---

Fenny took off her glasses, placed them on her desk and rubbed her eyes. She’d been sitting in front of the computer since 7 am, and her head was starting to fizzle. She’d been trying to design a CD cover for an up and coming pop group, but it all just seemed a mass of red, black, and young men in baggy pants now. As Fenny slid her glasses back on, Jaguar leapt up onto the desk, sauntered in front of the keyboard and purred loudly.

“You know that’s not helping, right?” Fenny sighed and stroked his back as she tried to see the monitor around him. Jaguar took this as a sign of attention and arched his back, blocking the view entirely. Fenny let out a grunt. Working for herself had been a great idea: she was never short of work, and she could work at her own pace. The downside was trying to work in her apartment. If it wasn’t Jaguar poking his bum in her face or her mother calling about some insidious dinner plans, it was her neighbour Jenna screaming about her latest disaster, which was usually either a broken nail, a split end, or yet another mundane fight with her boyfriend Jett.

Fenny took the interruption as a sign she needed to have a break, to get out of the damn apartment, and enjoy the warm sun for a while. She hadn’t been to the beach in ages, hadn’t had the enthusiasm nor the energy to pull on her bathing suit and splash about in the waves. She closed down the computer and padded from the study into her bedroom.

“Any idea where my beach stuff is, kiddo?” Fenny asked as Jaguar leapt onto the bed, fell to his side and began clawing a moose toy. “I’ll take that as a no, then,” she added and pulled open a drawer. She found her swimsuit quickly and was beginning to change into it when the phone rang. Fenny pulled at her bathers, nearly causing herself an injury and ending up in the dresser as she dashed into the living room and grabbed the phone from the coffee table.

“Hello, Fenella Grey?”

“Hi, my name’s Eddie Bryce. I’m releasing a short film and I’m looking for someone to design me a poster. You interested?”

“Um, sure,” Fenny mused.

“Excellent, knew you would. You come highly recommended by one of my actors.”

“Lucky me, I guess.”

“Of course babe, we’ll do lunch tomorrow.”

“But I…” Fenny was greeted by the dial tone. “Prick,” she grumbled and headed back to her bedroom adjusting her bathing suit.

---

---

Gina glared out the tiny office window as the rain pelted down outside. So much for summer. If she hadn’t been miserable enough when she’d first arrived, London was certainly not helping. Coming to London had seemed like such a good idea — when she was desperate for money and things were less than amicable with Paul. Now however, it seemed like hell with a posh accent. It wasn’t like Australia; people were always on the go in London, no one wanted to stop and appreciate life, and god forbid anyone should just take a day off.

“Coleman, you done with that story yet?” snarled the Chief of Staff as he stalked over to her.

“In triplicate, darling,” Gina muttered and handed her article over.

The Chief of Staff looked annoyed by her actually being organised and quickly stalked off again.

“Fuckwit,” Gina cussed and turned back to her computer to check her email. It was all porn and free diplomas.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, almost nervously.

“What?” Gina sighed and looked to see a young female journalist standing beside her.

“Um, because it’s nearly Fringe time, we’re needing help in entertainment to cover all the different acts that are in town…”

“Does this story have an end?” Gina asked gruffly.

“Well, we’re assigning different people to different things, and Karen said you’d have the perfect outlook for this one,” the young journalist breathed and passed Gina a postcard.

Gina read the back aloud. “Admit one, blah blah blah.” Then she turned it over. “No, this is bad, very bad.”

“Bad?” the young journalist asked, perplexed. “You’re not a fan?”

Gina let out a short laugh and looked at the picture of Greg Proops that was smiling back at her.

“It’s either him or The Vagina Monologues,” the young journalist shrugged.

“Who did you say said I was right for this?” Gina asked.

“Karen, the entertainment editor,” the young journalist replied. “Do you want her number?”

“No, just wanted to know who to stalk and kill on my next day off,” Gina smiled. “You can go now.”

The young journalist looked and her concerned, backed away a little, then hurried off. Gina studied the picture of Greg again and leaned the card up against her Dilbert desk calendar.

---

---

Fenny lay on her back, floating on the swells that passed under her as the sun kissed her skin. It was a pleasant change to be away from the computer and not shackled to her scanner. She was surprised at how unashamedly happy she was feeling, something that she’d been unable to consider for a long time. Perhaps she was finally over him and his baggage. Yes, today was the first day of the rest of her life, and the past was firmly being left there. Fenny pushed her feet down and let them sink into the soft sand as she noted another wave coming. She squinted, noting it wasn’t just a wave coming but a surfer as well.

It happened so fast, one minute Fenny was pondering what to do if she got decapitated, the next she was spluttering under the water. She gasped for air as a tirade of abuse flew her way.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing, you crazy fucking bitch? I could have killed myself and, although I can’t say you wouldn’t have deserved it, taken your fucking head off as well.”

Fenny flicked her hair back and looked straight into a pair of familiar hazel eyes. “Fuck you, McDermott,” she gasped.

“Fenny,” Paul said, equally as shocked. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Gee, I don’t know, I’m a Californian, I kinda live here,” Fenny sarced.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I think a sea sponge might have crawled into my brain,” Paul declared and wiggled a finger into one of his ears for effect.

“Sea sponges don’t crawl,” Fenny mused.

“Puffer fish?” Paul suggested. “Oh shit,” he added as they were wiped out by another wave.

“So what are you doing here?” Fenny gagged, flicking her hair back again as they surfaced.

“Having a holiday,” Paul replied, spitting out a mouthful of salt water.

“Gina not with you?” she asked, watching the waves out of the corner of her eye.

“No,” he replied sheepishly. “She’s in London, didn’t she tell you?”

“Nope, haven’t heard from her in months.”

“WAVE,” Paul yelled as they found themselves pushed under again.

“Perhaps we should talk on dry land,” she suggested, squeezing the water from her hair.

“How about we get lunch?” he suggested as he grabbed his surfboard and they headed toward the beach.

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Fenny smiled. “And how nice of you to offer to pay.”

Paul dropped his board on the beach and stared at her as he grabbed his towel.

“Don’t. Paul, stop it, I hate when you do that…Paul…No,” Fenny whined, until Paul gave her an impish grin.

“So easy,” he mused.

Fenny giggled to herself. So much for leaving the past in the past. She knew that it should frustrate her, but the problem was she adored Paul. He was the most insane person she knew, yet he kept her sane. From being locked in a bank vault used to hold human remains and leaping from a moving vehicle, to painting a phallic backdrop and even telling her those words she so desperately needed to hear: “You’re not a victim.” She’d missed him like she missed Gina, and the fact the Gina was now in another country didn’t sound promising. As Fenny hunted out a comb from her bag, something dawned on her; Paul usually seemed to turn up in her life whenever she was having a crisis. But she wasn’t having a crisis. In fact, nothing even vaguely Fennyesque was happening. Maybe this time, it was her turn to help him.

---

---

Gina left work early, more out of anxiousness than anything else. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous. It’d been so long since she’d last seen Greg; he probably wouldn’t give her another glance. Besides, she needn’t even talk to him. All she had to do was sit at the back, laugh away, and then write a few hundred words on how fabulous he was. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done that, nor would it probably be the last.

Gina meandered in front of the small bar heater she’d bought to heat her pokey little flat, as the central heating seemed to be constantly broken. She was torn over what to wear to Greg’s gig. Which seemed stupid, it wasn’t as if she had to impress anyone, did she? She sat on the end of her bed as all the memories she’d tried to repress swam into focus. The tryst with Greg, the professions of love, that look in Paul’s eye, and the pain of long distance love. Gina took several deep breaths. She was not going to crumble, and she was tougher than that, right? She didn’t sob over every little bump in the road, she was a ballsy Australian Sheila. Yeah, so ballsy she had to wipe the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. The words from her favorite Whitlams song echoed through the memories “There’s no aphrodisiac like loneliness…”

---

---

“How can you eat three quatres of a pizza and still be scrawny?” Fenny demanded as Paul polished off the last slice of pizza.

“Good genes, fast metabolism, the fact I bounce off walls all day,” Paul shrugged.

Fenny took a sip of her Pepsi. “So, why did Gina go to London?”

“She scored a job there,” he replied bluntly, grabbing a napkin.

“You didn’t go with her?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not what you think, we dealt with the Greg stuff.”

“So you’re still together, then?” Fenny asked, totally confused.

“Who knows, we kinda came to the mutual agreement that it was too hard, trying to maintain a long distance relationship.”

“And that lasted?” she asked with a wry smile.

“About eight hours,” he replied, tearing his napkin into pieces. “Then she stopped emailing and calling and never answered the phone when I called.”

Paul looked crushed and Fenny felt terrible. “If it’s any consolation, I haven’t spoken, seen or even given a toss about Brad since…yeah.”

“Did he try and talk it over?” Paul asked.

She shook her head. “No, last I heard he’d bought a place in Montana so he could commute between there and LA to be with Lilly.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Paul piped up. “This is seriously depressing, now my mood has deflated through the floor.”

“Well, let’s not dwell on the past, then,” she suggested.

“And do what?”

“You any good at graphic design?”

---

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Gina mulled over her orange juice as Greg was introduced and he swaggered on stage. A smile came instantly to her, along with a range of emotions that included longing, amusement, and the pure joy of seeing someone she knew. She laughed more than she had for a long time throughout his entire show, and felt slightly despondent when he swaggered back off stage.

Gina grabbed her bag and tried to find her way out, getting squished in the crowd as she did. Eventually she made her way into the brisk night, and fumbled for her umbrella. Typically, there wasn’t one taxi in the vicinity, and she was left to wrap her arms around herself and jiggle on the spot to keep warm.

“I guess you’re assuming I didn’t see you, huh?”

Gina jumped a mile and turned to see Greg sidle up beside her. “Jesus Christ,” she gasped.

“Close,” he perked.

“You never died and then rose again,” she chided.

“I’ve had hangovers that could indicate otherwise.”

“And before you ask, no I’m not stalking you.”

“Of course you’re not, you just came to enjoy my fabulous wit and my magnificent beauty.”

“I’ll just make room for you ego, shall I?”

Greg laughed. “What are you doing in London, pumpkin?”

“Working on that intellectual piece of literature The Sun .”

“Oh man, you must be desperate.”

“Let’s just say, my previous expenses caught up with me.”

“The bandicoot of bullshit not with you?” he queried.

“I wish,” she sighed and began jiggling about again. “How’s things with you, Speccy?”

“Good, the marriage counselling has stopped being quite so painful,” Greg breathed.

“Find things out about yourself, huh?”

“Do you think I’m needy?”

“Totally.”

“Thank you,” Greg mused as he watched Gina shivering. “Oh, come here,” he added and wrapped his arms around her. Gina snuggled against his body, for both warmth and comfort.

“I thought you would have forgotten me by now,” she sighed.

“How can I forget a woman who can do such serious damage with a gun?” Greg chuckled.

“You’ve been playing Tomb Raider, haven’t you?”

“I had an uneventful afternoon,” Greg agreed, before they both burst into giggles.

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