11 – The Sword of Damocles

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going home,” Fenny sniffed, “and if you’re ever in the area, maybe we could get together sometime, or I could come down here. I’ll leave you alone…” She turned to go.

“Fenny, get back in here, you can’t drive around like this,” Greg chided, “you’ll wrap your car around a tree.”

“If you could find one in this town,” Gina added, pulling Fenny into the front room of her apartment. “I guess the little meeting I set up with you and Brad didn’t go as well as I’d planned?”

That just sent Fenny into another crying jag and she crumpled onto the couch next to Greg, idly wondering what he and Gina had really been up to.

“Ok Fen, tell us what happened,” Gina ordered.

“Brad Sherwood is a fuck-head and I hope he and his Australian whore burn in hell,” Fenny sobbed suddenly into her hands.

“Well that’s a start,” Gina nodded, rubbing her friend’s back.

“Certainly sets the mood for the encounter,” Greg agreed.

“He told me he wants me—me, not Ritza—and I kissed him, ‘cause I’m stupid, and then she called him, and he just cooed all syrupy into his stupid vibrating cell phone, and he said he had to go see her. He’s messing with my head all the time, pretending like everything’s gonna be okay again, but it never is, he always ends up fawning over that damned woman!” She pawed at her face harshly, angry at herself for crying. “I’ve talked to him, I’ve pretty much thrown myself at him, I’ve apologized for everything, and nothing’s worked. He’s just hung up on Ritza, what can I do? I think it’s time I gave up on happiness and got back home so I can get back to work before Sully has me executed.”

“So let me get this straight,” Gina began, trying to work through Fenny’s obviously distraught explanation, “you two were cozy and happy and all set to make amends, and Ritza called and he just dropped you?”

“Like the proverbial hot potato,” Fenny agreed.

“Some people just don’t know a good thing when they see it,” Greg sighed.

“Or they don’t know what to do with it when they do see it,” Gina added, giving him a sideways glance.

“Or there’s something in the way that keeps them from doing what they really want to do.”

Fenny scowled at the coffee table. “This isn’t about me anymore, is it?” she asked, looking at the other two, who were looking rather intently at each other. “Oh. Sorry, guys, I should go, really.” She took off her glasses and wiped each eye with the back of her hand. She truly had interrupted something.

Gina jumped up. “Are you sure, Fen, ‘cause if you wanna talk things through, I’m here for you.”

“No, I, I think I should get back to the hotel and pack my things.”

“Stay another day or two, something might happen,” Gina suggested, and Greg nodded in agreement.

“You said that once before, and look where it got me,” Fenny grumbled.

“Stay,” Gina pleaded.

“At least until you’re sure you can drive that far. Crying and driving is just as dangerous as drinking and driving, you know,” Greg advised her.

Fenny shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I’ll see you around, huh?” She took a step towards the front door. “Feel free to take your pants back off,” she said with the slightest hint of a smile, then closed the door behind her.

“Poor kid,” Greg sighed.

“I’m still convinced that this is going to work out somehow. Is there anything you can do, talk to Brad maybe?” Gina asked hopefully.

“I don’t know if he wants to listen to me,” Greg said. “We’re still not on the best of terms.”

“Would you try? For me?” she cooed.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Fine, I’ll try. He’ll be at the taping later. But you owe me, especially if he takes a swing at me.”

“I’m sure we can find a way for me to repay you,” Gina grinned.

Greg glanced at his watch. “I should probably be going, show’s going to start soon…”

“But first, drop your pants, let me fix up that little love bite of yours.”


“Oh, hey Brad,” Colin chimed as he wandered over to the craft service table. “Greg’s looking for you.”

“Crap, hide me,” Brad grumbled, ducking behind his friend. Of course, Brad hiding behind Colin was rather like an ostrich hiding behind a bald table lamp, and they giggled at the very idea until Brad returned to the table to find something to munch on. “You know what he wants?”

“Nope,” Colin shrugged. “There’s, um, not gonna be repeat of last time, is there? I mean with the girls—”

“Ritza is safely tucked away at home, trying to be domestic. I don’t know how many things she’s burned in that oven, the whole Celsius/Fahrenheit thing, I’m guessing.”

Colin gave an appreciative chuckle, then nodded his head towards one of the corridors. “Here comes Greg.” With one clap on the shoulder that seemed to convey a message of “good luck,” he left with a lemon muffin.

“Brad, can we talk?” Greg said in a tone that meant there was no chance of Brad backing out of his little invitation.

“Sure, I mean, I guess,” Brad shrugged, then followed him into a dressing room. Brad perched uneasily on the couch, and Greg leaned against the counter as he took a deep, steadying breath and began.

“I know this is none of my business, really, and I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between you and Fenny, but whatever it is, it’s got to stop one way or the other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brad said defiantly as he stood to leave.

“You know damn well what I mean,” Greg countered, pushing him back onto the couch with a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re toying with her. Maybe you want her, maybe you don’t, but if you can’t decide, man, you’ve got to let her go and stop leading her on.”

“What do you care about Fenny? She was just an easy lay for you, right?”

Greg fixed a cold glare on him. “Maybe that’s what it looks like. But I like her. She’s a good comic, and she’s a nice, intelligent woman, and I think she’s a little fragile, and the last thing she needs is you springing back and forth between her and Ritza.” He waited for Brad to respond, but he just stared right back at Greg. “I guess you can’t decide between the two, maybe you want ‘em both, hell, I wouldn’t blame you. You’ve got your exotic little fuck-monster and the ‘girl next door’ who loves you probably more than she can handle. You’ve got to do something, Sherwood.”

“All this coming from you, you fucking hypocrite,” Brad exploded. “You’ve got yourself a wife and all these chicks following you around, first you were screwing Fenny, now it’s Gina—“

“This isn’t about me,” Greg growled. “Sure, I’ve done some stupid things. Okay, so I’ve cheated on my wife. But I’m not playing with people’s hearts. I never told Fenny that I loved her and then hopped off to bang some other woman. And Gina and I haven’t even done anything yet, so you leave her out of this.”

“Yet?” Brad asked.

“You love one of them,” Greg continued, “and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s Fenny, and you need to fix this before you lose her for good. She’s not gonna hang around waiting for you forever.”

“Yeah, we all know she can get herself another guy to replace me whenever she wants, don’t we,Greg?” Brad grumbled coldly.

“But Fenny never tried to kill anybody,” Greg screeched. “You can forgive attempted murder, extortion and drug running, but you won’t forgive one instance of infidelity? That’s the stupidest, most self-absorbed thing I’ve ever heard.”

“She didn’t do those things, it was Rona, there was nothing Ritz could do…”

“Fine, you wanna keep fucking Ritza, go for it, but tell Fenny—”

“I’m leaving, there’s a show to do,” Brad declared and marched out of the room, hands quaking in anger. Greg was left alone, shaking his head. He picked up his cell phone and dialed quickly.

“I tried, Gina, but I don’t think it worked.”

“What do you mean you don’t think it worked?” Gina scorned.

“Well Brad kinda stormed out of the room.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him to stop stringing Fenny along.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?”

“Well you must have said something to cause Brad to storm out. You didn’t insult Ritza did you?”

“I might have said a couple of harsh words,” Greg said softly.

“Harsh words like what?”

“I may have described her as an exotic little fuck-monster.”

“Greg,” Gina whined.

“So, what’s plan ‘B,’ Oprah?”

“If we were in the same room, I’d slap you for that.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

“Oh yeah, there’s a challenge, a middle aged smoker with a beer belly…”

“HEY!”

“All things that make you a god,” she assured him.

“No, the damage is done. Don’t try and crawl, it’s degrading”

“Anyway, you spunky, speccy dude…I might pay Ritza a visit.”

“No you won’t, I forbid you to see her, she’s psycho.”

“My god, was that concern?”

“I’m serious, don’t go anywhere near her.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. Look, if you wait until after the taping I’ll go with you.”

“No good, Brad’ll be home by then.”

“Come on Greg, get your ass out here,” Ryan scorned, poking his head around the door.

“Right with ya,” Greg perked and waved Ryan away. “I’d love to stay and debate this further but I have a show to do,” he said into the phone. “Promise me you won’t go and see Ritza.”

“I’m not promising you anything.”

“Gina.”

“Greg.” She matched his firm tone.

“I’ll be forced to come round after the taping and spank you.”

“Oh, now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“GREG,” Ryan snapped.

“COMING,” Greg snapped back. “Don’t go anywhere near Ritza,” he ordered Gina and then ended the call.