DISCLAIMER: second chapter, same as the first :)


The problem Kenny found, wasn't that it was hard to get Derek (and Casey's) nearest and dearest to talk...it was that it was impossible to get them to stop. And as for staying on-topic...

"So, as a brother Derek is...oh, you've written a poem. About – socks. Yeah, I'd love to hear it, Marti..."

"How do you feel your remarriage affected...oh, that's too bad. If it helps, I have a foolproof recipe – hang on, do you have a pen and paper?"

"Do you think that Derek's childhood – no, that's all right. That does sound very important. If it helps, I'd be glad to listen to your summation..."

"What's it like having Casey McDonald as a sis – yes, I do use energy efficient lightbulbs. Only way to go really, isn't it?"

It was a long day, made longer by the fact that during a bathroom break, the cell phone was answered by Colin. Kenny returned in time to hear –

" – once you account for the overheads, the rest is pure profit. So, can I take it you are interested? Excellent...now, do you have access to a credit card?" He paused. "Would you like to have access to a credit card?"

Kenny snatched the phone. "Edwin, sorry about that – that's Colin, pay no attention to him." He covered the phone and hissed, "What do you think you're doing? Edwin's got enough to deal with at the moment!"

"The kid's got potential," Colin said, ignoring Kenny's tone. "He reminds me of my cousin."

"The one you tried to sell?"

Colin looked at him blankly. "You're going to have to be more specific, Kenny."

It was no wonder that by the end of the day, he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to go home. So it was a bit strange to find him in the darkened newsroom, two hours after everyone else had already left.

" – which brings us to Alex. Who I broke up with when I found him 'rehearsing a love scene' on my bed. With my understudy."

Kenny made a sympathetic noise.

"But you know what the really bad part is? I walked in on them, and it was so embarrassing that...I actually pretended to believe the love scene explanation for a while." Sam cleared his throat. "You might have won 'Most Psychotic Best Friend' but I think I have enough material to swing 'Most Completely Pathetic Lovelife'."

Kenny considered this. "I think we tie."

"Sucks to be a nice guy," Sam said.

"Yeah."

"Or...to want a nice guy."

Kenny opened and closed his mouth. But just as he was about to say something, Sam jumped in hastily, "So, it's Friday night. Any big plans?"

He looked around the deserted newsroom. "No. Nothing. You?"

"Does 'staring at the walls of my bedroom' count as a plan?"

Kenny smiled, then became serious. "That's just...sad. I mean – we're young, we should be out having fun. We should hang up right now, and go and do something completely mad!"

"Yeah!" Sam agreed.

There was a silence.

"Have you hung up?" Kenny asked.

"...no."

He smiled.


"I can't believe you're still seeing her! She runs the paper – she probably masterminded the sting!"

"Yeah – it wasn't a sting...and as you pointed out, this is real life, not your version of it."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't get to control my behaviour this time. If I want to date someone – I will. And, since you're a supportive family member, I'm sure you're cheering me on, right?"


"This is perfect," Carrie whispered, as Marc drew her close and they began to dance.

"Yeah," he agreed, his dark hair shining and lustrous under the lights. His brown orbs caught her sapphire ones and she was helpless to resist the undeniable pull between them.

"Carrie," he husked, swaying her in his strong arms, "There's something I need to ask you..."

Her body thrilled at these words, for she knew what he was about to say...

He said the words she had been waiting so long to hear – they delighted her ears like a classical concerto. "Carrie – will you be my girlfriend?"

She stared at him. "I've wanted you to ask me for so long," she said, her body trembling like an autumn leaf in his sure grip.

"Then – the answer is yes?" he pulled her close, "My dearest, you don't know how happy you've made me."

But she stepped back, face regretful, teardrops glittering in her eyes. "I – can't," she choked out.

"But – Carrie, don't you love me?"

"More than life itself!" she declared, though he little knew how true those words were.

"Then why..."

She thought about Dirk, changed from annoying teenager to heartbroken vigilante by the loss of Kelly. It was possible he would never fully recover from the death of his true love. It was possible that he didn't want to.

Her jaw firmed with determination. She would help him through it. What else were sisters for?

Her hand whispered against his cheek for just a moment. "My family needs me," she said simply.


"I still can't believe you slept in the newsroom," Tiddler said, regarding Kenny with suspicion. "Did you borrow Lynda's pajamas?"

"I think it's brilliant," Lynda said. Kenny squinted at her. "I mean, since you've slept in the newsroom, that clearly voids my 'No sleeping in the newsroom, Lynda,' promise."

"But you've already broken that promise," Kenny said. "Multiple times."

"Well, yeah, but now I don't have to feel guilty about it."

Under the weight of their disbelieving stares she amended it to, "I mean, now I don't have to feel bad about not feeling guilty about it."

"Seriously though, Kenny" – Tiddler began, only to be interrupted by Spike's entrance into the newsroom.

"Okay," he held up both hands with a world weary sigh. "I know it's difficult, but everyone's just going to have to form an orderly queue to offer their congratulations."

Lynda squinted at him. "Don't tell me" –

"She forgave me," Spike smiled triumphantly. "And it only took..." he consulted his watch, "six straight hours of grovelling. I may not be going out with you anymore boss, but I gotta say...your training came in useful."

"So everything's back on track?" Lynda asked, with suspicious innocence.

"Absolutely," Spike said. "How about you and hockey-boy?"

"Hockey-man," Julie sighed as she breezed by. "Did you see his thighs?"

"Never better," Lynda ignored the interruption.

"Yeah, well – a relationship based on blackmail probably seems reasonable to a guy who's got a permanent case of brain-freeze."

"We should celebrate this," Lynda decided, without breaking eye contact with Spike. "Us both moving on."

"I don't know about you, but my life's been a non-stop party since I broke up with you."

"I broke up with you," Lynda corrected. "And how about a double date? To prove there are no hard feelings?"

"Funny, I thought hard feelings were the only kind you had."

"If you don't think you can handle it...that's no problem of course..."

"I can handle it."

"Great," Lynda said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Spike managed, through gritted teeth, before wheeling off towards his desk.

"Kenny, change the reservation tomorrow to a table for four." Lynda said as she watched him go.

Kenny sighed. "You don't even remember what you're fighting about, do you?"

"I remember that Spike started it. Probably."


"All right Kenny, what's going on?" Tiddler demanded.

Kenny looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"The humming, the smiling, the sleeping in the newsroom, and – are those song lyrics?"

Kenny hastily covered the notepad with his hand.

"What gives?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he denied.

Tiddler regarded him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Finally, she slapped her hands down on the table. Kenny jumped.

"It's a girl," she said, triumphantly. "You've got a crush on some girl!"

"I do not," Kenny denied.

"Come on, Kenny. Look in the mirror."

"There's no girl," he said. Reasonably. Sensibly.

Tiddler subjected him to thorough scrutiny. Kenny met her eyes without blinking.

"Sorry...I just – thought..."

The cell phone rang. Unfortunately, it was on the far end of the table, where Julie happened to be standing. She picked it up.

"That's all right – you can give it" – Kenny began, but Julie turned her back to him.

"Hi there," she said brightly. "...I'm Julie, and you are?" Her voice became a purr, "Sam? That's a nice name. Do you work out? You sound like you work out..."

Abruptly, she straightened. "Oh. Yeah. He's here." She slapped the phone into Kenny's hand. "Great," she said. "Everyone already thinks you're a better deputy editor, and now boys think you're cuter than me too."

Tiddler's eyebrows shot towards her hairline.

"Hi Sam," Kenny smiled. "Yeah, me too...just a minute...Tiddler – don't you have mail to deliver or something?"

"You do have a crush!" she exclaimed. "On a boy!"

Kenny covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "I do not!"

"You've gone all red!"

"I have not!"

Tiddler folded her arms. "Kenny, I don't want to do this, but if you're going to deny it, you leave me no choice."

"Tiddler – go away."

"Fine – but don't say I didn't warn you."


"Kenny?" Julie asked, wrinkling her nose. "I can't believe it."

"Why not?" Tiddler asked.

Julie considered this. "Well, I never believed the rumour that Lynda had him neutered years ago. But that's just because...it's Kenny. Does he even...have those parts?"

The graphics department was empty – Lynda had reduced one member to tears, and the newest recruit, Vandana, not realising the futility of disagreeing with Lynda Day, had whipped the others into a frenzy. They were currently camped around Lynda's desk demanding unreasonable things like respect and a longer lunch break.

So, really there was no reason for Kenny to feel nervous, with his only audience thousands of miles away.

"It's very rough," he warned. "I haven't really had a chance to" –

"I'm sure it's great," Sam reassured him.

Kenny took a deep breath, and began to strum his guitar.

A few minutes later, when the last notes had died away, he asked, "...so, what did you think?"

"I think...I'm sorry I ever agreed to this guitar-off with you," Sam said.

Kenny deflated. "Oh. Well, I did say it was only a rough version" –

"Dude – I meant because I am clearly going to lose. That was awesome."

Kenny smiled. "All right – your turn."

"Do I have to? I've already admitted defeat."

"Hey – I smuggled my guitar into the newsr – um, new office to do this. And if Colin finds out" –

"Let me guess – then you're in trouble?"

"More like...then I'm signed up to Colin's label, which so far consists of a tapdancing monkey and an untrained magician. Come on, the least you can do is show me what I'm up against. Besides," he paused, "I'd really like to hear you."

"Okay," Sam sighed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

A few minutes later, after the last 'YEAH!' of 'She Said It Was Over,' Kenny cautiously asked, "Is...that it?"

"Pretty much, yeah. We used to repeat it a few times, but...I like you, so I won't do that."

"No – it was...it was – interesting," Kenny said tactfully.

"Yeah – lyrics were never our strong point," Sam said. "I mean, we got better after that, but..." he cleared his throat, "You're really talented. I can't believe you wrote that by yourself – it took three of us to come up with the line 'Baby, baby, baby.'"

Kenny smiled warmly. "Yeah, well, I've been feeling sort of...inspired lately."

There was a silence.

Then, hesitantly, Sam asked, "Um...Kenny – are you...flirting with me?"

Kenny blinked.

"I mean, it's cool if you're not, but it maybe seems like you are – and don't get me wrong, I'm totally on board with that – I'm 'pulling up the anchor and getting ready to set sail' levels of 'on board' with that...but...I'd just kind of like to...know. If you are. Flirting. With me."

He waited.

"Um...can I get back to you on that?" Kenny asked.


When the graphics team had been cowed into quivering submission, Kenny sidled up next to Lynda. "I can't believe I'm going to do this, but...I've got something on my mind, and since you're my best friend...I'd appreciate it if we could –talk."

"I am your best friend," Lynda said. "And as your best friend, might I say that you are being completely insensitive?"

Kenny blinked. "What?"

"Rearranging your sexual orientation without telling me. I felt completely out of the loop!"

He blinked again, incredulous. "I'm so sorry you feel slighted by my personal crisis – which, by the way, I didn't even realise I was having until a few minutes ago!"

"Well, next time, try to send a memo or something."

"How about a telegram?" He held out his palm in front of him as if he was reading an invisible note, "Dear Lynda. Stop. Just. Stop."

Frazz bumped into him, and then spent seven minutes explaining that that was an accident, not a come on.

Julie tried to fix him up with a friend. "He's lovely – and you both have so much in common!"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Um...well...the – obvious?" she tried.

The worst however, was to come.

"Kenny, I've just heard! Is it true?"

"Colin, I'm having a really hard day – whatever Tiddler's been telling you" –

"I heard that you've been writing new material! It's perfect timing – the return of Kenny Phillips – Rock God!" Colin slung one arm around Kenny's shoulders and gestured into the distance with the other.

"Oh, right – that. Sorry, I thought for a second that you were going to offer your support. Or ask me to offload that crate of rainbow stickers for you."

"Why would I do that?" Colin asked, in puzzlement. "Anyway, you finish your songs, I'll pull together some backup dancers...between the nostalgia value and your new queer cred, I expect a sellout!"

"Go away, Colin. Go away, now!"


"So, we're really going to do this," Spike concentrated on the notes on his desk. "Tomorrow night we're going to go out on dates together – with other people."

"Absolutely," Lynda said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm dying to know how a relationship between a published author and a guy who thinks a 'semi-colon' is a medical procedure – actually works."

"That makes two of us, since I can't wait to see how the relationship between someone whose idea of fun is beating people up – and someone who does it professionally, works."

"Then it's a good thing our curiosity's going to be satisfied tomorrow, isn't it?"

Spike shook his head. "Lynda...don't you think this is a little twisted, even for us?"

"What are you trying to say, Spike?"

He looked down at his desk again. "Nothing."

"Come on Thomson – spit it out. I can't tell you what you want to hear if you don't say it."

"And when have you ever told me what I want to hear?"

"First time for everything. Come on, like I've never surprised you?"

"Yeah. Mostly unpleasantly."


"So," Tiddler said. "What's he like?"

"He's...nice." Kenny smiled down at the cell phone in his hand.

"Nice," Tiddler said flatly.

"What's wrong with nice?"

"Kenny – we're talking about epic romance here!"

"We are? I thought we were talking about having a crush? Maybe," he clarified quickly.

"What I mean is – 'when Nice meets Reasonable'...it's not exactly 'when worlds collide', is it? More, 'when worlds gently bump into each other and then apologize for the inconvenience.'"

Kenny looked confused and Tiddler sighed. "Look, Kenny, you've got some good raw material here, but if you want an epic romance for the ages, you're going to have to do a lot of work."

"But I don't know if I want an epic romance for the ages," Kenny said. "I mean – I don't even know where to start. You can't exactly call a few phone calls a relationship, can you? And we both live so far away – I don't even know if it would work. I'm mad to even be thinking this!"

He jumped as Colin's hand came down on his shoulder. "How are those lyrics coming along, Kenny? I do have a rhyming dictionary if that would help things. Just...be careful when you come to page 83...and if possible, try to avoid using the word genius."

"Kenny's stressing about his long distance relationship," Tiddler volunteered.

"Thanks, Tiddler," Kenny said, putting his head down on the table.

"Oh? Where does the lucky guy live, then?"

"London," Kenny said, voice slightly muffled.

Colin took this in. "I'd hardly call that long-distance," he said, shaking his head. "Kenny, Kenny, Kenny – you're making mountains out of moleskins."

"London in Canada," Kenny clarified, banging his head against the desk.

Colin stared at him. "London in..." He laughed. "Tiddler, get an atlas."

"It's a place in Ontario," Tiddler informed him. "You know, where Derek Venturi is from."

Colin went white. "London in..." he swallowed. "That's...not...no – it's not true!"

He looked wildly between Tiddler and Kenny, who both nodded at him. He pulled out a chair. "But...then my book is worthless..."

"What book?" Tiddler asked.

"Derek Venturi's Insider Guide to London – all the hotspots of our capital city as marked out by a native," Colin recited hollowly.

"Yeah – a native Canadian," Tiddler said. Colin dropped his head into his hands.

"Didn't you think it was the slightest bit odd that a famous Canadian hockey player would be from Britain?"

As Colin stared at Kenny, something changed in his expression.

"Colin," Kenny asked warily, "What are you looking at?"

He got his answer when Colin snatched the cell phone out of his hands. "Sorry, Kenny – but, all's fair in love and profit margins," he apologized, and took off running.

As Kenny and Tiddler chased him through the newsroom, they heard, "Edwin, Eddie – have I got a deal for you!" before the door to his office slammed shut.

Five solid minutes of thumping later, and the door was abruptly unlocked. This almost led to a pile-up as Tiddler and Kenny fell into Colin's office.

"I was so close," he said, staring down at the cellphone in his hand. "We were talking shipping!"

"Let me guess," Kenny brushed himself off. "Lizzie vetoed it."

"Narrow-minded, I call it. Risk equals revenue, I told her, but she hung up."

"Right, well, now that you've finished" – Kenny began, holding out his hand, when the phone rang.

Colin brightened, and brought the phone to his ear. "Eddie – excellent! I knew it was an offer you couldn't refuse! Oh – Sam. Of course! I hear Kenny's really been pumping you lately...are you all right? That cough sounds nasty."

"Colin – give it!" Kenny made an abortive grab for the cell phone, but stumbled over a leering garden gnome, and lurched into a pile of musical boxes with stiffly pirouetting ninjas on top.

"No, I meant the article," Colin burbled, as Tiddler crossed her arms in front of her and shook her head wildly.

"Stop talking!" Kenny begged, as he righted himself.

As usual, Colin ignored this. "You know – Derek Venturi. I hear you're the go-to guy for inside info....What – Kenny, a reporter?" He laughed, "What has he been telling you? Modesty – it's his biggest failing. Try deputy editor – he's second in command of our little operation...impressive, eh? ...hello?"

He stared down at the cell phone. "He hung up!" He shrugged, then handed the phone to Kenny, who stared at it in dismay. "But don't worry, Kenny – I really talked you up, and I'm sure he was impressed." He looked expectant.

"I'm going to kill you," Kenny managed.

"Well, I like that," Colin sounded indignant. "As your manager, it's my responsibility to say – love your new material, but I'm not sold on the attitude." He ushered Kenny and Tiddler out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a book to remarket."

The door shut behind them. Tiddler watched as Kenny scrolled down the list of contacts on the cell phone and pressed the call button. He shut his eyes. "Switched off," he said, shoulders slumping. "Straight to voicemail."

"I'm sorry," she said. "But – look on the bright side! The two of you have just had a big misunderstanding – you might have a shot at love after all!"


It was, in a word – awkward.

"Isn't this nice?" Casey said in a strained voice as they sat down.

"Yeah – it's like old times again. Growing up together, we were like a brother and sister double-dating tag team," Derek said.

Casey glared at him.

"Wow – that's...involved," Spike said, eyebrows rising.

"You know that saying 'Keep your friends close, but your family closer'? That was us."

"Menus!" Casey yelped. "Who wants a menu?"

"What about you two?" Derek asked, gesturing between Lynda, on his right, and Spike, on the opposite side of the table.

"Us? We dated," Lynda said.

"Yeah – but we have this strict employer-employee relationship now," Spike hastily clarified.

"Wasn't that what I said?" she asked, before turning to Casey. "Have I told you how much I enjoyed your book?"

Casey shook her head.

"I thought not," Lynda said, carefully refraining from actually saying that. "Anyway – I just wanted to ask...the symbolic castration of your lead male character – was that an intentional choice?"

Both Derek and Casey choked. "I thought you promised this wasn't an interview!" she hissed at Spike.

"It's not – I swear to you, this is Lynda's version of small talk."

"I mean, you keep putting him in situations where he can't act – and then, when you take into account the vow of chastity he takes after his girlfriend's murder...I just thought it was an interesting choice." She smiled encouragingly.

"I – uh – that is..."

"I think that's probably more a reflection of Casey's issues, than anything to do with me – I mean him," Derek interjected.

"Hey, or maybe it's more about Lynda's issues," Spike said, placing a comforting hand on Casey's back. Across the table, two pairs of eyes narrowed. "I mean, Lynda's all about castration...right, Derek?"

Derek placed his hand over Lynda's, resting on the table. "She seems pretty cool to me," he said, and smiled at her.

Across the table, two more pairs of eyes narrowed.

"Cool? I think the word you're looking for is 'frigid'," Spike said.


"No luck?" Tiddler asked.

Kenny shook his head. "I've left messages, but..." He shook his head.

"He's got to answer sometime," she reassured him.

"Does he?"

"Well, no – but I was trying to make you feel better."

Kenny groaned, then sat up. "Canada!" he said.

"What?"

"I could go to Canada! I mean, if I showed up at his door, he'd have to listen to me!"

Tiddler blinked. "And what would you say?"

"What?"

"Okay – ignoring the fact that Lynda probably has a plan in place to stop you from ever leaving the country again – let's say you show up on Sam's doorstep. What are you going to say to him? Because it's going to have to be a killer first line."

Kenny thought. "'Hi?'" he offered.

"Kenny! You can't start an epic love affair with 'hi'! It's got to be something deep and meaningful, like 'I know this sounds crazy, but I think we're meant to be together.'"

"That's a bit full on, isn't it?"

"Kenny – you crossed 'full on' when you considered crossing time-zones to meet this guy!"


"So," Lynda said, twirling her fork in her pasta, "How much of your novel is based on your own life?"

Casey put down her water glass. "No comment," she said.

"I'm not asking as an interviewer. I'm asking as a fan. So – what? Forty per cent? Fifty? Sixty-five?" Lynda persisted.

"These potatoes are...really great," Spike interrupted, glancing between the two women. "Anyone want some?"

Lynda ignored this and kept staring at Casey.

"Really, Lynda, I'm not that interesting."

"I second that," Derek agreed, and Casey closed her eyes in relief. He smirked. "But – Lynda's question is. So how about an answer?" He raised his eyebrows.

"It's...really hard to calculate," Casey began. "I mean...it's more – the situations described are ones I'm familiar with, but the characters are my own invention."

"So, you've experienced almost being pecked to death by ravens...but Dirk Van Sant has nothing to do with Derek?" Lynda persisted.

"Well, naturally there are aspects...um..." she trailed off into silence.

Spike looked at her with concern. "Here – Casey," he said, "you've really got to try this!" He held a forkful of mashed potatoes to her lips.

She swallowed. "You're right – these are delicious." In a very sincere, soft voice, she said, "Thank you."

"No problem," he said in the same tone.

Abruptly, Lynda dropped her hand onto Derek's thigh. He jumped, and Spike raised an eyebrow.

"You okay, Derek?" he asked.

"...fine," he said.

"I think you might be coming on a bit strong, there, boss," he said to Lynda, amusement turning up the corners of his mouth.

"I'm being seductive," she said, and smiled challengingly.

"You're being scary," he disagreed.

"I'm being forward and take-charge with my sexual needs. Some men appreciate that."

"Hey, take-charge is great," Derek interrupted, with a look at Casey. "The last girl I dated was in a constant state of retreat."

"Well, maybe if you'd stopped ambushing her, she wouldn't have had to withdraw so much," Casey said. Breaking eye-contact, she turned to Spike. "Here – you have a little...just let me..." she picked up her napkin and dabbed at the side of his mouth.

With a squeak Derek half-rose out of his chair. "Could you please loosen your grip on my thigh?" he gritted out in Lynda's direction.


"Kenny, it's eight o' clock," Tiddler said. "Don't you think we should call it a night?" She looked around the empty newsroom.

"Just – one more try," Kenny said. He pressed the call button once again, then shot up in his seat. "It's ringing!" he hissed.

"All right, well remember" – she didn't have a chance to finish.

"Hello – hi. It's me. Obviously. Look – I know you're probably really angry at me right now and you have every right to be – I completely understand. But – you should know...I'm sorry. I'm really sorry – it was a stupid idea and I should have put my foot down. The thing is though – I wasn't thinking about the story at all. It doesn't matter to me – it never did, and I really hope that it's not going to ruin...well...whatever we have here, because I think it's – sort of special. It is to me, anyway, and...oh. Well, who is this?" Kenny closed his eyes. Dully, he said. "Alex. Oh. That's. Um. Right. Well – sorry to be calling so late. Bit of a mix-up, but...I'll just – hang up now, and you can go back to...whatever you were doing. Sorry to disturb you. Right."

He hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before turning it off.

"What happened?" Tiddler asked, quietly.

In a very normal voice, avoiding eye contact, Kenny said, "Sam was in the bathroom. So, his ex-boyfriend picked up." He tapped the phone against the table, gently.

"It mightn't be what you think," she offered, hopelessly.

"It's one in the morning in Canada," Kenny said, almost to himself. He forced himself to look at Tiddler. He managed a smile. "I think you were right."

She frowned. "About what?"

"It wasn't exactly an epic romance. Bit silly to think...nevermind." He shook his head and sighed, before getting to his feet. "Come on, I'll see you home."

As they left the newsroom, Tiddler slipped her arm through his.


"So why didn't you two work out?" Casey asked, gesturing with her fork.

"It was the classic love triangle," Spike said. "Man, woman...newspaper." He glared across the table.

"Is it hard to work together?" Derek asked, staring directly at Casey. "Isn't it weird to go back to that kind of relationship, after being so...close?"

"Well," Lynda considered, "It's very hard to find good reporters these days, so...I'm stuck with Spike."

"Don't get me wrong," Spike said, "I still have a lot of respect for Lynda. I think of her as my rock. Well – more like...my gargoyle."

"Speaking of respect," Lynda said sweetly, "I have to say, Casey, that I really admire you."

"You...do?" she looked confused.

"Absolutely," Lynda said, her face the dictionary definition of sincere. "This can't have been easy for you – when you heard that Derek was giving us an exclusive interview, I mean. But I agree...dignified silence is probably the best option. If only it didn't look like you have something to hide..."

Casey stared at Derek.

"Casey isn't hiding anything," Spike defended.

Lynda shot a withering glance in his direction. "I wasn't talking about her dress, Spike."

"Is that true?" Casey asked. "Are you really giving her an interview?"

"No holds barred," Derek confirmed.

"...you don't mean – you wouldn't tell her!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"Wouldn't tell me what?" Lynda asked, eyes darting from one to the other.

"I'm sure there's nothing to tell – now, how about dessert?"

"Derek – that is low – even for you!"

"And I thought you were a number one fan of telling the truth. Because that's what it is, isn't it? The truth."

"Do you mind if I take some preliminary notes?" Lynda asked. "This is good stuff."

Derek and Casey ignored the interruption. "It happened," Derek said flatly, "and no matter how many 'happy family' stories you write, you can't make it unhappen. So maybe, you should just face up to it."

"How many times do I have to tell you – my book is not about you!"

"Yeah, and that's the problem!" Derek matched her volume. "Because I'm pretty sure you know that you're not 'the sister I always needed'. You never were – and you knew that, and then you wrote that, after we" – he stopped.

Even Spike didn't try to break the silence this time.

"I just wrote a book in praise of blended families," Casey said finally, in almost a whisper. "Everyone keeps talking about my wonderful family values and the great example I'm setting." She looked straight at him. "One confusing night together doesn't make all that irrelevant."

"It could," he said.

Casey swallowed then shook her head. "I – can't. I just – I can't!" Pushing back her chair, she hurried in the direction of the ladies. Derek stared after her.

"Great work boss," Spike said, dropping his napkin on top of his plate. "What are you going to do for an encore? Take candy from little kids?"

Lynda pushed her chair back. "I'm going to fix this." She met Spike's astonished gaze. "After all – I only have half the story yet."


Lynda crossed her arms and waited outside the latched stall, apparently unmoved by the sniffling she heard.

"You're going to have to come out sooner or later," she said eventually.

Casey unbolted the door and looked out. "If this is an attempt to apologize" –

"It's not."

Casey shook her head and laughed a watery laugh. "You and Derek are perfect for each other. Right down to the matching horns."

"All right," Lynda said. "We could talk about what a terrible person I am. It might make you feel better. But, the thing is – I'm such a terrible person that I don't really care about making you feel better about yourself. I'm an amoral, black-hearted, stone-cold bitch – and your hurt feelings don't particularly matter to me."

"Then why" –

"I read your book," Lynda said calmly, eyes fixed on Casey. "It was better than I expected. Of course, I didn't expect much. You need a better editor, by the way. And don't describe anyone's smile as incandescent and glittering. It's redundant."

"So you followed me in here to give me literary criticism?"

"No. The thing is – I read your book. But I've also been reading between the lines. And it turns out, the story you wrote – that isn't the real story at all. It's a cover-up."

"I really don't see how this is any of your business," Casey remarked in a high, tight voice.

"I'm an editor," Lynda shrugged. "Cover-ups make me itchy. So I'm going to give you some advice."

"I can't wait," Casey said. "Based on your choice of outfit, this should be interesting at least."

Lynda ignored this. "If you're going to screw up your whole life, don't use the media as an excuse. Because it goes away eventually," she said. "The speculation. The gossip. The fashion victim of the week spreads."

Casey looked at her. "How do you know?" she asked.

"Personal experience."

"That...was actually more helpful than I thought it would be," Casey admitted.

"Good. Here's some more. Your stepbrother's a good kisser – you shouldn't let training like that go to waste. It took me years to break Spike in."


"You know, the price isn't too bad considering we got dinner and a show," Spike commented, looking around the restaurant.

"Yeah well, life with Casey...it's a twenty four hour opera. You get used to it."

"Living with Lynda...that's more of a murder-mystery." He tapped the table with his fingertips.

"Different strokes, I guess," Derek swirled the water around in his glass.

"So," Spike said casually, "I'm guessing you have no real interest in Lynda."

Derek smirked at him. "I wouldn't say no interest."


Casey's subsequent return to the table was as short lived as her absence from it had been.

Feigning nonchalance she sat down again and picked up the dessert menu with hands that only shook a little. "Has everyone decided what they're having already?" she asked brightly. "I think the rhubarb crumble sounds good."

Derek leaned forward. "Yeah, it all looks good, but I have to say, I could really go for an extra helping of truth right about now." He stared at her.

"Truth?" Spike interrupted, darting a worried look between Casey and Derek, "Truth's overrated – you should try the chocolate mousse instead."

"No," Casey said. "It's okay, Spike." She kept her eyes fixed on Derek. "Go on. What do you want to know?"

"That stupid Stepford family...that's what you wanted? Want?"

"Yes!" she burst out, and he flinched. "That's exactly what I wanted! What I want." More quietly, she finished, "It would be easier than this."

Derek nodded. "Okay," he said, pushing back his chair. He got to his feet. "You've got it."

He walked off.

Casey watched him go, chin wobbling, before making a frantic dash for the bathroom again.

"All right," Lynda snapped into action, already out of her seat. "You take him, I'll work on her."

"Lynda..." Spike didn't move. "You ever think...maybe we shouldn't be doing this?"

"You're right," she said. "I should go after Derek, you take Casey."

Spike watched her go, before getting to his feet with a sigh.


She slowed when he was within calling distance. "You're just going to walk away?"

He stopped and turned. "Pretty much, yeah."

"I didn't think you were a quitter," she said.

"You know how most people just tell you they're not interested? Well – Casey wrote a book. Quitting seems like the only thing I can do."

"Spike had this really bad habit of running away to America every time we had a little argument. But do you think I let that get in the way of our relationship?"

"Yeah, well, considering how dinner went, he and Casey are probably going into hiding as we speak."

Lynda considered this. "I have a private detective on speed-dial," she offered.

Derek looked at her and almost smiled. When he spoke though, he sounded serious. "Lynda," he said, "Ask yourself, am I really the guy you need to be chasing right now? Because from what I've seen, you left the real story back in the restaurant – and I don't know how long it's going to wait."

"What, Spike? No chance," she denied. "Spike's like a human boomerang – no matter how many times I throw him away, he always comes back."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Then I guess you've got nothing to worry about."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked away.


Casey yelped. "This is the ladies' room – you can't come in here!"

Spike shrugged. "Hey, I figure if they let Lynda in, they've gotta have a flexible policy." He sank down on his haunches, next to Casey, who was sitting underneath the hand dryer, back against the wall.

"Some enchanted evening," he said, with a wry grin.

"That old black magic," she agreed.

"Lynda's gone to talk to Derek," Spike volunteered. "Want to make a run for it? I've got the witness relocation programme on speed-dial. I hear Tuktoyaktuk's a good place to disappear."

"They'd find us," Casey stated with certainty.

"Or we'd go looking for them," Spike said. He sighed. "Which is kind of the problem, huh?"

Casey looked at him. "...yeah," she admitted.

"You know, I moved to another continent to get away from Lynda. It didn't take."

"It's just not fair!" she said. "He expects me to jump in with both feet, when there are so many reasons to...not. And he won't even admit it" –

"Well, if Derek's anything like Lynda – and the similarities are actually creeping me out at this stage – you're going to have to replace 'fair' with a word that he actually understands." Spike shifted closer. "Sometimes, you've just got to...hang in there, and see it through. All the way to the non-guaranteed happy ending. And no," he finished, with a twist of his lips, "it's not fair."

Softly, Casey asked, "Is this about Lynda?"

"You know, not everything is about Lynda." He sighed. "But this is."

He got to his feet and held out a hand to help Casey up.


When they exited the bathroom, there was a surprise waiting for them.

"Lynda?" Spike said, blinking at their table, where Lynda was once again seated. "Where's Derek? What are you doing back here?"

She chose to answer the second question. "I think I might be choosing someone over my lousy paper." As a grin spread across Spike's face, she warned, "Don't get used to it though. And you're going to have to find something to replace the lost profile and interview."

"Hey, boss...does this mean we're back together?" Spike asked.

"I don't know," Lynda said. "I suppose that depends on how convincing your argument is." She folded her arms. "I'm ready whenever you are."


The next day in the newsroom, everything was back to nearly normal.

"All right," Lynda said. "Since Spike and I have resolved our issues a week earlier than I anticipated, I have some free time."

"That's great," Kenny said absently.

"You can have your personal crisis now. I've put it in the schedule and everything."

"That's nice, but I'm all done."

"Really?" Lynda frowned. "Usually there's a lot more talking. You didn't even dredge up the whole 'free will' versus 'fate' thing."

Kenny shrugged.

"You're not acting like yourself," Lynda said, raking him with her eyes. She nodded. "I like it. It's a definite improvement."


Kenny turned on the cell phone. There was a loose end to be tied up.

He hardly heard the phone ring, before it was snatched up.

"Hello? Kenny? Oh good – I was afraid...listen, I got your messages" –

"Yeah – sorry for leaving so many. Actually, I'm just calling because I wanted to apologise in person. Well, not in person, obviously, but...face to face. Um. Phone to phone, I suppose I should say" –

"Don't," Sam said. "I mean – don't worry about it. Your messages explained, and...thinking about it, you didn't even ask anything...um. So really, forget about it."

"All right," Kenny said.

There was a silence.

"Alex told me you called," Sam said.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry – I sort of forgot the time difference. Won't happen again."

"It was...um...unexpected. With Alex. I mean – I wasn't planning on it."

"No need to explain," Kenny interrupted. "Really. I'm happy. For you."

"You...are?"

"Yeah. I mean – lovers inadvertently reunited. By me. It gives me a warm feeling inside. A good warm feeling," he clarified.

"Oh. That's...good. I guess."

"So, listen Sam, it's kind of hectic at the moment over here – I'm a bit swamped...I should probably let you go."

"Oh. Okay..."

"It's – it's been nice though. Talking to you."

"Yeah. Same here. I mean – yeah, it has been...nice."

"Well...that's it then, I suppose," Kenny said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Goodbye, then."

He pressed the power button again.


"So, I've been thinking."

"Do you ever stop?"

"I don't think of you as a brother."

"Good. Because otherwise I think we may have committed an indictable offence."

"The thing is...it's a really awkward situation."

"You're involved – I think that goes without saying."

"And – it's probably going to backfire horribly. I can't see it ending in any other way than tears and book-burnings, but..."

"What are you trying to say?"

"This...isn't the right London, but – it might do for a trial run..."

...

...

"Can I just ask – is this a sisterly hug...because I am definitely getting some weird vibes – OW!"


She found Dirk lurking outside the school, in the shadows, like a wounded beast. Not that far from the truth, now that she thought about it.

"Missing a party," she said. "That doesn't sound like the Dirk Van Sant I know."

His eyes caught hers, and the raw pain she saw in them tore her up inside. "Yeah, well, maybe you don't know me that well."

She grabbed his hand as he turned away. "I know you like I know myself," she said intensely. "You can pretend otherwise if you want, but it's the truth. We are family."

Her hand throbbed in his, pain and power lacing in equal measure through the recently formed scar. Her skin burned and tingled. She knew he felt it too, as his breathing quickened and the burnished gold of his eyes was swallowed up by the darkness of his pupils.

He dropped her hand. "I can't be happy," he said intensely. She felt the words like blows, smashing into her skin. "I can't feel at peace until I know we've won."

"We defeated the ravens," she pointed out.

"We won the battle, but I have a feeling that the war's just beginning." He pulled a newspaper clipping out of his pocket. The headline contained the words that made her blood run cold – Birdwatchers Notice Unusual Activity.

"It's there. All the warning signs."

She swallowed.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I just – wanted you to know."

It swirled before her – a vision of the future...life without Dirk.

"You can't!" she cried. "You don't even know if you can control the ravens alone!"

"Only one way to find out," he said. His curls blew in the suddenly cold wind.

The decision was made in an instant. "I'm coming with you." But as she said it, she felt everything slot into place. It was her quest too – it was their quest. The prophecy had said so. They had defeated the ravens before – together...and they could do it again.

His eyes met hers and she saw...acceptance in their glistening depths. A familial love too deep to be ever fully expressed in words, but too overwhelming to be truly hidden.

But of course, his response was pure Dirk.

"Hope you're ready for an early rise, sis," he said.


It was during a newsroom meeting two weeks later that it happened.

Kenny was tapping his pencil against the table, a frown on his face, when Lynda asked, "Kenny? Any thoughts?"

"A chance phone call," he said. "Would be lovers separated by an ocean, continents, and the thin line between good and evil." He looked straight at Lynda. "If I can't make an epic romance out of that, well, then...I might as well give up!"

Lynda nodded. "Sounds good. Outline it, and we'll keep page seven open."

Kenny stood up.

"What are you doing?" Tiddler hissed.

"Fire me," he said.

"No," Lynda said, sounding completely unsurprised. Of course, it was a request many had made before...

"I mean it, Lynda," Kenny sounded frustrated.

"I'm not going to fire you, Kenny," she said.

"Oh, come on!"

She looked at him. "But I am demoting you."

"Really?" Julie looked interested.

"That's not" – Kenny began, indignant.

"To foreign correspondent," Lynda finished, speaking over him. "First posting...Canada."

Kenny looked at her for a long moment. A smile crept across his face. "Lynda that's just...I've just got to say" –

"Hadn't you better get packing?" she interrupted.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah I should..." he headed for the door of the newsroom, only to veer around and return to his desk. He opened a drawer and withdrew the cell phone. As he made his way towards the door, he turned it on.

"And Kenny?" Lynda called.

He turned.

"I am expecting frequent updates."

They looked at each other, and Kenny nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah."

He opened the door of the newsroom, only to smack right into a guy with a rucksack on his back.

"Sorry," he said absently, attempting to brush past, eyes firmly fixed on the exit.

"No, that's all right...actually, maybe you could help me?" The guy held out a hand to prevent him leaving.

"Usually I would, no problem, but I can't right now," Kenny excused. "Sorry – I'm in a bit of a hurry...but it's sort of important. Sorry."

He pushed past and walked quickly towards the exit. Almost there – another few steps and...

The cell phone in his hand rang. He stopped and stared down at it. Cautiously he brought it to his ear.

"Turn around," he heard. In stereo.

He turned.

The guy still standing at the entrance to the newsroom, smiled. "I uh, I had a feeling," Sam said.

Kenny stared back at him, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hi," he said.


'Derek Venturi's Insider Guide to London' by C. Mathews, is an odd novel. Indeed, it isn't really a 'novel' at all, by rigorous standards. It is more a collection of memorabilia – photographs, restaurant bills, even song lyrics – very few of which seem to have any connection to Derek Venturi...

...I have tried my hardest, but even armed with a magnifying glass, I find myself unable to locate the smallest semblance of a plot...

...delightfully avant-garde. Certainly there are those that will point to the lack of coherence and structure, but is it fair to judge a work by the very standards it eschews? 'Derek Venturi's Insider Guide to London' may be frustrating at times to those accustomed to a linear plot and detailed characterisation, but the book has an energy and excitement that many other published works completely lack...

...the genius of this work, is that it doesn't tell a story. Rather, it allows the reader to construct their own narrative from such mundane odds and ends as transcripts of telephone calls, a photograph of a ceramic key-chain with a thumbprint on it, and the ticket stub for a flight from Canada to Britain. C. Mathews possesses a rare literary talent – that of suggestion, and it is utilised beautifully in this debut novel.

...complete nonsense...

...interesting – but for all the wrong reasons...

...possibly pretentious enough to fool some people into believing that it is good. But take my word for it – it isn't...

...aims for edgy, but misses the target by a mile. Of interest only to those who think a plot, decent characterisation (indeed, any recognisable characters!), and action are but optional extras in literature...

...really shouldn't work, but bizarrely, it does. Odd, but visionary, it even approaches profundity in spots...

...even comes with a free ninja musical box!...


...a man in demand both on and off the ice. It's not just sports fans who agree that there's something special about Derek Venturi – he has already been immortalized in two very different works of fiction. First of all, he is acknowledged to be the inspiration for stepsister Casey McDonald's Dirk Van Sant in her popular young adult novel 'Thicker Than Blood' (though he insists that he is "way less lame"). In addition to this, he has lent his name to the surprise bestseller 'Derek Venturi's Insider Guide to London'. This quirky, odd little book defies description – a seemingly random collection of photographs, lists, and even song lyrics, bizarrely packaged with a free ninja musical box – but it has certainly captured the public imagination. In fact, there are already rumors of a sequel.

Venturi seems to accept this interest as almost his due. "Well, who else was she going to write about?" he asks, when I bring up his pivotal role in McDonald's series. "It's Casey. I'm like, the only interesting person she knows."

He also doesn't hesitate to provide a refreshingly clear-eyed look at McDonald's work. "I was expecting it to be kind of stupid," he says frankly. "And it was. But the next one's due out soon, and she's promised it's going to be better. I get to use a sword. And there's way less," he shudders, "mushy stuff."

Oddly, on the subject of 'Derek Venturi's Guide to London', he is much less forthcoming. Indeed, even the story of how his name came to be linked with the project is strangely disjointed, and Venturi himself seems a little confused as to how it all came about. "I don't know," he says, scratching his head. "It just kind of happened. I thought I was signing an autograph, but it turned out to be a contract," he jokes.

He also refuses to give any information on the author – the mysterious C. Mathews. "Believe me, you don't want to know," he says flatly. However, he does drop one tantalising hint that might be of interest to those female fans who can't get enough of his exploits both on the ice and on the page.

"August is kind of important," he admits. "That's when Casey's next book is coming out." He considers for a second. "And my girlfriend's book too."

Are those rumors of romance with the elusive C. Mathews true then? When pressed, Venturi fixes me with an amused glance. "Dude," he says, "I've given you all the info you need. Work it out."

Then he smiles, a conspiratorial, boyish grin, and admits, "But her name does begin with a 'C'."