Fenny kicked the door shut and slipped off her sneakers before wandering over to where Brad had collapsed on the bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, laying down next to him.

“My stomach hurts,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” she cooed, rubbing his belly. “But you wouldn’t give me the ball.” She smiled innocently at him; he just looked at the ceiling. “Brad?”

“Well it hurt,” he said after a moment.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal over a little elbow to the gut. “It’s sports, I thought pain was supposed to be involved. You didn’t seem to care so much when you and Gina were tackling each other.”

“Shit, Fen please, don’t bring up stuff like that,” he groaned, turning to face her. “Don’t go getting jealous over Gina.”

“I wasn’t,” Fenny lied, taking the opportunity to turn her own face to the ceiling.

“We’re friends,” Brad assured her. “I wasn’t flirting with Gina any more than you were flirting with Paul.”

“I know,” Fenny sighed. “It’s just, I’ve just gotten you back, and I guess I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you again, and I don’t want to jeopardize, y’know, what we have.” She tilted her head to look at him. “I, um, I do have you back, don’t I?”

“Of course,” Brad gasped, leaning over almost instinctively to give her a quick kiss to assure her. “I’m yours forever if you’ll have me.”

“I’m so gonna have to start monitoring your television viewing habits,” Fenny giggled. “What John Hughes movie did you pick that line up from?”

“Hey, don’t laugh at me when I’m trying to be romantic,” Brad scorned. “Be nice or I won’t break out the chocolate sauce.”

Fenny rolled her eyes. “You’ve got chocolate on the brain.”

“Ever since that dinner, I’ve thought of nothing else.”

“You’re such a sick, twisted man,” she sighed.

“Which is why you love me,” he chuckled.

“One of many reasons…”

“What are some of the others?” Brad grinned.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous, you’re hilarious, you can sing, you make me crazy…here recently it’s because you followed me across a continent, an ocean, and a country just so you could find me and bite me on the thigh.”

“Repeatedly,” he smirked.

“And I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”

“And someone out there has the photographs as well,” Brad pouted.

“Could you imagine if that got leaked to the press?” Fenny giggled. “I’d have a hard time explaining that to my father.”

“I’m trying not to imagine that,” he sighed.

“Oh, come off it Brad, if you took off with someone’s backpack on accident and found a roll of film, would you develop it?”

“Yes.”

“Such a voyeur.”

Brad raised an eyebrow and crawled on top of her. “Want another love bite to explain to the National Enquirer?”

“Only if I can return the favor,” Fenny cooed, arching up to kiss his collarbone.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“So,” Paul began nonchalantly as he carefully closed and locked the bedroom door as Gina dropped her bag into a chair. “You worked out all that energy that’s been screaming to get used? Or was it that you’ll be screaming when it gets used?”

“Let me guess,” Gina smiled, “all that running around turned you on?”

“Being tackled by you and having you put your tongue down my throat, that turned me on,” Paul corrected.

“Either way, you’re horny, and you want me to do something about it, yeah?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled.

Gina shrugged. “I can deal with that.” With a smile she took a few steps around the bed towards Paul, and tripped. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor, but just barely.

“Clumsy,” he chided as she shot an accusatory glance at the floor, but there was nothing she could have tripped over. Not that that sort of thing wasn’t known to happen. Oh well, just an excuse to be in Paul’s arms. He pulled her to her feet and captured her in an intense kiss, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt as he pulled away to tug at the shirt underneath.

“Stop.”

“What? Why?” Paul breathed.

“I didn’t say anything,” Gina replied, reaching one hand under his shirt to stroke his chest, the other resting firmly on his rear.

“You didn’t say stop?”

“Why the fuck would I say stop?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well don’t.”

“Right.”

“What’re you waiting for?”

“You don’t really think this place could be haunted, do you?”

“Paul,” Gina sighed, “don’t be ridiculous.”

“What if they’re angry horny ghosts who died of autoerotic asphyxiation or something and they don’t want us having sex in their room?” he asked anxiously.

“I think they’re just gonna have to deal,” Gina grinned and pushed him back onto the bed. “We’ll give them a good show. Make it worth their while.”

“Oh, I’ve never had to perform for an audience before, not sexually. I mean, not with another person,” Paul giggled. Gina had straddled him around the hips and whisked off both her shirts. “But I’m certainly willing to give it a try.”

“I thought you might,” she smiled before leaning down to crush her lips against his. Paul’s fingers slowly undid the hooks of her bra as she undid the buttons of his shirt and then pants. “What was that?” Gina gasped, pressing herself against Paul’s chest nervously at the squeaking sound. They turned to see the door swinging open.

“I locked that,” he announced. “I know I did.”

“The ghost?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” he countered.

“It matters if poor Betty comes up here to get us and the door’s left open like that.”

“Good point.” Paul disentangled himself from Gina and closed the door, locking it firmly and placing the chair before it for good measure.

“Think the ghost left?” she asked, watching Paul strip off his shirt and step out of his pants.

“If he didn’t, he’s in for a treat,” he smiled and rolled onto the bed.

Greg lay sprawled on the bed, bored to tears and hungry. At least he couldn’t hear Fenny and Brad going at it. Yet. And no plaster was falling from the ceiling due to Gina and Paul’s romping. Yet. Depression suddenly settled over Greg. Here he was, no one to love him, surrounded by the two most stomach-churningly perfect couples known to exist. He briefly considered calling his wife for a bit of comfort, but decided that would not be the best of plans. “Hi pookie, I’m calling from some B&B in Scotland somewhere with the two women that I got in trouble for fucking earlier and the two men that are always around when something happens to nearly kill me and we’re trying to find out who to give this bag of cash and weapons to. I’ve missed an important gig and I might end up dead again, thought I’d call and say I miss you because I’m the only one around not getting screwed. Well, me and the old woman. Love you, pumpkin butter.”

Greg let out a sigh. May as well go down and see what the old woman was up to, maybe glean some coffee from her. He rolled out of bed and trudged down the stairs.

“Aye, there ye are, Greg was it?” she chirped as he sauntered into the kitchen.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Can I get ye something while ye wait fer the meal?”

“Got any coffee by any chance?”

“Of course,” Betty smiled and scurried off to make a pot. “So, no woman on yer arm this trip?” she asked sympathetically.

“No, the wife’s back in California,” he sighed.

“She didn’t come with ye and yer friends on yer holiday?”

“Oh, we’re not really here for a holiday, more like we’re here for work and got distracted.”

“Aye, I ken see how that would happen,” she smiled.

“It really is beautiful out here,” he sighed.

“But ye have no one te share it with.”

Greg nodded.

“Then ye ken help me with the cooking,” Betty enthused.

“Oh, no, I…”

“It’s good for relieving the tension,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the counter. “Here, knead.”

“Knead?” Greg asked, frowning at the mass of dough before him.

“If it doesn’t get kneaded, there’ll be no bread,” she advised wisely.

“Yeah, no shit. What do I do?”

“Just stick yer hands in and work the dough.” Tentatively, Greg did as he was told, then paused and placed his ring in his pocket. “When it begins to stick, just spread out some flour, that’s right, good,” she encouraged, miming the proper motions for him to follow. “Think how proud yer little wife will be when she finds ye can help her with the baking.”

“My wife, baking,” Greg scoffed.

“No more improbable than ye baking one imagines?”

“Good point.” Greg smiled and realized was actually enjoying himself in a kitchen and nothing was going to get destroyed. Yet.

“Fen,” Brad sighed as she slid out of bed. “Where’re you going?” She pulled on her panties and shirt, buttoning the middle two buttons as she wandered across the room where her backpack had been dropped. “No, don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry dear,” she grinned over her shoulder as she pulled out her sketchbook and a small box of supplies, “but you inspire me.”

“If you crack open that sketchbook, I’m not talking to you ever again.”

Fenny raised her eyebrows defiantly and flipped through the pad until she got to one of the more elaborate drawings she’d done, and flumped back into the bed. Brad frowned for a moment as she rifled through her box for the proper charcoal pencil.

He seized his opportunity and grabbed the sketchbook from her and leapt out of bed. “Hey,” she squealed. “Whatever it is you’re thinking about doing, reconsider it. You’re naked and I have an X-acto knife.” Brad took a step towards the window. “Drop it and I’ll never let you inspire me again.”

“Huh?”

“No more sex for Sherwood if you drop my sketchbook out the window.”

Brad narrowed his eyes at her. “If I give you back this book of yours, you have to promise me that you won’t bury yourself in it whenever we go out. I’m okay with the occasional sketch, but you don’t need a detailed drawing of every damn thing we see.”

Fenny narrowed her eyes in return. “You’re an evil bastard.”

“Only because I’m jealous of your sketchbook,” Brad sulked, looking absolutely preposterous and at the same time adorable standing in front of the window, completely nude, holding her sketchbook to his chest.

“Aww,” Fenny cooed, playing along as she crawled out of bed and headed for him. “Don’t be jealous. You’ve got something my book will never have.”

“A dick?”

“Brad!” Fenny gasped.

“Okay you two,” came the harsh voice from outside, immediately followed by a series of knocks. “Get dressed and drag yourselves down for dinner.”

“Can we kill Greg?” Brad asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Fenny shrugged.

“After dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

“Um, Betty,” Paul began as they met in the dining room. “Is it normal for…abnormal things to happen around here?”

“Abnormal?” Betty echoed, then smiled. “Oh, ye mean the ghost?”

“Yeah, no need to get so worked up about it,” Greg scorned, suddenly bothered by the prospect of otherworldly spirits.

“Ooh, now we really are like the Scooby Squad,” Fenny chuckled. “Quick, Shaggy, do your ‘g-g-g-ghosts?!’ spiel,” she giggled, poking at Paul who chuckled.

“Ro, rhats rith the roolries?” Brad half howled.

“Huh?” everyone at the table questioned.

“ ‘So, what’s with the ghoulies,’ in Scooby speak,” Brad shrugged.

“The stories tell that long before this place fell into my hands,” Betty explained, “a young man killed himself when the woman he loved rejected his proposal. We often get complaints from couples about strange noises, doors opening, every once in a while someone sees a glowing body up near the attic.”

“So there’s no, like, hurtling people down staircases or glass ashtrays flying through the air at people’s craniums?” Fenny asked.

“Oh no, nothing like that, dear. Just a lost, lonely soul…”

“Aww,” Brad cooed.

“I think Genie and I might have cheered him up a bit,” Paul grinned.

“Please, I’m eating,” Greg grumbled. “Hey, everyone eat the bread,” he said, cheering up.

“Why, what’ve you done with it?” Paul asked suspiciously.

“Just try it,” Betty enthused.

The other four reached for the bread, looked at each other, and each popped a bit into their mouth at the same time.

“Tastes like bread,” Fenny announced.

“And I helped make it,” Greg said, puffing out his chest with pride.

Brad immediately began choking. “You? Baking? And you didn’t invite us down with the Ripley’s crew, or at the very least my camera?”

“You’re out of film, anyway,” Greg said. “No need to be sarcastic.”

“This coming from Proops, King of Sarcasmisity,” Paul grinned.

“Ye seem to be the most motley bunch we’ve ever had stay with us here,” Betty laughed. “How’d ye get te meet each other?”

There was a collective chuckle. “It’s a very long and complicated story,” Greg declared.

“One of us should write a book,” Fenny mused.

“I’d like to hear it,” Betty smiled.

“The condensed version,” Gina nodded.

“Starts with Fen and Greg, doesn’t it?” Brad asked, eyebrows raised.

Fenny sighed and Greg began. “Well, I met Fen in a bar where she was doing a comedy gig.”

“Everyone’s a comic but Gina, who writes,” Fenny clarified. “I don’t do it anymore, I’m an artist, when my sketchbook isn’t being held hostage.”

“Lovely,” Betty cooed, nodding for them to continue.

“So, Fen and I had a one night stand,” Greg said.

“While he was married,” Gina added.

“Then I fell in love with Brad, who works with Greg,” Fenny picked up, “and…I had another fling with Greg.” Betty gasped. “Brad found out and dumped me.”

“Then Greg and I ended up in Australia with a lot of the other people we work with, had a very interesting time, I got a tattoo and we almost ended up dead,” Brad shrugged. “Then went back to Australia to try to keep a friend from getting killed by a woman named Ritza, and we nearly ended up dead again. That’s when we met Gina.”

“Greg and I didn’t get along well,” Gina announced, “whereas Brad and the psychobitch Ritza got along quite well,” she scorned. “Fucked each other’s brains out, if you don’t mind my saying. So, after we managed to avoid getting killed, everyone headed back to the States, including Ritza and myself.”

“Gina was trying to get over getting served divorce papers from me,” Paul chimed.

“Which is when I decided I wanted Brad back,” Fenny announced. “But he was shacking up with Ritza.”

“Fen and I met through Greg. She threatened his life while he and I were having lunch, and I thought, ‘There’s a woman I could get along with’.”

“Gina and Greg were still getting over their mutual hatred at the time, which built up to mutual lust,” Fenny nodded.

“And friendship,” Greg countered.

“Mostly lust,” Gina smirked.

“I was gonna dump Ritza and have Fen move in with me,” Brad said, “but Ritza lied about being pregnant with my child, so I couldn’t.”

“And I realized Greg and I couldn’t make it work,” Gina sighed, “mainly because I still loved Paul.”

“Who she was still married to but didn’t let on,” Fenny said.

“So Fenny and I went back to Australia for a few months of moping.”

“During which time I found Fenny in an art gallery,” Paul piped in, “and we discussed penises for a while.”

“Meanwhile Greg was touring in town and Brad had come to announce to Fen that the kid wasn’t his,” Gina said. “That’s when Fen got kidnapped. By Ritza and her sister.”

“And we all went traipsing around Oz trying to find ‘em,” Paul chimed, “which didn’t go well; Gina and I were also kidnapped on two separate occasions and dragged around for a while until we all almost ended up dead again.”

“Gina and Greg finally managed to fuck,” Brad chuckled.

“So did Gina and Paul,” Fenny smiled.

“Yeah, well so did you two,” Gina countered.

“Well, we outsmarted the sinister sisters, the Yanks went home, and Genie and I worked out our marital problems,” Paul announced, “which mostly resolved around sex with Greg.”

“Most of everyone’s problems revolve around sex with Greg,” Fenny giggled.

“Back in LA, I left my wife for Gina,” Greg sighed, “who didn’t want me.”

“Not that it kept her from sleeping with him,” Paul grumbled.

“And I found out Brad had an illegitimate child,” Fenny declared.

“I screwed up my priorities,” Brad shrugged.

“We all ended up in LA again,” Gina announced, “where Greg finally decided to go to counseling with his wife, Fen grew a spine and left Brad because he seemingly stopped caring about her, and Paul and I worked things through.”

“After catching her kissing Greg,” Paul shrugged.

“I moved to London for work while Paul was doing his thing in Australia,” Gina said. “I came to Scotland for the Fringe festival.”

“So did I,” Greg said, angrily looking at his watch. “I should be performing right now, but no, someone had to lose his bag.”

Brad stuck his tongue out at him.

“I came over with Paul because I was confused because Brad showed up and kept kissing me,” Fenny said.

“I came over to find Fenny.”

“Now that they’re back to fucking like bunnies, our lives are pretty much normal again,” Gina said. “We leave anything out?”

“Hope not,” Fenny sighed, leaning back into her chair.

“Well,” Betty breathed, “isn’t that an interesting story. Time for more tea? Yes, I think it is.”

The others watched in amusement as the poor woman scuttled off into the kitchen again. “One day,” Fenny mused, “I’m going to manage to spend an evening with the four of you where no innocent bystanders are traumatized.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Brad laughed.