It was another elephant. No reason, it just was. The damn thing was following her around, invading her thoughts. That was three pages of elephants she’d drawn. Fenny flipped through her sketchpad, investigating the last few weeks worth of drawing. She’d been too occupied to be truly inspired, too lonely and upset to do much other than draw, which resulted in page after page of dribble, and not very pleasant dribble either. Old shoes, the autumn trees, her own hands, sullen faces, irritated smudges of charcoal, snippets of the images that had been haunting her dreams.

Frustrated at her own foolishness, Fenny tossed the pad across the room and decided it was time to watch some television. She glanced at her watch. 6:27. From the looks of things it was going to be another night sans Brad. Well, Rendez View was coming on, at least she could be amused by Greg’s antics. Maybe there would be a couple with bigger problems than she was having with Brad. Doubtful, but maybe.

Thirty seconds into the show, she decided maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas. As much as she hated herself for it, all she could think of as Greg stood at his little podium, twirling the “date stick” and babbling about the outrageous scene she’d already forgotten about, was his teasing flirtations and roaming hands the few times they were together, and how much she missed the feeling of longing touches and the sound of her name whispered hoarsely into her neck…

“My god, I’m fantasizing about Greg Proops,” Fenny gasped and clicked the television off. The computer, she could lose herself there for a while. She paced the room as she waited for it to boot and caught herself glancing repeatedly at the rose and Brad’s message. Well he loved her, she couldn’t deny that any more than she could deny her own love for him, but something was occupying his time, his thoughts, his body, more than she could cope with.

She frowned at herself and sat down at the computer, logged onto the Web and checked her email. Some sappy forward from her sister, a couple pieces of spam, a review of the last Hitchhikers show from Maggie, and, the only thing worth reading, a reply from Paul, and she couldn’t help but giggle at him. She smiled as she began typing a response:

There was a knock at the door, and Fenny foolishly jumped up, mid sentence, with the hope that it would be Brad. Sure, he had a key and therefore no real reason to knock, but maybe he wanted to surprise her…

She flung the door open gleefully and was infinitely surprised, but not in the way she wanted to be.

“Hi,” Gina peeped.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Fenny gasped. She took in the bags Gina had dropped at her feet, the clothes obviously rumpled from a flight, and the troubled look on her friend’s face, and pulled her into the apartment by the arm. “What’s wrong?”

In the minute it took Fenny to drag both of the suitcases into the front room, Gina seemed to collapse into a puddle of grief on the couch. “Don’t ask,” she said with a forced little laugh. “My world’s just crumbling around me, same as usual, you know…Do you—do you mind if I crash here for a while?”

“Um, well, I dunno, I mean, sure, I guess?” Fenny was confused.

“Where’s Brad?”

“Out,” Fenny shrugged. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Gina frowned at the coffee table as Fenny sat in the arm chair. Where could she begin? “You, um, you talked to Greg recently?”

“No, actually, I haven’t. Not for ages. Why?”

“He left his wife,” Gina announced miserably.

“You’re kidding me,” Fenny gasped.

“Nope. Showed up on my doorstep a couple nights ago. Told me he left her for me.”

“Wow,” Fenny breathed, unsure of how to take this news. “Is that why you came here?” she asked.

“Well yeah, you think I wanted to be stuck in my apartment with Greg?”

“Yes, actually, I imagine you would want that.”

“Shut up,” Gina hissed, then sighed. “I needed to get away from Greg before I did something stupid. Or he did something stupid. Or Paul showed up to do something stupid.”

“Paul?” Fenny asked, remembering her email.

“Yeah, Paul. Therein lies the biggest problem I think.”

“Problems? I thought you had things pretty well worked out…”

“No, I pretty well managed to screw things up with him too,” she sighed.

“Gina,” Fenny began soothingly.

“We were in Melbourne together for a few weeks, things were great, wonderful actually, and I got freaked and left before he could dump me. Haven’t managed to talk to him since. Have I mentioned that I’m a really fucked up person?”

“You’re not fucked up,” Fenny said with a smile. “You’re confused. I’d be in worse shape than you if I were fighting off Greg and Paul.”

“You don’t think I have, like, a totally irrational fear of being happy or something, do you?” Gina asked. “I mean there’s obviously something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Fenny assured her. “You’ve got two men falling over each other to get to you, which sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

Gina looked up at Fenny, her brows furrowed. “Yeah, but you’ve got Brad falling over himself for you, that sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t bet on it,” Fenny grumbled, getting up to fix a pot of tea.

“What, is something wrong? I thought you were living the fairytale life together?”

“Did you know that Sleeping Beauty was raped and the Little Mermaid died in the original fairytales?” Fenny mused.

“What’s going on?” Gina asked as she followed her into the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Fenny shrugged. “Really.” She knew Gina would chastise her for being stupid again.

“Come on, Fen, what is it? You know I’ll drag it out of you eventually—” She put her hands on her hips and glared at her. “You can’t still be going through this Brad’s got a kid thing, can you?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I am,” Fenny snapped. “He’s never home anymore. We haven’t had more than 10 minutes together in the last week. He’s hiding things from me, I find strange receipts for toys in the trash, and his excuses are getting weak. Do you realize we hadn’t had sex in over a week until I practically forced myself on him last night and it wasn’t even good?! And don’t you dare tell me about you and Greg doing it on the kitchen floor, because that is not what I need right now.”

“The hallway actually,” Gina smiled.

“For Christ’s sake, Gina,” Fenny yelped, then paused to wipe a hand over her mouth as she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she sighed.

“Looks like we’re both pretty fucked up,” Gina smiled. “I’ve got commitment issues and you’re paranoid and horny.”

“Yes, thank you for that,” Fenny grumbled and decided to get back to the tea.

“Brad’s not gonna mind me staying here?” Gina asked.

“He probably won’t notice. Comes home after midnight, leaves before I get up for work most of the time.”

“Has time to leave you little love notes, I see,” Gina said as she gestured to the message on the refrigerator.

“Yeah.” Fenny smiled in spite of herself. “There was a rose this morning, too.”

“And you’re worried about him.” Gina shook her head. “Get hold of yourself, woman. He’s a busy little starlet, these things happen. Stop worrying so much.”

Fenny nodded at her, adding that to her list of things to keep reminding herself: He’s a busy little starlet, stop worrying so much. “Yeah,” she agreed. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff in your room. You hungry?”

“You think I ate that stuff they try to feed you on the plane? I’m famished.”

“We’ll go get some dinner then,” Fenny smiled. “Girl’s night out.”

“Genius.”

As Gina slipped into her room to change, Fenny went back to her computer to finish the email.

Paul leaned against the wall casually smoking a cigarette. It was almost one o’clock, the guy was bound to get hungry eventually, and room service just wasn’t his style. He smiled to himself as Greg wandered out of the hotel lobby and headed for the café just down the street. This was really quite devious and just a bit wrong, and so much fun.

Paul strolled down the street, almost catching up with Greg as he ambled into the small restaurant. Paul paused a moment to put out his cigarette and wandered in to the café and glanced around nonchalantly. He instantly spotted Greg sitting at a table off in the corner, looking decidedly miserable as he stirred his cup of coffee. “Proops!” he yelped and ambled over. “What’re you doing back in Australia? I thought you vowed never to set foot on this plagued continent ever again. Or something like that, what did you say?”

Greg’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Paul,” he gasped. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

“Oh yeah, got a few days off from rehearsals, thought I’d drop by, visit the wife…”

Greg swallowed. “Oh really?”

“You should’ve told me you were down here, maybe we could get together, get a drink or twelve.”

“I’m headed back for California soon,” Greg mumbled.

“Too bad,” Paul pouted as he pulled out a chair to sit in. “What’re you in town for?”

“Oh, you know. Wanted to get away from the States for a while. Visit some old friends.”

“And you didn’t visit me?” Paul said, clutching at his heart in a mockery of anguish. “I’m crushed!”

“Sorry, I thought you were still working on that play of yours.”

“True,” he conceded. “Seen Gina?”

“No, actually, she was busy. Work, you know,” Greg flustered.

“Yeah, I know,” Paul smiled.

“So, how’d you get away from your musical?” Greg asked, trying to change the subject.

“It never occurred to me that they’d call off rehearsals ‘cause the leading lady had a nervous breakdown,” Paul said, holding his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Caused by you, I’m guessing?”

“Ok, so I got pissed a couple times and started changing the words to the songs, they’re boring as hell anyway. Too bad my little holiday coincides with Gina hopping off to LA. Poor planning I guess. That’s okay, she’s gonna come back to Melbourne with me for a while when she gets back from the States,” Paul smiled.

“Oh,” Greg frowned into his coffee for a moment, then downed the whole thing. “You know, I should get going,” he announced hastily.

“You just got here,” Paul frowned. “We haven’t gotten to catch up. How’s the wife?”

“I’m late, actually, for…an appointment, and I can’t miss it,” Greg babbled as he pushed his chair back.

“Want me to say hi to Gina for you?”

“Uh, yeah, alright,” Greg said. “Nice seeing you again,” he called over his shoulder and left the café.

“Well, that straightened him out,” Paul murmured to himself as he got up to leave.

Fenny and Gina were strolling down the street towards the creamery. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had their chocolate fudge swirl,” Fenny announced. “Ice cream of the gods.”

“You know, it’s really too bad that we live on opposite sides of the world,” Gina smiled. “I forgot how much fun we have together.”

“Yeah, but remember when I stayed in your apartment for almost a year? It wasn’t fun for too long.”

“Better than living alone,” Gina sighed.

“I know the feeling,” Fenny agreed bitterly. She opened the door to the ice cream shop and Gina stepped inside. “Get back out here,” Fenny hissed suddenly.

“Why, what, I thought you said there was chocolate in here, and you want me out?” Gina gasped.

“Look over there, that’s—that’s Brad’s car.”

“You sure?” Gina asked suspiciously.

“Yes I’m sure. How do you miss that stupid ‘Dancing Like a Monkey’ bumper sticker he’s got?”

“Yeah, so it’s his car. And?”

“And, it’s parked in front of a trendy baby boutique.”

“Fen,” Gina sighed. “Stop it. It’s a coincidence. We parked in front of a cigar shop because it was the only space available for four blocks.”

“Yeah,” Fenny frowned. “Fine.”

They went inside and each ordered a cup of chocolate fudge swirl ice cream and then sat eating it at a table by the window.

“Stop looking out the window,” Gina demanded after about thirty seconds. “You’re being paranoid again and it’s making me nervous.”

Fenny managed to get a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth without looking.

“What are you hoping to achieve?” Gina asked.

“I don’t know. Um, what was it you were saying about dogs on fire?”

“I was telling you about the story I had to do about fire dogs, the ones that go—”

“Look!” Fenny gasped suddenly, pointing across the street with her spoon. “It’s Brad!”

“Yes, getting into his car, I’m shocked,” Gina deadpanned.

“He came out of the baby store you prat, with a bag full of stuff!”

Paul flopped himself on the couch and set up his laptop on the coffee table, remembering the look on Greg’s face when he mentioned Gina being his wife. ‘Oh, it’s good to be a bastard,’ he thought to himself as the computer chimed to life. He was pleased to see a reply from Fenny, and opened that email first.

“There she goes with Brad naked again, yick,” he cringed. “Don’t they ever stop? Dutch stoned Elvis…? Her and Gina both, always on about my smoking…” He stopped and read the last paragraph again.