As she leaned heavily against the back of the bench, Fenny felt her eyes grow heavy. It felt like they’d been waiting hours, and the tediousness of it all was catching up with her. The still warm air mixed with the soft music tinkling out of a radio perched just inside the ticket booth was lulling her into a much-needed sleep.

“Drink?” Paul announced, appearing with two cans of Coke. He held one out to her and Fenny took it lazily.

“Thanks.” She pulled the ring pull back and sipped, grateful of the cool liquid. “I thought you didn’t have any money?”

“I don’t,” he mused looking at her sideways. She was pleased to see the cheeky twinkle in his eye had returned.

“So how’d you get the drinks?” she asked, wondering if you could be thrown into prison in Ohio for stealing cola. Paul smiled slightly and then looked away. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“No, move on,” he perked before taking a long drink from his can. “Sorry I’ve been an arsehole.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Fenny chided, holding her can against her cheek and enjoying its icy coldness.

“I fucked things up with Genie,” he announced quietly. “I wanted to sort everything out properly, y’know, and then fucking Amy…”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Fenny soothed. “I somehow think Gina has forgiven all.”

“It’s not the point though, is it? I mean every time we get things perfect, they fall apart spectacularly.”

“At least Gina still loves you,” Fenny breathed as she took to flicking the ring pull. “I mean Brad doesn’t even want to be my friend, he hates me.”

“Well you were quite spectacularly fucking Dan behind his back,” Paul chided, but noticed Fenny’s attention was now heavily on her can in an attempt to disengage herself from the conversation. “Look, he’ll be hurting and angry, but he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t know how. You can discover the woman you love is fucking someone else, you can fuck someone else on the rebound, but the truth is that he hasn’t slapped a divorce on you, and as much as it’s thoroughly fucking with his psyche, he’s still very much in love with you. Take it from someone who’s been there. Take it from someone who knows. Take it from me.” Fenny nodded but didn’t look up and Paul could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you?” he sighed and gently rubbed her back.

“It’s not easy when everyone hates you,” Fenny sniffed as Paul gave in and pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, glad for the human contact and grateful for the much needed hug.

“Everyone doesn’t hate you,” he soothed as he felt the dampness of her tears on his shoulder. “Sure, Genie was angry, but she scrubbed the bathroom until it gleamed and was over it.”

Fenny gave a teary laugh. “And you?”

“I’m letting you sob on my $60 shirt, I think we’re going to be fine,” Paul said with mock seriousness “Although you will be paying my dry cleaning bill.”

“You’re a much better person than people give you credit for,” she sniffed and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Genie told me that not long after we started going out. I’ve always been in denial about it,” he smiled and kissed the top of Fenny’s head. “But thank you anyway.”

Still sleepy but feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and ceremoniously lobbed into an industrial sized bin, Fenny let her eyes close and stayed cuddled into Paul until she felt something furry on her face. She opened her eyes and came face to face with Troy. “Oh Jesus!”

“You can’t fall asleep, Fenella,” Paul declared.

“Why?” she yawned, her head firmly resting in his shoulder.

“Because I’m sick of waiting for the fucking bus,” Paul groused. “So, I think it’s time to put into practice what we already know and go steal ourselves a car.”

Fenny lifted her head and studied him a moment, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Sure, why not? It’s not like I’ve got much left to lose.”

“I want it known now I’m not going to enjoy this,” Greg announced, looking miserably at the queen-sized bed the three friends were going to be sharing for the night.

“I can think of worse things than sleeping next to a half naked Gina,” Danny shrugged, his buffed body making Greg automatically suck his stomach in.

“Well I’ve actually slept with the full naked Gina,” Greg declared haughtily. “And look where it fucking got me? Therapy.”

“I am so glad to be dry,” Gina announced as she appeared from the bathroom in the pyjama top that was barely long enough to reach her thighs. She looked up to see both men staring at her legs. “What? Do I have a huge bruise or something?” she asked, giving her legs a quick scan.

“How’s your ankle?” Greg piped, up changing to subject to stop her twisting and making the top ride up her thighs further.

“Like a tennis ball,” Gina sighed. “Hopefully the swelling will go down by morning.”

“I don’t think it’s the swelling of your ankle that’ll be a problem,” Danny mumbled, looking at the floor. Gina looked at him strangely and then hobbled over and pulled back the covers. She slid into the middle of the bed and got herself comfortable. “Do you two plan to stand there all night?”

Danny and Greg looked at each other and then gingerly climbed into bed on either side of Gina. For her it was strange to be sharing a bed with Greg again, especially since the last time had involved a rather lustful bout of sex. She could still remember how it felt to have his lips trailing kisses down her bare flesh, and for a moment she let herself ponder what it would be like to re-enact that right then and there. Greg placed his glasses on the bedside table, breaking her daydream, and they both automatically turned away from each other. This, however, presented another problem. Gina had never doubted that Danny was a good looking human being, and being right next to his amazing body, broad shoulders, and scruffy dark hair made her realise exactly why Fenny had fallen for him. The heat radiated from his body and Gina found herself fascinated by the various muscles that Paul simply didn’t appear to have. She felt a strong desire to reach out and caress his rippling stomach, and then realised that it had been several months since she had got laid and that it would be a good idea to think of different things.

Gina lay on her back, Greg’s back to her and Danny facing her as she tried to think of things that wouldn’t encourage doing something she would no doubt regret. Her mind first wandered to Paul and what he might be doing, and then to what they could be doing, and then her thoughts went straight back to sex. Moving the pornographic thoughts to another part of her mind, Gina decided to think about work, which led to Danny and his near-nakedness beside her, and of course back to sex. Eventually everything led back to her rather rampant desire to get laid, so she focussed on a tatty picture on the wall.

“I can’t sleep,” Gina groused, giving up on thinking all together.

“Because Paul’s not here?” Danny sighed into his pillow.

“No, because I’m gagging for it,” Gina mused as she felt Danny and Greg both physically stiffen.

“Don’t say that,” Greg gasped, rolling over. “I’m in enough therapy because of that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t usually say this but…” Danny chided. “If you want me to take one for the team…”

Gina felt his hand on her thigh and swatted it off. “You two are disgusting.”

“You’re the one that said you were aroused,” Greg teased, raising a sleepy eyebrow.

“Hey, it’s been a couple of months,” Gina countered. “Which I guess leads back to Paul, and therefore I probably just can’t sleep because he’s not here, as usual.”

“Christ, chicks analyse their feelings way too much,” Danny groused. “Besides, you’re not the only one,” he added rolling onto his back.

“I’ll say,” Greg agreed. “Although mine is Hugo induced.”

“Hugo?” Gina and Danny said together.

“My bearded, caftan wearing, peach-wall-loving therapist,” Greg breathed. “He thinks it’s cathartic to renew and revitalise the relationship by avoiding sexual intercourse. Personally, I think it’s just cruel.”

The three friends stared at the shadowy chipped paint on the ceiling in silence for a few moments.

“Could our lives be any more fucked up?” Danny scorned and the other two nodded.

“On the upside, Gina’s half naked and trapped,” Greg perked, looking over her at Danny.

“Oh no, guys!” Gina wailed and Greg and Danny snuggled right in close, wrapping arms and legs around her and resting their heads on her shoulders. “I hate you both,” she giggled, kissed them both on the forehead, and found herself giving in to sleep.

“So, how are we going to steal the heavettes car without getting seen?” Fenny asked as she and Paul approached the hideous black car that sat in the hotel parking lot. “I mean I’m not skilled in hot wiring like your wife.”

“Yeah, she also knows how to pick locks, which I find thoroughly disturbing,” Paul nodded and looked over at the hotel. “Hold Troy,” he announced, passing the mongoose to Fenny and then glanced up at the first balcony.

“Oh no, don’t you even think about….” Her voice trailed off as Paul was already half way up the drainpipe. “Don’t break your neck, Gina will kill me,” she hissed.

Ignoring her, Paul breathlessly climbed onto the balcony. The small glass door that led into the heavettes room was unlocked and Paul gently opened it, cringing when it squeaked a little. He slid into the darkness and was mortified to discover the heavettes were there, although asleep. The one in leather had nodded off in a chair while the other was sprawled on the bed. He was sure there was a third, but he had no idea where she was. He glanced around in the darkness and could have yelled ‘hallelujah’ when the moonlight reflected itself off the metal of the keys.

Fenny stood nervously talking to Troy as she waited for Paul to reappear. It felt like he’d been gone for hours when really it’d only been seconds.

“She’s going to kill me, she’s really going to kill me,” Fenny breathed and then jumped when she heard a noise on the balcony. Her heart returned to normal speed when Paul appeared. He shimmied back down the drainpipe and sauntered over looking pleased. “Well?”

“One set of keys for an ugly black car,” Paul grinned and handed her the keys. They felt like a lead weight in Fenny’s hand and he grabbed her arm to hurry them toward the car.

“Oh my god! Were they in there?” she gasped, picking up Paul’s urgency to leave.

“It was either them or Rosanne and Rosie O’Donnell have started holidaying together,” he chided as she unlocked the ominous vehicle.

“There’s two people I don’t want to see in a spa,” she agreed and slid behind the wheel of the car.

“I ah, grabbed something else from the room,” he declared as he fell into the passenger seat. She looked at him interested as she started the engine. Paul rested Troy on the dashboard before leaning forward and reaching under his shirt. “Just a little something for protection.”

“Protection!” Fenny gasped, looking at the two semi-automatic handguns. “Charlton Heston would be so proud.”

“Well I’d rather be holding them than have Rosie back there holding ’em,” Paul groused and shoved both weapons into the glove compartment.

“And I’d rather be at home, tucked up in bed reading a nice book about art,” Fenny mumbled as she drove out of the parking lot.

Brad woke to the feeling that a small animal was trying desperately to burrow out through his skull, and he let out a groan. He couldn’t remember too much after he’d headed to the bar. They’d been drinking whisky until he discovered a bottle of tequila and then he and the remaining locals had spent the early hours singing ‘La Bamba’ rather appallingly. He rolled over and looked slightly dazed at the lump beside him. Brad reached out to gently shake the shoulder of the person beside him, but they snorted suddenly and he was horrified to discover it was the old man who’d been pissing on the lamppost when he’d arrived. Brad, with great reluctance but the added incentive of not wanting to share any more time with the old man, dragged himself to a sitting position.

“Fuck,” he groaned and pulled his Robin Hood felt hat over his mussed up hair. Gingerly getting to his feet, he draped his bow and arrows pouch over his shoulder, and grabbed his boots before tiptoeing out the room.

He was pleased to find the place deserted as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs to pull on the boots and then crept out into the cool morning air. Usually the freshness of the British countryside was a godsend after LA, but with Brad’s raging hangover and disastrous attire, it was almost mocking what would otherwise be a pleasant day. He took several moments to get his bearings and then, a bit lost on what to do, he headed toward the centre of town. He’d just passed a tiny church when in his semi-awake state, Brad felt a hand clamp across his mouth and the barrel of a gun pressed into his back.

“Oh Jesus fuck,” Brad gasped, swallowing the bitter taste that fear brought to his mouth.

“Mornin’ Robin,” a voice hissed. “I’m the Sheriff of Nottingham. You should watch your back better.”

“I’m sorry, but if I tried to look over my shoulder all the time I’d go ass up,” Brad whimpered, in no fit state to fight anyone off.

“It’s lucky I like you then, innit,” the voice jeered and let Brad go. He turned around and nearly collapsed into a heap on the ground.

“Beven, you asshole!”

“Calm down, sweet stuff,” Beven laughed, putting his gun back in its holster. “You should be grateful I found ya before they did.”

“What are you, some demented story book character?” Ritza piped up, appearing with three coffees and three brown paper bags.

“Ritza!”

“Ten points for observation, stud,” she chided. “Breakfast, boys?” she added, handing them each a coffee and a bacon sandwich.

“I can’t eat that,” Brad winced, turning green as he look at the greasy food.

“Best thing for it, mate,” Beven countered. “You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”

Brad shrugged and decided that it did smell nice, and Ritza had gone to the trouble of getting it, so he might as well eat it. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Amy thought she was The Riddler,” Ritza shrugged. “She put Paul in McDermott Ohio, and Greg in Greg Greg, which is in New South Wales.”

“And me in Sherwood Forest, or thereabout,” Brad nodded, trying to take in the information, ignore the pain in his head, eat, and not throw up. “What about Fen? Is she okay?”

“I think so,” Ritza shrugged. “She was on her way to rescue Paul last we heard.”

“You sent Fenny to rescue someone?”

“The situation was desperate,” Ritza mused. “And Gina and Dan were going after Greg.”

Brad stiffened at the mentioned of Danny’s name. “So Fen’s the only one on her own?”

“Well, it was pure coincidence we met up,” Beven chimed in, sculling his coffee.

“That’s not the point,” Brad scorned. “Fen can’t defend herself. She’ll get hurt, probably of her own accord…”

“Oh yeah, and you’re such a hero,” Ritza sarced but gave Brad a wry smile.

“I escaped from Claudia,” Brad declared smugly and crossed his arms.

“You what? She’s fucking in on this?” Beven snarled. “What the fuck has this got to do with her?”

“Hey, don’t pop a vein, big fella,” Brad groused. “She said we owed her money and drugs, and then tried to have me impaled by Snuffles.”

“Snuffles?” Ritza asked bewildered.

“A rather large bull,” Brad replied.

“Fucking hell,” Beven hissed and crushed his empty coffee cup in one hand. “You realise what this means, don’t you?”

“That all the women I know are psychotic?” Brad mused, smiling at Ritza who just rolled her eyes.

“No, sweet stuff, it’s common knowledge that Claudia and Amy hate each other. I mean really hate each other. But they both had a common interest,” Beven declared. “Don.”

“They were both in love with him?” Ritza asked curiously.

“He had an on/off relationship with Claudia, but Amy was just infatuated. Don couldn’t stand the little Yank. Thought she was a wild card, couldn’t trust her.”

“So how does this involve us?” Brad asked, baffled, his hangover totally forgotten about.

“We, my friend, are merely pawns,” Beven sighed. “It’s a game. Whoever gets rid of us avenges Don’s death first.”

“Oh fucking wonderful,” Ritza groused, scrunching her paper bag up and lobbing it onto a nearby bin.

“See, I said all the women I knew were psychotic,” Brad half-joked but looked seriously at Beven. “How much danger we in, big guy.”

“More than you’d ever believe, sweet stuff,” Beven breathed, crossing his arms and looking at the sky for help.

Gina woke to the feeling of a warm hand on her thigh. For a moment she thought she was snuggled in bed with Paul, but then she realised she clearly wasn’t and woke with a start.

“Brannigan!” she groused, slapping his hand which he moved lazily.

“Morning Coleman,” Danny smiled.

“It’s McDermott.”

“I know, but it makes me think of your husband and I don’t need that image at this hour.”

“Me neither,” Greg yawned and rolled onto his back. “So, my rescuers from hell, what’s the plan now?”

“Well I’m supposed to be covering a football game at two,” Danny mused. “But I’ll feign laryngitis.”

“I just want my husband back,” Gina sighed miserably. “Anyway we shouldn’t act like we’re safe because by all means Amy is gonna be seriously pissed when she wakes up.”

“The girl’s got a point,” Danny pouted as he sat up. “We should probably try and contact the others and work out a plan of action from there.”

“Can’t we just go back to Gina’s and bake cookies,” Greg whined, pulling the covers over his head.

“As tempting as that is,” she chided, crawling out from beneath the covers, “if Pauly isn’t back in my arms soon I’ll hold you both responsible and make your lives a living hell.”

“Too late,” both Greg and Danny said together, and Gina sneered at them before making her way to the end of the bed. Danny cheekily moved his legs and she lost balance and tumbled off the end onto the floor.

“Thanks Dan, I wanted to tear some more ligaments in my ankle,” she scowled, gingerly getting to her feet and glaring at him.

“That would be more convincing if you weren’t wearing pink undies,” Danny chided. Gina quickly readjusted the pyjama top and then clambered back onto the bed and started wrestling with him.

“Do you guys want me to leave?” Greg asked as Danny pinned Gina to the mattress. One of her legs was wrapped around his waist, and the pyjama top had crept up to her stomach.

“I think that might be wise, I’d hate for you to see him taking his last breaths of life,” Gina declared. Greg looked at her strangely a moment before grabbing his glasses and taking himself off to the bathroom.

“Last breaths of life, huh?” Danny panted, still pinning Gina to the mattress.

“That and your testicles getting severally injured,” she smiled wickedly and he started giggling.

“Yeah, I’ve been there before,” he mused and released his grip on her. He fell onto the mattress beside her and they laughed when they realised they’d both built up quite a sweat. “Greg must think we’re mental.”

“I think he knew that beforehand,” Gina sighed. “You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want. We can leave you in Sydney.”

“Are you mad? I’m part of this too,” Danny enthused. “Besides, being hounded by psychotics is easier than working with Freya.”

“Did you have to say the ‘F’ word,” she groused. “Her and her overnight showers blouse.”

“You know she and George are fucking,” he mused. “Simone the make-up women caught them in the editing room.”

“Ew,” she squeaked before they both started giggling.

Greg ran his fingers through his now wet hair. The hot shower had woken him up and gotten rid of the rather tragic style his hair had ended up with after going to bed with it damp the previous night. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a razor and was getting more stubble than he was happy with.

“I’ll get you off even if I have to use a hacksaw,” he groused, rubbing the two day growth. It had fallen silent in the room, and Greg concluded it was safe to go out there again. He pulled open the bathroom door and smacked his head on the frame. “What the fuck!”

Danny was lying there, the covers barely covering his nether regions, while Gina was snuggled next to him, her head on his chest, the pyjama top discarded on the floor. Greg stood there, mouth agape, until Gina and Danny cracked up laughing and threw the covers back. Danny was in his boxers and Gina has slipped her bra straps down her shoulders to make it look like she was topless.

“You didn’t honestly think we fucked each other while you preened yourself, did you?” she giggled as she pulled on her sweater.

“He’s actually shocked,” Danny chided, walking over to Greg and waving his hand in front of his face.

“First time he’s ever been quiet,” Gina cackled.

“You should never frighten a chain-smoking, artery-clogged middle-aged man, you fuckers,” Greg huffed as he took several deep breaths, waiting for his heartbeat to return too normal.

“We’ll be at the airport in an hour,” Fenny declared as Paul’s eyes twitched open. He’d fallen asleep hugging Troy several hours ago and hadn’t stirred since. Fenny had grown concerned, thinking maybe there was a poison dart stored somewhere in the car, and had been looking for a hospital, just in case.

“Great,” Paul mumbled. “Finally I can get back to my wife.”

“Well, we have to get to LA first.”

“Whatever, so long as I go home.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go to England.”

“Why?”

“To rescue Brad.”

“He has a rescue party.”

Fenny gave him a sideways glance. “That’s not the point.”

“What? You think if you race over there, accidentally wipe out a heavette with a precariously placed hat stand, he might fall back into your arms?”

“Its worth a try, right?”

“Fine you go to England and I’ll go to Sydney.”

“Paul,” she whined.

“Fenny,” he whined, mocking her.

“I’m terrible on my own, I’ll stuff things up,” she groused.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You found me okay after losing your car, and you kept the heavettes away by using you initiative, which is a first, really.”

“Please,” she begged as she was forced to stop at a stop sign. She looked at him pitifully until he rolled his eyes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he sighed. “Gimme your phone.”

“You won’t regret it,” Fenny enthused, passing him her cell.

“I already do,” Paul huffed as he grabbed the phone and pressed redial.

“Fen?” the voice on the other end of the phone chirped after a couple of rings.

“Not unless I’ve suddenly shaved my legs and grown breasts,” Paul chided.

“Pauly!” Gina smiled into the phone. “Where are you?”

“On our way to the airport,” Paul sighed. “We were gonna catch the bus but got bored and stole the heavettes car.”

“Snap, we stole Amy’s.”

“It’s just getting too easy.”

“I know, it’s like they’re just not trying any more.”

“It’s almost too easy.”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “Anyway babe, I’m not coming straight home. Fen talked me into going to England to rescue Sherwood.”

“I hate her!”

“Oh believe me, I do too.”

“What are you talking about?” Fenny asked, looking at Paul curiously.

“How much we hate you,” Paul sneered.

“Charming,” Fenny pouted. “I should give you back to the heavettes for that.”

“Yeah, like to see you try,” Paul spat and Fenny pulled the car into a u-turn. “HEY!” The car circled and ended up heading back toward the airport.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Fenny chided.

“What happened?” Gina asked frantically down the phone.

“Fen’s being sadistic,” Paul huffed.

“Is she just? Well I’m coming to England too, to have words with her,” Gina groused. “And because I’m gagging to get laid,” there was silence for a moment. “I just said that in a crowded café.”

“And everybody heard,” Danny said so Paul could hear.

“Yeah well, so long as you gag until we get together, I don’t care,” Paul mused and focussed his attention on the glowing numbers of the radio to stop his blood flowing away from his brain.

Gina let out a whine. “I’m going crazy and I miss you.”

“You’re so hot when you’re being all girlie.”

“Oh Paul,” Fenny groaned. “I don’t want to hear your dirty conversations with Gina, thanks.”

“So don’t fucking listen,” Paul countered. “I better go, call us when you get to England, yeah?”

“No, I’ll send smoke signals with Greg’s ciggies.”

Paul sniggered at the mental image and then said quietly into the phone. “I love you so much, please be careful.”

“Aww,” Gina cooed. “I love you so much too.”

“Oh this is just sick,” Greg groaned, looking disgusted into his mug of coffee.

“Oh go lay an egg,” Gina spat as she dropped her phone onto the table.

“Oh, fierce come back,” Greg snorted. Gina tried valiantly to ignore him so he started making chicken noises until Danny threw the saltshaker at his head.

“So, did you get a big car for us to cruise around in?” Brad perked as Beven and Ritza lead the way down a side street.

“Are you kidding? Nothing was open when we left. I had to borrow transport from a friend,” Beven declared.

“Really? Well where is it?” Brad asked, looking around, but all he could see was a motorbike with a sidecar.

“You’re looking at it,” Ritza perked and handed Brad a helmet.

“Great I’m going to die in a sidecar dressed as fucking Robin Hood,” Brad groused, pulling the helmet over his felt hat.

“Such a pessimist,” Beven sighed. “I find us viable transport and you’re whingeing already.”

“Yeah, Beven’s had the whole journey here learning to drive the thing,” Ritza added haughtily.

Brad looked at the motorbike pitifully and wondered if Beven and Ritza would be offended if he started sobbing.