Fenny had reverted to her standard plan of action. Something terribly confusing and unpleasant had happened, she was vaguely aware that it might have been her fault, so she sat on the couch with a sketchbook and charcoal pencil, waiting for an idea of what to do.

It was after eight o’clock. She should probably call Paul and explain, apologize, say something. Of course Gina had been gone for a while, and could be back any minute, and Fenny had some talking to do with her as well. The only thing she could decide on was that thinking about what Greg had said was not an option. Maybe Greg had been teasing her. Or maybe he hadn’t. Anyway, Brad had probably had a fight with Ritza, gone off and gotten wasted with some friends, gave the tattoo guy the wrong name, or maybe the drunken friends gave the wrong name, and Brad went back home to Ritza and their bouncing baby demon-spawn. Fenny briefly wondered where this tattoo was placed. Not that she was thinking about it.

She flipped a few pages back in her pad to where she’d managed to scribble Paul’s number earlier and dialed before anything could stop her.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Paul? It’s Fenny.”

“Oh yeah, hi Fenny.” He sounded like he’d been drinking, not that she blamed him. “Sorry about leaving the restaurant like that, I trust you got home okay?”

“Oh, that’s fine, yeah. Look, I’m really unbelievably sorry for that, what happened. I really, I had no idea. I mean, I knew that Gina had an ex-husband around somewhere, but I never would have guessed it was you…”

“There’s no way for you to have known,” he assured her kindly. “I’m sorry for the scene I made, we could have gone about that much better.”

“Trust me, arguments in crowded public places don’t phase me anymore,” she said with a dry laugh.

“Well, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, I’d like to maybe try taking you out to dinner again sometime, without me making a dick of myself?”

“Oh, um, well…I don’t know, I mean, I’d love to, but it would be kind of strange, wouldn’t it, what with Gina and everything.”

“I’m certainly not gonna let that—” he paused, censoring whatever derogatory terms he wanted to use; this was Gina’s friend, after all, “Gina control my life anymore.”

There was a noise at the front door. “Um, look, I’ll think about it, alright, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Fenny tossed the phone into a chair across the room and tried to look nonchalant as Gina dragged herself into the room.

“Do you have any idea how fucked up my life is?” she grumbled as she collapsed into the chair, pausing to pull the phone out from under her.

“I think it’s relatively safe to assume that I am one of the only people on the planet who would believe that a human being’s life could actually be this incredibly screwed up, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Fenny,” Gina sighed. “But how is it that out of all the men in Australia, you had to go and get picked up by him?”

“You really want my theory?”

“Probably not, but tell me anyway.”

“One of us was Hitler in a former life, and the other was, I dunno, Stalin maybe, and we’ve got some serious karmic baggage that we’re dealing with.”

“Ha ha Fen, very funny.”

“Well that’s a better theory than ‘I think we’re both stupid chicks with bad luck,’ don’t you think?”

“Being Hitler’s better?”

“Okay, so my logic is flawed, it’s been a rough day.”

“You’re telling me,” Gina sighed. “So, does Greg hate me?”

“I don’t think so. Might have been a bit miffed at the fact that you’re not exactly divorced, hypocritical as that may be.”

“We’re separated, legally. I just never finalized the actual divorce.”

“Do I need to ask why?”

“Because I never got over the guy, it’s pretty simple.”

Fenny smiled sympathetically at Gina. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And you should be,” Gina growled sarcastically. “Going out and having a good time for the first time in ages, how could you?” Fenny frowned at her. “It wasn’t your fault,” Gina sighed.

“So, what’re you going to do now?”

“Crawl into a hole and die.”

“Gina,” Fenny scolded.

“Are you gonna see him again?”

“Paul?” Gina nodded. “Well if you’re still hung up on the guy, probably not.”

“It never occurred to me that he and Greg would know each other,” Gina mumbled.

“I think they may be jealous.”

“Jealous?” Gina echoed.

“Both of them. Greg’s jealous Paul used to have you, still does legally, and Paul’s jealous that Greg’s got you now.”

“I didn’t know anyone had me,” Gina mused. She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “I liked it a lot more when we were talking about your problems.”

“Yeah? Well I didn’t,” Fenny grumbled as she stood with her sketchpad and headed for the kitchen.

“What?” Gina gasped. “What’d I say? Did Greg tell you something he shouldn’t have?”

“No,” Fenny said firmly. She was not going to let Brad worm his way into her thoughts. She was happier without him, and she didn’t need to think about him. Still, the phrase “Fenny tattoo” rang through her mind, and that stupid vase of flowers still nagged at her.

“He did, didn’t he?” Gina asked, following Fenny into the kitchen. “What’d he say?”

“Oh, the usual ‘Brad still loves you’ shit that people are always trying to believe for whatever delusional reasons they have. Something about a tattoo, I don’t know.”

“Tatt—” Gina began, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Grateful for the diversion, Fenny stomped off to answer it. “Oh,” she gasped. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Gina peeked her head into the room from the kitchen to see Greg standing there, and immediately pulled it back in. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” she mumbled. What could she say to him? Nothing, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She decided she would never leave the kitchen ever again.

She heard quick footsteps retreating towards Fenny’s room. “Gina?” Greg called.

In spite of herself, she took a step towards the front room. Damn him for having such power over her. She looked at him, then turned her face towards the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“You told me you were divorced,” Greg said softly.

“Well I am. Practically.”

“Practically,” Greg scoffed. “Well that’s just great, Gina, just fucking great.”

She scowled at him. “I’m separated, but you’re still married.”

“Oh yeah, that same old argument,” Greg grumbled. “I never told you I wasn’t.”

“I just never got around to signing the damn papers,” Gina declared.

“Yeah, and why not?”

“I don’t know! It’s a divorce, it’s a big step, it’s admitting that I did something wrong. It’s admitting that he stopped loving me when maybe I still loved him.”

“Do you still love him? I mean now?”

She pulled at her fingers. “I, I don’t know.”

“Well that’s just wonderful,” Greg spat. “Here I was pouring my heart out to you, and you’re still pining for your ex!”

“Yeah, and you’ve got a wife at home,” Gina countered.

“Well this isn’t getting us anywhere,” he huffed and plopped down on the sofa.

“What would you have done if Paul hadn’t shown up?” Gina asked carefully.

“Honestly, I was hoping that by now we’d be naked in my hotel room, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen now, do you?”

Gina looked up at Greg, brows furrowed, biting her lip.

“I mean, us being two married people and all,” Greg continued, obviously angered. He glared at her. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to come here.” He stood to leave.

“Greg, wait,” Gina pleaded.

He turned and glared at her, his face softening just a bit upon seeing her distraught face. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

His face fell and he stormed out of the apartment.

“Fuck!” Gina screamed as she retreated into her bedroom.