I plan on ensuring Brad is healthy enough to go onstage tonight whether he likes it or not.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come on with me,” Brad shrugged. “I’d like to get a chance to perform with you, it’d be great.”

“That’s not what you said back up in our room,” Fenny mumbled.

“See, that would count as quality time spent together,” he enthused. “Hey, maybe while we’re in town we could catch a show or something. Think we could get tickets to Sigfreid and Roy?” Fenny glanced at him over the tops of her glasses then returned to the menu. “Tom Jones? Celine Dion maybe.”

“Ooh, look Brad,” she perked, “they’ve got celibate – I mean halibut on the menu.”

He raised an eyebrow at her with the faintest smirk. “Think I’ll stick to the steak.”

She let out a sigh. “Maybe I will too. Probably the only meat I’m likely to see in a while.”

“And she doesn’t want to join us on stage,” Greg scoffed.

Going home had probably been a bad move, Gina reflected miserably. Not that she had anywhere else to go really, and it was nice having Lewis appreciate her. He nudged her arm and she resumed her distracted petting; it was almost as if he knew what was wrong and he was trying to comfort her. It didn’t work.

Even with their teary goodbye when Paul had left her in London, he had let that wench of a woman — god, she didn’t even want to think about what he’d let her do. What kind of truthful, committed relationship did that make? Maybe Freya was right and he really wasn’t happy being with her. But that spiteful little whore still had the nerve to think they were friends. It was almost as if she’d forgotten that Gina was actually married to the idiot. Which made the idea that Paul would rather have a brainless harlot all the more painful.

A knock at the door ripped through the silence of the room, and she jumped up so quickly the cat fell to the floor and sulked off dejectedly towards the kitchen. Gina padded to the door and cautiously opened it, scowling at Paul as he stood in the doorway. She didn’t know whether to be surprised or not, as she had half expected him to show and half hoped he wouldn’t. She decided to continue scowling at him.

“Genie,” he cooed after a few moments of gazing back at her, slightly glassy eyes full of hope.

“What are you doing here?”

The hope drained from his eyes. “I’m really, really, really, really, really, really sorry and I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Even if it means I have to strip down and roast Freya on a spit in our new perfectly wonderfully suburban front yard in front of all our suburban neighbors and their suburban kids. No, you probably wouldn’t want that because I’d be naked with Freya again, but really, I’ll do anything you ask.”

Gina’s scowl deepened as she reluctantly let him into her apartment. Best not to let him terrify the neighbors. “Have you been drinking, Paul?”

“Of course I’ve bloody well been drinking, my wife hates me.”

“Yes she does,” she nodded. “Now answer my question — what are you doing here?”

“Well I couldn’t go back to my place, I’m afraid of Freya and the new place doesn’t have a bed.”

“What makes you think I’ll give you a bed?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest and shifting her weight to the other foot.

“You’re right,” he agreed, solemnly turning his face to the floor, “I probably don’t deserve that. What do you want me to do? I can sleep on the couch if you want?”

“No,” she sighed.

“Well there’s no dog house—”

“Paul,” she interrupted. “I want you to talk to me.”

He glanced up and looked at her with sobering eyes. “What about?”

Gina took a deep breath. “About why you keep letting Freya into your life and into your bed when you say that you’re happy with me.”

“I am happy with you,” Paul assured her. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you and I’m not happy without you, which is where a lot of our problems come from I think.”

“I just don’t see why you had to do it, Paul,” she breathed.

“Because I’m a man. Not only that, I’m a stupid man. A drunk, stupid, lonely man does fucking stupid things, just like a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful woman can do fucking stupid things, which we’ve always managed to work past, but I have one little sexual indiscretion and—”

“One little,” she gasped, anger beginning to seep into her injured tone, “just days after leaving me in London by myself and whining how much you’d miss me and how you’d never think about another woman, you let Freya, brainless bimbette extraordinaire who’s been trying to seduce you for the past god knows how long, live in your apartment, sleep in our bed, and give you a blowjob, for Christ’s sake, without having the decency to tell me about it. And you don’t see what the big deal is?!”

“I just thought that we loved each other enough to be able to overlook the stupid things we’ve done.”

“And I thought we loved each other enough for you not to go around fucking other women,” she hissed.

“I didn’t—”

“Oh fine then, getting fucked by other women, it’s the same thing.”

Paul rubbed his temple. “This isn’t going the way I wanted it to.”

“What did you expect me to do, accept your apology, forget about Freya and live happily ever after?”

“Well, sort of?”

“God Paul,” she groaned, shaking her head and leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Well I don’t know what else to do, Genie,” Paul gasped. “I apologize, I throw myself at your mercy, I volunteer to kill Freya, I paint our house, I’m running out of things to do, but I love you and I really am sorry and I promise it will never happen again.”

“I’ve heard all that before,” she said, suddenly quiet again, and it made his heart race.

“You don’t think I mean it?”

“No, I think you mean it. I also think you meant it the last time you said it. And I think there’s a reason you never seem to be able to follow through.”

“Because men are pigs?” he suggested.

Gina closed her eyes. “Go to bed, Paul. You can have the spare room.” With that she took a deep breath, looked sadly at him in passing, and headed down the hall to her bedroom.

Paul frowned at himself but figured being allowed under the same roof was more than he should have hoped for, and slipped dejectedly into the spare room.

“Your turn, Daddy,” Lilly declared, handing Brad a chipped wooden ball.

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Get it in the hundred one,” she enthused, even though she called all of the holes ‘the hundred one,’ regardless of the number printed by it. Brad nodded in agreement, screwed up his face in mock concentration, and rolled the ball expertly up the skee ball ramp, where it landed in the highest cylinder. Lilly jumped up and down as the lights flashed and the machine spat out a single ticket, which she quickly grabbed and added to her “Golden Nugget” bucket.

“We still have four balls, you can wait to take the tickets out after we’re done with the game, sweetheart.”

“Okay, sorry Daddy.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Fenny watched as the ball Lilly had tried so valiantly to get into a hole promptly rolled back. She and Brad could really be adorable when they weren’t being destructive or moronic, respectively, and when they let Fenny forget about her role as wicked stepmother.

“Sweet, aren’t they?” Ritza grinned, joining her in leaning against a racing game and handing her a bag of M&Ms she’d gotten from a vending machine.

“They have their moments,” Fenny smiled back. “Why’d you get a 3 Musketeers bar and I didn’t?”

“Because you asked for M&Ms,” Ritza shrugged. “You’re worse than the kids.” She nodded to Brad and Lilly.

“Arcades do that to me. Thanks for all your help with Lilly, really, I don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Maybe it was fate that brought me here?” She took a bite from her candy bar with a solemn face.

Fenny frowned at herself. “Um, I’m sorry, about Gus and everything. I can only imagine how hard it’s got to be….”

“Let’s not talk about it, huh?” Ritza smiled. It was nice to see that after all they’d been through, Fenny seemed to be letting go of some of her grudges against her. Of course, fighting for your lives tended to do that to people. “So are you going to do the show or not?” Ritza asked. “Cause I’ll watch Lil for you while you guys perform if you want.”

“I dunno, I sorta think last night was beginner’s luck, I don’t want to press it, make a fool out of both of us.”

“Oh come on Fenny, don’t be a spoilsport. You did great last night, and I know you did comedy for years before you met Brad.”

“Yeah, but not Whose Line style comedy, we did improv games my friends learned studying theatre in college. Besides, these are neurotic Whosers, you don’t mess with them. I’m probably all over the internet message boards by now. I’m surprised I haven’t been kidnapped and beaten since Drew told half of Vegas I’ve nabbed Brad. Although at the moment, I’m inclined to hand him over to some squealing fans.”

“Problems in the monkey den?”

Fenny lowered her voice but still had to practically yell over the din of children, whistles, beeps and the general hum of the casino just further down the hall. “He’s suggested we spend ‘quality time together as a couple’ instead of…spending quality time together under the sheets.”

Ritza’s eyes widened. “Is there something wrong with him? Fever, blow to the head, sexually transmitted disease?”

“There’s no telling. But if he suggests tai chi in the park or chai tea in a book club, I’m institutionalizing him.”

Ritza gave an appreciative chuckle as Lilly ran up to them holding up seven tickets. “Lookit what I won!”

Brad quickly followed and held up closer to 40 tickets. “Lookit what I won,” he mimicked. Ritza and Fenny rolled their eyes at them.

The alcohol still diligently running through his veins overwhelmed Paul’s feelings of guilt and he began to slip off to sleep. Just as the welcoming heaviness washed over him, the door creaked and he jerked his eyes open. “Hi,” he mumbled sleepily at what he hoped was Gina’s form, but it was difficult to tell between the darkness and his nearsightedness. He hoped she wasn’t hiding a weapon.

The door closed and he could hear more than see her make her way to the bed where she lifted up the covers. “Move over,” she commanded.

He did so obediently and looked at her in the dim light. “I thought you hated me.”

“I’ll hate you tomorrow,” she mumbled. He leaned back in bed with a faint smile.

Gina’s body curled up close to Paul’s more out of reflex and old habits than anything else, but she stopped herself short of cuddling with him. Even being that close to him eased the tension coursing through her, although he had been the source of that tension, and she felt her lids growing heavy. Even when she wanted nothing to do with him, she couldn’t sleep without him, as the previous two hours of tossing and turning in bed had proven.

But the comforting warmth of Paul next to her quickly lulled Gina to sleep, and he listened with a drowsy grin as her breathing slowed. She let out a sigh in her sleep and inched closer to him, reaching out a hand to rest on his chest. He covered her hand with his and slipped to sleep.