Lyons - Conflicted

Published by

D REAMSPINNER P RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Conflicted

2014 Louise Lyons.

Cover Art

2014 Maria Fanning.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-115-4

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-116-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014943203

First Edition August 2014

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

I S IT done yet? Paul asked for probably the hundredth time. He knew that his friend was getting ready to punch him, but he had brought the car to the garage Mark ran three months earlier and it was still unfinished.

No, Paul, its not done. If you leave me alone, I might have a hope of finishing it this century, Mark growled.

Well, what the fuck have you been doing? snapped Paul.

Mark straightened up and put down the mole grips he held. My job. I work eight, sometimes nine hours a day, Paul, and I do have a life. You would go and buy this heap of shit without even getting me to have a look at it first. If you want a decent car out of it, then it takes time and a lot of bloody hard work. It wouldnt kill you to help if youre that desperate to have it on the road.

Yeah, alright, Paul sighed.

Mark had a point, he thought. In Pauls book patience was never a virtue, and he had always been of the opinion that if he could get someone else to do things for him, he wouldnt have to bother. He was paying Mark to fix his car, and half the things Paul could have done himself and saved money, but he would rather be lazing around or indulging in his usual knack for getting into trouble. So instead, he hounded poor Mark mercilessly on a daily basis in the hope that he might actually have four wheels in time for the planned trip to Kent for a visit to Octane Raceway near Staplehurst.

The gang made the trip once a year, although Paul had only been twice before. It was more than a three-hour drive from Stockton if you got stuck on the M25, which was a probability, but Paul had never been able to get a decent car to take part in anything before. Since he was a kid, it had been his dream to have a Skyline. Now at the grand old age of twenty-three, he was still having to settle for an old wreck of a Ford for Mark to do up for him. He would have killed to get his hands on the new Nissan GTR, which obviously he had no hope of doing, or even the R34 model. The best he could do was a rusty old Capri with a knackered engine, missing just about every part that was worth anything. Mark had laughed when Paul had it delivered to him on the back of a trailer. Even now Paul would only be able to exhibit it because he couldnt afford the parts needed to make it fast enough to race. However, Mark had been able to give it a hundred extra horsepower for the time being.

How long? Paul asked more calmly.

A week came the answer.

Fuck, Paul muttered. It was Saturday, and in six days they would be heading to Octane.

Paul, if you werent so frightened of hard work, itd be done by now, Mark pointed out.

What do you want me to do?

Go to my wholesaler in town and get these. He handed Paul a scrap of paper with a list of items on it. I ordered them already; they just need collecting.

Mark pulled out the keys to his pickup, tossed them to Paul, and Paul set off without a word. No one told him what to do, but Paul knew he was being stupid on this occasion. Hed never have a car if he didnt pull himself together and help.

Paul fetched the parts and even hung around for a few hours helping Mark work on the car. Mark kept looking at Paul as if he expected him to lose his temper over something, but he didnt. In truth, actually doing some things himself while Mark worked under the bonnet was beginning to excite him. He enjoyed fitting the new Cobra seats he had bought and adding accessories such as alloy pedals, steering wheel, and a few other things. He didnt have to hound Mark to tell him how long it would behe knew they were mere days away from finishing. Mark even had the engine running earlier, and it growled like a wild animal. Paul found himself grinning as he turned a socket wrench and bolted the drivers seat in place.

Paul looked up when he heard a loud engine vying with rock music outside the garage. He glimpsed the bright green of Skips Evo 6 passing the door. Skip had spent a fortune on it, and it had four hundred horses under the bonnet. He was able to spend as much as he liked since he was the only one of the group who had been to university and then gone on to start a decent career as a stockbroker. But why he had to choose a paint job for his car that looked like someone with a bad cold sneezed over it, no one knew. The noise stopped suddenly, and Skip strolled in.

Hey, guys. Hows it going? Is that a smile, Paul? Fuck me! Skip teased.

Paul grinned wider. He couldnt help it. There was something about Skip that always made everybody smile. Even when Paul was in a foul mood, Skip could improve things without seeming to do anything. Michael Skipworth, nicknamed Skip since school, had been Pauls best friend for years, although none of the others knew quite how close they were.

Almost there. I might actually get to Octane next week, Paul said.

Great. Skip dropped into the seat Paul had just fitted into the car. Nice. Shame the color isnt more interesting.

We dont all want to look like fucking Kermit, Paul snorted. The Capri had been yellow when he got it, and although Skip had urged him to keep it that way, Paul had asked Mark to spray it black. Black was subtle and classy, disguising what might be under the bonnet, whereas yellow screamed it at you. Black also suited Pauls mood more often than not.

You know, a few graphics would make all the difference. Skip grinned, sliding out of the car again. Maybe some flames along here. He indicated the wings.