Complicated.

3:

Spencer walked around to the rear of the SUV and opened up the hatchback. Sitting alone on the floorboard was her leather camera bag. She pulled the bag towards her, unzipped it, and, carefully, removed the Rollei she had brought along for the photo shoot. The vintage Rolleiflex Twin Lens was one of her favorite cameras. Working with one made a long photo shoot, like the one she had scheduled today, a little less tedious.

With the camera strap over her left shoulder and the bag strap over her right, she stepped back and reached up, pulling the heavy car door closed. She turned around and, through the grey lenses of her sunglasses, scanned the beach below. Three women, models, clad in designer beachwear were getting their makeup and hair touched up at the shoreline. Spencer walked down, checking her wristwatch on the way. She was running a few minutes late, but she wasn't too worried, the models were never ready on time.

She greeted the crew, apologized for her tardiness, and briefly talked with each of the models.

"We've got about an hour before we start losing light," she informed the crew. One model was still getting her hair fussed by the hairstylist, while another girl's hair hadn't even been touched yet.

The stylist -- a thin, well-groomed, flamboyant young man -- applied a dab of hair gel to the palm of one hand, then rubbed both of his hands together. "Almost finished with this one," he said with a slight lisp, while working his fingers through the model's long, wavy locks. "Gimme ten minutes with the other. Ten minutes."

While she was waiting, Spencer checked and rechecked her camera, making sure everything was working properly. The muffled sound of her cell phone jingle interrupted her. Cradling the camera in one hand, she knelt down and retrieved the phone from the outside pocket of her bag. Her eyes skimmed the Caller-ID before she answered with, "Hey Cor."

"I'm sorry, I know you're working."

"It's okay; we haven't started yet." Spencer looked over at the crew.

Corey said, "Are you backed up again?"

"No," Spencer sighed. "Things are just slow; the models are being primped." Her eyes swept over the beach. The spot they had picked out for the photo shoot was stunning. But Spencer had a feeling that any stretch of this beach would be. "How's the move going?"

"It's... going. Jenna's boyfriend is giving me a hand. Right now, everything I had at my parents' place is in the back of my truck. We're taking it to the apartment now, where it will be reunited, after a two-year separation, with my storage stuff."
Spencer smiled sadly. "Too bad I won't be there for the reunion."

"It's okay. You'll be here tomorrow to see all of my crap back together again." There was a brief pause. "You will be back tomorrow, right?"

"That's the plan. I'm driving back to LA as soon as this damn photo shoot is over with. I should be there in--" Spencer glanced at her watch "--six hours or so."

"You sound exhausted. Maybe you should wait and make the drive tomorrow, after you've slept some."

"No way. I'm not staying here another night. I've already checked out of my hotel room. Four days has been enough." Spencer sat down on the beach, with her knees bent in front of her, the heels of her Converse sneakers digging into the sand. "I really want to get back to my own apartment and my own bed."

"Your apartment and bed -- that's all you miss?"

"Oh no, I left someone out, didn't I? Poor Charlie. I'll have to make it up to him." Charlie was Spencer's fourteen-month-old Golden Retriever. He stayed with her dad whenever she went out of town. "Maybe I'll pick up a chew toy, or something, for him on the way home."

"I feel loved."

Spencer laughed, "Oh, shut up. You know I miss you."

"I expect my own chew toy from you tomorrow."

The photographer smirked, running her fingertips through the dry sand. "We'll see." Her gaze strayed to the crew. "It looks like the girls are almost ready, I better get goin'."

"Okay. Drive safely."

"I will. Love you."

"I love you, too, babe. Bye."

Spencer closed the flip-phone and slipped it back into her bag before gathering up her equipment and returning to the crew.

- - -

The apartment was dark when Ashley arrived. She set her keys down on the table, and bent over to remove her high heels. Choosing a pair of stilettos to wear on a night out was never a good idea. If they didn't look so good on her she would give them to Geraldo, the neighbor's Black Lab. Leather made him happy.

As she entered the kitchen, her eyes caught the digital clock on the microwave -- it read 12:10. Usually, on the weekends, she would stay out much later. But she just wasn't up to it tonight, for some reason.

She grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator and left the kitchen, heading to her room. In the hallway, she noticed Corey's bedroom door was ajar and a light was on. Deciding to check on her new roommate, she walked over and lightly knocked on the door. "Hey," she said softly, peeking inside. "May I come in?"

"Yes, you may," Corey smiled, waving the brunette in.

Ashley pushed the door open wider and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm sorry I couldn't help with the move today. Did you manage to get everything here all right?" she asked, eyes darting around the room. On the floor were five cardboard boxes, two large suitcases, and an assembled bedframe. The boxspring and mattress were propped up against the wall. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a dresser, desk, and swivel chair.

"Oh yeah. We did fine. Topher was a big help."

"That's good." Ashley walked over to the dresser and touched its smooth wood finishing with her fingertips. She put her water bottle on the dresser top and turned, facing the blond. "So, this is it? Everything you own?"

"Yep." The younger woman was on the floor, knees pressed into the carpet, bent over a cardboard box. With the box cutter in one hand, she moved the tip of the blade over the clear packing tape that held the box closed, and sliced it open. "I hate unpacking." She sighed. "I waited until thirty minutes ago to start."

"Dirty procrastinator."

Corey grinned, "I know. It's one of my flaws."

"Flaws? What are those?" Ashley asked, a hint of tease in her voice.

Corey chuckled as she opened another box. "How was your night?" she asked, placing the box cutter on the floor beside her.

"The same as every other night I go out." Ashley watched the blond remove an assortment of books from one of the boxes. "You read a lot?"

The blond half-shrugged. "I used to, when I was younger. Don't really have time for it now." She stacked the books on the floor. "I'm not sure why I've kept them all these years." She stood and carried an armload of books to her desk.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Well, uh, I could use some help getting the rest of the bed together."

"Okay..."

With as little noise as possible, they maneuvered the boxspring onto its metal frame, then flipped the queen-sized mattress over top of it.

The second the task was completed, Ashley plopped down on the bed. "Nice mattress." She ran a hand over the top of the padded mattress. "Soft and..." she smiled, "bouncy."

Corey slid her hands into the back pockets of her cargo shorts. "Yeah, it's a good bed," she agreed, a little awkwardly.

Ashley leaned back on her hands, fingers splayed, and looked up at her roommate. "Tell me about your girlfriend. How'd you meet?" she asked with a genuine interest.

"She's a photographer." Corey pulled her hands out of her pockets and wrapped her arms around herself. "We met in December, at a photo shoot. I was assisting my friend Carl, who's a hairstylist. He introduced us."

"A photographer? How old is she?"

"Twenty-two. Her old college professor back in New York hooked her up with this agency here in LA. She mostly shoots fashion stuff for magazines."

"Sweet deal."

"I think so..."

Ashley's eyes went around the room again. "You're not really going to unpack all of this tonight, are you?"

"Not all of it. Just a few things."

"Leave it till tomorrow. I have something better in mind for us to do." Ashley pushed herself up from the comfortable mattress and grabbed the other woman's arm, pulling her toward the door. "Have you ever played GoldenEye 007?"

Corey shuffled behind, dodging everything on the floor. "Is that a video game?"

"Yeah. It's a classic."
"I've never heard of it."

"Really?" Ashley turned, staring at the blond in disbelief, then shook her head. "C'mon." She tugged on Corey's arm. "You're about to be introduced to the wonders of James Bond's virtual world," she said, dragging the taller woman out of the room.

Corey sat on the sofa, watching her roommate set up the game. "So what goes on in this game? Explain it to me." The introduction to the game played, and Ashley handed her one of the controllers.

For the next few minutes, the brunette explained the game, how to play, and what each button on the controller did. After choosing their settings (weapons, arenas, time limit, etc.), they each scrolled through a list of characters that would represent them in the game.

"Why didn't you pick Bond?" questioned Corey, curiously.

Ashley was moving around on her end of the couch, searching for a comfortable position. "Everyone picks Bond. I like to be different, I guess," she replied, eyes focused on the TV screen. "Plus, he sucks. I like playing with the guy I chose because he's short. It's hard to hit him sometimes."

"Oh, great. Now I'm going into this with two disadvantages."

"Believe me, it's not that hard to master. You'll catch on quick."

Before the game started, the screen was split horizontally; player one (Ashley) on top, player two (Corey) on bottom. Each of their characters were placed in different sections of the Temple. The first order of business was to find weapons and ammo. Then, go searching for their opponent and have a slap fight/shoot out until one of them died. Violent? Yes. Fun? Hell yes.

When it came to their first showdown, Corey struggled with aiming at first, but figured it out quickly, and ended up killing Ashley's character. She grinned, wanting to gloat since it was her first time, but held back.

"I gave you that one," the dark-haired woman mumbled.

"Uh huh."

Corey went on to win the next two rounds, as well.

"What the hell?" Ashley blurted out, then realized her voice was too loud. Not wanting to wake Jenna, she lowered it. "My controller -- it must be defective or something. The Z button sticks every time I press it. Topher probably stepped on it."

Corey bit the side of her mouth to keep from laughing. "We can swap controllers if you want," she suggested.

Ashley sighed. "No, no, let's just play."

They continued playing. Minutes later, Ashley's time finally came. She managed to sneak up on Corey's character, getting the guy from behind, before Corey could even determine what was happening.

The bottom half of the screen flashed red before going black. "No warning? Thanks." It was Corey's turn to glare at her opponent. "That shouldn't count."

"What? You've got three hits on me. You're winning."

Corey then grinned. "Oh yeah."

Ashley rolled her eyes, and turned back to the television screen.

"So," Corey started, keeping her eyes on the TV, "what about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"I see a lot of people," Ashley responded, distractedly.

"Oh... Why is that?" Corey quickly glanced at the brunette. "Are you afraid of commitment?" she wondered, jokingly.

"Uh, no." Ashley smiled. "I don't do relationships."

A moment later, the blond asked, a little more seriously, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Once."

"Then you know what it feels like? Love, I mean."

"I, I guess so."

"Why would you want to keep yourself from feeling that?"

Ashley looked over at Corey, who was completely engrossed in the game, then down at the controller in her hands. She thumbed the buttons but didn't press any of the them. The question repeated in her head. "When I get too close, fall too hard, or get too attached to people, they leave me," she finally said. "It's been like that all my life."

Corey was now staring at the smaller woman, the game forgotten. "So, to protect yourself, you avoid all of the above?" She frowned. "Don't you feel like you're robbing yourself of happiness, because you're too scared of getting your heart broken?"

"I'm not scared of getting my heart broken, or falling in love. I just choose not to. My life's less complicated without it." She sighed, then teasingly said, "God, why has this suddenly turned into one of my therapy sessions?" She eyed the other woman. "I don't usually get this personal with anyone other than my shrink."

"What about Jenna?"

"We're close. I mean, we've known each other for years. Lived together for two. She knows all my bullshit. I know hers. We just don't talk about it that much."

"Why not?"

"Because she knows I don't like to."

"Oh." Corey shifted in her seat. "So I guess we should stop talking about this then, huh? If it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, I -- it's okay. I'm not uncomfortable. I actually find talking to you a lot easier." She looked up, smiling at the younger woman. "Mostly because you don't know how fucked up I am yet."

"You're not fucked up."

Ashley's smile faded a bit. "I am, trust me."

"Well, I guess everyone's a little fucked up in their own way."

"Yeah, I guess..." Ashley's eyes drifted back to the television. "Let's finish this game, I'm getting tired."

Corey accepted the change in subject, and turned her attention back to the game, which she ended up winning by two points.

- - -