“I like staying in bed and snuggling, we don’t do it enough,” Paul declared as Gina rested on top of him, her head nestled under his chin and her fingers stroking his chest as he caressed her back.

“Did you just use the word snuggle?” Gina mused, her eyes still closed.

“No, I used snuggling which is kinda weird because I’ve never used it before,” Paul chided.

“Mmm, Paul McDermott snuggling, what would the fans say?”

“Shh, they’re not to know I’m a nice person,” Paul jeered. “I’d never work again.”

“Speaking of which,” Gina declared, lifting her head. “I though you were supposed to be working this morning?”

“Ah, it’ll wait,” Paul smiled as they edged toward a kiss.

“And people wonder why my work ethic died when I met you,” Gina breathed as they shared their millionth sleepy kiss that morning. “Are you still scared?”

“At the moment it’s kinda hard to be when your naked breasts are pressed against me,” Paul mused, stroking her hair.

“Well I’m glad they finally got there,” she cooed.

“Oh so am I,” he chided and they kissed again.

“So, do you want me to tell you?” she asked, rolling off of him onto the mattress.

“Tell me what?” he asked as he stretched his legs under the covers.

“If you’re good in bed,” she replied coyly.

He looked at her amused. “You don’t have to tell me, honey, I’m there too.”

“You think that ‘Oh god, yes, Paul’ is real huh?” she sniggered as she leaned over him to grab his abandoned sketchpad and pencil from the floor.

“You’re a nasty person,” he mused. “You’re not drawing diagrams are you?”

“Ah uh,” she giggled, scribbled a moment, and then turned the pad around. “The Swedish, German and American judges gave you a 8.5, while the French judge only gave you 5.5 for technique, and the Japanese judge gave you a 3.6 for the affair with Freya.”

“Bloody French,” he pouted. “What about the Australian judge?”

“Oh,” she smiled and dropped the sketchpad back on the floor and crawled back on top of him. “She needs a further demonstration.”

“The things I do for my country,” he sighed and she started trailing kisses up his chest. Their lips had just locked when Paul’s phone ran and Gina let out a groan and dropped her head back onto his chest.

“Yes, hello this better be earth shatteringly important,” Paul announced into the receiver. “What, an hour ago? Oh, my alarm is broken. It’s the possums, they get into everything. What? Yeah, I can get there, might be a little while though, what with having to have breakfast, it being the most important meal of the day and all. Then I have to shower; you know hygiene. Not to mention finding the right bus…. Hey? I am not a lying bastard…what if I was? That’s research, innit? Yeah, yeah I’ll be there as soon as I can, keep your knickers on.”

“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” Gina breathed, not lifting her head.

“Yeah, I better get a move on before the fucker has a coronary over me being late,” Paul groused as he clambered out of the bed from beneath her. she propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him miserably as he headed out of the bedroom butt naked. He reappeared a second later with a sly smile. “Although I wouldn’t object to you helping me wash behind my ears, and I can help make your thighs spotless.” Gina giggled as she threw back the covers, got to her feet, and followed him into the bathroom.

Brad wandered back into the kitchen and grabbed his mug of coffee again. He gulped down most of the brown liquid before setting about to surprise Fenny by making her breakfast. He started humming as he plugged in the toaster and paused as he let the tune settle in his mind.

“Scrubs,” he muttered when he realised that the tune was the Scrubs theme, and grabbed a couple of slices of bread and dropped them into the toaster. As he left the toast to cook, he boiled the kettle and hunted out a tray to place it all on. Before long, the slowly cooling, buttery toast and a steaming mug of tea were displayed on the tray along with a plastic flower in a small chipped vase. “That should win her over a bit,” he smiled proudly and carried the tray into the living room.

“Look I taught Mochie a trick!” Lilly piped up and grabbed a small beanie frog, which she lobbed into the middle of the floor. Before Mochrie even noticed, Jaguar leapt off the chair he’d been curled up on and started pawing the frog. Mochrie let out an excitable bark and dove toward Jaguar, whose fur spiked up as he hissed.

“Oh no,” Brad breathed and then as if in slow motion Jaguar bolted toward the kitchen with Mochrie in hot pursuit. Half a second later the tray and its contents flew into the air and splattered across the kitchen floor, while Brad was left flat on his back.

“Again!” Lilly giggled and bounced on the couch.

“What on earth is going on?” Fenny grumbled, appearing from the bedroom in her robe. “Brad, what are you doing on the floor?”

He sat up and pulled a buttery piece of toast from his face. “I made you breakfast,” he sighed and looked behind him as Mochrie and Jaguar stood licking up the spilt tea and toast.

“What a mess,” Fenny scorned. “You better have it cleaned up by the time I get out of the shower.”

“But I cleaned the…”

“And you haven’t even got your daughter dressed,” she spat. “For god’s sake, take some responsibility.”

“But Fen, you…”

“Tell it to Judge Judy,” Fenny growled as she stormed off into the bathroom.

Brad sat up and looked miserably around him. “Better make a start,” he breathed and began to sing quietly as he got to his feet. “Well I know what I’ve been told. You gotta know just when to fold. But I can’t do this all on my own. No, I know, I’m no Superman. I’m no Superman. That’s right. You’ve crossed the finish line. Won the race but lost your mind. Was it worth it after all…”

“I’m not really feeling the need to cathart right now,” Greg hissed as Stuart sauntered into the small room he’d sent Greg into to cool off.

“Now Greg, I sent you in here to calm down,” Stuart sighed.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN! Stu, you might have missed the point, but I’m FUCKING irate. I couldn’t calm down if you pumped me full of Vallium and sat me on a couch watching Oprah. In fact, I’m so fucking pissed that the only thing that could possibly, vaguely make me feel an iota of calmness would be to strangle the life out of your pissant, vegetarian, chakra-loving ass!”

“Greg, I’m sensing some hostility,” Stuart breathed. “Would you like some peppermint tea, it might…”

“Ask me that again and I’ll give you a peppermint tea enema, dude.”

“Greg, this isn’t helping your sensual balance. What have we discussed about that?”

“Look Stu, the only thing that could make me happy at the moment was if Aunt Jean was forcibly removed from my house, taken into the woods and shot by angry Mexicans who then used her flesh to make snacks to feed the poor and starving. Alternatively, I would be grateful if Aunt Jean had been devoured by wolves on my return home, or even hacked to pieces by some fucking psychopath who happened to be passing, saw the evil radiating from the old hag, and took the liberty to do away with her.”

“Okay, perhaps we need to look at this another way,” Stuart nodded. “Maybe it would be worthwhile if we were to bring you and Aunt Jean together for a session, how would you…”

Greg looked mortified. “I’d rather have my penis tied to the end of a subway car and be dragged ten miles by my foreskin.”

Stuart rubbed his chin and looked at Greg pained. “Greg, you do want to work things out with Jennifer, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, dickwit,” Greg spat. “You don’t think I come here for my sake, do you?”

“Well, I thought that your being here represented your commitment to Jennifer and her wishes and desires.”

“I can fully deal with Jen’s wishes and desires without your fucking post-60s, new age bullshit,” Greg spat. “You know, I’d go so far as to say that our problems have been made considerably worse by you interfering and filling my wife’s head with your love beads and meditation…”

“I disagree…”

“Stu, are you married?”

“No, I’m divorced.”

“No really? And why are you divorced, Stu?”

“We saw things differently…”

“See that’s it, right there,” Greg mused grabbing an obscure looking paperweight. “For all your waffle and advice, you’ve missed the one thing, the only thing that can save my marriage. It’s not chakras, meditation, or some weird ass non-dairy tofu diet. None of that helps, it just…creates another barrier, another excuse to avoid dealing with the real issues.” He put the paperweight back down. “Stu, I fucked up, I know that, I was there when I did it. Fenny is a beautiful woman who gave me a chance to burn off the lust for that adulterous affair we all want, and Ritza and I filled a drunken, lonely void that we were sharing…”

“And Gina?” Stuart asked, leaning against the desk behind him.

“I love Gina, always will,” Greg sighed. “And it’s that feisty woman who made me realise what was wrong with my relationship. Gina and her husband Paul have been through hell and back, but they’re still together because they communicate, and that’s the problem, dude. Jen and I don’t communicate. She doesn’t tell me how she feels and I don’t ask. I just go on tour and she goes into denial, I come back, we fuck and life goes on,” Greg let out a long breath. “So, while I thank you for trying, our problems are really nothing you can help with.”

“But Greg, I have helped,” Stuart smiled. “You’ve just told me your problem. Perhaps now we can work out a way to fix it?”

Greg looked blankly at Stuart for a moment. For the first time, he felt the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders and smiled back at Stuart. “I’d like that, but promise me one thing…”

“Certainly Greg,” Stuart perked, righting himself.

“Aunt Jean is not to be involved.”

“Hey, have you seen my red tie?” Paul asked, sauntering into the kitchen, his shirt hanging out of his pants, the cuffs undone.

“Oh, not the black suit again,” Gina groaned. “You have other suits. Why don’t you wear the pinstripe?” she added with a flirtatious smile.

“For the same reason that the pants to that suit are still in the hallway,” Paul replied as Gina wandered over to him while devouring a slice of toast. “So have you seen it?”

“Why do you assume I’d know where it is?”

“You’re a woman,” he said blankly. “You’re genetically programmed to find things instantaneously while men flitter about looking in ridiculous places like under that cat.”

“Fine,” she sighed and stuck the rest of her slice of toast in his mouth. “I’ll go look.” He replied with a muffled thank you as she descended back down the hall and into the bedroom. She scanned the room and instantly found the tie half obscured by Paul’s pillow. “Found it,” she called.

“See, I told you,” he chided as she reappeared in the kitchen and slipped the tie under his shirt collar and tied it. “I could have done that,” he remarked as he finished the toast.

“I figured if I did it there wouldn’t be any chance of you losing it between here and the front door.”

“Hey, I only did that once,” he pouted and then smiled as she pulled him into a kiss by his tie. “You working tonight?”

“I read the nightly news, I kinda have to,” she chided.

“You could have phoned up and told them you had laryngitis.”

“Oh yeah, that would have been convincing,” she laughed and kissed him again. “You idiot.”

“I should go, I’m now two and a half hours late,” he breathed, reluctant to let go of Gina.

“Shame,” she cooed and cheekily nibbled at his neck.

“Don’t do that or they’ll be getting slightly more from the promos than they’re expecting,” he mused.

“Spoilsport,” Gina smiled. “Oh, can you do me a favour since you’ll be finished before I will?” she added.

“I suppose I could,” Paul replied cheekily.

“Can you pop round to my apartment and pick up my mail, my red shirt, and in my top drawer there’s a little silver box, I want that too.”

“Mail, red shirt, little box,” he nodded. “I’m not going to remember…” he was stopped as she smacked a post-it onto his forehead. “You freak me out.” They both jumped as a car horn sounded loudly and for an alarmingly long time.

“Ooh sounds like your angry, poorly paid driver with a death wish is here,” Gina chided.

“Really, I’d missed his tooting of ‘La Cucaracha’,” Paul mused before giving Gina another quick kiss and grabbing his stuff.

“Hey Pauly,” Gina perked as he headed for the door. He stopped and turned around. “I love you.”

Paul smiled. “You know, so do I,” he winked and then disappeared out of the door.

“Can we talk?” Brad asked, edging into the bedroom as Fenny pulled on her shirt.

“About what?” she asked blankly as she grabbed her hairbrush.

“What do you mean about what?” Brad gasped. “About the reason you kicked me out and can barely look at me.”

“Well sure, as long as you know what that reason is?”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“I shouldn’t have to, Bradley,” Fenny huffed, dropping her brush heavily onto the dresser.

“Christ, you’re not still pissed about what I said?” he spat. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t respect your career, I do, but I have been doing Whose Line a lot longer than you’ve been teaching, and someone has to look after Lilly.”

“I’m not going to bail out after two days to look after your kid. I’m not her mother. I don’t even want to be her bloody stepmother,” she snapped.

“Could you be any more selfish?”

“Me?” she gasped. “This from the man that never asks me what I’m doing, never thanks me for anything, doesn’t think my career is important, and thinks I should just drop everything to please him.”

“You’re just taking it the wrong way,” he groused and crossed his arms.

“What’s there to take the wrong way, huh? Right now I feel so under appreciated and humiliated by you.” She paused. “I don’t know what to think…”

“It’s not like I ask you to do a lot,” he huffed.

Fenny looked at him bewildered. “Does anything actually go into your brain, or does it just bypass and go straight out the other ear? You’re not seriously this stupid?” she gasped. “You want me to make it easier for you, spell it out even? Brad, you treat me like shit,” she hissed and then stormed out of the bedroom. She grabbed her bag from where it had been left near the door and marched into the corridor.

Brad ran his fingers through his hair and then sauntered out of the bedroom. He shook his head at the empty room. He was such a dick. He was about to fall onto the couch and spend the rest of the day cursing himself when he realised it was too quiet. Where was Lilly. He found her curled up on her bed, sobbing into a stuffed rabbit.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, sitting himself on the edge of her bed.

“I hate you,” Lilly sobbed. “You upset my Fenny and you made her hate me and leave.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Brad soothed, stroking her hair.

“Yes she does, I heard her,” Lilly wailed.

Brad closed his eyes and hung his head. He’d forgotten that Lilly was around and probably heard every word of he and Fenny’s argument. He looked at the tears rolling down Lilly’s cheeks and decided it was true, he was a bad father.

By the early evening, Fenny was setting up things for her class, checking she had the right supplies and there was the right kind of chair for the model. She’d spent most of the day avoiding returning home until she made sure Brad was out, and nipped home to change and grab the rest of the things she needed.

“Excuse me, are you Fenny?” a voice piped up and Fenny turned to see a man at least ten years her junior in jeans and a loose shirt.

“Yes, and you are?” Fenny asked.

“Josh,” the younger man replied. “I’m taking over the modelling tonight, Jenna is sick or something.”

Fenny felt a chill run up her spine, “Is she? Right, did you talk to her?”

“Briefly, she didn’t sound all that sick though.”

Fenny nodded, “Okay, well, nice to meet you, Josh. The students aren’t due for a few minutes at least, so feel free to get yourself organised or whatever.”

“Sure,” he replied and sauntered off behind the screen. She leaned against the desk and flipped through a few of the drawing of Jenna she’d done in the last class. She felt genuinely concerned for the poor chicken-skinned girl and made a mental note to call in on her on her way home.

“Did you do them?” Josh asked, appearing at Fenny’s side in a robe and making her jump a mile.

“Shit,” she gasped, her heart beating profusely

“Are they?”

“Yeah, I did them last time. They’re pretty terrible.”

“Ha, they’re fantastic,” he perked. “I love the way you concentrated on her back, it’s beautiful.”

“Um, thanks,” she smiled. “I still think it’s terrible.”

“Less thinking, more enjoying,” he grinned.

“You’re way too happy.”

“Well if my true feelings were shown it wouldn’t be pretty,” he shrugged.

“And they would be?”

“I hate being a nude model,” he said bluntly. “It’s that old struggling actor story, you don’t want to hear it.”

“Let me guess, you ended up in a rat-infested bedsit living off of baked beans.”

“What do you mean ended up? I’m still there,” he breathed, fiddling with the tie of his robe. “Why else did you think I’m doing this?”

Fenny was struggling for words when the first students piled in. “We’ll talk after,” she said softly to Josh, who looked surprised and then took himself over to the chair where he was to pose.

Paul dropped Gina’s mail beside the sink, slid his jacket off, and took to removing the make-up that had been plastered on for his promo filming. Once he was satisfied it was off, he ruffled his hair and picked up the mail again. He dropped it on the dresser and pulled open the wardrobe doors.

“Red shirt, red shirt, red…there’s five red shirts, Genie, for fuck’s sake…” He pondered them all and then grabbed the one he liked best. “Right, mail, red shirt…” he paused and pulled the post-it from his pocket. “Little box.” Paul found the right drawer and pulled it open. He wasn’t surprised it was full of underwear and found himself checking out a few of the pieces. He located the little silver box as he stuffed a sheer pair of panties in his pocket and studied it a moment before opening it. Inside was Gina’s wedding ring. “Thank Christ you want this back,” he smiled, running his fingers on the tiny diamonds before snapping the lid shut and cramming it into his pocket as well. He closed the drawer and was about to grab everything and leave when there was a knock at the door.

“Please don’t let it be Moonstar, I don’t want to talk planet alignment,” he grumbled as she sauntered down the hallway and opened the door. He was surprised to see a tall, well-built man in beige slacks and a white shirt standing there. “Hello,” he said cautiously.

“Oh hi, I’m looking for Gina Coleman,” the man announced in a thick, upper class English accent.

“Right, and you are?”

“Giles Mansfield.”

“And?” Paul said blankly.

“I don’t think I need discuss Gina’s and my personal matters with you,” Giles countered.

“What, did you like work with her or something?” Paul asked, fishing for more information.

“No, we met an exclusive event, actually.”

“And did what? Ate rich food and pretended to be interested in what people said?”

“Look, we had a relationship, and I think we still have something. Now can I please speak to her?”

Paul looked the pompous bastard up and down as the words sunk in. Gina had been seeing someone else in England, someone taller and stronger and more secure. “Sorry mate, she’s not here,” he managed to breathe and closed the door. Giles started knocking again and Paul went back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He was so shocked he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. Had Giles been the reason Gina was so set on getting a house and playing the commitment game? After all the shit she’d given him over Freya, and all the time she was just as guilty. Besides, what could she possibly see in a man in beige pants?