Double Dare

by Murray Peterson

  Double Dare

  Murray Peterson

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Double Dare

  About The Author

  Dedication

  Copyright Information ©

  Acknowledgement

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Murray Peterson is a first-time author, long-time writer. He is a family man extraordinaire who spreads his time poorly between home, work, writing and sport. His debut short novel, ‘Double Dare’, is a lightning-paced whirlwind romance that is sure to blow you away.

  Dedication

  For my father, who loved a good book.

  Love never dies.

  Copyright Information ©

  Murray Peterson (2019)

  The right of Murray Peterson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781528916356 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781528916363 (Hardback)

  ISBN 9781528961530 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2019)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  Many thanks to my mother for her ongoing support throughout my life. She has read all my books, sex scenes and all, and not yet disowned me.

  Prologue

  The techno music played, beats thumping fast, the synthesised instruments battling against one another in a dizzying cacophony that only an adolescent male could truly appreciate. A pair of Converse sneakers walked down the hall, through the glass doors, following a monotonous red line up the ramp to the adjacent stairwell.

  The walls faded from green to an off-grey—not the most inspiring colour choice. Jim’s eyes tracked the coloured lines that floated along each wall, leading patients to their colour-coded wards and clinics. A green line appeared parallel to the red, then a yellow joined the race. He watched the green disappear down another hallway while the red line continued on. It led him down two more passages before reaching a massive aquarium, a set of plastic seats and a familiar reception area filled with mounted shelving full of files and folders.

  Jim waited a moment to see which nurse was on before removing his headphones. Claire, a plump middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a slight German accent called out to him, “Guten Morgen, Jimmy.”

  “Guten Morgen, Claire. How are you?”

  “Gut, danke. You’re here early.”

  He shrugged, “Just hoping to get it over with.”

  “Have you been drinking water?” Claire asked flicking through his file. Jim nodded, “Here is your blood test form. You look wunderbar. What’s that team?” Jim removed his hat revealing his hairless head and checked it.

  “San Francisco 49ers, they’re an American gridiron team.” She nodded though she clearly didn’t understand and smiled at him, “They’re no Bayern Munich.”

  He laughed, “I guess not.”

  Jim took the blood test form and put his headphones back on. This time he followed the brown line to the pathology lab. This was the beginning of what would be his last cycle of treatment, the beginning of the end, he mused. He preferred to go through it alone now. In the beginning his mother and father, even his brother, had accompanied him, sat with him as he went from waiting room to waiting room, waiting until finally the drip was put in and the chemo would start its painful descent into his veins. Soon they found excuses; and it wasn’t like he was a little kid. Far from it. His fifteenth birthday was celebrated during the second cycle of treatment and it had been then that Jim had decided this would be something he would do alone. It was bad enough that he felt like shit during treatment days, but watching his family members struggle with it too only made it worse. No, he just had to get up early, organise his water and music, and then he could deal with the day, come what may.

  He didn’t flinch as the nurse finally found the vein on the third attempt. Jim was used to being a pincushion and just hoped his arm veins would hold up for the rest of this cycle. Kyle, his older brother, had teased him that they could find veins in any part of the body. His mind wandered to one part of his body he definitely did not want a needle inserted and shuddered inwardly.

  After the vial had been labelled and sent off to the lab, Jim headed back to the ward. He ignored the smell of bleach and vomit as he passed the toilets and found the red line again. He wondered what it would be like painting such a boring line. Surely, the painter would have been tempted to move it up or down, thicken it, maybe blend in a more vibrant red. Jim imagined himself painting line upon line of brilliant colours, racing down the hallways, streaking the walls, criss-crossing the colours, blending them until every bit of grey had disappeared. It was a thought. Maybe he would visit this place one more time after his treatment was finished.

  He gave Claire a wave to let her know he was back. She waved at him vigorously and then, grinning, pointed to a young girl sitting on the plastic seats. An explosion of red curls, spattering of freckles and sparkling blue eyes beamed up at him.

  Jim folded his arms and walked over, “What are you doing here, Hels?”

  “Your mum said you might like the company.”

  Oh great, his mother had put her up to this. Jim felt himself flush with embarrassment and let the emotion transmute into anger.

  “I’m fine!”

  “Oh really, Jim? You don’t look fine. Actually, you look like a grumpy old man.”

  Self-consciously, he uncrossed his arms then mumbled, “This place will do that to you.” Hels (or Helena) was his best friend, next-door neighbour and a huge pain in the butt, and, if he was honest, probably the coolest girl he knew. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t want her company, it was just embarrassing for her to see him like this.

  She looked around, “It’s not that bad. The fish are cool.” Typical Hels, focusing on the positive. They had been friends since kindergarten. He remembered the day her family had moved in next door. A tiny warrior with masses of flaming red hair had ran up to him with wide eyes and a knobbly stick in hand. She demanded he grab a sword and help her fight the ogres. In complete awe, he had followed her commands and they had belted the wheelie bin to within an inch of its life.

  Jim cleared his throat, “It’s going to be a long day. I still have to see the doctor then get sorted for chemo, that’ll take ages. Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do?”

 
Helena shook her head smiling up at him.

  “You’ll get bored,” he warned.

  She stood up and held up a finger to shush him, “I heard, that’s why I brought…” She held up her bag and unzipped it, “UNO, Travel Scrabble, playing cards, Ludo, dominoes and chess.”

  “You don’t know how to play chess.”

  “You can teach me.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t believe my mum put you up to this.”

  She shook her head, her messy red curls bouncing all over the place. “She didn’t. I popped over to see you this morning and she said you were here. Then she said you would be really bored so I thought I’d help un-bore you. Look, I also brought you this.” Helena pulled out three tubes of paint. “Yellow, blue, red. And a couple of A5 blank boards. And this cute little paintbrush.”

  Jim couldn’t help but gasp. They were oils.

  “Oh Hels, wow, where did you get them?” Jim said, already projecting an image onto one of the boards. He imagined hundreds of coloured lines crisscrossing each other just as he had done moments before in the hallway.

  “So, I can stay?” she asked.

  Jim caught himself smiling and was quick to supress it. “It’s up to you. You sure you want to? Sometimes I get sick.”

  “I know. I can hear you over the fence. It’s okay Jim, truly, I’ve seen a lot worse.” Knowing Hels’ brothers, he didn’t doubt it. He knew how tough she was, she wouldn’t flinch before the gates of hell. She was not like other girls. She never worried about clothes or shopping or anything like that. She liked riding her bike and going exploring. Hels was always trying to fix something she had scooped up from a roadside collection. She even helped in her father’s garage, working on vintage cars and motorbikes. But this, this was hard. It was real and someone like her should be protected from this. He promised himself that this would be a onetime thing.

  “Fine,” he conceded, then sighed and sat down next to her. Hels grinned victoriously then continued scanning the contents of her backpack eagerly.

  “Okay Jim, so what do we do now?”

  Jim shook his head and smiled wryly, “We wait.”

  Chapter 1

  The filthy haul truck groaned and shook to a stop. The machine was massive in every sense of the word. The tyres had a diameter of over four metres, the trailer alone could hold over five hundred tonnes of iron ore and dirt. The driver sat bored as the latest offering from mother Earth began filling the vast empty tray.

  Helena slipped out her mobile phone while she waited. Yes, they were strictly forbidden during work hours, but what was the alternative? Stare at the dashboard in a brain-dead stupor for twenty minutes? No thanks. She jumped on Facebook to scroll through the usual nonsense; peoples’ babies, adverts, last night’s meals, the occasional funny cat video, more adverts, pretty much nothing of consequence.

  This is the slowest shift ever! Helena sighed inwardly and checked her emails. Nothing. Just the latest deals from Light Weights, a gym she joined and never went back to. Maybe she could play a game of Captain Candy before the load was complete?

  “Red, you there?” Her radio sprang to life with the crackling voice of Sam, Helena’s line manager. Guiltily, she pocketed her phone and picked up the receiver, “Righto Sam, how’s things?”

  “Slow and steady. How is the load?”

  “Yeah, pretty slow, mate.”

  “Listen Red, can you do a double shift tonight? The night team needs a driver. They’ve got a bug going around the whole crew.”

  Helena’s head dropped as she looked out at the endless pit of dirt and rock. “How desperate are they, Sam?” she asked.

  “It’s pretty bad. You don’t have to do it, but if you do, you’ll get double-time and a half. Alex is a good bloke; he’ll take care of you. It’s up to you though?” Sam knew not to push it. Helena wasn’t the one to be pushed into anything. She shrugged. There was nothing else to do in this shithole anyway, two days and she would be off and back home. A bit more money wouldn’t hurt, especially with her and Jim’s trip to Bali coming up soon.

  “Alright,” she decided.

  “Cheers Red, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll let Alex know.”

  She had heard of this Alex guy but never met him. He was on the opposite shift with her being on days and him on nights. At least she would find out what all the fuss was about. According to Lucy, he was hot, but then again, Lucy thought Jim was a hunk, so what did she know? Jim was not a hunk. He was barely a man. While she ran trucks and fixed cars in her spare time, her best friend taught primary school kids and worked on his paintings. Talk about soft. She shook her head as she imagined Jim teaching the little grommets to paint, yelling, “Don’t mix that colour!” at some unsuspecting five-year-old who accidentally put their paintbrush in the wrong tub.

  She smiled at the thought of her housemate and closest friend. She reproduced her phone and flicked to recent calls. Nope, no calls. That little weasel. She knew that getting a girlfriend would be the beginning of the end. It wasn’t that Helena didn’t like Kelly. It was just that, well, Helena didn’t like Kelly. How could she? Kelly was so… boring. Helena supposed Kelly was pretty—definitely too pretty for the likes of Jim—but the girl was about as interesting as a piece of unbuttered toast. Worse still was watching Jim become completely dull when he was around her. Helena didn’t mind her best friend getting laid. God only knew he was due. Despite his amorous boasting, she doubted he had slept with more than three girls in his entire twenty-five years of life. Not that Helena was that experienced herself, but it just seemed more pathetic for a guy. She thought about sending him a message but shook her head. If he didn’t want to contact her, to hell with him. He could go back to eating his unbuttered toast. A visual image hit Helena, forcing her to gag a little. Damn her sick mind. Her brothers were right; she was too clever for her own good.

  *****

  Helena had been very tempted to have a couple of quick beers between shifts but thought better of it. If this Alex was as good a line manager as they said, then there was a good chance he would pick up on it. He could even breathalyse her. She opted instead for two Red Bulls and sprayed herself with copious amounts of deodorant, just in case Lucy had been right about this one. She raked a brush through her wild red curls and watched them spring back like a curling ribbon. What was the point? Helena touched up her mascara. She might work with lots of blokes, but she’d be damned if she was going to look like one. She looked at the time. “Shit.”

  *****

  Helena made the shuttle bus by the finest of margins. The others were already in conversations and no one seemed willing to involve her. That was fine. She knew how cliquey teams could get and she was just a ring-in. It really wasn’t worth the effort.

  “Hey, ah, Helena, thanks for helping us out.”

  She turned in her seat, “Don’t call me…” Grey eyes, lightly stubbled, square jawed, tall, built, youngish, no more than a couple of years older than herself, neat hair, smiling at her. “Alex?”

  He seemed confused. “I don’t think I called you Alex, I’m Alex.” She nodded dumbfounded.

  “Are you okay? If doing two shifts in a row…”

  She shook her head and interrupted, “No, it’s fine. You just surprised me. Why aren’t you working back at control?”

  He shrugged, “I’ve got three out with gastro and figured I should do my bit. I’m probably getting a bit rusty. It will be good to get back out in a truck again. Thanks for helping me out.”

  His earnest expression brought heat to Helena’s cheeks that she prayed would not be visible in the darkness of the moving shuttle bus. “That’s okay. I’m glad I could help… You. I mean, I’m glad I could help all of you, and you too of course.”

  Helena cringed inwardly at her incoherent psychobabble. The silence that followed made her wish she could bury herself at the bottom of the mine-site.

  “You’re not exactly what I expected, Helena,” he emphasised her name, questioning whether she w
as okay with it.

  “You can call me Red, everyone else does around here. What do you mean? Not what you expected?” It was better if he talked. The less she said the better.

  He looked uncomfortable. “It’s just Sam said you were a bit, um, a bit of a toughie.”

  “Toughie?” She laughed, thinking it highly unlikely Sam would have used the term toughie. “That bastard; when I see him, I’ll slap the prick silly. I bet he didn’t say toughie, what did he actually say?”

  Alex checked that the others were deep in conversation then leaned into her, Helena found herself moving closer too as he whispered, “He said you’re a bit of a ball buster.”

  “And you believe him?” she challenged, raising her eyebrows.

  Alex shook his head laughing. “I’m not sure, you don’t seem that scary. But I wouldn’t want to find out.”

  “You’re a wise man.”

  “You look different to how I imagine too,” Alex admitted. “Oh?” she queried.

  “Most girls who work up here, well it’s hard to tell, you know, that they’re girls. But not you. You definitely look like a girl.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Helena checked her reflection in the back window and hoped she hadn’t put too much mascara on. Nope, all okay. “Well, what about you, you seem a little too…” she chose her words carefully, “too well spoken to work up here, I don’t think I’ve heard you swear once.”

  “I don’t like swearing at work,” he admitted.

  “That’s what I mean, most guys around here only know two words, fuck and-”

  “I don’t allow my team to swear either.”

  Helena laughed. “Allow? Are you serious?”

  Alex sat up straight, his face grave. “Sorry, Red, I just believe in being professional, when you’re off work, you can say whatever you like. But here, we need to have respect, to work as a team and be good to each other. I hope you can handle that.”