I remove the icepack from my ankle and rub some cream on it. Back at the freezer, I grab some ice cream and start eating it straight from the tub. Angela is a firm believer in eating the stuff straight from the container in times of emotional overloads. And I’m suffering from emotional overload.

Armed with spoon and box, I limp back to my laptop. I wait for the screen to come to life and try my hardest to push vivid images of this afternoon out of my mind.

Time for some work, Kayla, I think to myself. You’ve had your fun, and now you need to concentrate.

Easier said than done, I discover.

I sigh and randomly type some words onto the screen. At least now it doesn’t look so empty. What a sad habit.

Failure, you’re a failure. The words haunt me. I can’t afford to screw up this project.

I must succeed.

For further inspiration, I take another spoonful of ice cream. I revel in the cold, sweet texture sliding along my tongue and down my throat. Not as good as swallowing all of Scott, but it’s satisfying in its own way.

Briefly, I imagine Scott’s body covered in ice cream and the pleasure I’d have in licking it off, my tongue working its way from chest to belly to between his legs. I sigh.

I can still feel his tongue working its magic between my legs.

I shake my head. What am I doing? There’s no time to indulge in fantasies of our sexual escapade earlier today.

If I don’t start writing, Ed will have me killed, or worse, he’ll see to it that I would be fired.

I change my tactic.

Quickly my fingers move across the keyboard to pull up my scene map. My scene map is like a mind map, except it depicts different scenes in the series.

Instead of writing, I will focus on creating individual scenes. Any progress is going to be better than nothing at all.

I reread the first series and then open up my notes on series two. But try as I might to concentrate, my thoughts are not cooperating.

Brad. Scott. Scott. Brad.

Kill one of them. Ian’s off-limits

Those things invade my mind like weeds invading the lawn.

It’s no use. There’s no way I’m going to be doing any work tonight.

There’s only one thing to do. I go back into the kitchen and grab a wine glass. A bottle of red is taken from my wine rack, and once my glass if full, I make myself comfortable on the couch.

With my left hand I hold my glass and with my right hand I flick through my contacts. Ah, there it is.

After the third ring, I get worried. What if she doesn’t pick up? What will I do then?

“Hello, stranger,” a familiar voice greets me after the eighth ring.

“Hey, Ange.” I take a sip of my wine. For the umpteenth time, I lament the fact my best friend is out of town at the moment.

Why has she chosen this week to take a little break? It’d have been much better if she were around. A girl’s night would be awesome.

“What have you been up to?”

I sigh. Where do I start?

“That bad, is it?” Angela asks before I can reply to her question.

“You know me too well.” I laugh. “I don’t know where to start.”

It’s true. What do I unburden first, the problem about work or the problem of fucking my two leads?

“Ed’s being a dick,” I start, and I hear Angela laugh. Instantly I feel better.

“What else is new?” Angela says, and I’m reminded how Angela had a run-in with Ed last year. It wasn’t pretty, but from what she said, Ed came off looking worse from the incident than she did.

“Well,” I start and try and work out how to put it to her. “He’s interfering with my creative side. He just barged into my office the other day to tell me I have to kill off one of the leads in the show.”

“Is that all?” Angela sounds indifferent.

“I don’t think it’s time to kill one of them, and besides…” I falter.

There’s laughter from Angela.

“Let me guess, you’re screwing one of them?”

Luckily, Angela can’t see me go bright red like a tomato. Wait till she hears the rest of my story.

“Anyway, why don’t you kill that loser Ian? He’s a wanker anyway.”

Good old Ange, not one to shy away from saying it as she sees it.

“That’s just the problem. Ed told me Ian’s off-limits.”

Silence.

“But even if he wasn’t off-limits,” I continue, “I don’t think the show is ready for losing one of the brothers. I mean…it is meant to be about three brothers, not two and their deceased brother.”

I pause to take a sip of my wine. “Although you could maybe delve into that ghost stuff, you know? Like they did in that other show.”

“I don’t think Ian has the talent to play a ghost,” Angela points out.

I groan. “And he’s off-limits.”

“I heard. Can’t you do that? Just kill one of the guys and have him come back as a ghost…that way, you’re only changing his character. Solved. Easy.”

More wine dances across my tongue, tantalizing my taste buds. Briefly, I contemplate the story line put forward by Ange before I dismiss it. Ed would never go for it.

“It wouldn’t work.”

“What’s the other problem?”

“I’ve had the best sex ever with Brad,” I confess, and Ange chuckles.

“And since when is that a problem? About time you loosened up and looked after your sex life. You and Angelo were never meant to be together.”

“And then today,” I continue, ignoring the reference to Angelo. Angelo has been shelved over twelve months ago, after I found him banging his personal assistant. “I fucked Scott.”

I wait for the rebuke.

“I still can’t see the problem?”

“Are you serious?” I rouse on my best friend. “Have you been listening? I’m having sex with two different guys.”

As I say it out loud, I groan inwardly. When did my life become so complicated?

What had happened to my goal of becoming a successful screenwriter, find a supportive man, live in a nice mansion downtown along with all the other successful writers and…and what? Be bored out of my brain?

“Lighten up, Kay,” Angela says.

“Easy for you to say.” I grumble. “You’ve always been more adventurous than me.”

I’m sure Angela doesn’t tell me everything that’s going on in her life. She’s a wild one.

“About time for you to catch up. Enjoy it and see where it takes you. I wish I had two spunks like Brad and Scott lust after me.”

We laugh. We both know Angela is not short on admirers.

“But what am I going to do?” I persist.

“Enjoy it.”

“What about this killing off scene? How can I kill either Brad or Scott?” I know the minute I do, our relationship will be over. Am I selfish in not wanting it to end with either one of them?

“You need to think creative. You’re the writer. You’ll work something out.”

Angela sounds full of optimism.

“But I still don’t know what to do about Brad and Scott.” I know I sound like a broken record, but I can’t help it.

“Again you need to think creatively. You might not need to choose between either one of them.”

I frown. What does she mean?

“You’re not suggesting…?” I hesitate. Is she really suggesting I keep both going at the same time?

“I’m suggesting you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. How do you know they would be against doing it with you,” Angela pauses, “together?”

“At the same time?” I blurt the question out before I can stop myself.

“Duh.”

“I don’t know. That sort of bad girl stuff doesn’t suit me.”

“How do you know?”

I bite my bottom lip. “Because I’m not like that. You’re like that.”

“About time you get with the program, girl.” Angela laughs before I hear her talk to someone else.

“Sorry, gorgeous, got to go.”

“Company?”

“You bet. Just go with it. Stop thinking about it, and you’ll see it’ll all work out.”

I feel marginally better when I press the end button on my phone…emphasis on marginally.

It’s too early to go to bed, and I know I won’t be able to sleep, not with the way I’m feeling right now. And so I try one more time to plan my scenes for the next upcoming season.

Angela’s words ring in my ear: “get with the program,” and “be a bad girl.” I’ve enjoyed sex with both Brad and Scott. Perhaps my best friend’s right.

Maybe I should just go with the flow.