"You busy?" Gina mused, poking her head into Amanda's office.
          "Extremely," Amanda replied, grabbing her phone and positioning it in the crook of her neck.
          "I brought you a chocolate eclair," Gina cooed, waving a white bakery bag back and forth in her hand.
          "Fine, come in then," Amanda sighed, placing her phone back in its cradle. Gina trounced in and passed Amanda her eclair before settling herself in a chair and producing a chocolate doughnut. "Any reason why you're bringing me food? You did the movie review right?"
          "Of course I did," Gina chided and threw her a black floppy disk. "I finished early and thought you'd appreciate some company."
          "Why thankyou," Amanda smiled. "And it’s nice to see you happy, I'm glad seeing dickwit last night hasn't upset you."
          "I'm surprised you noticed, you were so enthralled in that discussion about yourself," Gina countered and leaned over to the rifle through the various freebies on Amanda's desk. There were free passes, CD's, books, press releases and various other trinkets that wavered good reviews. Her fingers found a cream coloured envelope with gold edging. "Ohh what's this?"
          "What?" Amanda asked looking at the envelope for a second. "Oh, passes for some art exhibition. Quite exclusive really, invitation only."
          "Sounds posh, you going?" Gina asked as she removed the invitations from the envelope.
          "Oh please," Amanda announced with a short laugh. "When am I going to find the time?"
          "Well the people hosting it are big names. They'll go spare if you don't do a write up."
          "You think I hadn't thought of that," Amanda scorned. "I offered them to Dan but he said something about art being gay and I don't trust the minions around here."
          "Yeah, he would," Gina nodded as she felt a chill run down her spine. The invitations were for an exhibition of works by an artist called Miro, who just happened to be one of Paul's favourite artists. "I'll go," she announced without thinking.
          "You would?" Amanda gasped.
          "If you trust me," Gina quipped.
          "Of course I trust you," Amanda gushed. "Thankyou so much I owe you like big time honey."
          "Why yes you do," Gina perked and got to her feet and lobbed her empty bakery bag into the bin.
          "So, have you heard of her?"
          "Who?"
          "Joan Miro."
          Gina giggled. "You idiot, it's a dude."
          "Really?" Amanda gasped. "Lucky I'm not going then."
          "I think so, you could have upset a lot of art fans if you wrote an article about their hero being a woman," Gina declared before she made her way out of the office. Amanda leaned back in her chair and smiled.
          "No need to pop a vein to work out how she knows so much about art all of a sudden."

          Her first instinct had been to turn around, get back in the elevator and go to the exhibition on her own but Gina knew that if she did it would be futile. She didn't know enough about art or Miro to write a decent article and she was too anal to palm herself off as some sort of expert. She knew Paul loved Miro's works and he would make an excellent art guide to explain the finer points in a language she could understand. She also knew that he looked down when she'd seen him the previous night and this would invariably cheer him up.

          So, Gina stood outside him apartment door half-hoping he wasn't in half-hoping he was. One hand clutched her bag to her side while she knocked with the other. She felt her mouth go dry and licked her lips in a feeble attempt to stop her choking out her first words if he should open the door. There was a fumbling sound on the other side of the door and it opened a crack.
          "Gina," Paul announced and opened the door fully. "Everything all right?"
          "Yeah, everything is fine," Gina smiled as she noticed he had a smudge of blue paint on his forehead. They stood uncomfortably for a moment before she remembered why she was there and reached into her bag. "Um, I was wondering if you were busy tonight…"
          "Not really," Paul replied cautiously. "Why?"
          "Well, there's this art exhibition and it's like invitation only and I have invitations…"
          "Miro!" Paul gasped, eyes wide and excitable.
          "Yeah, Mandy couldn't go and I said I'd go and do the article for her," Gina nodded. "I could really do with a guide though, since as you've pointed out, I'm artistically stunted."
          Paul giggled bashfully. "I've been hearing all about the exhibition but couldn't get an invitation no matter how much I screamed and swore at the organisers."
          "So, you'll come then?"
          "Do you even have to ask, it’s Miro for fucks sake!" Paul exclaimed like she was missing the point of how exciting this was. "Are we going now?"
          "Well, you should probably change and wash the paint off your head first," Gina chided as Paul ran his palm over his forehead.
          "Right, come in, sit down, drink, whatever," Paul babbled, moving aside to let her in. "I'll be quick," he added and disappeared into the bathroom, where Gina heard him declare, "Miro I can’t believe it, Miro!"

          It took Paul less than five minutes to reappear in a clean shirt, black slacks and his leather jacket.
          "Christ, did you bathe in aftershave?" Gina declared, his cologne entering the room before he did.
          "I don't have time for a shower and I tried to block out the smell of turps," he scorned sniffing his arm.
          "It's not working," Gina said bluntly. "You smell like a whore in a hospital."
          "Oh," Paul pouted. "Maybe I should just have a quick shower."
          "Don't bother," Gina sighed grabbing his arm. "We're already going to be late and I'd hate you to miss the free champagne."
          "I can get drunk AND look at art," Paul beamed. "Why are we still here?"
          "Because, as usual, you won't shut up and move," Gina jeered and shoved him toward the door.
          "Hey, I'm trying to look pretty for Miro," Paul chided.
          "He's not going to be there," Gina countered. "Is he?"
          "Of course not, he died in 1983," Paul grinned and she shoved him again. "Hey!"

          There were plenty of cars parked outside of the gallery; most of them expensive looking and Gina's poor old bomb hardly fit in. She parked between a brand new BMW and an Audi and they piled out into the car park.
          "I feel underdressed," Paul declared as a couple strode past, the woman in an elegant pantsuit, the man in what appeared to be a tux.
          "You look fine, " Gina nodded unashamedly looking over him. "How about me?" she added as they walked toward the entrance. Paul stopped, narrowed his eyes and looked her up and down a smile crept onto his lips.
          "You're a fox," he winked and started walking again. They stepped inside the gallery and Gina handed over the invitations. She was handed two information booklets and ushered toward the other patrons.
          "Give us a book then," Paul declared. She passed him one and he eagerly flicked through it, pausing only to snatch up a champagne flute as they headed toward the first painting.
          "The Village of Prades," Paul announced.
          "Oh wow, the colours are amazing," Gina gasped.
          Paul looked at her with a wry smile. "Boy am I glad you invited me. You're going to need serious help with this article."
          Gina pouted, "I can think it’s pretty if I want."
          "The man was delirious from lack of food…"
          "Doesn't mean he can't have good taste in colour."
          "You make him sound like an interior designer," Paul gasped.
          "Hey, now there's an idea," Gina perked. "With those colours he'd be a hit on Changing Rooms."
          Paul feigned offence and pain, "You nasty woman. Oh, how could you say such a thing about Miro?"
          "He could have done tea-towels like Ken Done," Gina said blankly. "Or t-shirts…"
          "You are so disowned," Paul chided, moving on to the next painting.
          "Still Life with Rose," Gina mused as she joined him.
          "Oh congratulations, you read the plaque," Paul sneered.
          "I had to…couldn't tell what it was otherwise," Gina shrugged.
          "Oh come on, it's obvious."
          "It’s ugly man," Gina declared. "I can identify the rose, a bottle and something resembling an orange but everything else is a blur."
          "You've gotta look at it longer, take it in," Paul breathed. She looked at him unconvinced. "Look!" he ordered. Gina sighed and stared at the painting, they stood in silence a few moments before she cried out.
          "I see a pot now too!"
          Paul giggled. "Oh very good."
          "Kinda ironic isn't it. That a man that was delusional from hunger should have so many food references in a painting," Gina giggled.
          Paul cracked up, "You're an evil anti-artist and I hate you."
          "Such behaviour," a voice muttered. They turned to see a small group of people beside them, one woman in particular looking at them with distain.
          "Personages in the Night Guided by the Phosphorescent Tracks of Snails," Paul announced, half glaring at the woman half talking to Gina.
          "And how delirious was he by this stage?" Gina mused.
          "He wasn't a wacko," Paul scorned. "He deprived himself of food and drink and stared at a white wall until figures and surreal creatures materialised themselves before him."
          "And what part of that says he's not a wacko?" Gina queried with a smile as the woman who had been watching them started loudly explaining something about texture to her friends. Paul let out an audible huff and tried to take his mind off her by studying the picture in front of him.
          "There's three beasties right?" Gina piped up, "And a bird and something that looks like my Year 10 maths homework."
          "Something like that," Paul nodded, pleased by her enthusiasm.
          "Oh that beastie has a penis," she giggled and Paul started sniggering again as well. "I'm sorry, that was probably supposed to be a thought."
          "Hey, I'd rather have you picking out the penises than be stuck with some pretentious art snob," he declared in the direction of the woman who paused to sneer at him.
          "Well, we'll go look at Nude with a Mirror next so we're even," Gina perked. "It'll also stop either of us ramming that stupid cow's head into the wall between Ciphers & Constellations in Love with a Woman and The Poetess."
          "I don't know. I think the blood and cartilage, mixed with her horrendous green eye shadow would mix in quite well," Paul chided.
          "What would you call it?"
          "Pretentiousness Abhorred."
          "I like, Revenge of the Anti-Artist."
          Paul grinned at her, "I like that too."
          "…The whole painting is like an exultation at having broken through to the style-pictographic, idiomatic, autographic…if he were a poet, we would say he had found his voice…" Gushed the pretentious woman as she guided her friends toward them.
          "Let's go," Paul scorned grabbing Gina's arm and dragging her away in the direction of the nude.
          "Sure, and maybe you can explain in English what that mad woman just said," Gina breathed totally confused.

          They spent a further two hours mulling over the works of Miro. Paul couldn't help but laugh every time Gina came face to face with a different painting; her observations were something no artist even thought about. "Well it's all very well to have a donkey in a vegetable garden but the poor thing isn't near any vegetables. You can see its ribs and there's no water for the poor thing to drink. Did PETA exist in 1918?" He was also tempted to throttle her when he proudly pointed out the Catalan Landscape and she announced bluntly, "That's awful. I like things that make sense." Paul had tried to explain, "But it does make sense. If you look at it you can see what he was thinking!" but Gina had been unconvinced. "No you can't, the man was a nutbar, the painting is crap." By the time they'd gotten back into Gina's car which made noises to suggest it was entirely too unwell to be used, they had fallen into a heated discussion about the entire exhibition. Fuelled mostly by Gina's belief the Miro was whacked and Paul's eight glasses of champagne.
          "If you had an artistic mind you'd see him for the genius he is," Paul declared as Gina kept her eyes focussed firmly on the road.
          "Was hon, he's dead," she chided.
          "Is, was, whatever. The point is Miro is one of the greatest surrealist artists of all time."
          "I'm sure he is, but it doesn't alter the fact he was mental."
          "Oh and Dali wasn't off his face chasing the lizard king most of the time huh?"
          "No, Dali was beyond the realms of sanity as are most artists," Gina mused. "You're a prime example."
          "I'm not whacked!" Paul gasped, Gina pulled up at the lights and looked over at him unconvinced. "Oh get fucked."
          "You offering?"
          "Not after you've insulted Miro."
          "Don't you think Miro sounds like a great name for a car. The new Nissan Miro," Gina teased and Paul sneered at her. They fell silent with Paul in an alcohol infused huff and Gina trying not to giggle. The radio was spewing out some god awful 80s ballad and it turned the whole situation into feeling like some bad b-grade movie.

          A short while later Gina pulled the car to a stop outside Paul's apartment block and killed the engine.
          "Well, you're home," Gina announced after several seconds of painful silence.
          "I know," Paul declared, tapping his fingers on the door. "Thanks for taking me to the exhibition, it was a lot of fun."
          "Anytime, it’s nice we can still be friends," Gina smiled. "Can't we?"
          "Yeah, course we can," Paul nodded. "Providing I'm not too whacked for you?"
          "It's one of your endearing qualities," Gina mused. "That and your ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol without bursting your liver."
          Paul chuckled, "Hey, that's a fucking skill." He unclipped his seatbelt and then looked back over at her. "Thanks for trying to be enthusiastic about it all too. I know you're not even half as into art as me…"
          "It’s not that I'm not into it, I just don't have an artistic perspective," Gina shrugged. "If it’s any consolation I have a new found fondness for Miro."
          "Really?"
          "Absolutely."
          "If you're interested I could lend you a couple of books, help you understand him a bit better."
          "Yeah, sure. I'd like that," Gina nodded. "Might help with the article too."
          "I'd forgotten about that," Paul breathed. "If you need any help let me know."
          "Actually, would you mind if I quoted you? I figure it'll freak people out having Paul McDermott discussing the intricacies of art rather than prattling about all the shit people have heard ten million times."
          "I would love that," Paul said softly. "Actually, that would mean a lot to me and I don't deserve you doing something that nice for me after what I did to you."
          "Hey, I'm too nice for my own good," Gina chided. "Now get out before my car decides to cark it."
          "Yeah, yeah," Paul giggled as he tumbled out onto the pavement his legs having been affected by the champagne. He straightened himself up as Gina started the engine and waved as she took off. "Remind me again why you broke up with her?" Paul groused to himself.

          "My we look happy," Danny perked as Gina slid into the elevator beside him.
          "Maybe I am," Gina said coyly.
          "Any particular reason why?" Danny asked.
          "You'd be surprised at the wonders of art Daniel," Gina replied as the doors hissed open and they stepped out into the corridor.
          "Art? Since when did you like art?" Danny groused. "Oh Amanda talked you into going to that stupid exhibit did she?"
          "It wasn't stupid," Gina cussed as they strolled toward their desks. "Miro was a very…Chris." Sitting in Gina's leather padded swivel chair was Chris Kennedy, the only man Gina could ever claimed to have truly loved. He was medium hight, well built, and with a light brown floppy fringe that hung over his warm green eyes. As well as a high paid job in the States. "What are you doing here?"
          "I'm on holiday, thought I'd catch up with my favourite girl," Chris smiled. Gina felt her heart flutter just a little, she wasn't sure about being his favourite girl since their relationship had always been turbulent and he'd left for the States without even saying goodbye but by Jesus he was gorgeous.
          "You look well," she swallowed.
          "So do you," Chris chided getting to his feet. "Very well."
          "I think I'm getting a cold actually," Gina lied as Chris brazenly wrapped an arm around her waist.
          "I've got things to do, but I'll pick you up at seven for dinner," he whispered into her ear and dropped a soft kiss on her cheek.
          "Ah ok," Gina breathed and stood there shocked as he walked off, slapping Danny on the back as he did.
          "Earth to Coleman," Danny chided, waving his hand in front of her face.
          "What? Oh," Gina muttered.
          "Looks like someone is getting lucky tonight eh?" he teased.
          "Yeah," Gina said quietly as the feeling that all Chris wanted was a root sat horribly in her mind. "Lucky me huh?"

          Paul wrung his hands nervously as he waited for Gina to open her door. He hadn't called with the assumption that she would be home anyway. He noticed one of the other tenants was having a party and the techno music seemed to be making everything else vibrate. His attention was brought back to the door as it clicked open and Gina stood there fiddling with an earring.
          "Paul!" she gasped, sounding more shocked than she'd meant to.
          "Hi," he smiled. "I brought those books I'd promised."
          "Books?" Gina said blankly. "Oh Miro. Come in," she added and moved aside to let him in. Paul sauntered in and then turned to look at her. He was surprised to see her in a figure hugging black frock, strappy sandals and perfume he'd never smelt before.
          "Going out?" he asked, dropping his bag onto a chair.
          "Huh? Oh yeah," Gina smiled nervously looking down at her dress.
          "Must be somewhere special," Paul mused as he produced the books from his bag.
          "Dinner with an old friend," Gina nodded. "Are they the books?"
          "Yeah, that one's on his work so there's some pretty pictures for you to look at and the other is a biography," Paul replied. "An old friend from Adelaide?"
          "What? Oh no," Gina flustered. "Chris, an old boyfriend actually."
          "Isn't that playing with fire?" Paul announced, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice.
          "What?"
          "Hanging out with ex-lovers?"
          "What do you care?" Gina shrugged. "Besides Chris and I are more than ex-lovers."
          "How more?" Paul asked.
          "None of your business," Gina replied as she scurried off into the bathroom. She returned a few seconds later with freshly applied lipstick. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
          "I'm not leaving until you say thankyou," Paul declared astutely.
          Gina rolled her eyes, as there was a knock at the door. "Thankyou Paul for the books."
          "Much better," Paul smirked as she hurried off to answer the door. He reached for his bag as she reappeared with a Chris who Paul instantly hated.
          "Oh you have guests?" Chris announced blankly.
          "Oh, he's just leaving," Gina announced.
          "Not going to introduce us first?" Paul asked, slipping his bag over his shoulder.
          "Sure," Gina said slowly. "Chris this is Paul a friend of mine. Paul this is Chris also a friend of mine."
          "She's being modest," Chris laughed as he shook Paul's hand. Paul looked at Gina who looked away bashfully. "What's with the books?"
          "Oh, Miro," Gina mumbled absent-mindedly. "He's an artist."
          "God, what you reading that shit for?" Chris laughed.
          "Probably the same reason you jerk off to Penthouse," Paul announced then wished he hadn't as Gina glared at him. "What? It gives you pleasure doesn't it?"
          "I'm using the facilities," Chris sneered and stalked off into the bathroom.
          "The facilities," Paul mocked as he watched the bathroom door close. He looked back at Gina whose arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed. "What?"
          "Could you be anymore of an arsehole?" Gina hissed, her voice lowered.
          "Me? That fuckwit just insulted not only your intelligence but your dignity!" Paul scorned.
          "What?" Gina gasped.
          "Trust me, I'm a man, I can read between his suave words," Paul groused.
          "Look, I don't know what's suddenly crawled up your arse but I know Chris a hell of a lot better than you do. And I know that tonight will end with him screwing me but you know what, I don't care. I don't get many offers and if I can get a bit of loving here and there so what?" Gina breathed.
          "That's loving? Genie, you're worth more than a quick fuck by some egotistical bastard like him," Paul declared, his voice almost pleading with her not to go. The bathroom door opened and Chris reappeared.
          "Ready gorgeous?" he perked.
          "I'll just get my bag," Gina swallowed as she and Paul locked eyes for a moment. "Paul was just leaving too."