Fenny was grateful to finally merge off the hell that was the freeway and onto the surface streets, where people were vaguely aware of human mortality and basic traffic safety rules. “You realize, of course, that my parents’ house is about six miles from here, there’s no need to fiddle with the CD player anymore,” she chided as Brad tried to coax a disc from the stereo.

“If I have to listen to that CD one more time, I’m going to throw it out the window,” he chuckled. “I’m putting an embargo on you and Gina, she’s got to stop sending you that Australian stuff.”

“No sense of adventure whatsoever,” Fenny sighed as the Barenaked Ladies started to play, Brad humming along as he watched the almost-familiar scenery roll past. It was always a pleasant surprise to see what an hour’s drive away from LA could do, the countless strawberry fields and orange groves they’d passed a welcome change from skyscrapers and apartment blocks. He could only hope that dinner with the in-laws would be so pleasant. Not helped, of course, by the fact that they were still oblivious to the fact that they were in-laws.

“So what’s Mom making for dinner?” Brad asked as Fenny pulled to a stop outside the house and killed the engine.

“I dunno, I’m guessing chicken paprika, but if you keep referring to her as Mom, you might let a very large and very dangerous cat out of the proverbial bag.”

“You know, we’re gonna have to tell your parents we’re married eventually,” he mused.

“Yeah, but I want ‘eventually’ to be a time when I’ve prepared an argument and I’m ready to cope with the fit my mother will no doubt throw and the stupid jokes that my dad will make. So shut up and be nice,” she commanded as she knocked on the door.

A few moments later the door flew open widely, revealing Fenny’s father, David, standing in the entryway with a small video camera, grinning manically.

“For goodness sake Daddy,” she grumbled, pushing her way into the house and tugging Brad along with her, trying to avoid the camera’s gaze as her father chortled evilly. “New toy?”

“Digital camcorder, holds a gig of memory, highest quality digital sound, crystal clear video, came with editing software, top of the line stuff.”

“Good, then you can edit this out,” she smiled, holding her hand up to the lens. “Why?”

“Why what?” he asked, continuing to film the palm of her hand.

“Why on earth do you need a digital video camera? You never used the video camera you had, why waste your money on something like this?”

“Hey, don’t tell me how to spend my money,” he huffed.

“That’s what he said when I tried to talk him out of the pasta maker when he wanted to make spaghetti ice cream,” Fenny sighed, making Brad giggle. “And the GPS mapping system for his laptop, and the harmonica lessons, and the telescope…”

“Hey, I use the telescope,” her father defended.

“Fenny, good to see you made it in one piece,” her mother, Louise, chimed as she came out of the kitchen. “Brad, good to see you again.”

“Good to see you again too,” Brad grinned.

“Fen, could you help me out in the kitchen please?”

“Be good,” Fenny whispered to Brad. “Play nicely,” she added, directed more towards her father.

“Look at this, Brad, removable memory chip, holds a gigabyte of video, and if you look here, it’s an LCD screen, shows you all the features, see, fade in, zoom—you know all about this stuff right, I hear you’re big on photography?”

Fenny shook her head and went into the kitchen to help, wondering how long it would take her father to completely lose poor Brad.

Gina felt foolish wandering through her hotel with a grin plastered to her face, but she couldn’t help it. It had been so long since she’d seen Paul, and even the simple kiss that he’d given her was just about enough to drain her of all animosity towards him, and that coupled with him crooning to her from the ground, she was surprised at her own willpower, making him wait until breakfast to talk things through instead of dragging him to her room and doing naughty things to him until dawn.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind as best she could, she urged herself to concentrate on the tasks at hand, specifically working on her article and ridding herself of the residue from Paul’s almost certainly fate-driven beer. Removing the stench of beer was foremost on her list of priorities as the smell was beginning to get to her. Once inside her room, she pulled a comfortable outfit of flared blue jeans and a sweater and, most importantly, a clean set of undergarments from her suitcase and took everything with her into the bathroom.

She turned on the shower and stripped, seriously considering just throwing out her abused bra instead of going to the effort of getting it cleaned, and stepped under the warm jets. Refusing to let her mind wander to Paul, as she was still determined not to let him off the hook quite so easily for the fact still remained that she had seen him and Freya tumble into the bathroom together with his pants around his ankles and Freya had even had the nerve to appear in the pub, Gina tried to think about her impending article and how to say “the show was crap” in a more intellectually appealing form.

Once convinced she’d scrubbed the last of the alcohol from her body, Gina slid out of the shower and quickly got dressed, toweling her hair in the fogged mirror as she debated whether or not to go find something to eat. Anything was better than working on her article, and she could use a little more time to brainstorm, so she pulled on her boots and stepped into the bedroom to grab her purse.

Gina only managed to catch a quick glance of the two angry men standing in the middle of her hotel room before she was overwhelmed by a sharp pain against the back of her head and blackness enveloped her.

“So why does Daddy have a new video camera?” Fenny sighed as her mother set her to work watching the rice.

“God only knows,” Louise sighed. “He said he wanted to take it to Adam’s christening.”

“Adam?” Fenny asked.

“Yeah, Sharon and Fred’s new baby.”

“I didn’t know Sharon was even pregnant,” Fenny gasped.

“No?” her mother asked, poking at the chicken simmering in the crock pot. “I thought you knew.”

“Well obviously not,” she huffed, a bit perturbed that no one had told her she had a new little second cousin, and one for whom it was evident she would have to buy a present. “When’s the christening?”

“It was last Sunday at your aunt’s.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for the invite,” Fenny sneered into the rice.

“Well you were in LA, I didn’t think you wanted to come all the way up here for a christening.”

“Yet you dragged me up here so Daddy could show off his newest bit of useless electronics. I would’ve liked to have seen Sharon and Fred while they were in town, whatever other family was there.”

“You could’ve brought Brad along,” her mother agreed, pausing at the oven to check the rolls. “He could have met everyone.”

“Had you invited us, you mean.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How much longer for the rice?”

“Give it another five minutes or so.”

“Right.”

“So when are you and Brad tying the knot?”

“Mom…”

“It’s a reasonable question, you two have been involved for long enough and you seem happy enough, and he’s willing to put up with your father, he’s got to be a good man.”

“A year ago you said he was the scum of the earth and deserved to rot in hell. I think you were questioning the marital status of his parents for a while there…”

“Well that was before you two were back together.”

“Right mom, way to hold on to your scruples.”

“You mean to tell me you two haven’t thought about getting married?”

“What’s so important about getting married anyway?” Fenny asked, dodging the question a bit.

“What do you mean by that, it’s very important.”

“To you maybe.”

“I want grandkids,” Fenny’s mother pouted.

“Talk Sully or Addie into having them for you then, I’m not planning on having kids anytime in the foreseeable future, and before you start, no, my biological clock is not ticking, it never has, I think it was hijacked by my sense of self-preservation.”

“The rolls are done, can you take them out of the oven for me?”

Fenny rolled her eyes and did as she was told. It was oddly comforting going home — at least when she was surrounded by family she could understand how her life got so completely insane: it was in her genes and therefore no fault of her own.

Gina opened her eyes blearily and promptly closed them against the sudden sense of disorientation that followed. “Ow,” she murmured. Gentle fingers stroked her hair, and the wooziness and sharp pain subsided to a dull throbbing against the back of her head. She risked opening her eyes again and found herself inside what looked like a van, and a surge of déjà vu washed over her.

“How many times do I have to be kidnapped before I qualify to have my photo put in the Guinness book of records?” she groaned.

“I don’t know, but at the rate we’re going, looks like I’m your biggest competition.”

Gina jumped at the sound of his voice, sat up just long enough for her gaze to find Paul’s in the dimly lit rear of the van, instantly regretted it, and lowered her head back into his lap where the screaming pain in her head was slightly less intense. She was supposed to be angry with him, or at least coolly indifferent, and having her face so close to his groin would hardly indicate either intended reaction to his presence, but for the time being, alleviating excruciating pain was more vital than a bit of pride. “What the fuck happened?” she hissed through her teeth.

“Dunno,” Paul sighed. “The heavies dragged you in here unconscious and wet.”

“I just got out of the shower, the last thing I remember was two ugly guys in my hotel room, and then waking up on your thigh.”

“Fen taught me they make good pillows,” he shrugged.

“Did she?” Gina asked. As she twisted her gaze up towards his face, she noticed the cool glint of dim light on metal; he still wore his ring, the one from their vow renewal. Her own left hand was conspicuously bare, and her heart wrenched a bit at the realization.

“Last time it was me with the broken skull being thrown unconscious into a van.”

“How did you get here?” she asked blearily.

“They plucked me off the street right after you left. Sat on by some freaky genetic crossbreed between an ox and one of those ugly people you see on television after a tornado blows their trailer home to shit. Until they threw you back here, then he slithered up front with the rest of the ogres.”

“Oh. Any clue yet why we’ve been kidnapped?”

“If I had to venture a guess, I’d say our good pal Don the drug baron is exacting a little bit of revenge.”

“I thought we’d dealt with Don,” Gina groaned.

“So did I. Guess he decided he didn’t like when we tossed his money and drugs into the Seine.”

“And kidnapping us helps how?”

“I never said I understood the minds of drug-crazed psychos,” Paul defended.

“What do you think they plan to do with us?” Gina asked, closing her eyes against a stab of pain as Paul readjusted his lap. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, I can’t feel my leg from the knee down, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what they’re gonna do. Put more drugs down your shirt maybe?”

“You wish,” Gina sighed, not bothering to fight the smile. “Can’t be too much worse than last time.”

“We’ve made it out of worse situations than this,” he declared strongly.

“Wake me when you need another of my random acts of stupidity,” she yawned.

“No, you can’t go to sleep, not with that blow to your head.”

“Ruin all my fun,” she sighed, trying not to let the rolling of the van lull her to sleep.

“A typical dinner in the Grey household…or so you would think…muahahaha!”

“Brad, don’t encourage him,” Fenny grumbled as she dropped the bowl of corn on the table and headed back to get the salad.

“Hey, think how much I could get for this on e-bay,” David smiled as he zoomed in on Brad. “That’s right girls, Brad Sherwood, right here in my dining room.”

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” Louise declared, glaring pointedly at her husband to put his toy away. He swung the camera around to her, hands on her hips and glaring at him. With a pout, he moved towards Fenny.

“Put it away, Daddy.”

“Any final words before we break for dinner?” he asked, swinging to Brad again.

“No, not really,” he shrugged with a smile.

“You wanna stick around to help me edit this?”

“Eat,” Louise ordered, and everyone sat at the table and began instantly passing platters around.

“What have you got to edit but a bunch of shots of my hand, the poor traumatized cat and Mom cooking?” Fenny asked.

“Brad’s voiceovers.”

Fenny rolled her eyes and decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. “I think we’re gonna go home after the dishes are done anyway, Brad just got back from Montana and I’ve got some more work to do.”

“How do you turn this thing off?” David asked no one in particular as he turned the camera, still recording, over in his hands in search for some hint at an ‘off’ switch.

Louise snatched it from him, promptly turned it off and set it on the counter behind her. “How’s the food? Too much paprika in the chicken?”

“No, it’s great,” Brad smiled around a mouthful of food.

“Thank you,” Louise smiled back. “So Brad, Fenny tells me that you two have been talking about maybe getting married?”

“Well actually we—oouf.” He turned his grunt of pain into a clearing of his throat as he stuck his foot across the table trying to retaliate for Fenny kicking him swiftly in the shin, but couldn’t find her legs. “We’ve discussed it, yeah.”

“And?” his mother-in-law prompted.

He gave a noncommittal shrug as he took another bite of chicken.

“Y’know Mom, at the rate you’re going, if we ever decide to actually get married, Brad and I will be forced to elope,” Fenny mused.

“Over my dead body,” Louise declared resolutely.

“Hey, invite us to the funeral and we’ll see if it can be arranged.”

“You wouldn’t dare. What about family and friends?”

“I seriously doubt anyone I know wants to sit through the boredom and drinking of a wedding for me. I don’t even want to go through the pomp and circumstance.”

“What about your father, he has to give you away.”

“You can have her,” David chuckled.

“Thanks,” Brad chimed, raising his glass to him, and noting with a smile that he jerked suddenly. Evidently Fenny had learned her odd habit of kicking people under the table from her mother.

“What about bridesmaids and—”

“Leave the kids alone, Louise,” David sighed. “Don’t push them to get married, they’re happy, and besides, that’s just one more wedding I would have to pay for.”

“Right, and then how would he afford his stupid toys,” Fenny teased.

“I’m trying to be on your side, and you’re making it very hard,” her father said, hiding his smile well.

“Thank you Daddy. Pass the salad?”

“So how’s Whose Line going, Brad?” Fenny’s mother asked.

Dinner proceeded without incident, discussing work, family (Fenny’s uncle had had a mild stroke and she’d never been informed) and some of David’s more unusual stories (including an explanation, at Brad’s request, of the ice cream spaghetti incident). He filmed the women doing the dishes while Brad narrated, until Louise splashed them both with a casserole dish full of water and David dragged Brad into the office to load the video. Fenny dragged them both out and she and Brad excused themselves for the long drive back to LA, this time battling the nighttime traffic.

“Send us a copy of that video if you ever finish it,” Fenny grinned at her father as she and Brad stepped out onto the front stoop.

“But it’s digital,” he replied.

“Burn it on a DVD or something.”

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s right,” Louise chuckled, “get him all excited about something else he can play with and then leave me to pick up the pieces.”

“Sorry Mom,” Fenny smiled. “Bye guys, see you around, don’t let Daddy buy any more toys.”

“I’m crossing you off our Christmas list,” David laughed.

“What about me?” Brad asked.

“You I like, you’re staying.”

“Like you’d ever buy a Christmas present,” Louise sighed.

Shaking her head, Fenny unlocked the car and she and Brad slipped in, waving as the Barenaked Ladies came back on and they pulled away, her parents waving from the front door.

“Your family is—”

“Completely neurotic, I know.”

Gina gingerly sat up and tested the back of her head, wincing at the contact of her cold fingers on the startlingly large welt across the back of her skull. “You okay?” Paul asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Head hurts though.” Paul smiled what he hoped was comfortingly at her as he stretched out his legs to regain some feeling, and she shrugged. “Any idea where we’re going?”

“Well you were out for about an hour, so we’re well out of Edinburgh by now I’d guess, but where we’re headed is anybody’s guess.”

“Oh.” They paused to listen to the muffled voices coming from the cab of the vehicle, but they were too distorted by the walls of the van and the roar of the engine to be of any help. Not that knowing where they were headed would help them in any way unless they had some way of maybe getting help. “You have your cell phone?” Gina asked in hushed tones.

“No, they took it off me when they grabbed me. I’m guessing you don’t have yours either?”

“No, in the hotel.”

“Fantastic.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but where are Brad and Fen and Proops when you need ‘em,” Gina half giggled.

“In California with no way of knowing that we’ve been attacked by a bunch of apes.”

“We should’ve let Brad kill Don when he had the chance.”

“We could’ve just killed Brad a few years ago, saved the trouble, never would’ve had to deal with Don and his stupid bag.”

“Then we would’ve had Fenny on our case,” she pointed out.

“True.”

They fell silent again for another kilometer or two. “Look Genie—” Paul began.

“I told you we’d talk at breakfast,” she said with a smile as she leaned her head carefully against the side of the van.

“They’re not gonna feed us breakfast I don’t think,” he pointed out.

“Paul, I’m hurt, I’m tired, I’m stuck in the back of a fucking van full of kidnappers,” she sighed. “I don’t think this is the best place to be discussing our marital issues.” In all actuality, she was feeling entirely too weak to deal with things, she knew that she would give in without a fight if they started trying to talk things out, and if ever there was a time when a simple kiss and makeup wouldn’t work, it was now. She’d spent what felt like eons telling herself not to care about Paul because he didn’t care about her, and having him suddenly thrust on her, now captive with him, was too much to cope with, and she wouldn’t let his close proximity and sweet words and caring glances and gorgeous body weaken her resolve to get to the bottom of why he broke her heart.

“We don’t have anything else to do,” Paul pointed out.

“We could play I Spy?”

“I spy something…dark.”

“Are you always like this when you’re kidnapped?” Gina teased.

“Yes, actually.”

“Looks like it’ll be a long journey,” she sighed a bit miserably.

“Oh cheer up, they might kill us first,” he perked as the car jerked and she hit the bump on the back of her head on the wall of the van.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” she groaned.