Gina sauntered back into the office looking wearily for Freya, who appeared to be nowhere in sight. Gina let out a relieved sigh until she walked into her office and found Freya hunched at her computer.

“Freya,” Gina scorned.

“Gina, shit,” Freya gasped. “Amanda said you wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“She would,” Gina mumbled. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted somewhere quiet,” Freya babbled. “I’ll just save this and get out of your hair.”

“Right.” Gina nodded and dropped her bag into a chair.

“Freya could you…” Amanda stopped when she saw Gina. “What are you doing here?”

“I finished my interview,” Gina replied slyly.

Amanda returned the look. “Freya, I need to talk to you after,” she announced. “You with me,” she added to Gina who followed Amanda into her office. Gina shut the door and crossed her arms as Amanda slid into her black, leather chair.

“I wasn’t expecting you back at all.”

“I did what I had to, besides I thought I’d earn my pay,” Gina smiled.

“Did you thank him in the usual fashion?” Amanda cooed.

“Sometimes Amanda, I think you are more excited by my sex life than I am,” Gina chided.

“You’re acting coy, it must have been good,” Amanda teased as she reached for a pile of press releases. “It was good, right?”

“It’s always good.”

“So, why’d you come back?”

“He’s got plans tonight, with Freya,” Gina sighed as she started to pace.

“You don’t have plans?”

“Dinner, with friends. Well, technically they’re not speaking but they are made for each other, just need to ply him with alcohol and kick her up the arse.”

“Well, go and organise your dinner,” Amanda ordered.

“I have to work sometime,” Gina gasped.

“Oh, fuck work! I’m married with three kids under eight. If I had the prospect of hanging out with friends over a gorgeous home cooked meal without him demanding beer and the kids whining about bed wetting, tummy aches and Mr Poofus has gone missing, I’d be bloody happy,” Amanda grumbled. “Well, hanging out with friends or the prospect of getting into a certain Mr McDermott’s trendy, faded jeans, I know what I’d be choosing.”

Gina shook her head. “Ok, I’ll go home and slave over the stove for the sake of my friends. As for Paul’s trendy, faded jeans, they’re going to have to wait.”

“I want explicit details,” Amanda ordered as Gina left her office with a smile.

Fenny sat on the bed wrapped in the fluffy hotel room towel and began pawing through her travel bag for something to wear. She pondered several outfits and then realised that she was going to Gina’s, no need to wear an appalling mass of satin, sequins and taffeta. She reached her hand into a side pocket to get some clean undies and surprised herself by pulling out the red set, Brad’s favorite, and one she didn’t remember packing. She cautiously looked around the room, wondering if it was mad to think it was another one of those omen things like the silk flowers or the monkey in Ritza’s car. She ran her fingers over the silky fabric and decided that she might as well put it on for her own amusement, and well, you never know what might happen. Fenny then pulled on her jeans and her “Vixen” top that she’d bought in Paris. Lastly she slipped her feet into her sneakers and felt the most comfortable she’d felt in days. She dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her hair and reached for her comb, looking in the mirror all the while.

Andy said she shouldn’t dress like that, as it made her look like a tomboy and he preferred her in light, airy, floral clothes. Danny had told her she looked sexy sporting his “Sydney Swans” top, and although she didn’t exactly know who the “Swans” were, she was glad he cared. And Brad, well, he never mentioned her choice of clothes. He told her she looked beautiful first thing in the morning with her hair in knots and Zeppelin t-shirt twisted around her, and he said she was beautiful when she sported his sweater, sweat pants and a pair of fluffy slippers. In fact, he’d never once criticized the way she looked.

As she combed her hair, Fenny felt herself hoping Brad would be there. Sure, she was pissed about him seeing Ritza, but the passion they’d shared the other day had been amazing. Paul was right, as usual. Her relationship with Andy was almost like a facade. They worked it like a business: he’d get up, go to work, come home, they might have sex, they might not. She knew, she’d always known, that she didn’t love Andy. Well, not real love. It was a need, and one that Danny was sort of fulfilling. Danny accepted her and her issues, he let her be and she appreciated that. It was Brad that was always on her mind, though — from when she woke until she lay awake at night, she missed him like crazy. God, she hoped he’d be there.

Brad looked up from the couch as the door opened and Gina waltzed in carrying copious bags and looking flustered.

“You’re home early,” he announced and scooted off the couch to help her.

“My boss ordered me home,” Gina breathed. “I think she was worried I might attack Freya with my laptop.”

“And would you?” Brad asked as they carried the bags into then kitchen.

“If I could catch her.”

“You evil little minx,” he laughed. “So, what’s with all the food?” he asked, poking around in the bags.

“I’m making dinner. We have a guest coming,” she perked as she started to unpack.

“A guest? Who? No, don’t tell me. Paul.”

“Nope, he’s got plans with the ice queen.”

Brad paced the kitchen for a moment rubbing his chin, then stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Please tell me it’s not Fen.”

“Fine,” Gina shrugged and dragged a large bag of potatoes over to the counter and proceeded to hunt out her chopping board and a bowl.

“So is it?” he asked.

“Is it what, hon?” she mumbled. “Peel,” she added and handed him a potato and a peeler.

“Fen,” he scorned as he started to peel the potato.

“You told me not to tell you,” she countered.

“Gina,” Brad huffed.

“Just doing what you said man. Keep peeling.”

“What if I choose not to?”

“You really want to find out?” she asked, turning to him and raising an eyebrow.

“You want me to do the carrots as well?” he swallowed.

“New movie, old movie, soccer, travel show involving girls in bikinis, fucking amphetamine-hyped music show, Spongebob, another fucking house makeover show, Christ it’s me…why am I doing that to Mikey? I was there and I don’t remember. Fuck, next! Documentary on the sex life of the mouse, fascinating. Sky News, CNN, BBC, Fox News, why don’t they just have news of the news, save channel surfing. Christ the Shopping Channel, sure I’ll buy a selection of moisturizer that’s a blend of pig fat and goats’ semen for the low price of $345. Doco on Ted Bundy, another new movie, Oprah, god no, Benny Hill, ‘Golden Years,’ what the fuck? Oh music from 1969. That was a golden year? The ‘FASHION CHANNEL.’ Fuck me, a whole channel of just anorexic chicks walking up and down. Oh no, that’s a guy. Shit. Is he wearing a raccoon? Too freaky. Last channel, the Weather Channel and it’s 34 in Broome. Well, looks like it’s either Ted Bundy or Benny Hill, serial killer or depressed comedian,” Paul muttered as he channel surfed the cable channels looking for something, anything to do. He was saved when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi sweetie,” Freya cooed

“Hey baby,” he cooed back.

“I’ve got some bad news.”

“Not another TimTam shortage?”

“What? No, sweetie I’m really sorry, but we won’t be able to go and see that movie tonight…”

Paul made the silent, universal fist in the air, muttering “Yes” under his breath. “Oh, how come?” he said into the phone in a concerned voice he was proud of himself for managing.

“I’ve got tonnes of work to do. I have to interview a German gallery owner, in Germany, so I have to call at some ridiculous hour…”

“Man, and I was looking so forward to that movie and us spending some time together.”

“I know, I’m so, so sorry. I will make it up to you.”

“You coming round later?”

“No, I better avoid all distractions.”

“Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

“Of course not, but don’t stay in on account of me. Why don’t you go and see Gina, you guys seem like such good friends.”

“Gina. You want me to go see Gina?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a bit of an ulterior motive. She’s got a new boyfriend and I want to know who it is.”

“I’m sure he’s devastatingly handsome.”

“Like you, you mean.”

“Something like that.”

“I better go, so much to do.”

“Don’t work too hard, baby.”

“Aww, love you.”

“You too.”

Paul heard the phone click and chucked his into a nearby armchair. He felt sorry for Freya. She was a naïve thing, and to think she’d condoned it for him to go and see Gina. Still, he wasn’t complaining, anything was better than going to some god awful, arty film about a woman who left her family to become one with the cows.

“How do I look?” Brad asked as he wandered into the kitchen.

Gina shook her head and walked over to him. She fixed his collar and buttoned his shirt properly. “Now you look vaguely better.”

“Thank you,” Brad sneered.

“I’d go do something with you hair,” she continued.

“I did.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t,” he said poignantly as he ran his fingers through his hair, using the microwave door as a mirror. “I’m doing it for you since this is your dinner party, I’m not doing it for her.”

She was about to taunt him further when there was a knock on the door. “That’ll be her now.”

“You go, I’ll…watch the veggies,” Brad ordered.

Gina smiled to herself as she hurried from the kitchen to the door and excitedly opened it. “You could have let yourself in you know,” she perked.

“I thought I should be polite, it being dinner and all,” Fenny smiled as Gina moved aside to let her in. “Mmm roast chicken,” she added as the aroma hit her.

“And potatoes,” Gina added.

“Fantastic, when do we eat?”

“When it’s ready,” Gina laughed. “You want a drink, light snack, Brad.”

“He’s here?” Fenny said, slightly more excitedly than she meant to.

“In the kitchen,” Gina grinned.

“Right, I’ll just sit and watch TV then,” Fenny breathed and hurriedly sat herself on the couch. Gina shook her head and wandered back into the kitchen. Brad looked up from the pot he was stirring.

“She’s in the living room,” Gina said bluntly. “And don’t look at me with that pretend disinterest.”

“How does she look?” he asked quietly.

“Like Fen,” Gina shrugged. “What do you want me to say, mate she looks hot, got that red underwear on you like?”

“Yes,” Brad replied, took several deep breaths and made his way into the living room.

Fenny pretended not to notice as she feigned interest in a story on bushfires on Sky News. Brad looked at the armchair and the spot on the couch next to Fenny and decided to risk sitting next to her. She dared to look as he sat himself next to her.

“Hi.” He smiled.

“Hi.” She blinked and then turned back to the television. The silence went on uncomfortably long. “Do you mind if I change the channel?” she asked.

“Go ahead. I think there’s a documentary on Impressionist art on the Discovery Channel.”

Fenny felt herself fighting a smile. They’d fought because she accused him of not being interested in what she did, and there he was, telling her about art documentaries which meant he’d obviously been searching the TV Guide. It was an incredibly sweet gesture, and something Andy would never even consider — he still thought her art was a phase.

“I think I’m more in the mood for cartoons,” Fenny smiled, looking briefly at him and then back at the TV.

“Well if it’s the PowerPuff Girls, I’ve seen it,” Brad chided.

“There’s a Spongebob Squarepants marathon,” Gina perked from the kitchen.

“Wheel of Fortune is on,” Fenny mused. “It’s tacky but it’s something,” she added and switched to the free to air channels as there was a knock at the door.

“More visitors,” Brad perked and leapt off the couch. He wandered over to the door and flung it open and was surprised to see Paul standing there. “I thought you had plans.”

“Well, as much as it pains me, they fell through,” Paul chided. “Besides which there is no way in hell I’m missing out on Gina’s cooking,” he added and pushed his way past Brad.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Brad mused as he closed the door.

“No really,” Paul sacred. “Hey Fen,” he added as she smiled at him; things somehow felt right now he was there.

Gina opened the oven door to check the potatoes. “Hmm, couple of minutes,” she muttered to herself and closed the door again.

“There’s enough for me, right?” Paul asked as he stood, arms crossed, leaning against the counter.

“Jesus,” Gina gasped, jumping a mile. “What are you doing here?”

“Freya suddenly got extremely busy,” Paul mused, raising an eyebrow.

She broke into a small smile. “I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

“Tell it to Judge Judy, ” he chided. “So, is there enough?”

“Of course there is. Besides you’re here now and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go,” she cooed as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Well, if you’re going to get all dominant on me I can hardly argue,” he smiled as he caught her in a brief kiss.

“Lucky you’re here, I bought you a present today,” she perked as she let him go. “Look on the bottom shelf of the fridge.”

“Why? It’s not a pig’s head or something is it?” Paul mused as he opened the door. “BEER!”

“You approve?” Gina asked.

Paul grabbed one of the stubbies, cracked the top off and sculled half the contents. He burped, wiped his mouth and smiled. “Yes.”

“We’ve been together too long, I found that sexy,” she sighed.

He giggled. “So, how are our friends doing in there?”

“It’s like watching a constipated dog: tension, pain, vain hope, followed by nothing but bowels clogged with past wastes that you just want rid of,” Gina smiled.

“Such a lovely analogy,” Paul teased as he took several gulps of beer.

“I hope they at least attempt to communicate,” she sighed as she turned back to the vegetables.

“Ahh they’ll get there,” he breathed as he moved behind her, one arm sliding around her waist, his other hand holding his beer. He rested his chin on her shoulder and playfully nipped at her neck.

“Mmm. Beer breath,” she chided. “While I love having you this close, hon, it’s going to make serving dinner difficult.”

“I don’t care, I like it,” he mused. “Shit, I hadn’t noticed, you’re wearing the necklace,” he added and put his beer down to fondle the small silver heart, complete with tiny diamond that hung around her neck. It had been his gift to her in Paris. Both he and Brad had decided to tease them with the lingerie shop bags when in actual fact, they’d splashed out on jewellery.

“I wear it all the time. It’s the only diamond this working class girl is ever gonna get,” Gina smiled.

“Well, I figured if you fall on rough times you can pawn it.”

She turned her head to look him in the eye. “You can just fuck off now.”

Once served, the meal progressed rather uncomfortably. Brad and Fenny refused to look at each other or even talk, making the tension rise to an unbearable level as Gina got bored of trying to initiate conversation and felt wrong at being even slightly “coupley” with Paul.

“You want another beer?” she asked, getting to her feet and grabbing her glass.

“Yes wench, get me more beer,” Paul jeered and slapped Gina’s arse as she walked past. She stopped and shot him an amused look. “Sorry, I’ve come over all Viking.”

“I can see you in a horned helmet, go nice with the velour tracksuit,” Gina teased.

“I’m sorry, velour?” Fenny giggled.

“The topic is not for conversation,” Paul huffed. “I will punish you later,” he added, glaring at Gina as she placed another beer on the table for him.

“Promises, promises,” Gina mused.

“Please, not while we’re eating,” Brad groaned.

Things fell silent again, the tension from Brad and Fenny destroying any positive karma that might have been left. Paul noticed Gina looking quite despondent after trying everything to get them to talk and decided it was up to him.

“Hey, you’ll never guess what I just fucking remembered,” he enthused. “How you, Sherwood, went through hell and high water to get to Edinburgh to confess undying love to Fen here. Remember that? It was a sweet moment. Sure, I was drunk and didn’t see it, but Genie’s rendition, oh it touched me, touched me like a good episode of Oprah.”

Fenny and Brad looked uncomfortably at each other. “That was ages ago,” Fenny mumbled and stuffed a bit of carrot into her mouth.

“You know what I remembered today?” Gina piped up. “That time I drove us all to the beach and Brad and Fen beat the crap out of each other.”

“He proposed to her then, didn’t he?” Paul chimed in.

“Yeah. Oh, and you should have seen the way he fretted when she got kidnapped by Don,” Gina added.

“I wasn’t the only one who fretted if I remember correctly,” Brad scorned.

Paul and Gina looked at each other. “I was more worried about the fucking kidnappers than you,” Paul mused.

“Gee thanks,” Gina sniggered. “What about you Fen, did you fret?”

“I can’t remember,” Fenny muttered.

“How can you not remember, it was trauma-inducing stuff,” Gina scorned.

Fenny put her knife and fork down and glared and Gina and Paul. “I know what you’re trying to do, just stop it ok.”

“Just making conversation,” Paul sulked.

The meal was finished in silence. No one made eye contact, and the mood was steadily going downhill. Paul leaned back in his chair, took another drink of beer and burped long and loud.

“So charming,” Gina sighed and he smiled impishly at her, making her giggle.

“Well someone’s got to be entertaining,” he mused.

“Any other bodily functions you’d like to share?” Gina giggled.

“Well…” Paul began.

“No!” Gina laughed and Paul cracked up as well. Brad shook his head and soon caught the giggles, and Fenny wasn’t far behind. They laughed for what felt like ages at nothing, the tension finally breaking.

“God,” Paul gasped, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Anyone remember why we’re laughing?”

“Nope,” Fenny giggled.

“No, but I want to compliment the chef,” Brad perked and toasted Gina with his beer.

“Yes, best home cooked meal ever, and no sign of any shitty bean curd,” Fenny perked.

“Oh, subtle,” Paul sneered. Fenny shrugged and gave him a wry smile.

“Now I’ve got to clean up,” Gina breathed and started collecting the plates.

“Don’t be so anal,” Fenny declared. “I’ll wash them.”

“You don’t…”

“And I’ll dry,” Brad added. “Go and watch some cartoons or something, the pair of you.”

“Well, if you’re insisting,” Paul perked, getting to his feet.

“I’ll just put the leftovers in the fridge,” Gina announced.

“I can put some glad wrap over a dish,” Fenny mused as she watched Paul leave the kitchen.

“I just want to…” Gina began.

“No, go away,” Fenny ordered. Gina pouted but internally wasn’t complaining.

“Why can you have like fucking 50 billion channels and there’s still fucking nothing on,” Paul cussed.

“Turn it off,” Gina breathed and handed Paul a beer.

“Are you trying to get me fucking drunk?” Paul mused as she flumped next to him on the couch.

“It takes more than three beers to get you drunk,” she said matter-of-factly.

“True, but I’ll be over the legal limit and won’t be able to drive home.”

“You don’t drive.”

“Yeah, but if I did I wouldn’t be able to and would have to spend the night,” he said seriously.

“So, if I feed you enough beer you’ll stay?”

“Babe, you don’t have to get me drunk to stay the night,” he replied and placed the unopened beer on the coffee table. He used his now free hand to cup her cheek and brought his lips to hers as they shared a gentle kiss.

“Mmm, beer breath,” she giggled.

“Ah you like it,” Paul breathed their lips barely apart.

“Yeah, I literally get drunk on your kisses,” Gina smiled as they took to making out like teenagers.

“I’ll fill the sink,” Brad announced as he finished his beer, got to his feet and hunted out the washing up liquid.

“I’ll start stacking the plates then.” Fenny shrugged and began scraping leftovers onto one plate. She reached for the last plate, her arm knocking the plate of leftovers onto the floor. “Shit,” she hissed and bent down to clean up the mess.

“Here, I’ll help,” he announced and crouched down to help her.

“I’m fine, really,” she mumbled.

“I don’t mind.”

“I can mange, it’s just a few leftovers.”

“I think they’re scraps now.”

“I’m so fucking clumsy,” she huffed as the scraps were piled onto the plate.

“Yes, but at least you didn’t break anything,” he teased as they both stood up.

“Thanks,” Fenny breathed and placed the plate back on the table. They both went to move and smacked into each other. “Crap,” she cussed.

“How about I get the plates and you start washing.”

“Good idea,” Fenny breathed and scurried over to the sink. She started soaking the plates and grabbed a scrubbing brush.

“Where do you want this?” Brad asked, referring to a bowl of leftover vegetables.

“Um, just put it…oh,” she gasped as she motioned with the scrubbing brush that splattered water over the front of his shirt. “Sorry.”

He broke into a smile and started giggling. “Remind me to keep well away when you start washing the knives.”

“I’m such an idiot,” she babbled as she grabbed a napkin and tried to dab the water spots on Brad’s shirt.

“What are you doing?” he laughed. “It’ll dry.”

“Sorry, force of habit, and I’m being more useless than usual. Maybe I should just go sit in the corner until this lot is done.”

Brad studied Fenny’s annoyed expression for a moment. “You’re unusually edgy?”

“Am I?” she replied and finally looked at him. His amused expression causing her to smile slightly.

“As an actor, of sorts, I know a foolproof method to help you overcome such a thing,” he announced.

“Really? It’s not a weird breathing exercise is it?”

Brad put down the bowl he was holding and turned back to Fenny. “Only in Uzbekistan,” he declared before stepping forward, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into his body. She reached up and took his hands from her cheeks and placed them on her waist and then wrapped her arms around his neck. Her toes were barely touching the ground and she didn’t want the moment to end when there was a flash and both she and Brad jolted.

“It was a Kodak moment,” Gina announced, camera in her hands.

“Nice bit of bullshit about having a ‘foolproof method’,” Paul grinned.

“Yeah, to get her knickers off,” Gina mused, snapping another picture of Brad and Fenny’s shocked expressions.

“How long have you been standing there?” Fenny gasped.

“Long enough to see where you put his hands,” Paul cackled and mimed the action.

“Oh, leave the kids alone,” Gina laughed. “They’re young and in love.”

“We weren’t ever like that, were we?” Paul asked as they headed back into the living room.

“No, wasn’t allowed in them days,” Gina replied and pulled him back onto the couch.

Fenny and Brad looked at each other aghast.

“They are both nutbars,” Fenny breathed.

“Yeah. Hey, are you angry about what just happened?” Brad asked.

“Gina and Paul?” Fenny queried.

“No, the whole kissing thing,” Brad shrugged.

“Only that you stopped,” Fenny mused, sliding a hand onto his rear with a wry smile. Brad smiled back and leaned down to capture her in another kiss.