"Have you got everything?" Gina asked as she returned, now sporting a pair of jeans, t-shirt, cardigan and boots.
"I think so," Ryan replied, looking blankly at the rope and tarpaulin.
"Excellent," Gina perked and gave the area a quick look. "I say we open the tarp and string it up between those three trees over there."
"So you're survival woman as well now," Greg scorned.
"Have you got a better idea?" Gina asked.
Greg narrowed his eyes. "Don't think I'm helping."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Gina spat.
Ryan looked at them both bewildered and then followed Gina to the trees. It didn't take long to make the shelter and Ryan was more than pleased with himself.
"Guess we better build a fire now," he enthused.
"Yeah, it's getting cold. If you collect some wood I'll clear the area," Gina smiled.
Ryan nodded and bounded off into the brush.
Gina turned venomously to Greg. "What the hell is your problem with me?" she spat.
"You suck," Greg replied.
"Oh gee…you must've been up all night thinking of that one," Gina scorned.
"And you can do better? Greg sarced.
"I wouldn't want to waste the air I breathe," Gina hissed.
"Air! More like methane," Greg retorted.
"This coming from the man who makes a living poncing about like a dirty great queen and trying to make gags which nobody gets because they're stupid fucking AMERICANS," Gina screamed.
"Well you can talk you BLOOD SUCKING MEDIA BITCH! You're the one that grew from the loins of the criminal scum of England," Greg screamed back.
"Actually tweezer dick I come from Adelaide…we're free settlers," Gina snide.
"And where are your parents from?" Greg mused.
Gina narrowed her eyes. "Tough words from a man who comes from San Fran…home of the leather clad and lubricated."
"Are you insinuating something?" Greg spat.
"What if I am?" Gina snarled.
At this point Ryan returned, his arms laden with wood. He looked from Gina to Greg and back again.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing…we're clearing," Gina smiled and began shuffling the leaves with her feet.
"Yeah dude…chill out," Greg nodded.
"So where are we heading now?" Brad asked trying to see a passing road sign in the dark.
"Where would you like to go? Do you have to meet your friend?" Ritza asked.
"Friend…oh him…no, I'm pretty free," Brad smiled.
"Cool…well, if you want, my folks own a property not far from here. We could go there and have coffee or something," Ritza suggested.
"Coffee's good," Brad nodded.
Ritza put her foot down and within half an hour they were pulling up out the front of a large house.
"Gee, you wouldn't expect this out here," Brad gasped.
"I think that's the point," Ritza smiled and slid out of the car.
Brad followed her onto the verandah, where she reached into a plant pot and pulled out a key.
"We always keep a spare," Ritza perked as she unlocked the door.
She strolled across the lounge room, dropping the keys onto the coffee table, switched on a small lamp and disappeared into the kitchen. Brad followed her and leant against the doorframe as she filled the kettle and switched it on.
"OK…do you want…instant, percolated, decaf, Irish, Jamaican, or something that I think it’s coffee but is unlabelled?" Ritza asked.
Brad titled his head and feigned thinking.
"Well?" Ritza asked crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
A wry smile spread across Brad's face and he began to slowly walk toward Ritza. Confused, Ritza moved back a little, but was blocked by the fridge. Brad went straight up to her, slid his arms around her waist and brought his lips lustily to hers. This caused Ritza to back right into the fridge, but she hardly noticed and let one hand creep up Brad's chest, brush his cheek, move to his neck and then slide into his hair. Her other hand stayed on his chest.
After what seemed like hours of passionate tonsil tennis, they both pulled their lips away as they gasped for air.
"So how do you like your coffee?" Ritza breathed.
"Instant…why?" Brad panted.
"So I know how to make it in the morning," Ritza grinned before pulling Brad's lips back to her own.