Dare Me

by River Laurent

  It’s like touching back down after getting sucked up into a tornado. The two of us walk to the elevator and take it down to the ground floor, then walk out to the parking lot without saying a word. What is there to say? I fully intend to win the game, which means I’ll eventually have to beat her—I guess they’ll turn us on each other once we’re the last team standing.

  I glance at her as I open the car door. She’s visibly shaken. For the briefest of moments, I feel sorry for her. She doesn’t really want to do this. Not because she’s scared—I get the feeling she can handle herself—but because she simply doesn’t like the idea. Neither do I, really, but this is my last option. Maybe it’s her last option too.

  “See you tomorrow,” I call out.

  She shoots me a look. “So long as it’s not in the parking lot.”

  “Yeah.” I can’t help but smile as I slide behind the steering wheel and pull out of my spot.

  Chapter 5

  DAKOTA

  The reality of what just happened doesn’t fully hit me until I park in front of my house. I’m sitting behind the wheel shaking, hands gripping the vinyl so tight my knuckles look bone white.

  I wanted to get on the show. I planned to, but I guess I didn’t really expect to. A million dollars. I can’t even imagine that much money. Not that I need to. I know exactly what I would do with it. Even so, the thought that it could be mine is overwhelming. I need a minute to process before I get out of the car.

  A minute is all I have before I need to get inside. The house is one of the few assets Mom owns free and clear. The car is another one—it used to be hers, but she can’t drive anymore so she lets me use it. Not that it’s worth much. If it were, I would sell it just to have the money and take the bus to work every day. It would take another hour to get there and back, but if it meant paying off just one more bill…

  “Mom? I’m home.” I slide out of my shoes the moment I step foot inside the front door. She’s watching her game shows, as always. I wonder what she’d think if she knew, I just landed a spot in one of them? Well, she’ll never know. She doesn’t watch reality TV or any of the interactive game shows currently out there. Hates them. The classics are much more her speed. That’s how I know I’ll be safe and she’ll never know the lengths I went to in order to pay for her treatment. The Price is Right blares from the TV across from the bed I set up in the living room.

  “It’s not the same since Bob Barker left the show,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

  Like I haven’t heard that comment at least once a week since she got sick and TV became her life. I settle down in the easy chair next to the bed and pat her hand. “I know. He was before my time. Hasn’t he been off the show for years and years?”

  “Don’t remind me.” She offers me a weak smile. “I don’t need to remember how old I am.”

  “Oh, stop it. I wouldn’t even call you middle-aged.”

  “I feel a lot older.” Her smile fades.

  “I know.”

  And another one of those awkward silences falls over us. The only sound in the room is the screaming of a contestant who just won a car. We watch as the picture on the TV fades to black and a commercial starts.

  “How was your interview?” she asks.

  I give her the widest smile I can call up. “Great. I got the position.”

  “You did? Oh, that’s wonderful news! I needed something to cheer me up today…you should’ve told me right away.”

  I run my hand over her forehead. No fever. “What’s wrong that you needed something to cheer you up?”

  She grimaces. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “You know it’s going to get better. Right? It will, once we get you that treatment.”

  “That treatment,” she murmurs, waving one weak hand. “It’s nothing but a fantasy. We can’t pay for it.”

  “Don’t lose hope, Mom. I have a good feeling about this. Now that I’ve got this job I think there is a chance that we’re going to be able to afford the treatment.” I hate lying to her, and I’ve never been any good at it. She’s always been able to spot a lie too, but something about having cancer has weakened her inner detector. She believes I have a new job.

  She doesn’t believe it’ll be enough, though. “Do you know how much that sort of therapy costs? Yeah, they have all these commercials for special treatment centers and their high rates of success, but they don’t tell you the cost. Insurance isn’t going to cover even part of that.”

  “What did the doctor tell you last time we went in to see him? Hmm?” I pull the covers a little tighter around her thin frame, then sit on the edge of the bed with her hand in mine. It’s so thin, so delicate. “He told you not to worry over things you can’t control. The more you think about the money and the insurance, the worse you’re going to feel. You have to keep your energy focused on healing and being well.”

  “You sound like a woo-woo, hippy-dippy fruitcake,” she murmurs, but there is a cheeky smile on her face.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I am right now. Because I do believe this is going to turn out alright. They caught it early enough that you should be able to get well and go into remission—but you need this treatment and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

  She wants to believe. I can feel it in the way her fingers tighten around mine. Even so, her eyes search my face. “What are you doing to earn this money?” she whispers.

  “What?”

  “What sort of position offers you enough money to pay for me to go to a fancy treatment center? You’re twenty-two years old. You’re a personal assistant. That’s all the experience you have. What are you going to have to do for it?”

  “It’s nothing illegal, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I promise her. “Just trust me a little. Okay?”

  She sighs. “I want to trust you. I do. But I can’t let you degrade yourself, or do anything you’ll regret later. Not for me. I should be the one taking risks for you, making sacrifices for you.” Tears fill her eyes.

  “You don’t think you’ve done enough for me?” I ask, reaching out to wipe away a tear that’s spilled onto her cheek. She’s so much thinner than she used to be and she’s always been on the thin side. Her skin is so delicate. “You raised me as a single mother. You worked two jobs to keep this roof over our heads and managed to pay off the mortgage years ahead of schedule. You sat up at night with me when I had stomach bugs and the flu, and still went to work in the morning. Nobody was here to take care of you over all those years, so you took care of yourself and me.” It was my turn to cry. “Why wouldn’t I do this for you? It’s my chance to pay you back in some small way for everything you’ve done.”

  “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

  “Too bad. I’m going to anyway. So, you’d better sit back and get used to it. Okay?”

  She shakes her head but there’s a resigned sort of admiration in her eyes. She knows there’s nothing she can do about me stepping up the way I am. She might even be proud of me, though it’s hurting her to feel like a burden. I’m doing everything I can to make sure she never feels that way, but I can’t seem to change her stubborn mind. I guess we’re both pretty stubborn.

  Her eyes slide shut. “I’m so tired.” She’s always tired in the days, immediately after chemo.

  “You get some sleep, then.” I turn the TV down to a low rumble…she doesn’t like sleeping without any noise in the background, something that she picked up when she got sick. Maybe it’s fear of slipping into eternal silence. I tuck her in more securely. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you wake up and need anything.”

  “Alight.” She’s already breathing softly and evenly by the time I leave her side.

  Chapter 6

  DAKOTA

  When she’s asleep, I can let down my guard a little. I feel myself crumbling slowly as I sink into a chair at the kitchen table. How many times have I sat here over the years? Same table too. Birthday cakes, Christmas cookies, and late-night heart-to-hearts. Saturday morni
ng pancakes.

  I miss those days.

  I miss being a little girl, of not having to worry about where the money is coming from, or how fast Mom’s body is deteriorating. She’s fading before my very eyes and all I want to do is hold onto her, clutch her to me, order her to stay around and get better.

  I can’t imagine losing her. Not yet. She’s too young. She ought to be out there, enjoying life. She hasn’t even seen her forty-fifth birthday. There’s still so much for her to explore and do, then maybe, finally, find the true love she’s always dreamed about and never found.

  Instead, she’s lying in a bed in the living room day after day, watching reruns of game shows.

  A gentle tap on the back door shakes me out of my depressed thoughts. I barely have time to raise my head from my palms before Jenny steps into the kitchen. She knows by now that she doesn’t have to wait for permission to come in.

  “Oh, no,” she says, sitting across from me with a look of anguish. “I guess it didn’t go well.”

  “Actually, it went more than well. I got on the show.”

  “You did?” Her face lights up. “That’s fantastic!”

  “Yeah. I guess.” I sit back in my chair, chewing on my lip. “Now I just have to win. But what if I don’t? This is my last chance to get the money together. I mean, sitting here like this, thinking about it… How did I ever think this was a solid idea? It’s a total shot in the dark.”

  “Listen.” She leans over the table. “You’ve got a real shot at this. As good a shot as anybody else they chose.”

  “But what if the audience gives me something I just can’t bring myself to do?”

  “They’re not allowed to ask you to do anything that’ll get you into serious trouble.” She pauses. “Are they?”

  “I have no idea. I mean, they can’t make it too easy, or else nobody would win. The game would just go on and on without anybody dropping out.”

  “Hmm. That’s true.”

  “And there are twenty teams, so they’re going to need to weed out the duds pretty quickly.”

  “Wait. Teams? You’re on a team? I thought it was just one person working alone.”

  My blood starts to simmer at the thought of him. The smug bastard. “No. Unfortunately, I have a teammate, and he’s the worst.” I give her the brief rundown of our meeting, if it can even be called that. More like a showdown.

  She sits back, arms folded, a smirk touching her lips. “Lemme get this straight. He’s hotter than chili flavored Cheetos, probably has, at least, a little money, and the two of you have to spend time doing crazy things together. Am I hitting all the main points of this story?”

  “Yes.” I roll my eyes with a sigh. We’ve been friends our entire lives, so I know where she’s going with this.

  Her gray eyes narrow. “Tell me again what the big problem is?”

  “The big problem is, he’s a total jerk.”

  She makes a disbelieving face.

  “No, really,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder into the living room to make sure I don’t wake Mom. “The man is a male version of a bimbo. I could carve a better personality out of a potato.”

  She giggles.

  “It’s all right for you. You don’t have to deal with his arrogant ass. The only consolation will be seeing his face when I beat him somehow, once we’re the only team left standing. I pray I can do it.”

  “You’ll find a way. I know you will. Hell, if you learn enough about him and the way he thinks while you’re working together, you might be able to figure out how to beat him in the end.”

  “Hmm. That’s a good point.” I smile at her. “This is why I keep you around. You’re smarter than I am.”

  “Nah. Just more devious.” We both giggle softly for fear of disturbing Mom.

  “Thanks for looking in on her today,” I add as I get up to fix a glass of iced tea for both of us.

  “You thank me everyday, and I always tell you not to worry about it.”

  “But I’m still going to thank you. I mean, you have other things to do.”

  “Like what? Sleeping? Because that’s usually what I do if I’m not working.” She takes the iced tea and sips it with a thoughtful look on her face. “And you’re changing the subject, by the way.”

  Damn it. She knows me too well. “What do you mean?” I ask as I sit back down with what I hope is an innocent look on my face, but she sees straight through me.

  “We were talking about Mr. Hottie and you totally took a left turn. Why are you avoiding talking about him? He’s gonna be your teammate. You’d better get used to him.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever taken such an instant dislike to anyone before,” I mutter, shaking my head. “He’s an awful human being. I might have to really watch him. He may be one of those charming psychopaths. The heartless way he kicked my purse of out of that elevator.”

  “Did you just call him charming?”

  I jerk my head. “I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. You said he may be one of those charming psychopaths.”

  I frown. “I didn’t mean to say that. It was slip of the tongue. He is not charming at all. Every time he opens his mouth, I want to toss a Xanax into it.”

  “He was only reacting,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Quite frankly, I don’t think anybody’s gonna be kind and sweet when they just got dinged by another driver. And he was probably stressed over the audition, just like you were.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “I didn’t know I had to pick a side,” she murmurs with a grin.

  I widen my eyes at her.

  “Oh well, yours, I guess.”

  “Then maybe you should stop making me feel bad about hating him.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad…and I don’t think you hate him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Believe me, if you had been there, you would understand. I can’t put it into words, but he made me feel awful. I wanted to strangle him or at least kick him in the balls.”

  “Oh, a kick in the balls? It sounds like the beginning of a delicious love affair to me.”

  I roll my eyes. “You tend bar for a living. Don’t measure this by the random hookups you see every night.”

  She laughs. “Which reminds me, I wanted to tell you about the two I served last night. They were obviously on a first date, and it was clearly through a dating app because neither of them recognized the other one from their profile pics. The girl actually kept mentioning how different the guy looked and kept asking him questions to make sure he was the same guy she had been talking to.”

  I smile and she launches into one of her stories of the sad, bizarre encounters she watches during every shift. I let her story take me out of my head for a little while. The first text comes in tomorrow, and I’ll have more than enough time to worry about what’s coming to me when it arrives. Until then, a glass of iced tea and a little girl talk with my best friend is exactly what the doctor ordered.

  Even so, I can’t keep from hearing the sound of Mom’s light, shallow breathing coming from behind me.

  Chapter 7

  TRENT

  I stand in the middle of my renovated factory and experience a sense of real pride. This place is going to look amazing one day. I just know it. The space alone is incredible. There’s so much character in a building like this. A whole different class than some drywall-and-concrete monstrosity. The exposed brick and original wide-plank flooring are a great touch too. I walk over to the tall, wide windows and look out at the majestic view of the river, and the Ben Franklin Bridge. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. I want my employees to come to work every day feeling like they’re part of something with soul.

  Of course, I need employees first. But at least, I have the office space settled.

  I loosen my tie and slide out of my jacket before sitting at my desk. It’s only lunch time, but it feels like it has been a long day. No doubt, there’ll be longer days if I plan to pull off
winning this game show, but that’s cool with me. I’m used to hard work. Anybody who’s ever tried to get a business off the ground knows what eighteen hours days are all about.

  I pull up my email and pop open an energy drink at the same time, ready to dive in and really start the work day. Taking the morning off to go to that audition was a risky move, one which I would have regretted if I hadn’t made it.

  But I did make it.

  And I’m going to go all the way to the end. I’m going to turn this business into what I’ve been dreaming of for the last three years, ever since I had a big idea in my dorm room at the end of senior year.

  A lot has changed since then. I’m not a fresh-faced college kid anymore or living off my parents. Life sure was a lot easier when you didn’t have to earn your own money, or pay bills. When I look back on how busy I thought I was throughout college, I can’t help but laugh at myself. Studying and playing sports. Wow, what a tough life I had. Spoiled brat. I wish I could go back and give that old version of me a solid punch in the jaw sometimes.

  If I could, I’d tell him to get a clue, too.

  I’d warn him against the pitfalls I’ve already fallen into, only three years in. I’d tell him to take his time trusting people, to not let supposed friends fool him into thinking they’d make good business partners. I’d advise him to set aside more than he thinks is necessary for the tax man because there’s nothing like finding out money is owed at the end of the financial year, money that’s already been earmarked for other things. I learned that the hard way.

  Eric comes in carrying a bag from a sandwich shop on the corner. “Dude, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he says, putting the bag on his desk and sliding into his chair.

  It’s an open floor plan, so I can see him from where I am, halfway across the room. “Yeah, I came back about twenty minutes ago.” I keep my eyes on my monitor and pretend nothing’s up, just to screw with him for a little bit.