“I hate you,” Joaquin huffed as she paused for Adele to unlock the door of the apartment.

“No, you’re just pissed you’ve never had the stones to ask the lovely Aidan to dinner,” Adele chided, stepping into the apartment with Joaquin right behind her.

“That would be because I’ve never wanted to have dinner with Aidan,” Joaquin groused as they both marched through the living room, neither batting an eyelid at Joel who was perched on the couch eating chicken wings.

“Oh, that’s right,” Adele mused as she stopped and faced Joaquin. “You just want to get under his woolly jumper.”

“Del, I’m not perverted like you,” Joaquin huffed and dropped her paint supplies on the kitchen table. “I appreciate Aidan as a wonderfully talented artist. I respect his opinions and admire his complex knowledge of the various techniques.”

“Are you that much in denial?” Adele chided, dropping her purse and keys on the table. “Are you aware that even as you speak you’re blushing like someone who’s gone five rounds with Colin Farrell in a supplies closest?”

Joaquin’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Well ok, he’s cute but I really don’t think of him like that.”

“Yeah ya do,” Joel declared as he sauntered into the kitchen with a plate of bare chicken bones.

“Excuse me? I don’t remember sending out your invite for this conversation,” Joaquin groused, narrowing her eyes at Joel, who smiled cheekily at her.

“I’m merely adding a male opinion,” Joel shrugged as he took to washing his plate. “And it’s also well documented that you’re a hopeless liar, Bliss.”

“You’ve been warned about using that word,” Joaquin scorned, snatching up the duck-shaped pepper shaker from the table. “I will insert this pepper-filled waterfowl somewhere unpleasant should you do it again.”

“My, someone’s defensive,” Adele teased, making her way to the fridge. “Be nice to Joel or I’ll take sneaky photos of you in the buff and send them to Aidan.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Joaquin shrieked, the whole mortifying scene of Aidan receiving a series of photos of her in the shower running like a bad movie in her head.

“Actually, she would,” Joel winced and then hurried off back to the sanctity of the living room.

Joaquin looked blankly at Adele who looked innocently at the ceiling and shrugged.

“You wouldn’t really take naked photos of me would you?” Joaquin asked the next morning as she and Adele sat together on the bus.

“Of course I would,” Adele smirked. “I’m evil, you know that.”

“You’re not evil,” Joaquin sighed. “Just scared of actually allowing yourself to get close to people.”

“Gee, thanks, Dr Phil.”

“I’m serious, Del,” Joaquin quipped. “I think if you got yourself a boyfriend you’d be a happier person.”

“No, because he’d leave me for someone else and I’d end up more hurt than I am now,” Adele groused. “I told you, it’s purely no-strings-attached sex for me from now on.”

“Don’t you think that’s just a tad cynical?”

“Yes but it’s my philosophy and I’m sticking to it.”

“Fine,” Joaquin sighed and fell quiet. “What about Joel? He’s kinda cute.”

“No, I’ve seen Joel naked,” Adele breathed. “Once you’ve seen a guy naked you just can’t sleep with him.”

“That brings about another question,” Joaquin mused. “How on earth did you get to see Joel naked?”

“You really don’t want an answer to that,” Adele smiled as she got to her feet. “See ya tonight.”

“Bye,” Joaquin sighed and watched as Adele got off the bus.

“Good morning Cheyanne,” Adele smiled as she strolled into the foyer of Empire Publishing where she’d been working long enough to know better. The receptionist looked up from her monitor and smiled.

“Mr Rudd is in a very, very vile mood today,” Cheyanne announced, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Oh really?” Adele mused. “Thanks for the warning.”

She hurried up the two floors to the open-planned office she shared with a handful of others. Along with Joel and his collection of cricketing memorabilia, there was older, insecure Helen who had a conniption fit whenever someone new, young and blonde joined the company in case her job was at risk, which would never happen since she was the only person capable of correct grammar; Eleanor, the office slut who’d slept with everyone male or female except Adele and the weird guy from the mailroom; and of course Doug the new kid. He was fresh out of high school, hadn’t a clue in the world and sat around firing the stapler like a gun in between making photocopies.

“Morning Del,” Joel perked, his phone pressed against one ear, a manuscript strewn across his desk.

“Hey,” Adele smiled. She was just milliseconds away from sitting when the all too familiar yell of ‘Miss Brodie’ was hollered from Mr Rudd’s office. Adele let out a very audible groan.

“He’s in a vile mood,” Eleanor declared in a half-hushed voice. “I think his mistress must have dumped him.”

“I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“What?”

“Hey? Sorry, must dash,” Adele sniggered as she scurried over to Mr Rudd’s office. She stopped herself giggling, took a steadying breath and then stepped inside. “Good morning sir.”

“Miss Brodie, I’ve had Mr Franklin on the phone this morning and he is furious that his manuscript hasn’t been processed for publishing yet,” Mr Rudd declared sternly.

“That would be because I haven’t finished it, sir,” Adele replied, trying desperately to keep her cool.

“And why, pray tell, haven’t you finished it?”

“Because it’s possibly the worst excuse for literature I’ve ever had the displeasure of being forced to read in my entire life and should I read it all at once I will invariably hurl myself from the roof of this building, leaving you short staffed.”

Mr Rudd looked blankly at Adele. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Adele smiled. Despite the fact he often yelled her name, Mr Rudd never actually yelled at her, which made her an exception amongst the other employees. “Have you actually seen the book? It’s about a detective on the case of some wealthy woman’s missing rich husband, could it be any more cliché? I mean it’s essentially a mix of mindless violence and soft porn.”

“Not every book is a work of art,” Mr Rudd sighed.

“This one isn’t even a finger painting,” Adele pouted.

Mr Rudd gave a throaty chuckle. “Just go and finish it and then we can send Mr Franklin back into writing oblivion, ok?”

“Yes sir,” Adele nodded and turned to head out of the office. She stopped as she got to the door. “Oh, my condolences about Eleanor.”

“Leave before I have you editing romance novels,” Mr Rudd chided and Adele left his office giggling. Once outside she quickly calmed herself and walked back to her desk stony faced.

“What did he say?” Joel asked, wide-eyed.

“My work is slipping and I’m an awful human being,” Adele said with feigned seriousness.

“You poor thing,” Helen cooed. “I’ll get you some tea.”

“Hey Jo,” Leo piped up, swinging around in his swivel chair.

“No, I don’t like Indian food,” Joaquin replied, her concentration purely on finding the right shade of peach.

“What?”

“Well I figured you were gonna ask me some dumb question and so I thought I’d answer to save time.”

“I’m offended by your attitude, Joaquin,” he chided and she looked up and glared at him.

“Is that right, Leomont?”

“How the fuck did you…”

“I have my connections.”

“I’m gonna string Errol up by his nads.”

“That’s sweet,” Joaquin smirked. “No, really.”

He sulked for a moment before perking up. “Can I ask you what I was going to now?”

“Sure, shoot Leomont,” she grinned and winked at him. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Sorry, go on.”

“My very good friend Ben is over from the States and I was thinking that as Americans it might be nice if we got together and help him settle in a bit.”

Joaquin looked at Leo unimpressed. “Well gee that just sounds like a life highlight.”

“Oh come on,” Leo pleaded. “Ben is a really nice guy and it’ll be great to sit and swap stories about home.”

Joaquin still looked unconvinced and rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if he turns out to be a Republican I will beat him with your favourite programming manual and then flee.”

“I’m glad we could share this intimate moment,” Leo sighed and settled himself back as his computer.

“Anytime, Leomont!” she chided as she went to save her work. Instantly her computer monitor turned blue and announced that it couldn’t save, as there was no memory. “Ah Leo…”

“No!” he said sharply. “You can just sit and cry until I decide to forgive you.”

“I wish you’d have an aneurism, too,” she huffed, crossing her arms and slumping in her swivel chair. “Stupid computer,” she added and kicked the tower. There was an unpleasant pop and her computer switched off entirely.

“Well that helped,” Leo scorned.

“I blame you.” Joaquin let out a frustrated cry and fell into a sulk.