“That’s not mauve.”

“No Sebastian, you’re right, it’s now more of a maroon because you keep interfering,” Fenny hissed at the annoyed actor who stood before her.

“Don’t try and act smart, Grey. Remember, you’re just a techie,” Sebastian sneered and walked away.

Fenny felt tempted to throw a paint-covered rag at him but managed to control herself. She looked at the backdrop and let out a sigh. It looked terrible, too many people throwing instructions at her. Why couldn’t they just leave her to do her job?

“Fenny,” announced the director as he appeared as if from nowhere.

“What?” she groaned.

“Have you finished the bedroom backdrop?” he asked.

“The what? There’s a bedroom backdrop?” Fenny gasped.

“Yes, I told you about it a week ago…we need it to rehearse the next scene,” the director hissed.

“Crap,” Fenny breathed and sunk to her knees.

“I want it done by the end of tomorrow, Fenny,” the director ordered and marched off.

“Shitshitshit,” Fenny cussed and smacked her head against the backdrop.

Gina flicked blankly through the channels. It had only been a few hours, and Americans already annoyed her. If they weren’t gleefully plugging prostate examinations or having orgasms over shampoo, they were involved in saccharine-sweet sitcoms. Gina would have done anything for some beer swilling, crude, rude and lewd Australians.

It came as a relief when her phone rang. She grabbed it from the coffee table and noticed an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“Hey pumpkin, I’m back.”

“Greg, when did you get here?”

“A few hours ago.”

“How was the flight?”

“Hell with wings.”

“That can’t be good.”

“It wasn’t, are you busy?”

“Not unless you count watching infomercials busy?”

“Well, I’m in bed, you can come and join me if you want.”

Gina looked back at the infomercial on TV. Some woman was trying to sell $200 cosmetics. “What’s your address?” she cooed.

Gina arrived at Greg’s apartment and found the door was open, as he said it would be. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. The apartment was surprisingly sparse and she had a feeling he might have left his wife with only a bag of clothes and a few knickknacks. She wandered through the living room and up the stairs, finding Greg’s bedroom easily. He was on his side, phone still in his hand, fast asleep. Gina wandered over to the bed and slipped the phone out of his hand and placed it on the bedside table.

“I’m not asleep,” Greg groaned and rolled onto his back.

“No, of course not. You always lie with your eyes closed,” Gina mused, kicking off her shoes and climbing onto the bed beside Greg. “Have you missed me?” she asked.

“You know I have,” he replied. “Have you missed me?”

“Maybe,” she said as she snuggled into him.

“Only maybe,” he gasped as he stroked her cheek.

She smiled and kissed him briefly on the lips. He tried to capture her in another kiss but she pulled back and climbed off the bed. Greg watched as Gina stripped off her t-shirt and slid off her jeans. Her bra and panties followed before she slipped beneath the sheets with Greg. He instantly pulled her too him and engulfed her in a hungry, passionate kiss.

“So you did miss me?” he managed to breathe.

“Like crazy,” Gina gasped as she pressed her body as close to his as she could.

Fenny unlocked the apartment door and was surprised to see no one waiting for her. Apart from Jaguar, who was chewing on the television remote.

“Hi Fen, did you have a nice day?” Fenny said to no one as she headed toward the kitchen. “No actually, I had a fucking horrible day. Insulted by pompous actors, yelled at by the director for not doing something he never told me to do, and,” she paused and looked at her reflection in the microwave, “I have non-mauve paint on my head.”

Fenny caught sight of the message board on the fridge and let our a hiss. It was a note from Gina. “Gone to Greg’s, be home for dinner.” Now she could add “let down by a good friend” to her list of shitty things that had happened that day. Fenny wandered back into the living room and rewound the answering machine tape. When it clicked she pressed play.

Hi you’ve reached Brad and Fenny’s den, we’re not home or we’re off having sex, please leave a message after the beep…beep….Fen, it’s me, Sully. Are you busy? I could really do with some help down here. Let me know ASAP if you can help…beep…Brad, it’s Drew, are you up for another live episode, man? We’re discussing whether to do one this season, get back to me…beep…Fenny, I’ve had a brain wave, that bedroom backdrop, what about we change it from the original boudoir idea to French country? We’ll talk tomorrow…beep…Sweetie, it looks like you and Gina are going to have to go out without me. Something has come up, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Love you…beeeeeeep

“Selfish prick,” Fenny hissed and popped the tape out of the answering machine. She snapped it in half and chucked it in the bin. She stormed back into the kitchen and opened the freezer. She pulled out a frozen meal, tore it form its packet and slammed it into the microwave.

“All the nutritional goodness of rubber in one handy plastic pack,” she grumbled and set the timer.

Jaguar jumped onto the sideboard and began to mew loudly. Fenny walked over and stroked his head and he took to purring and mewing. This brought a smile to her face until he became bored and nipped her hand. “Fuck you too,” Fenny spat as her microwave meal gave a huge bang. She peered in the glass to see pasta and cheese sauce dripping down the inside of the microwave. She let out a frustrated scream and grabbed a cloth.

“What’s the time?” Gina asked between kisses.

“Like I can see,” Greg replied and started nibbling her neck.

Gina managed to free her arm and check her watch, it was 6:30. “Shit,” she gasped and pushed Greg off.

“What’s wrong?” Greg scorned, slightly dejected.

“I was supposed to meet Fen for dinner like an hour ago,” Gina babbled as she rushed around pulling on her clothes.

“Like Fen is going to care, I’m sure Brad’ll have her on her back before you get in the door,” Greg jeered.

“Hardly, he’s got some All-Star thingo,” Gina mumbled as she zipped up her boots.

“No he doesn’t, that was three weeks ago,” Greg declared.

“Seriously?” Gina gasped.

“Yeah. Are things not all rosy in the Sherwood love nest?” Greg mused.

“It’s a long story, gotta go,” Gina perked, leaned over to give Greg a quick kiss then hurried out the door.

After restoring the microwave to pristine condition and venting some anger, Fenny resorted to an omelette for dinner. She searched for something to watch on TV and chose a documentary on ancient Lebanese fire torture. She had just finished her omelette when the door burst open.

“I am so, so sorry,” Gina panted.

“No you’re not,” Fenny replied.

“Yeah I am,” Gina huffed. “Where’s Brad?”

“How the hell should I know, I mean hey, I’m only his future wife,” Fenny spat.

“Fen, are you ok?” Gina asked as she wandered over to the couch.

“No Gina, I’m not ok,” Fenny hissed. “Actually, I’m fucking irate. I’ve had a really, really bad day. First, my backdrop is ruined by a bunch of self-obsessed amateur actors. Then, the fuckwit of a director informs me I have to do a backdrop by tomorrow that I didn’t even know I had to do, and to top the shitty day at work off, I have maroon paint on my head.”

“It looks mauve to me,” Gina shrugged.

“Oh shut up,” Fenny snapped as she got to her feet. “I missed out on a good dinner too. My frozen alternative decided to spread itself over the inside of the microwave.”

“Do you want me to get take away?” Gina peeped.

“No, you know what I want you to do?” Fenny hissed, approaching Gina. “I want you to grow up. When are you going to appreciate what you’ve got? Paul would walk to the ends of the earth for you, and what do you do? You fuck Greg Proops. You know, I know, he knows, that relationship is going nowhere. You keep saying how much you love Paul. Well why don’t you fucking prove it, huh? Because I sure as hell know if Brad felt for me the way Paul feels for you, I wouldn’t even look at another man.”

“How do you know what Paul feels for me?” Gina spat, feeling annoyed that Fenny should tell her what she should be doing.

“Because he tells me. We email occasionally and all he does is talk about you. You really don’t know how damn selfish you are. Why don’t you think of someone else for a change,” Fenny demanded venomously and then stormed towards her bedroom.

“Fen,” Gina called.

“What,” Fenny grumbled and looked back.

Gina thought about what Greg had said. “Nothing,” she mumbled and listened as the door slammed. She fell onto the couch, grabbed a cushion and burst into tears.

Although it was early when Fenny went to bed, she had endured such an emotionally draining day that it didn’t take her long to fall asleep. She woke when Brad slid into bed. She checked the clock: 11pm. She felt Brad snuggle into her and wrap his arms around her waist. Fenny was tempted to pull away and scream at him to get off. She was tired of his missing days and late nights. Brad kissed her softly on that spot below her ear.

“Sorry sweetie,” he whispered.

Fenny suddenly felt the familiar “damn this little red bitch in my chest” saying that Lewis said once on The Drew Carey Show pop into her head. Why did he have to be so sweet?

“You know you like it,” Gina purred as she handcuffed Brad to a large, cast iron bed.

“Why yes, mistress,” Brad mused as he looked at her body, clad in a tight leather corset and stiletto boots.

“You like it rough, too,” Gina smiled as she straddled him, her lips only millimeters from his. Her warm breath on his lips made him quiver. She ran her hands over his chest and began to run her tongue over his warm flesh. She teased his nipples and placed soft, alluring kisses down to his stomach.

“Uncuff me,” he begged, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Gina said coyly.

“Uncuff me, mistress,” Brad gasped.

Gina reached up and gently uncuffed his wrists. Brad grabbed her and threw her down onto the bed.

“Call me daddy,” he grinned.

Gina sat bolt upright. “What the fuck?” she breathed and threw the covers off. She began to get dressed when she heard noise from the kitchen. He was already up; she’d have to hurry. She rushed about and pulled on her jeans, losing her balance and falling back onto the bed. Once dressed she gave herself a quick spray with deodorant and then staggered, coughing on its fumes, out of the bedroom.

“You’re up early,” Brad gasped as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“It’s a time difference thing,” Gina lied, trying to get her dream out of her head.

“You ok?” Brad asked.

“Fine,” Gina perked.

“Right, well…See you tonight maybe,” Brad chirped as he headed out of the door.

“Toodles,” Gina waved.

She waited several seconds after the door closed, grabbed her bag from the couch and crept out of the door. She had decided it was time to see what Brad Sherwood was getting up to.

Fenny rolled over and felt no surprise that Brad wasn’t there. She touched the pillow where his head should have been. Yesterday’s anger was now just an immense empty feeling. She slid out of bed and miserably wandered out of the room and into the kitchen. She looked around, but found no romantic gestures this morning. Fenny decided she might as well have a shower and headed toward the bathroom. She was about to turn on the shower when there was a knock at the front door. Maybe it was Brad? Or maybe it was just a neighbour wanting sugar. She padded across the living room and unenthusiastically opened the front door.

“And what type of washing powder do you use?”

“PAUL,” Fenny squealed, never so happy to see anyone in her entire life.

“FENNY,” Paul beamed.

“I thought you weren’t getting in till late?” Fenny gasped.

“Remember my math that I talked about…” Paul jeered. “Do you want me to fuck off again?”

“No way,” Fenny breathed and threw her arms around him.

Paul was slightly shocked, but hugged her tightly anyway. He heard her let out a sob and looked and her concerned.

“Are you ok?” he asked the pile of hair at his shoulder.

“No I’m not,” Fenny swallowed and pulled away.

“Wanna talk about it?” Paul asked, dumping his bag and closing the door.

“You brought your bag?” Fenny sniffed.

“Yeah, I plan to stay with my wife,” Paul mused. “Come on,” he added and led her to the couch.

They sat down together and Paul grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table.

“Spill it,” he ordered.

“Brad’s being totally weird. He goes out early in the morning and gets back late at night. He has secret phone calls, and he smelt like baby powder. He even bought baby stuff from some posh boutique, why would he do that? We never have sex and even when we do it’s crap, it’s like fucking a fish, not that I know what that’s like. He won’t talk to me and I don’t know what to do,” Fenny descended into pools of tears. Paul pulled her into another hug and sat quietly letting her get it out of her system. “I’m a great host aren’t I?” she managed to say after a few minutes.

“It’s no worse than trying to deal with two warring poofs,” Paul mused.

Fenny let a giggle escape and sat up, trying to regain her composure. “Shit, I’m going to be late again,” she breathed.

“How is the backdrop painting going?” Paul asked.

“Awful, I’ve got to do an entire backdrop because the bloody director didn’t even tell me about it,” Fenny huffed.

“You want a hand?” Paul offered,

“I couldn’t ask you. You must be tired,” Fenny said, before blowing her nose.

“I don’t get tired,” Paul perked.

“Have you ever painted a backdrop in your life?” Fenny asked.

“Of course I have, did all the sets when we were touring,” Paul replied proudly.

“You are seriously an angel,” Fenny mused as she got to her feet.

Paul laughed. “Speaking of the tools of Satan, is my wife about?”

“No, I think she’s gone out,” Fenny replied.

“At this hour? Someone force her?” Paul gasped.

“God knows. I better get dressed,” Fenny breathed. “You might want to change into something you don’t mind getting paint on.”

“I don’t get paint on me,” Paul chided.

“Ok then, can you not look like something out of a 70s porno film then?” Fenny mused.

“This is the height of fashion,” Paul gasped.

“No Paul, it really isn’t,” Fenny chuckled as she disappeared into the bedroom, Paul calling after, “THIS FROM ZEPPLIN GIRL.”