Something large was trying to burrow its way into Fenny’s head. It throbbed at a rate never experienced before, no not throbbed, pounded like it was being thrashed with a gavel. She rolled onto her back and managed a groan as she rubbed her temples. God she felt sick. Fenny didn’t have a clue where her glasses were and began to squint and feel her way around the immediate area for them. Covers, bedside table, covers, bra, covers, naked flesh. Her eyes shot open and she looked beside her. The naked flesh was, as she suspected Brad’s. Oh shit, what had she done? Fenny felt her pulse began to race. Shit, shit, shit she had to get out of there and flee to Antarctica or become a missionary in Papua New Guinea or something. First and foremost though, she had to get out of bed and find her way to the bathroom without her glasses to be, as she suspected, violently ill. Awesome.

Paul gently freed himself from Gina and crawled off the bed. He located one of his discarded sneakers by the dresser and then began to search for the other.

“Mmm where are you sneaking off too?” Gina mumbled sleepily before yawning.

“Avoiding the awkward morning after,” Paul mused as he pulled his other sneaker from under the bed. He sat on the end of the bed to put them on.

“It’s not that awkward.”

“Yeah it is, I remember what I said last night.”

“Good point.”

Paul finished lacing up his sneakers and got to his feet. “Yeah so I’ll be on my way.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Gina sighed as she lazily sat up. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Because that wouldn’t be awkward.”

“Despite the things we said while under the influence,” she smiled. “I’m glad you came and I had fun.”

“Me too,” Paul nodded slowly. “Do you want breakfast before we go then?”

“God no, I feel disgusting enough after everything we ate last night,” Gina winced. “I’ll just find my shoes and we can go.”

“And brush your hair woman,” Paul chided. “You look a fucking mess.”

Gina opened and closed her mouth then lobbed Troy at his head. He ducked and the mongoose took out a giraffe ornament instead. “Now that’s no way to treat our furchild.”

Fenny cursed the sunlight as it stung at her eyes and made her feel woozy. She grabbed the rail on the stairwell to steady herself and then continued to slowly make her way down. By rights she still should have been wrapped around the toilet bowl but Fenny had decided her tried and true method of fleeing bad things was her next best move. She’d located her glasses on the floor, along with the rest of her clothes and somehow managed to dress herself. Brad hadn’t even stirred, he was still passed out, face down in the pillows.

“Holy hell what happened to you?” Artie gasped as he met Fenny in the car park. “You look like shit.”

“I did a stupid thing?”

“Is that puke in your hair?” Artie screwed up his face. “Wait, what stupid thing?”

“I got drunk,” Fenny grumbled as she fell into the passenger seat of Artie’s car.

“But you don’t drink.”

“No shit.”

“So what else did you do?”

“I think I had sex with someone I shouldn’t.”

“You used protection right?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Fenella Gray!”

“Please Artie, a lower register,” she sighed and closed her eyes. “Are you and Shelagh still going to that music festival up the coast.”

“Sure are,” Artie nodded. “We’re heading off once I’ve dropped you home.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“In your condition?”


“I’ve done road trips in worse condition.”

“I did one with a broken leg when I was a kid.”

“I did one with a corpse on the back seat.”

Artie shot her a curious look and Fenny managed to raise an eyebrow. “Sometimes you scare me Fenella.”

“So I can come?”

“Yeah but you have to bathe first or at least let me wash your hair.”

“It’s a deal,” Fenny smiled and then frowned. “Oh you better pull over or I’m gonna hurl on your dash.”

Gina and Paul had driven the entire way in relative silence with only occasional singing along to the radio by Paul and comments about the weather (“Boy is it sunny today”, “Yeah might rain later though”, “I like the sun.”, “Clouds make me sad.”) Gina pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.

“Thanks for driving me home,” Paul smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Gina smiled back and they held each others gaze a little longer than necessary. “I better come up and see if Fen wants to come home or if they’re lying naked on the kitchen table or something.”

“I’d have to burn it if that happened,” Paul remarked disgusted as they got out of the car. They wandered up the stairs and soon Paul was unlocking the door to his apartment.

“Shit, did like homeless people invade your living room?” Gina gasped as they stepped into the room to survey the damage.

Paul opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Fucking hell there’s pizza remnants everywhere.”

“How much did they drink?” Gina frowned and she picked up a bottle. “Peach vodka.”

“Shit, not my peach vodka,” Paul wailed. “That stuff is a bitch the get hold of.”

“Oh god.”

“What?” Paul turned to Gina who hid something very quickly behind her back. “Genie?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

Paul sighed and looked at the floor. “Break it to me gently babe.”

“They drank that bottle of whiskey your Dad gave you as a wedding present,” She gingerly produced the bottle.

Paul took it miserably. “I only ever had a glass on our wedding anniversary.”

“It was a big glass though.”

“Not the point,” Paul huffed. “Fucking hell all my art books,” he spat and began to pick them up off the floor as Gina went into the kitchen to get a damp cloth. “I’m going to fucking kill both the fucking fucks for this…”

“Um Pauly,” Gina swallowed as she reappeared. “Just a word of advice, don’t go into your kitchen….ever.”

Paul’s pissed off expression went from furious to so dark you need a big pair of spotlights, 4000 candles and a lantern to even lighten it a little. He stormed into the kitchen and baulked at the melted cheese that seemed to be pooled around the oven and the gherkins and bacon left on the counter. Not to mention the pizza crust crumbs everywhere and then he turned to see the open bottles of alcohol.

“Deep breaths,” Gina soothed as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Y’know, it’s lucky I know how to kill these days,” Paul declared venomously. “Because they’re both going to die right now,” he snatched up the pizza cutter from the sideboard and marched out of the room and into the spare bedroom.

“Wouldn’t getting them to clean up be a better…,” Gina paused. “I actually think he’s dead already.”

“Sherwood, you fuck,” Paul snapped and threw the first thing he could grab, which was a large church candle, at Brad’s head. It collided with a sickening thunk.

“Jesus fuck!” Brad shrieked as he sat up panting wildly.

“What the fuck have you done to my fucking home?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“Fuck you,” Paul hissed and this time lobbed a book at Brad.

“Shit will you stop that,” Brad scorned as he rubbed his head. “I’m sorry we got stupid drunk and…”

“Defiled my property you prick,” Paul fumed. “Where’s your fucking wife?”

“I’ve no idea where’s yours,” Brad scowled. “Oh wait you’re divorced.”

Gina grabbed Paul’s arm, “He’s not worth it,” she said quickly and wrestled the pizza cutter from him. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to clean up when…” she stopped as Brad pushed his way past them and dashed down the hall. “…he stops throwing up.”

Paul let out a deep groan and hung his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah me neither,” Gina said insincerely and let go of his arm. “So anyway, I’m gonna head home and find Fen and then send her back to mop the floor and stuff.”

Fenny dashed into the apartment with Artie not far behind her. She went straight to the bathroom and began to raid the contents of the medicine cabinet. She downed beroccas and aspirin.

“Are you sure you can take them together?” Artie asked wincing as Fenny choked back the drugs.

“If it takes away the pain I don’t care,” she grumbled and marched back out of the bathroom and into her bedroom where she dug out a set of clean clothes. “Pack some stuff in a bag for me will you.”

“Ooh I get to raid your smalls.”

“For a gay man your more excited by that than my husband.”

Artie smiled and then sniffed. “Why does this place smell like its been over run by Uni students?”

“I have no idea but I suspect its much the same reason as I stink like a brewery.”

“And puke.”

“Right,” Fenny nodded then wished she hadn’t moved her head. “I’m gonna have a quick shower and then we’ll go.”

“Fen, are you sure you shouldn’t stay and deal with the fallout of your drunken romp?” Artie sighed as he grabbed a bag from on top of the closet.

“No, not ever,” Fenny frowned deeply. “It would end badly, it did end badly and I never want to think of it again or the deep shame and humiliation I feel.”

“My god girl, did you shag like your best friend’s boyfriend or something?”

“Worse.”

“Worse?”

“My husband.”

“Oh,” Artie pouted as Fenny left the room. “YOUR HUSBAND! FENELLA GET BACK HERE!” he yelled and chased her into the bathroom.

Gina unlocked the door to her apartment and was surprised to find it quiet. “Fen!” she called and checked the bedroom and bathroom but Fenny was no where to be seen. Surprised she went into her own room and saw Troy perched in the middle of the bed with a note in between his front paws. She snatched him up and read the letter.

“Not again,” Gina sighed as she hugged Troy to her chest. She looked down into his dead eyes and smiled. “This calls for drastic measures.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialled Paul’s number.

“Hello.”

“Ooh you still sound mad.”

“Mad is an understatement.”

“Anyway Fen’s not here.”

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Pissed off up the coast.”

“She running away again?”

“Yep.”

“Bitch.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Hey?”

“Nevermind.”

“She didn’t mess up your place did she?”

“No, left me a note and I need to punch her.”

“That’s normal.”

“I have a proposition for you but you can totally say no.”

“Hmm go on…”

“Want to take a road trip, go hunt her down?”

“Me and you?”

“Yeah.”

“Together?”

“That’s the idea.”

“I’ve got work though.”

“We’ll be back for that.”

“I suppose it’d be ok.”

“Besides Troy’s here and he wants to go.”

Paul chuckled. “Oh well let’s do it for Troy then.”

“I’ll pick you up in a hour,” Gina enthused as she ended the call and looked at Troy. “Thanks for helping me out there little buddy,” she sighed putting him safely back on the bed and getting to her feet. She stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Did I just thanks the mongoose?”

Paul shoved the phone deep into his pocket and scratched his head. In theory this was very good progress. Alone in a car for a day, two days even with Gina. There was the possibility of many things. Reconnection, more kissing, a sleepy fumble in a cheap country motel or maybe, just maybe little loving of the naughty kind. He grinned and promptly slapped himself. Just because they’d got a bit stoned and shared a rather intense kiss doesn’t mean that in the sober light of day anything is going to happen. Paul shook himself from his reverie, scowled again at the state his apartment was in and wandered into his room to pack. He was certain he wouldn’t need much and shoved several pairs of clean undies and socks, a shirt and his sketch pad into a bag. “Toothbrush?” he announced and paused as if expecting an answer. He frowned when he realised Troy wasn’t there to help with the difficult decisions. He snatched up Archie and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. He propped Archie up in the sink and began to organise a few necessities. Toothbrush, shaving stuff and deodorant. Paul’s hand wavered over an open box of condoms. Should he tempt fate? He looked to Archie. “Help me out man!” Archie didn’t and Paul let out a long sigh before dropping them into his bag. “If this goes horribly I blame you,” he added as the sound of Brad staggering down the hall interrupted his thinking. He snatched up the gnome and headed back to the hallway. “You puke on it, you clean it,” Paul huffed marching past the very ashen Brad.

Lying awkwardly in the back of Artie’s car with her head pounding was feeling oddly familiar and Fenny was tempted to try and escape just for funsies. However with Paul undoubtedly pissed about his apartment, Gina guaranteed to be in some white rage over her note and Brad mostly likely dead from liver failure the last thing she wanted to do was go home.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Bluesfest,” Shelagh mused smiling at her friends.

“I’ll say,” Fenny mumbled her hand covering her eyes to block out the light and Shelagh’s ensemble of overalls, the legs rolled up to her ankles, John Butler shirt and silver glittery flats.

“I never took you as a blues and roots fan,” Artie mused smiling into the rear vision mirror.

“Me? You’re the one who should be at musicals and not in the same muddy paddock as a bunch of unwashed, dreadlocked types.”

“He has a dreadlock fetish you know,” Shelagh piped up and giggled girlishly. “Oh and a cowboy fetish. My god, we drove hours to get to bloody Tamworth one year.”

“Hush you,” Artie pouted. “I happen to have an appreciation for some country music and Keith Urban’s hair straightener.”

Shelagh coughed, “Brokeback Mountain” and Artie shook his head and tried not to laugh.

“I think I’m starting to regret my decision to go anywhere with you two,” Fenny groaned. “I’m just going because I heard “The Fray” mentioned.”

“And you needed to escape your husband,” Artie added cheekily.

“Husband?” Shelagh turned and looked between the seats. “You’re married?”

“She sure is,” Artie teased. “But she abandoned him for like years and years and years.”

“It wasn’t that long…”

“Why did you abandon him?” Shelagh asked wide-eyed.

“We were going through some stuff…”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Kidnapping, murdering, life fearing stuff.”

“Tell the truth Fenella,” Artie said insistently as he turned the music down further.

Fenny sighed. She’d have to placate them with something. “I was sleeping with a guy called Danny.”

“Oh my god,” Shelagh gasped. “Go on.”

“Fled to France. Came here. Recently ran into husband. Got him stupid drunk. We had sex. This was foolish. I had to leave immediately,” Fenny paused to swallow. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

“Of course,” Shelagh nodded and turned back to the front of the car.

Everyone fell silent and Fenny let out a sigh of relief.

“So what’s Danny like ,eh?” Artie piped up. “I need details, Fenella!”

Fenny let out an audible moan. At least kidnappers, in her experience, tended not to be very chatty and she’d rather be pistol whipped by a Crispin than discuss her relationship issues with anyone.

Paul slid into the passenger seat and noticed the GPS and Troy resting with his head on it.

“Troy programmed the GPS,” Gina mused and Paul raised an eyebrow.

“He’s better at finding maps,” he declared and shoved his bag onto the back seat. “So where are we headed then?”

“Byron Bay.”

“Sheesh I didn’t think we were going that far.”

“You don’t have to go,” Gina shrugged. “I’m not forcing you.”

Paul cracked a smile. “Nah it’ll be fun,” he enthused. “I just have a bit of post traumatic stress when it comes to road trips.”

“Come to think of it so do I,” she agreed. “Especially since most of them involve my beetle.”

They both paused and then Paul sighed. “Ah well shall we be off then?”

Gina manoeuvred her way out of the parking lot as the GPS piped up.

‘TURN LEFT IN 500 METERS.’

“That shits me already,” Paul declared as the GPS gave the same instruction in increasingly shortened distances. “I like maps, maps are quiet.”

“Stop being a grumpy bear.”

“Grumpy bear?”

“I’m sorry but did you miss the events at my place earlier?”

“We’ve nearly 800kms to travel hon and there’s no way in hell you’re allowed to be grumpy for all of them,” Gina declared as the GPS informed her she needed to go straight at the next round a bout. “You can take it out on Fen when we find her. Until then what can I do to make it better?”

“Lap dance?” Paul said with much seriousness and a raised eyebrow.

Gina shot him an amused smile and patted his thigh, “While I’m driving? Be sensible man.”

Paul sighed, “Fine, later you give me a lap dance.” He glanced in the direction of the back seat and then began rummaging and pulled out Gina’s baseball cap. It was tropical themed with palm trees all over it. He put it on backwards leaving a tuft of hair poking out the front. “Now I’m getting into holiday mode,” he smirked and opened the glove compartment. He grabbed a large, white framed pair of sunglasses that he knew was kept in there and put them on. “Almost there…”

“We need Ratcat!”

“Absolutely!” Paul agreed and he located the song and cranked up the volume.

I’m going on a holiday

So much for me to do

I’m going on a holiday

Maybe just me and you

Cast a sailing, on the seaside

Breathing in the seaside air

It won’t be long, until I’m there.