Hello lovely readers! I'm back from sunny Oz, so here is your update. They will be a mini update tomorrow too, because … just because.

Ste felt pretty ill the next morning. He felt like he'd spent the whole day drinking, then perhaps he'd carried on drinking into the night and possibly most of the morning. But he knew he'd only had 3 Screaming Orgasms and though he had absolutely no idea what was in a screaming orgasm, he didn't think it should have reduced him to such a mess. It shouldn't have been left him hitting on Brendan. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn't even gay. Or at least, he hadn't thought he was until that strange inexplicable moment last night when it felt like all he'd wanted to do, all he'd ever wanted to do, was kiss Brendan Brady.

'Ahoy!' Joel shouted, announcing himself into the room. The Scottish boy had slept in. It must have been nice to have been able to sleep last night. 'You're still alive then.'

'Why wouldn't I be?'

'I'm not sure how many people have put their hands all over Brendan Brady's face and gotten away with it.' Joel slapped Ste heartily on the back and the jolt moved the contents of his stomach around and made him feel a little sick. 'Except Macca, course, but that's not the same. Is it, eh?'

'Don't,' he muttered. 'Still delicate.'

'You would be.' Joel was enjoying this. It was obvious. 'Mate, how many did you have?'

'Three, I think.' Ste was nothing but honest. 'But it got a bit fuzzy there for a while. I can't really remember getting back to Brendan's.' He wished he couldn't remember what had happened at Brendan's either, but that was permanently playing in his mind like a 6 second "Vine" of horror.

'You were asleep most of the time,' Joel explained. 'Well, you know, when you weren't fretting about your boyfriend.'

'What!' Ste blushed furiously. How the hell could Joel have found out about…? 'I ain't gay. I ain't.'

'Woah!' Joel threw his hands up in surrender. 'I was talking about Doug. It was just a joke, mate. You know, 'cause you and him get on so well.'

'Oh, right….' Ste trailed off, twisting his hands around themselves. He felt suddenly guilty. He hadn't really thought about Doug since the kiss with Brendan. 'Has anyone seen him yet?'

'Dunno, have you asked at House 16?'

Ste just shook his head. That was the obvious suggestion really, wasn't it? He could have probably come up with that without Joel's help, you know, if his brain wasn't fogged up with a hangover.

'Have we got anything in for breakfast?'

'Dunno,' Ste shrugged. 'I haven't really felt like eating.'

'I bet,' Joel snickered. 'Is Kev around?'

'Haven't seen him.'

'KEVIN!' Joel bellowed at the top of his voice. The noise sounded twice as loud and twice as horrendous against Ste's sensitive ears.

'Could you not!' Ste groaned, picking up the nearest item, an old trainer, and throwing it at Joel. His aim was terrible. He missed by a good two foot and Joel almost killed himself laughing as he staggered towards their kitchen. Ste just took it as his cue to leave and wander down to House 16. It was raining pretty hard, but Ste didn't bother to grab a coat. Staying dry wasn't particularly high on his list of priorities today.

He knocked on the thin glass at House 16 and peered through the sitting room window. He could see some human shadows sitting around in the dim light and one standing, kicking a football up to himself. That had to be Riley. He knocked louder, and gave half a wave when he thought the shapes might have been looking at him.

'Oh my days,' he heard Mickey's London accent loudly. 'He's still alive.'

The front door opened seconds later and Mickey leant out into the rain.

'Get in here, mate. I wanna hear what happened, init.' Ste wandered over and Mickey grabbed him and dragged him inside when he was close enough. Ste was sort of sick of being dragged about recently. It was happening a lot. He shook Mickey off as he found himself in the sitting room. Spike was there, and Riley but no Doug.

'What did he say?' Mickey asked. 'What did he do?'

'Who?' Ste still wasn't quite with it, despite his cold shower courtesy of the Irish weather.

'Ain't too sharp with a hangover, yeah?' Spike answered for Mickey. 'Brady, obviously.'

'Oh, nothing … yet,' Ste felt shivers run down his spine. 'He says he's coming up with some way for me to make it up to him.'

Riley let out a long, low, whistle. 'Rather you than me mate,' he said slapping Ste on the shoulder with a bit of a relieved smile.

'Hmm, sure. Have you seen Doug?'

'He's upstairs,' Spike winked. 'Got in early this morning, innit.'

'Big night by the sounds of it,' Riley chuckled. 'Bout bloody time though, don't think he's been with anyone since he's arrived. That's a long year with nothing more than a solo performance.'

'As far as I see it, you ain't doing no better yourself mate,' Spike jibbed quickly. 'Too fixed on Mitzeee to get a proper lay, innit. Ain't gonna happen though, mate. She's the madam, yeah. Everyone knows she's getting it on with Warren or Walker … or one of 'em.'

'One day,' Riley insisted, with a wistful look on his face that seemed put-on, or at least exaggerated. 'She'll realise that I'm the one she wants.'

'So Doug's alright?' Ste asked. The conversation had got a big off topic, and he honestly didn't care which one of the prostitutes Riley was interested in, unless it was Rae. Then he could keep his bloody hands, and other things, to himself.

'He's in his room,' Mickey repeated Spike's earlier explanation. 'Go up and see if you don't believe us, loverboy.'

Ste knew it had been a joke. He knew Mickey had been laughing at him for worrying so much, but if there was one thing Ste could remember from last night, it was O'Shaughnessy's disgusting promises when he'd been crushing his face like a stress ball, so he took the opportunity. He walked carefully up the decrepit staircase, with its almost lethal splinters and random holes. Compared to this place, House 4 was like a palace and moved cautiously towards the only shut door upstairs. That had to be Doug's room.

He knocked on the door and swung it open slowly when he heard a blurry:

'Come in.'

'Ste,' Doug smiled tiredly at him, when he peered his head around the corner. 'Everything alright?' He pushed himself awkwardly into a sitting position. 'You look a bit ill.'

'Just hung-over, me,' he explained, sliding between the door and wall and closing it behind him. 'How're you? O'Shaughnessy didn't hurt you or anything, did he?'

'Hurt me? No, no.' Doug was practically beaming. 'He talked dirty, but he was a gentleman really. He even had one of the bartenders cook me a Full Irish for breakfast this morning.'

'Oh.' Ste was pleased, but he couldn't shake the feeling that things wouldn't have been that good if he'd been the one to go with O'Shaughnessy. 'So it was good then?'

'Great,' Doug assured him. 'Brendan's even sorted it so I can go back there, you know when the girls visit you.'

'That's good of him, I guess.' Ste wasn't really sure what to think about this. 'I mean, if you're sure. 'Cause he was a bit….' He trailed off, but Doug encouraged him on. So he finished: 'He was a bit rank, weren't he?'

'It's not all about looks Ste,' Doug almost sounded disappointed. 'Sometimes it's about….' And before Ste could stop himself, he said:

'Desperation.'

He left before he could see the hurt in Doug's expression. In reality, he understood Doug. Ste'd found himself growing close to Rae, and she wasn't the best looking girl he'd ever seen, but that didn't matter really. Rae was what he wanted. And that was the thing, sometime people seemed really wrong for you but you just get drawn to them and you can't help yourself.

Brendan was in his office. The lamp was his only light source, if you didn't count the glare from his computer, so most of the room was pretty dark. He liked it like that. He felt like he was hiding.

He wasn't really doing much, other than checking over the books but Walker was out on a job with a group from Red Zone and Warren had been given the day off to go to England and seek out new recruits, proper recruits, ones that would go straight into Red Zone and give them a bit of muscle power, so Brendan felt he had to be somewhere where he was easy to find today. He'd left Macca in the porch outside acting like a miserable, underpaid receptionist, but he'd left the office door open so he'd be able to hear every snarky exchange with every person unfortunate enough to feel like they needed to see Brendan that day.

There'd only been three. One was a guy from Green Zone moaning about the lack of heating in their weed growing greenhouse. Macca gave the usual answer, the actual vegetables and meat had to come first. They were a semi-self-sustaining community after all. Another was a whiney, wee girl from Violet Zone moaning that the men always had all the perks and they were left with nothing. "Shut up," had been Macca's response, which had suited Brendan just fine. The Violet and Indigo Zones complained about his sexist regime at least once a week, and Brendan always played the diplomat and altered nothing. None of them had left yet so he didn't plan on changing his ways. The third was happening right now, and Brendan was smiling through it.

'Hey pup,' he'd recognised Anne's voice immediately. 'Where's your owner?'

'Is it important?'

'It's me.' Brendan could imagine the smug grin spreading across her wide mouth. 'It's always important.'

'I'm only allowed to disturb him if it's genuinely important.'

'Which sounds like you've been disturbing him with things that aren't important?' Brendan could practically feel Macca's blush coming through the wall. 'That's what I thought,' Anne continued. 'In his office, is he? Thanks pup.'

She pushed the door open and popped her head around the corner. She was beaming, all sticky red lipstick and endless teeth.

'He's happy,' she scorned, flicking on the main light and apparent revelling when Brendan complained about the assault on his eyelids. 'Oh stop moaning you big baby.' She kicked the door closed and fell easily into the chair on the plebe's side of the desk.

'We need to talk,' she said sternly.

'We do?'

'Mm-hmm,' she flicked her hair over her shoulder. She always did that when she was feeling particularly self-important. 'I need more money.'

Brendan immediately lost all interest in her and returned to his game of solitaire on the computer, muttering: 'Don't we all, Anne.'

'Hey,' she reached over and removed his hand from the mouse. He had to pay attention now. 'I'm serious,' she insisted. 'Every time I come here, Warren hits on me.'

'Foxy?' Brendan smirked. He hadn't realised his right hand man was interested in Mitzeee with three "e"s. He wished he had known, he was sure there was a way he could have twisted that to his advantage.

'It's not funny!'

'Not even a bit?' Brendan asked, as seriously as possible and she hit out at him. The desk was a bit too wide for her short arm and she was left flapping at thin air. 'Stop, please,' Brendan scorned. 'You're hurting.'

'I will hurt you,' Anne threatened, but, as smart and ruthless as she was, Brendan found it hard to be genuinely scared of the five foot nothing glamour girl. 'Look,' she said once she realised the threat wasn't working. 'He keeps hitting on me, and I know that my job is to keep your… staff, happy. But if you want me to sleep with him, you need to pay me more money.'

'Well … Anne.' He looked up, she was seriously made-up today. She'd even bothered with some stupid false lashes. 'Just don't sleep with him.'

She narrowed her eyes and showed her teeth in a cute little growl. Brendan was sure that, had she been standing, there'd have been a stamp of the foot. She clearly wanted the money, which was why she hit back hard.

'Follow your lead, you mean.'

'What're you talking about?'

'Well,' she grinned, 'you're clearly not keeping your man satisfied. I mean, I've never seen anyone in more need of a….'

'Yeah, yeah,' he flapped a hand dismissively at her. 'I've got a lot on my mind,' he gestured vaguely to his computer and was glad that she wasn't able to see the pixelated card game on the screen. 'Anyway, I've told him I'll make it up to him. We're about to do the rounds announcing your arrival.' He turned the computer off.

'Well, I guess every gay boy likes a man who can put some power under him, even if that power does come from a V8 engine.'

'Hmmm,' Brendan muttered. 'Actually, I need you to do me a favour.'

'I won't sleep with anyone unless you pay me. In fact,' she changed tact quickly. 'I won't do whatever you're going to ask unless you pay me.'

'If I pay you, it's not a favour.'

Anne just stared defiantly back.

'I'll pay you,' Brendan sighed.

'Good. What am I doing?'

'I need you take Douglass into North Dublin. He's got a date with O'Shaughnessy.'

'O'Shaughnessy?' Anne narrowed her eyes like she always did when she was trying to work something out. 'The bloke you stole the drugs from, O'Shaughnessy?'

'That's the one.'

'Is that wise?'

'Probably not, but Douglass is insisting.'

'Well, he would be. He can't be getting much action in this place. Hey,' she grinned. 'Maybe you could set him up with Macca.' And there was the giggle-snort he'd become used to expecting when Anne made herself laugh. 'You know,' she sighed, pointing a perfectly painted nail at him, 'for a big, old gay, you're not keeping the gays very happy.'

'I'm not old.'

'That's relative,' she shrugged. 'And seriously, there must be about fifties gay guys here. I could probably find some rent boys to satisfy their needs…. For a price, of course.'

'Of course,' Brendan frowned. 'But for free, they can satisfy each other's needs.'

'Aww,' she mocked. 'You're just a big romantic at heart.'

'It works,' Brendan insisted, romance had nothing to do with sex. They both knew that better than most. 'They've all found someone, except there's only one in Blue Zone. He just got unlucky, that's all.'

'Then I guess it's my duty to deliver him to "get lucky",' she chuckled again and Brendan just shook his head, getting to his feet. He pushed her out of the office, ignoring her protests and complaints about how much she'd paid for the dress. Brendan didn't care, it was probably his money anyway.

'Macca, come on,' he called, continuing to push Anne towards the road. 'We're going for a ride.' Macca cheered up immediately and raced ahead of them, opening the double door.

As soon as the door opened, Brendan's eyes were insulted by the monstrosity parked in front of his door.

'Seriously?' he demanded of a very pleased-looking Anne. They were stood next to a brand new hot pink, convertible Daihatsu Copen. This was why she was so desperate for money.

'It's stylish,' she smirked. 'Though the convertible roof is a bit pointless in Ireland,' she linked her arm around Brendan's. 'When are we going to move this operation to LA, Brendan? That's where me and this car belong.'

Brendan had nothing to say to that except:

'Get in.'

::

Macca just loved racing around the streets. He loved that the engine was roaring like a thunderstorm. He loved the endless beeping of the horn. He loved the way everyone was forced to leap out of the way. He particularly enjoyed it when they ran over things people had abandoned in the middle of the street. He just loved the danger.

'Having fun?' Brendan asked, as Macca whooped a bit as Brendan took a corner at 50 and the back end of the car kicked like a wild horse.

'This is brilliant!' Macca beamed and Brendan smiled back. Macca hadn't looked happy at all recently. He glanced in his rear-view mirror. Anne was right on his tail. She was, in a lot of ways, as crazy as he was. He slid around the next corner beeping loudly as they entered run-down, mostly disgusting Blue Zone. He searched the road carefully, flashing his lights. He knew the boys from Blue Zone were more likely than any other zone to actually be on the road.

Then he stamped hard on his brakes and hoped Anne was as good a driver as he thought she was. She lived up to all his expectations, slamming on her brakes and pulling up on his left. She wound down the window and she was smiling like she'd just got laid. He just winked back and answered the question Macca was currently asking for the third time.

'Why have we stopped?'

'Anne's picking up Douglass from here.'

'Well maybe you should tell them that,' Macca frowned. 'They're all staring at us. Bloody mongrels.'

Brendan just rolled his eyes, but his young companion did have a point. There was an air of confusion around Blue Zone, all of them staring at the BMW as though it were some kind of spaceship.

'Tell them the girls are here,' he told Macca. Macca looked pretty excited by the job. He wound the window down and started shouting his message. He said it in three different ways, often with an insult tacked to the end and Brendan briefly wondered what would happen if he just shoved Macca out of the car and drove off. But the thought was only brief because it was then that he noticed some kind of scuffle just out of the beam of his headlights. He was pretty sure he recognised the shadowy shape; Steven.

He got out of the car. Macca fell immediately silent, and Brendan heard the central locking click. Macca wasn't so tough on his own, but Brendan had bigger things to think about as he marched towards Steven. The car's lights throwing a long, menacingly thin shadow ahead of him.

'Hey,' he yelled and the bigger body jumped away and ran away too fast for Brendan to catch who it was. 'You okay?' he asked, placing a hand on Steven's shoulder. Brendan was still squinting into the shadows for a clue for the culprit. 'Who was it?'

Steven just shrugged.

'Steven,' he said firmly, but the boy just shook his head more firmly. 'Fine,' Brendan frowned. 'You're sure you're okay?'

'I'm fine. Just wanna get to the girls, me.'

'Right,' Brendan nodded. 'Course.' He turned to walk back towards the cars, only to find Anne driving up beside them. She wound the window down and smiled knowingly at Steven. She knew nothing.

'You must be Doug,' she said. Case and point.

'Er, no, Ste.'

Brendan saw her perfectly plucked eyebrow raise as he she tried to puzzle a few things together in her head.

'I'm Doug,' an American voice stepped out of the shadows.

'Of course,' she turned her smile on the yank in stupid jumpers. 'Well, get in then. I haven't got all day.' Anne was driving away before Doug had really closed the door properly and as Brendan walked back towards the beemer, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it free. One message from "Mitzeee…x", she'd put her own name into his phone.

He smiled as he read it; perceptive little cow. He typed in his reply and knocked on the window of his car so Macca would know it was safe to unlock it.

Mitzeee's phone made a noise like a shot-gun being loaded and fired. It was a text tone she'd chosen especially for Brendan. She picked up the phone and held it in front of the wheel as she flicked through to find the message. She ignored Doug's nervous expression and slight mumble about it being illegal to use a phone whilst driving. What kind of vanilla criminal was he?

She glanced down at the screen. There was her text:

"I thought you said there was only one gay in Blue Zone ;) xxx"

And his reply:

"Didn't say I wasn't working on upping the number."

There's a lot more to come from this story! Heaps of twists, turns and tantrums on the way.