by Rylee Swann
It strikes me that in everything I’ve done so far today, some part of Dawn was involved. I frown, uncertain whether I’m okay with that.
I switch off the TV and pick up my guitar to work on a new song that’s been rattling around in my noggin. I’m grooving on the beat but the opening chords need some fine-tuning. Words start coming to me and I scrounge for my notebook, let them flow from brain to paper. They’re coming faster than any other lyrics I’ve ever written and my heartbeat speeds up.
Might I have something here? I’m such a poor judge of my own work.
Fear and elation vie for dominance within me as I play and sing, work and revise, losing myself in the music.
Checking my cell phone for the time, I find I’ve lost a good couple of hours, and laugh. I could spend the rest of the day lost in the song, but I’ve done all I can do for the moment. Standing, I stretch, pull on layers to protect me from a cold bike ride and shuffle out the door to Lucifer’s.
When I enter the bar, I’m greeted by several of the bikers, some shouting out my name, others raising their pool sticks or beer bottles in a salute. I know most from the shop, I’ve worked on their bikes. I don’t care for the motorcycle club lifestyle but I’m no fool. No reason to antagonize these guys and form some very unwelcome enemies so I offer nods and a tight smile all around.
I’m walking through the bar, looking for Dawn, when Lobo weasels his way in next to me. “Looking for some action, man?”
I don’t know whether he’s talking about women or drugs and I’ve just spotted Divine. I can ask her about Dawn. I need a way to shake this loser.
“Nah, not right now. Just gonna talk to Dawn’s friend for a few.”
“Whose friend?” Lobo flashes an ugly know-it-all smile. The kind that says he’s king shit.
I feel like I’m about to be the brunt of a bad joke so I grit my teeth.
“Raven Dawn. You know her.” I make my tone the most non-challenging I can muster.
“Oh, yeah, right. You mean Almost.”
“What? Almost what?” I’m quickly losing patience with this guy.
“Almost. That’s Dawn’s nickname around here lately. You know. As in, almost gonna get her world rocked by yours truly.” He laughs like he’s sharing an inside joke with a best buddy, but I’m sickened.
My hands curl involuntarily into fists. I want to punch this asshole in the face but I manage to keep my hands by my sides. I’d get killed if I start a fight in here. These guys wouldn’t mind losing their mechanic if it meant upholding the honor of one of their own. Probably the only good thing about the club—a lot of lowlifes who have each other’s backs.
I’m about to force myself into saying something neutral in response when I hear my name being called again.
“Yo, Fringe! It’s open mic night. Wanna sing?”
It’s one of the less objectionable bikers, one I’ve had a conversation or three with both here and at the shop. What the fuck is his name? Skull, I think. Stupid name but who am I to point fingers? He’s one of the older bikers, mid-forties I’d guess, and has the requisite long, bushy salt-and-pepper beard many bikers have.
“I don’t have my guitar with me, brother, otherwise I might.”
Skull hoots in reply and points to the stage, where another biker is holding up a guitar like it’s a flaming sword he just pulled out of a stone.
I shrug like I’m being roped into this, but the truth is, I don’t mind. Could even be fun. I enjoy performing.
With a nod and a grin, I leap up onto the stage and grab the mic, bending the stand forward like a true rock ‘n roller. In my smoothest voice I address the patrons. “Am I next?”
A hush falls over the bar and all eyes turn to me. I give the crowd my pretty-boy smile and take the offered guitar as a chant of my name slowly starts then picks up steam, like a mantra. I’ll admit, I’m not hating this. Especially the looks from the girls. I’m sure a couple of them are already creaming their panties. They want me.
Who the fuck wouldn’t want to be a rock star? It’s better than any drug. Better than sex. Well, maybe I won’t go that far, but it’s a close second.
I know it isn’t really open mic night tonight. This is just another ploy to get me to join the club, Lucifer’s Angels. I’m the best bike mechanic in the city and I don’t play sides. I’ll fix a bike regardless of what club the owner is from. The fact that Lucifer’s Angels want me for themselves is no secret. They don’t know it’ll never happen but I’m going to have some fun up here on stage while they’re still trying to recruit me.
Strutting to the side of the stage, I bend down to whisper to the guy who runs the karaoke machine. He’s an oily looking dude but nice enough. He nods with a smile and I move back to center stage. I’m ready. The adrenaline that pumps through me every time I get on stage is sizzling through my blood. In this moment, I could probably lift a car off a trapped person.
When the first chords of “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones bellow out of the speakers, the crowd cheers and claps. I know Mick Jagger’s moves, and throwing the guitar behind my back, I prance like a peacock the way he does across the stage. I belt out the lyrics and the crowd eats it up, screams for more. Each time I’m on stage it gets better—I get better. This is where I belong.
As the song comes to an end, another starts, one I didn’t request. But I know it and flow right into the lyrics. It’s Bowie, even these lug nuts were effected by his loss.
As I sing “Let’s Dance” to the adoring crowd, I know what my third and final song should be. I give the karaoke guy the kill sign as the song ends and motion for a stool. He jumps up and places it center stage for me. My audience grows quiet, uncertain what will happen next.
Flicking them a just-before-sex smile, I sit and bring the guitar back around. Once it’s tested and tuned, I speak into the mic. “This is gonna be the last one.” The cries of disappointment feed my starving ego. “It’s one I wrote myself so I’m still working the kinks out but I think you might enjoy it. It’s ahhh… untitled.”
Strumming the guitar, I bring to life the song I worked on all day. As the lyrics flow from me, I shut my eyes, momentarily alone and afraid—so inside myself that tears threaten to fall. And when I finally look back out at the audience, I find them in silent, rapt attention. They’re feeling it—the hope and despair, the crushed dreams, the agony of uncertainty of love lost and risks not taken. I’ve poured it all into these lyrics and am stunned by the reaction. I’m touching these people and it is fucking amazing.
I play the last chord and sit for a moment, looking out at the faces. They’re screaming for more like they’re at some big stadium show. A few are even holding up lighters and cell phones in the universal call for an encore. I shake my head and put the guitar down, speaking into the mic. “Thank you.”
I jump off the stage and make my way through the crowd amid much back slapping and frantic female arms thrown around me. I untangle myself and keep going. Reaching my destination, I bend low to Divine’s ear. “Let Dawn know I was looking for her, eh?”
“Yeah, sure, Fringe. No problem. You know, you were awesome just now. Blew down the house.”
I smile and wink. “Thanks.”
That’s all I get to say. There’s a hand on my crotch and I turn to face one of the biker chicks.
“You need to fuck me, like, right now,” she slurs.
I suppose she’s pretty in a hard-core sort of way. Slutty blonde bombshell, shirt too tight and skirt too short. Not my type but that’s never stopped me before. Yet, tonight I’m not feeling it.
Opening my mouth, I start to tell her so but she smashes her lips against mine and crams her tongue inside instead. My cock stirs and she squeezes it, laughing into my mouth. It’s a heady rush being in such demand, being wanted, adored. It’s an addiction that I know would be hard to shake.
I kiss her hard, our tongues dancing, my hand curling in her hair and pulling her head back, making her vulnerable to me. I’m going to fuck h
er. Movement off to the side catches my eye, Divine looking back at me as she leaves. That breaks the spell.
Again, it becomes about Dawn.
I don’t want Divine to tell her about this and I push the girl away, my expression hard. She clings to my shirt and it’s another moment or two before I finally get away.
I go home alone for the first time in I can’t remember how long.
CHAPTER FIVE
Raven Dawn
Divine and I are sitting in the waiting room of her gyno. She has her head buried in her phone playing Candy Crush and I’m chewing on my lower lip nervously. I’ve never been to a gyno before and I’m imagining the worst. It’ll be awkward and uncomfortable, it’ll hurt, and how do you get in the stirrups, anyway?
“Fuck,” Divine says.
I turn to her. “What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just didn’t get all the monklings.” She frowns. “Played this damn level like five times already.”
I shake my head. I’m used to her Candy-Crush-induced outbursts.
“Are you sure this doctor is cool?” I ask for, like, the twelfth time.
“Yeah, yeah.” She’s already started the level again, staring down at the screen. “I told you. He’s like, ancient, in his fifties or something.”
I don’t know why she thinks his age is going to make me feel better. Now I’m picturing a sexy older man and that is so much worse.
“What if he’s hot,” I whisper, feeling like everyone is staring at me. Judging me, especially the two preggos across the room.
Divine laughs. “He is so not hot.”
“What if he—?”
“Look, he’s just gonna ask you some questions then give you an exam. Then he writes the script for the pill. He’s not gonna give you a hard time. Gynos would rather give out birth control than have unwanted pregnancies.” She glances at me then back down to her phone. “It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, right,” I say but don’t mean it. I fidget in my seat again, my foot won’t stop tapping.
A few minutes later and completely out of the blue, Divine’s head pops up. “Did you hear about Fringe?”
“What about him?”
“That he fucking tore the house down last night.” She must see my blank expression in her peripheral vision. “At Lucifer’s. He sang like three songs. He was awesome.”
“He sang at Lucifer’s?” I must be missing something, can’t wrap my gyno-focused head around what she’s saying.
“Yeah.” She gives a delighted laugh and flicks a look my way. “One by the Stones, one by Bowie, and one he said he wrote himself. It was really good.” She frowns down at her phone. “Fucking monklings. Oh yeah, he said to tell you he was looking for you but I think he left with Skye. She was all over him.”
My brain is spinning so fast I barely hear that last part. How could I not know this much about my best friend? The person I confide in the most? And who I thought confided in me, too. I mean, yeah, I know he plays guitar and he might have told me he goofs around with writing lyrics but tearing it up like a rock star? I want to cry. I feel betrayed. Even worse, why the hell is my stomach twisting over the fact that he left with Skye? I don’t get any of this.
I guess I’m quiet for too long because Divine pauses her game and looks at me.
“Are you okay?” There’s concern in her face and I appreciate it so much.
“Yeah, just nervous about the exam. That’s all.”
“Liar.”
“What? I am nervous.”
“There’s more to it than that.” She peers at me and I grow uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Is something going on between you and Fringe?”
My mouth drops open and I stutter before finding my voice. “What? No! That’s ridiculous.”
Divine is about to say something more, so I’m actually grateful when the nurse calls my name.
“Go get ‘em, champ!” she calls out after me.
My face gets hot and I stick my tongue out at her and dash off to follow the nurse.
She leads me to a tiny room where she takes my weight and blood pressure and asks me a bunch of personal questions. I can’t help laughing at some of them, this all seems so surreal.
She smiles, getting that I’m nervous, and does her best to put me at ease. “First time?” I nod and she pats my arm. “You’ll be fine, hun. During the exam remember to relax your muscles and it’ll be a piece of cake.”
I’m trying to figure out what the hell she means by that when another nurse pokes her head into the room and motions for me to follow her. She hands me a plastic cup and points to a door labeled Ladies. “When you’re finished, leave it on the window sill. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”
I nod and go in the bathroom. Fuck, I’ve really hit the bigtime now. Pissing in a cup. Wouldn’t the paparazzi love to know about this. I do my business, get grossed out by peeing as much on my hand as in the cup, wash up and come out ready for the next humiliating task.
The nurse ushers me into an examination room, hands me a disposable robe and tells me to strip.
“Opening in the front,” she says and shuts the door behind her.
I can do this. I take a deep breath and pick up the robe, which is a horrible contraption that barely covers me. I have to hold it closed to keep my tits from being on display. Wondering if I heard her right, I hop up on the exam table and wait.
This is even worse that the waiting room. At least there, I had Divine to distract me. Because there’s nothing else to do, I stare at the poster that shows all the female body parts and how the baby comes out. It looks gross and painful. Birth control is definitely the way to go.
Someone knocks on the door, startling me and I yelp. There’s a pause so I say, “Hello?”
The door opens and an older man in a white coat comes in. Divine was right, he is so not hot. Not ugly, but not my type even if he was closer to my age. He smiles and puts out his hand, so I shake it, hoping he washed it after the last patient.
“I’m Doctor Norman. And you are…” he refers to my chart, “Miss Fahr?”
I nod, not quite finding my voice.
“Good, good. And, what brings you here today, Miss Fahr?”
“I, umm, want to get on the pill.”
He nods as he puts on rubber gloves. “Are you sexually active?”
“No, umm… not yet, but I will be soon.”
“I see.” He looks at my chart again. “Your menstrual cycle started at age twelve.”
It doesn’t sound like a question so I don’t say anything.
He moves to the door and opens it a crack then returns to me. One of the nurses enters and smiles while making herself as unobtrusive as possible.
What the fuck is the deal with an audience? I want to ask but am too embarrassed.
“Have you had a breast exam before, Miss Fahr?” Doctor Norman asks and heat rises to my cheeks.
I shake my head and gnaw on my lower lip.
“That’s alright. Lie back and we’ll begin.”
I do as he says and he comes closer and, holy fuck, opens up my robe to expose my tits. They’re kinda big, not as big as Mom’s, but big enough to garner attention. And now, this old geezer is staring at them. I’m mortified but it doesn’t end there. He touches my right one just below my nipple and a little whine escapes my throat. I’m sure my face is beet red by now.
He’s poking and prodding and moving my arm to get better access as I look up at the ceiling, trying to pretend this isn’t happening. He pinches both nipples and I gasp in shock—was that really fucking necessary?
“Good, good. Nothing abnormal, nothing to be concerned about. We’re all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I shrug and wrap the robe around me as tight as I can.
Then I’m instructed to put my feet in the stirrups. I thought him poking at my tits was bad but now I’m naked, my legs spread wide open for him to stare at the place no man has viewed. This is humiliating and beyond embarrassing. I gnaw some more on
my lower lip and almost draw blood when he puts his cold glove-covered hands on my thighs.
“This is just my hands, Miss Fahr. You’re okay,” he says like that’s going to make me just fine with all of this. “Now, I’m going to begin the exam. Take a deep breath in for me and then let it out slowly.”
I do as he says and then—what in the holy hell is that?!
My ass bucks off the table. “Fuck! What the fuck!”
The nurse rushes to me, putting her hand on my shoulder and trying to quiet me, I guess, but this nightmare isn’t over yet. The doctor puts his hand on my stomach, my lower stomach and tells me to relax.
My muscles are clenched so hard I’m worried I’ll sprain something and nothing either of them are saying is calming me down. Then something cold and hard touches my inner thigh.
“What the fuck is that!”
“Easy, easy now. It’s called a speculum. A device to dilate your vagina so I can check it and your cervix.”
Tears are stinging the backs of my eyes and I shut them in an attempt to blot out what’s happening. In my mind’s eye the doctor’s face is replaced with Fringe’s and I calm enough to get through this.
Wait? What?
Why am I seeing his face?
And, why am I so okay with him being the one to touch me like this?
When the exam is over, I have to be helped off the table, my legs shaking. No one has ever touched me there and it has to be this nasty old fuck the first time?
At least I got my prescription for the pill. Thing is, I don’t much feel like a virgin anymore.
CHAPTER SIX
Fringe
It’s been a couple of days and I’m still on a high from my impromptu performance at Lucifer’s. The weather report says it’s bone-chilling temperatures out here but I’m not feeling a thing as I cruise the downtown streets of Toronto on my bike. I catch myself grinning, but maybe my face is just frozen in that position.