“So, do you have a speech planned?” Gina asked as she and Brad made their way to her apartment.

“Um, no, not exactly,” he sighed. “I was hoping to just tell her what happened and beg her to take me back.”

“You probably won’t have to do much begging,” she laughed as they stopped in front of the door. “You wanna go in, surprise her?”

“Yeah,” Brad grinned, reaching for the doorknob. He flung the door open and cast about the front room, but it was empty. He looked back at Gina, who shrugged and pointed in the direction of Fenny’s bedroom. “Not there either,” he announced. Gina emerged from her bedroom and glanced toward the kitchen. “Fenny,” he called, but got no reply.

“Hmm,” Gina sighed, “maybe she went out with Paul.”

“Paul?” Brad demanded.

“Long story, nothing to worry about, I don’t think,” Gina grimaced. “She hardly ever leaves without her sketchpad, though.” She picked the book off the table and flipped through it. Fenny used the thing to write phone messages, agendas, recipes off the television, interesting quotes from magazines, anything, really, and Gina hoped to find some clue as to Fenny’s whereabouts, partly to assure herself that she wasn’t off with Paul, partly because she wanted to reunite her with Brad.

“Um, Brad?” Gina asked with an overly controlled tone to her voice. “Weren’t you the one always telling us that Ritza wasn’t the devil incarnate?”

“Well, I think I’ve changed my mind about that now. Why do you ask?” he added.

She thrust the pad at him, where a note was scrawled across a blank page: You didn’t think I’d let you get away with it, did you Brad? Yours forever, Ritza.

“Fuck,” Brad whispered.

“What’re we gonna do?” Gina asked.

“Um, panicking is sounding pretty good,” he whimpered.

“That’s not gonna help,” she barked, watching as he paced back and forth, flailing his hands. “If you go into hysterics, I’m not above slapping you.”

“Right,” he said firmly. “I, I am gonna…do something. We have to find Ritza before she does something to Fenny.”

“Unless she’s already—”

“No, don’t you even think that,” Brad barked. “She left a note because she wants us to chase her, she wants to make me suffer, and make Fenny suffer. She’s not the type of kidnapper to just shoot people straight away.”

“Listen to yourself,” Gina sighed. “And you had sex with this woman!”

“Greg!” Brad yelped. “We should call Greg, he could help.”

“Are you sure we should be involving him? What about the police?”

“If we call the police, I’m going to have to explain the rest of the shit that she’s put us through, and it’s gonna look pretty bad that we didn’t go to the police the first two times she tried to have us killed. And what are you and I gonna do against Ritza and whatever evil henchmen she might have following her around?”

“Oh, like a 40-year-old myopic smoker with an ever-growing paunch is gonna be real helpful chasing down a kidnapper.”

“Gina, please,” Brad whimpered, growing visibly more frightened as the seconds ticked by. “Call him.”

With a dejected huff, she stomped over to the phone and dialed. How was she going to explain this without sounding like a total idiot? “Hello?”

“Greg, it’s Gina, don’t hang up, this is important, it’s about Fenny.”

“Fenny?” Greg echoed, confused.

“It’s not Brad’s kid, Ritza was fooling around, Brad’s here with me, and Ritza has Fenny, and we don’t know what to do, so Brad said we should ask for your help.”

“Ritza has Fenny?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with you, that’s what I said. She’s a homicidal kidnapper, remember, and now she’s exacting revenge on Fenny.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ritza left a fucking note in her sketchbook and we’re wasting time here. Are you gonna help us or what?”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” she grumbled harshly and hung up. Gina turned to where Brad was wandering through the living room, apparently looking for something. “What did you lose?” Gina demanded. She was inexplicably annoyed by this whole situation.

“I’m looking for clues.”

“Christ, I’ve got fucking McGuyver here,” she sighed.

“Well what do you propose we do?”

“Start thinking of what we can do. That sounds productive, don’t you think?”

“Well I thought if we found something—” There was a knock at the door, and Gina moved to answer it. “What if it’s Ritza?” Brad whispered hoarsely.

“Does the mafia knock?” Gina asked.

Brad disappeared into the kitchen, returned with a saucepan, ran to the door, hid behind it, and nodded to Gina to open it. With a roll of her eyes, she did.

“For god’s sake, Paul, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d still be at work,” he grimaced. “It’s just, I left my jacket here…” Gina waved him in, and he made a mad dash for his coat where it was hanging over the arm of a chair. He turned to see Gina waiting impatiently by the still-opened door, and Brad with a saucepan held over his head. “What’s all this?” Paul asked.

Gina glared at Brad. “Sherwood, calm down.”

“You’re the Paul Fenny knows?” he asked carefully.

“You’re the Brad that broke her heart,” Paul countered coolly. “Why are you brandishing cookware?”

“Fenny’s been kidnapped,” Brad sobbed before he could stop himself.

“She’s what?” Paul demanded.

Gina slammed the door shut, stalked over to the couch and flumped down on it.

“Remember last time we met,” Brad began, “the whole Drew being mistaken for Ritz thing? Ritz was actually a girl, Ritza…”

“The woman you left Fenny for?” Paul gasped.

“Hey, how’d you know?” Brad frowned.

“Fenny and I had a ‘whose life sucks the most’ contest.”

“Who won?” Gina grumbled.

“I think we declared a tie at the time, but if she’s gone missing, I think she may have earned a few more points.”

“Well it wasn’t my kid Ritza was supposed to be having, and I left her, and now she’s got Fenny,” Brad explained. “Just how well do you know Fenny, anyway?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well we’ve only actually seen each other a couple times…”

Paul was interrupted by another knock at the door. “Come on in, Greg,” Gina cried, slipping further into the couch. “Join the party,” she sighed.

The door opened and Greg looked around cautiously, almost as if he expected Ritza to start shooting at him. He had really hoped he was through with this gallivanting through the outback being daring and courageous, and his mental scars from the first couple rounds still hadn’t healed. His eyes settled on Brad first, and his mood sunk. Then he noticed Paul, and Greg became decidedly pissed. Gina waved mirthlessly, and Greg decided he never should have gotten out of bed. Ever.

“Any news about Fenny?” he asked, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand.

Brad shook his head. “All we have to go on is a note. We’re gonna have to find her.”

“We’ll need supplies, right?” Paul asked.

“You’re in for this?” Brad asked, a bit bothered by the idea.

“I don’t see why not,” Paul shrugged. “You need all the help you can get, right?”

“Right,” Greg agreed through clenched teeth.

The four looked around the room at each other. The only people who were on terms that were near friendly were Brad and Gina, and he had already started to get on her nerves.

Gina let out a haggard sigh. “This has got to be the most uncomfortable rescue team I’ve ever seen.”