Hannah rested her head on the cold, metal bars.
“And you're not coming out until you're sorted of your gambling problem!” Jess snapped, walking out of the rehab centre, locking the door and resisting the temptation to throw away the key.
“Patrick?” Hannah moaned.
“Yes?” Came a quiet reply from the next-door cell.
“My hands hurt,” she whined.
“Deal with it.”
There were only two cells in the rehab centre which had previously been occupied by David Bowie, but now Hannah and Patrick were banged up, banged up good.

There was a round of applause as Jess left the rehab centre.
“Well done,” Toby said, slapping her on the back. “Well handled.”
“Don't touch me.”

In the bushes, only a few feet away, the leaves rustled. Jimmy, his face blacked out by SAS-style grease paint, crouched low, watching. Two less people to keep Jess safe, he thought. His mission was nearly complete. He turned and limped back into the shadows (the grenade incident had taken its toll), preparing for action.

“I'm liking the look of this,” said Jess, as the builders hoisted the sign of her comedy club up into position. It read, 'The Jess-ter' and Jess was extremely pleased with it. Dylan had already offered to perform for the opening night.
“I'M FOREVER BLOWING BUBBLES...” Hannah's voice drifted from the windows of the rehab centre.
“THERE IS ONLY ONE THING WORSE THAN BEING OSCAR WILDE...” Patrick's voice started.
“Be quiet!” Jess shouted at them.
“SOCKS ARE FLOATING THROUGH THE AIR...” Hannah concluded.
“I'M...DREAMING OF A BLUE EASTER...” Jess rolled her eyes and turned back to her club.
“They've completely lost it,” commented Toby walking up behind Jess and scaring the life out of her. “Why exactly are they in that building?”
Jess looked at Toby, he'd changed his clothes for once. “That building is rehab. They've both got problems of the gambling nature.”
“Oh.” Toby looked at his feet. “Nice club...yours?”
Jess smacked her hand against her head. “Where have you been for a while?”
“I dunno, merged into the background of life I reckon. Trampled into monotonous routine of a Star Bar life.”
“You've been looking after the llamas, haven't you?”
“Yeah.”

Jess and Toby sat down at the poshest table in 'The Jess-ter' and sipped at their drinks. Jess had offered to buy Toby one since he looked pretty depressed; having lost everything important to him...Tyke and...well, Tyke.
“Thanks for the drink,” Toby said gratefully.
“Don't talk to me directly, please,#148; Jess said, looking over to the stage. Two workmen were polishing the gold trim with expert care. It was beginning to look good.
“Can I use sign language?”
“No.”
“How about if I look the other way whilst speaking to you?”
Jess considered this. “No.”

Patrick and Hannah were desperate with only each other for company, they had resorted to drastic measures.
“I bet you I can hold a headstand against that wall for 30 seconds,” Hannah said.
“Rubbish.”
“I COULD!”
“You couldn't.”
“BET you I can.”
There was a silence.
“Ok...you're on.”
Hannah sized up the wall then flew forward, doing a neat handstand.
“5...6...7...”
“You'll never do it.”
“10...11...12...”
“You won't, I swear...”
“17...18...19...”
“Hannah...HANNAH?!”
“23...24...25...”
“Damn you!” Patrick clapped his hands in an attempt to distract her.
“30!” Hannah came down from the wall. “I win.”
“It wasn't a real bet!”
“Come on, sonny - Jim - take your sock off.”
“If we keep betting using pieces of clothing things could get ugly.”
“I know...but I can't help myself!!!”

Back in 'The Jess-ter', Jess was talking to the architect about the strange pillar which had suddenly appeared in the middle of the tables and was blocking her view of the stage.
Toby sat on the same table as her and looked thoughtful; he thought that he caught a glimpse of Tyke in the distance but it turned out only to be a floor mop. He sighed and turned around to Jess, “Do you mind if I go tend to the llamas?” After a moment he added, “Oh yeah, you don't want me to talk to you.” And then after another moments pause, “You don't mind...”.
He got up and walked out passing a curious Zane on the way. Zane walked over to Jess' table slowly as he looked around himself admiring the decor. “This is nice,” he observed.
“I know. I have EYES.”
He paused before saying, “Do you have an act for opening night?”
“Yep.” Jess pointed over to the far corner of the room where Dylan was looking over his notes for his act.
“What about the night after opening night?”
“Jack Dee.”
“The next night?”
“Michael Smiley.”
“And the next?”
“Captain Laughalot.”
“You made that one up.”
“True.” Jess turned back to the architect.
“Please let me do something for the club...I can be funny!”
Jess looked up and down. “Don't think so. You're from New Zealand.”
“So?! Dylan's Irish!”
“That's different. The Irish gave us shamrocks, leprechauns and potatoes.”
“And Guinness!” Dylan called over.
“And Guinness,” Jess concluded. “What have you Kiwis ever given us?”
“Erm...wombats?” Zane said, hopefully.
Jess frowned. “Get lost, Zane.”
Zane walked out, heartbroken.
“YOU'RE SO MEAN!” Jess heard Hannah scream from the centre.
“Get a grip, you gambling madwoman!”

Jess, who was trying to waste away the four hours between now and the opening of her very own comedy club, had decided to take a wander along the beach. Half way through the moonlit stroll she bumped into Ian who was walking in the opposite direction.
“Oh, hello,” said Ian, kicking his sandals at the cold sand beneath him.
“Hi-llo,” replied Jess, unsure whether to say hello or hi and getting jumbled up in the process.
“So, what are you doing?” Ian asked as a random moonlight surfer ran up the beach.
“Not much,” Jess answered kicking at sand.
“Right.”
There was a silence.
“Caught any good coconuts lately?”
“I really don't know where you got this from - I'm not interested in coconuts.”
“Oh.” 'Damn!' thought Jess. Her cunning plan to make conversation had been flawed! All there was left was the proposal speech... 'damn, damn, DAMN!' “I'm going to the opening of my club tonight,” Jess said, looking at the moon, which looked a bit like a BabyBel cheese... “Do you want to come?”
“Yes! Yes, sure.”
“Ok...” Jess imagined a cow jumping over the BabyBel and taking a bit out of it. “See you in the Star Bar at 7:30?”
“Ok.”
Jess managed to nod before sprinting up the beach.

<< back to Book 2.3

� Jess and Hannah 2002