Gina sighed and put the book back on its shelf. Glancing around at the rest of the clientele of the trendy bookshop, she idly wondered if any of them had problems anywhere near the vastness and complexity of hers. By the looks of it, most of them were too busy going through some sort of identity crisis to be worried about being unemployed and having a delusional lover and a husband she couldn’t bring herself to talk to and having to drop herself unexpectedly on the doorstep of a close friend half a word away to get away from it all. Lucky bastards.

She had spent most of the afternoon wandering through shops, unable to go back home for fear Greg would find her there. She needed to be distracted, but it wasn’t working. Her thoughts were still rushing through her mind, faster than she could even think about trying to sort them out. Greg. Paul. LA. Greg’s wife. Fenny. Things were too complicated.

There was nothing to do but go home, pray Greg wasn’t around, and slip in bed with the hope that the world would come to a fantastic end while she was asleep.

Greg sat in the restaurant trying to occupy himself with the book he’d started reading on the plane over. It had been boring a mile or two over the Pacific, and it was boring here in Australia. At least it gave him something to scowl at while he waited for his lunch to arrive.

Here he was, throwing his life away for Gina, and she was skipping off to California? She couldn’t postpone her little vacation, or at least wait for him to arrange to fly over with her? She couldn’t make one kind gesture in return for his huge sacrifice?

He smiled up at the waitress as she deposited his drink on the table, then sighed into the book. Maybe Gina was right, maybe he should have told her he was coming. Maybe he was wrong to just drop the huge “here I am, I left my wife, I’m yours, rip my clothes off with your teeth” bomb. Besides, this was Gina, who wasn’t so good with surprises, and she wanted to see Fenny, and those two had formed an almost surreal bond, and there was no way Greg was going to get between them and their plans unless he was feeling a strong need to die. Best to make the best of the short time they had together before she hopped on a plane whatever time tomorrow. Yes, that was the best plan of action. He nodded to himself and waited for his sandwich to arrive.

She could feel her sides aching, her lungs protesting every breath, the muscles in her legs tightening as she tried to run away, but she could still hear the pounding of feet behind her, gaining even. She couldn’t go any father. Her heart was threatening to explode if she kept running. Every part of her body throbbed with pain as she turned to face them, waiting for the attack, almost inviting it. Ritza and her child, Brad’s child, perched atop the elephant charging angrily towards her, tusks waving viciously—

“Gah!” Fenny choked back a scream as she jolted awake. “Fucking elephants now,” she murmured to herself, swallowing hard as she wiped the sweat from her face. “I’m losing my bloody mind.”

She glanced over to the other side of the bed, not surprised that it was empty. Slipping on her glasses, Fenny looked around the room for something that she could maybe throw, maybe drive through his chest the next time he dared to show his devastatingly handsome yet absurdly aggravating face again, but paused when she heard the distinct voice of Johnny Mountain, the channel 7 weather man. “…Santa Ana winds again today, with temperatures in the low eighties in the city and reaching maybe ninety in the valley…”

Curious, she wandered out of the bedroom into the living room where she was greeted by the smell of fried bacon and the television prattling on about the morning stock report. “Brad?”

“Morning babe,” he chimed as he looked up from whatever it was he was cooking. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Huh?”

“Breakfast.” Brad smiled at Fenny as she frowned sleepily at him. She wandered over to him, stealing a piece of bacon to munch on. “Pancakes ok?”

“Yeah,” she yawned. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

“Not very often.”

“Look Fen, I’m all yours today until my show at the Improv.”

“I gotta work,” she whined.

“I thought you were close to finished.”

“I spent half of yesterday soothing egos, hunting out solvents to remove acrylic paint, and picking little bleached hairs out of my backdrop. Fell behind.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come to the show?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see?” he echoed. “You used to always come.”

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” she announced.

“But breakfast is gonna be ready—”

“I’m gonna get dressed,” she repeated and marched back into the bedroom. She pulled open the drawers harshly as she pulled out her clothes for the day, murmuring to herself angrily. “Yesterday he wouldn’t talk to me, now he wants me to go to his show like a good little girl. Wouldn’t touch me last night and now he’s out there making me breakfast. Screw him. Who does he think he is, huh? I’m not his little plaything he can pick up and put down whenever he wants and not expect me to care.” She pulled on her underclothes and flumped back on the bed. “Stop it Fenny,” she said to herself as she took a careful breath. “Overreacting again. He’s a busy guy, yesterday was just harsh. He could’ve gotten everything out of the way yesterday so he could spend today with you. Stop being paranoid and get a grip on yourself.”

She took her own advice and took another couple deep breaths as she pulled on her paint-stained jeans and an old t-shirt, trying not to think about the dream she had had. A minute or two later, she emerged from the bathroom with her hair in a haphazard bun held up with a couple watercolor brushes, ready to go. “Look Brad,” she breathed as she scoured the living room for her purse, “I’ve really gotta get going. Sorry about breakfast, but I’m late for work and I’m working against a deadline here. I’ll try and get to your show tonight, ok?” she perked as she dashed over to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Um, yeah, okay,” he said, not hiding his disappointment, and she slipped out the front door. He looked down at the pancakes, unsure what to think.

“Meeeoooooww.”

“Get off the counter you stupid cat,” Brad demanded as he looked over to see Jaguar pawing at an eggshell. He waved his spatula at the cat and watched with pleasure as he jumped down in protest. His tail caught the handle of the steak knife laying on the counter and it flipped off, landing point down in the linoleum half an inch from Brad’s left foot.

“You are so lucky Fenny likes you,” Brad growled.

Gina dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment. She was tired. Between last night’s romping and the mental turmoil that followed and spending all day shopping for things she couldn’t afford anyway, she barely had the energy to breathe. She slipped her key in the door, but it was already unlocked. “Shit,” she breathed. Either she’d been robbed or Greg was in there. She wasn’t prepared to deal with either one.

After taking a minute to brace herself, she opened the door and wandered in.

“Gina, you’re back!” Greg yelped, jumping up from the couch to greet her at the door.

“What’re you doing here?” Gina asked before realizing it sounded a bit wrong. “I mean, how’d you get in, I thought you were going to find yourself a hotel…”

“Your neighbor let me in. Told me my aura was green,” he mused.

“Is that good?” Gina asked, dropping her purse in a chair.

“Dunno. Didn’t ask.” He wrapped her into a hug and bent to kiss her. She pulled away.

“Greg,” she began, her heart starting to flutter again no matter how much she told it not to. “I think maybe you should go. I’ve got to pack, remind Moonstar to take care of Lewis, clean out—”

“Lewis?” Greg echoed.

“The cat,” Gina reminded him. “I’ve got to clean out my refrigerator, and I’ve got an early flight in the morning.”

“You want me to leave?” he asked. The crushed tone in his voice made her cringe.

“If I’m going to make that flight, yes.”

“What if I don’t want you to make the flight?” Greg cooed, taking a step towards her again.

“I’m serious, Greg,” she sighed.

He seemed to take the hint and slouched back. “No talking you out of it?”

“No,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got things to do, I’ve got plans.”

The saddened expression in his eyes was enough to make her want to hold him in her arms and shower him with kisses, but she stood her ground and let him sulk. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back to LA then, huh?” he asked.

Gina nodded and stepped aside so he could leave. He paused, gave her a quick, soft kiss, and stepped out into the hallway.

“I hate my life,” Gina breathed as she descended into a flurry of activity to get ready for her unexpected trip. “God I hope Moonstar doesn’t mind last-minute cat sitting after last time…”

It was 8:45 when Fenny got home, and Brad was long gone. She had spent so much time debating whether or not to go to his show that she lost track of time and had actually missed the first half hour of it before she left the theatre, and decided that her decision had been made for her. On one hand she wanted to support Brad, to spend as much time with him as she could, have an excuse to watch him from a distance and just smile, but on the other hand she wanted him to feel abandoned and confused the way he had made her feel. At least not showing up for his gig would give him something to think about.

Frowning to herself, she made a sandwich, flopped on the couch and turned on the television to wait for Brad to get home, her heart leaping at the thought.

It seemed like ages since they’d made love, and that was probably what bothered Fenny most, not because she missed it, which she did, but because it was so unlike him. In Australia, every night they had together had been full of kisses and touches and flat out spectacular sex, heedless of fatigue, injury, and risk of danger. It just didn’t seem to interest him anymore. Things had somehow changed, and it worried her.

Gina grumbled all the way to the front door from her bedroom. “I told you Moonstar, Lewis is not going on a vegetarian diet just because—” She flung the door open. “Oh,” she gasped. “Greg. I wasn’t expecting to see you back again.” Almost reluctantly, she let him into her home.

“Look Gina,” Greg began, taking both her hands in his as they stood in the entryway, “I know this was a big, unexpected step, but I want to be with you. I don’t want to stay in some shitty hotel when I know you’re here. I want to be near you. I love you.”

“I—Greg, I love you too, but really, tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow can wait,” he breathed and slipped a hand over her cheek to the back of her neck, the other arm grabbing her and holding her tightly against him as he kissed her. There was no fervent need in this kiss like there had been the night before. This embrace was all about want. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, wanted to make her happy, and as she fell deeper and deeper into his kisses, she realized a part of her still wanted him, and it tore at her.

“Somewhere else fun we can do it?” Greg whispered teasingly, his breath against her ear.

“Does it matter?” Gina countered.

“No. I just want you.”

She kicked off her shoes even as the rational part of her mind was screaming, ‘Don’t do it, you’ll regret it in the end!’ It was soon muffled by the rest of her body which was screaming, Screw regret, screw the end, screw Greg for Christ’s sake!’ Gina dropped a nibbling kiss on his neck. “I could clear off the kitchen table,” she grinned. “One sweep of the arm like on TV.”

“You’d have to eat off it later,” he reminded her between kisses as he worked at his belt.

“I can deal with that.”