Doctor's Orders (5 page)

What the hell was wrong with me? Caring was not
something I was particularly good at. I didn’t have the genes.
Maybe I was changing. Now there’s a scary thought.

***

The next few days
disappeared in a haze of busy work. Setting up interviews,
organizing photo shoots, checking contact sheets, reading proofs
and all the hectic work that piles up when an issue is due to go to
print. No matter how much you try to prepare these things, there
are always problems that result in you working until midnight to
catch up - a freelance writer misses a deadline, product for a
photo shoot goes missing, some legal issue comes up...it’s always a
nightmare. But by Friday, we had finally put the issue to bed, and
I was looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend before it all
started again on Monday.

I was busy clearing my desk ready for the break,
when I heard a voice calling from the doorway.

‘The weekend has arrived...time to be out of
here!’

I looked up to see Brad standing in the doorway,
grinning. I felt a shudder of pleasure inside, which I managed to
repress, and I even managed to reply without squeaking.

‘Yes, I’m done for the week. Just clearing my desk.
What about you?’

‘I had a few things to drop off at the office here.
And I wondered if you might have time for a drink before we all
head for home. It’s a beautiful evening, after all. Are you
free?’

It certainly was a beautiful day. Sydney is
wonderful all day long, but during the late afternoon/early evening
period, something magical happens to the light. Everything looks
more stunning than ever, the colors seem deeper and richer, and it
just feels good to be alive. An hour or two spent sitting on a
terrace with a glass of wine and a rich, handsome dude for company
certainly sounded appealing. There were worse ways to spend a
Friday evening than watching the sun set over the harbour and
enjoying some intelligent conversation. My diary for the evening
was pretty much clear – OK, it was a vast expanse of nothingness –
but I wasn’t going to tell Brad that. I wanted to sound like I had
some kind of a life.

‘Well, I had a couple of things planned, but they
can wait until later. So I have a couple of hours free.’

‘Excellent! We’ll go whenever you’re ready.’

Half an hour later, we were seated outside a café in
Darling Harbour, enjoying the fading light and the sound of happy
city workers all around us, everyone feeling the special buzz of
Thank God It’s Friday. There were plenty of well-dressed city guys
around, but Brad stood out as being a cut above the rest in his
tailored suit and hand-made shirt. I had to be careful not to gawp
and make a fool of myself, so I tried to think of something to
say.

‘I’ve started on the interviews,’ I began. But Brad
shook his head.

‘Let’s not talk about work,’ he said. ‘It’s the
weekend…all that can wait until next week. Why don’t you tell me a
little more about you?’

He leaned forward as if he genuinely cared, not like
some guy feigning interest to get his leg over. That was a first. I
felt myself blushing and hoped it was dusky enough for him not to
notice.

There’s not much to say,’ I offered, rather
pathetically.

‘Now, I don’t believe that. I’m sure there would be
some amazing stories to tell if I could read your mind.’

Gulp! I didn’t want him or anyone else reading my
mind. I could be arrested for over-use of the male population or
something. And him a sex therapist, too…I could probably provide
him with enough material for a whole series of seminars and a
bestselling book or two. I smiled politely and fluttered my
eyelashes. That usually works, but Brad was a tough nut to
crack.

‘You said you are single,’ he continued. ‘I find
that hard to fathom. I’d have thought some guy would have snapped
you up by now’

I know I shouldn’t fall for such obvious lines, but
I’m a sucker for flattery. I just lap it all up. Compliments will
get you everywhere with me. I giggled and waited hopefully for
another one. I wasn’t disappointed.

‘I’m sure you will make some lucky man very happy
one day.’

Making men very happy was my specialty, but possibly
not in the sense he intended. I tried to imagine myself settling
down with one guy and living happily ever after. Happily ever
after? Stuck with the same dick for the rest of your life? I
considered that a rather scary prospect. It would be like going on
vacation to exactly the same place every year. I know plenty of
people do that, but those kinds of people are already dead inside.
I didn’t want to join them. But then again, looking at Brad now, I
could see the idea had its appealing side, too. I mean, if it was
someone like him, good looking, successful and loving, maybe it
could work….

…could it?

It’s a good job Brad couldn’t read my mind, because
at that moment, I was mentally exploring the contents of his
underpants. He was a tall man…did that mean that things were
proportionately large in other departments? What would a
world-leading expert on sex be like in the sack? Would he know how
to put the theory into practice? It sure would be interesting to
find out. But it didn’t seem likely I would get the opportunity.
For all his compliments, I was well aware I wasn’t in his league. I
must have looked like a trashy office girl compared to the
sophisticated women in his usual circles.

I was miles away, following my own train of thought.
Then I noticed that Brad’s voice had stopped. I realized he had
been talking while my mind was elsewhere. Now he had asked me a
question, and was politely waiting for an answer.

Bollocks.

I had absolutely no idea what he had been talking
about. I was going to make a complete fool of myself by sitting
there gulping like a goldfish. Brad smiled at me.

‘So what do you think…yes or no?’

That helped. Now he had narrowed it down to a 50:50
choice.

‘Yes, of course!’ I said enthusiastically, wondering
what the hell it was that I had agreed to.

‘That’s fantastic,’ he smiled. ‘Most women refuse
that offer flat! But I suspected you wouldn’t scare so easily. I
think you will find it to be an amazing experience…better than sex!
I can pick you up tomorrow morning at nine, so that we can be on
site a little after ten. Remember to wear comfortable shoes and
bring something to tie your hair up with. I’ll take care of
everything else.’

The sun dropped behind the horizon, but I barely
noticed. I was too busy wondering what the hell I had gotten myself
into. Anything that was better than sex had to be worth trying. But
why did most women turn the offer down flat? There was no way I
could ask Brad about it now without making a complete fool of
myself. I would just have to play it by ear. It couldn’t be that
bad…

…could it?

After a while, I excused myself on the grounds that
I had to meet my friends for our pre-arranged meeting. I needed
some time to figure out how I was going to deal with the next day’s
mysterious adventure.

When I got back to my apartment and explained what
had happened, Ellen practically collapsed on the floor laughing.
And she is supposed to be my friend. The bitch. Between us, we
tried to work out what the day’s activity might be. Something that
required comfortable shoes and tied-up hair, and which scared the
crap out of most women. Ellen’s best guess was abseiling. I hoped
not…I’m scared of heights, remember. And in any case, abseiling is
hardly better than sex…is it?

By the time we decided to call it a night, I was
still puzzled, and Ellen was still laughing. I made a mental note
to find a way to get my revenge when this was over. I didn’t’ sleep
very well. I had a recurring nightmare about being stuck half way
up a cliff tied to an abseil rope, unable to go up or down. I told
myself that at least that was the worst thing that could happen.
Whatever Brad had in mind, it surely couldn’t be any scarier than
that.

Oh, boy, was I wrong…

***

Saturday morning
dawned with clear skies and warm sunshine. I got up and showered,
still thinking apprehensively about the day ahead.

It’s better than sex…it’s better than sex…it’s
better than sex…

I kept repeating this mantra over and over again.
It’s the only thing that kept me going. Either Brad had a pretty
warped idea of what constituted fun, or this was going to be an
awesome day. Brad didn’t appear to be warped. In fact, he was the
least warped person I had ever met. But I was still nervous.

I dressed in what I thought were sensible clothes –
jeans, T-shirt and a light jacket. I tied my hair back in a
ponytail, and put on a pair of Nikes. I looked at myself in the
mirror and couldn’t decide if I liked what I saw or not. It wasn’t
the look I would have chosen for a date with a hot guy, but on the
other hand, I did look kind of cute in a sensible way. Ellen had
breakfast with me, and did her best to keep a straight face. But
she couldn’t hold it, and half way through her bowl of Nutri-grain
she burst out laughing.

‘Angel, I’m sorry…but you just don’t look like you
without high heels and a skirt that shows your knickers. I
pretended to be above such comments.

The doorbell rang on the stroke of nine, and Ellen
leaped ahead of me to open it. She wanted to have a perv at this
new man in my life to see what she was missing out on. That was OK.
I knew she would be jealous when she saw Brad, and I was right.
When she opened the door, he was standing there in khaki trousers
and a white polo-necked shirt – a very different look to his
professional appearance. And hotter than any guy I had seen Ellen
dating. Ha ha! She asked him in, and turned to give me a nod of
approval. I still had no idea whether today constituted a date, or
more of a ‘getting to know a colleague’ business deal. But Ellen
was jealous, and that’s all that counts, really.

Ellen offered him a coffee, but he politely pointed
out that we needed to get moving. A few minutes later, we were out
in the street, heading towards his car. I looked for the Bentley,
and so was surprised when he paused next to a brand-new Range
Rover. He pressed a key fob and the lights flashed as the doors
unlocked with a thunk. The rear of the vehicle was packed with
various bulging green and khaki bags. Maybe Ellen was right.
Abseiling seemed a real possibility.

‘Jump in,’ he said. ‘There will be some traffic to
start with, but once we are south of the city, it should be an easy
ride.’

South of the city? What the hell was to the south of
the city…about an hour’s drive away? As Brad drove, I watched the
signposts flicking by, trying to get a feel for where we were
heading. Canberra…the nation’s capital? I hoped not. Canberra is
probably the most boring city in Australia. Anyway, it was too far
away. The Southern Highlands perhaps? The Shire? No, too close. Not
the Blue Mountains, they were out West.

I didn’t find out for sure until we were driving
through the streets of Woollongong, a seaside town that I had never
visited before. No reason to…nothing much happened there that I was
aware of. It seemed to be a pleasant enough town, but why were we
here? Jeez…I felt so stupid.

‘Are you nervous?’ Brad asked.

‘Um…just a little,’ I answered cautiously.

‘No need to be...it’s as safe as houses. And I will
be with you all the way.’

Well, that seemed reassuring. We skirted round the
north of the town and headed towards the coast. We pulled up on
some parkland near the beach. Looking good so far, I thought. The
beach was awesome, with rolling surf and a few families strolling
along the sand. Nothing scary there. And no cliffs to abseil
from.

‘Well, here we are!’ Brad exclaimed triumphantly,
pointing in the opposite direction to the beach.

I followed his finger and looked across the
parkland. At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about. And
then I saw it. A huge sign stood at the side of the road like a
behemoth, blasting out a message in huge, bold lettering.

I read it with a growing sense of panic.

Oh, my God…no! Please tell me this isn’t it…

But it was. This was my worst nightmare come true. I
would rather abseil every day for a year than do this. I would
rather do
anything
than do this. But now there was no
escape. It was all over.

I swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with the
fact that I was about to die…

So this was it. I was
going to die, right here. I would never see another sunrise. My
short life was going to end with me falling from thousands of feet
in the air and smashing into the ground.

I read the sign again, hoping that somehow I had
been mistaken. But nope…the words read exactly the same way the
second time.

WELCOME TO SKYDIVE CENTRAL!!!

Skydiving?
SKYDIVING!!! Oh, fuck…I was screwed. There was no way I could
handle a parachute. I’d fuck it up. I’m scared of heights remember?
Standing on a chair to change a light bulb scares the crap out of
me. If I let Brad push me into doing this, there would be only one
possible outcome. The other jumpers would all float gracefully to
the ground - whilst watching me plunging earthwards at high speed,
tangled up in my mangled parachute. At least my funeral would be
cheap. They wouldn’t need a big coffin – just a small box for the
bits they could scrape up off the ground.

Ah well, it had been a good life. I had enjoyed lots
of sex, which is all that counts really. And at least now, I would
be spared the misery of becoming old, ugly and unfuckable.

I got out of the car and threw up on the grass. Brad
jumped out of the driver’s seat and rushed round, just in time to
get a clear view of what I had eaten for breakfast.

‘Oh, God.’ I said.