by Rylee Swann
“Playing martyr on me, huh?”
He chuckles then his tone turns serious. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, really. This will blow over eventually. So, wanna meet me at Lucifer’s tonight?”
“I thought you were grounded.”
“Well, yeah, but they grounded me past my birthday and that shit ain’t flying. I’m gonna sneak out for a little fun. C’mon and join me.”
There’s a pause but before I can read too much into the silence, he says, “Don’t do that, Dawn.” He sighs, and I can imagine him running a hand through his hair. “Look, you’ll only make things worse. Just get through the punishment. You have plenty of time for fun.”
Tears well in my eyes. When did I become such a baby? “So you are pissed at me. You don’t want to see me.”
There’s another sigh from the best friend I suddenly feel like I’m losing.
“That’s not it at all. But your parents did forbid you to see me. Talk to them, clear that up and then I’ll take you out to dinner, promise.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He’s BSing me.
“Ah, Dawn, don’t do that. Just stay home. And, please, don’t see Lobo on your birthday. What you’re planning is wrong on so many levels, I can’t even begin to explain.” He pauses again and this time it feels like he’s searching for the right words. “Look, you know me. You know I’d never hurt you and never lie to you. I’m asking you to talk to your parents. Have an honest to god conversation with them about all this.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say quickly before my voice betrays me. “Divine’s getting a call. I gotta go.”
Before he can say anything else, I disconnect and hand the phone back to Divine.
“What the fuck?” Her words are muffled behind a mouthful of disgusting cafeteria food.
“Nothing, it’s cool. Wanna go to Lucifer’s tonight?”
“Sure.” She peers at me while she chews. “What did he say to make you so upset?”
“Dunno. Nothing. I think he’s trying to put distance between us.” I swipe at my eyes before the tears can fall.
She stares at me for a moment with wide, unbelieving eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Come on, you know it.”
I just shrug.
I only have a couple more classes until I can get out of this prison and into the next one, my home. At least Divine isn’t in them. I can’t take any more of her trying to convince me I’m nuts.
In biology, my last class, I can’t concentrate on what the teacher is saying. She’s so used to seeing my empty desk and not me, that I don’t think she realizes I’m in class. So, instead of taking notes, I doodle in my notebook the entire period.
When the last bell of the day finally rings, I run for the nearest exit.
And straight into a crowd of paparazzi.
Fuck.
They spot me immediately and shove mics in my face, shout questions at me. I can barely make out what they’re saying, they’re all yelling over each other.
It’s been a while since they’ve hounded me and I’m kind of curious what brought this on. Trying to make my way through the wall of humans, I start to piece together what they’re saying. It’s about Uncle Milo and Uncle David.
I freeze where I am at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the school. Other students stare at me while making their way around the crowd. Why are these vultures talking about my uncles? I resist the urge to gnaw on my lower lip and get caught on camera like that. They all seem so stern, although a few of them are smiling. I know they’re just trying to get me to talk.
An older, tired-looking reporter with bottle-blonde hair takes the opportunity to shove her mic at me. She speaks clearly, as the others’ voices fall into a murmur. “Did your mom, Rachel St. Claire, have a falling-out with Milo and David? Is that why they’re going on tour this summer without her?”
What the?
I don’t know about any of this.
It must show on my face because another reporter shouts, “They made the announcement at noon today, Raven.”
My mouth drops open, causing hurried whispers.
“She doesn’t know…”
“…kept a secret…”
“Does this mean…?”
“Can’t believe it’s true…”
“…St. Claire retiring?”
“…feud is heating up…”
“…wrong with St. Claire?”
I’m stunned and make my feet move as I murmur “no comment” to each vulture I pass.
A horn honks and I look up to see my savior, Peach, idling at the curb. Sighing in relief, I break through the throng and make a dash for her car. Just as I’m opening the passenger door, one more question is clearly shouted behind me.
“Raven! What are you doing for your eighteenth birthday?”
I turn back to them with a smirk on my lips. “Getting laid, of course!”
I jump into the car amid a new flurry of excited whispers and Peach floors the accelerator. The car leaps forward and we speed away.
Peach is laughing so hard I think she’ll bust a gut. I know what I said was stupid but I hate them, hate them all.
So, now they’ll be talking about me instead of whatever is going on with Milo and David.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fringe
“What do you do for a living?” At Angie’s laugh, I raise my brows then sigh. “I was too drunk that night to remember if I ever asked.”
She nods and covers her mouth like she’s trying to contain the laugher.
Angie and I are eating dinner at a Tim Horton’s. I know, I’m not a very classy date. In my defense, she made me promise not to take her anywhere fancy and I love Timmy’s Iced Capp, even in the winter. She didn’t seem disappointed when we pulled up.
She drove. Said she’d wait until summer for her first ride on my bike. I can’t blame her.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I’m not going to apologize again for that and you’re going to tell me whatever it is I should know but can’t remember whenever it comes up. Got it?” I give her one of my sexy smiles, the one where I look up at her from under my eyelashes.
I’m not conceited, not much, anyway. This look has made more than a girl or three spread her legs for me. Not that I’m trying to get Angie in bed. Not at the moment. I just want her to stop giving me a hard time about my blackout drunk.
She appraises me with a raised brow. “What kind of deal is that for me?” She places a fry into her mouth but there’s that adorable twinkle in her eyes that tells me she’s not upset.
“Best one you’ll get from me right now,” I deadpan.
There’s a pause and then we both burst into laughter.
“Alright, you win…”
“I knew I would.”
She throws a fry at me. I catch it and pop it into my mouth.
She does the head toss thing with her hair and laughs. Her hair is too short for that move to work as intended but it’s so cute how she’s trying. “So, do you want to know what I do for a living or not?”
I nod and give her my undivided attention. I do want to know. I want to know everything about her.
“My friend and I recently started a catering business. I’m good with numbers and put myself through college waiting tables. Jada is a fantastic chef and…” She looks up at me. “I don’t mean to sound racist but she makes the best soul food I’ve ever tasted.”
“Why would I think that’s racist?”
“Because she’s black.” A blush rises to her cheeks and makes her even more adorable.
“Oh.” I give her more deadpan and her blush deepens.
“I… umm…”
I can’t hold in my laughter. “I’m just messing with you. I don’t think that’s racist at all.” She lobs another fry at me. I catch that one, too, and munch on it. “What’s the name of the business?”
“Don’t laugh, okay?” She bites her lip. I keep thinking she can’t get any cuter, a
nd then she does. Amazing.
When I called her to ask her to go out with me, I fucking stammered, sweat about pouring off me. It was like when I tried to talk to the first girl I ever had a crush on, back when I was fifteen. What the hell was her name?
“Promise. Cross my heart.” And I do, cross my heart, eliciting a sweet smile from her.
“It’s called Feed the Soul Catering.” She waits nervously for my reaction.
I don’t make her wait long. “I love it, really.” I’m impressed, so much I give her the head tilt with the smile. “I wish you all the success in the world, Angie.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to say.” I watch her dip another fry into the little circle of ketchup on her plate. “It’s a nerve-racking time. We haven’t been in business very long and we put everything we had into it.” One quick, dainty motion brings the fry to her mouth and she bites off the tip. I’m fascinated. Can’t keep my eyes off her.
“You’ll do okay. Do you have business cards?”
She nods as a little cloud of dismay crosses her face. “I didn’t tell you about this so you could help. I don’t expect—”
I wave a hand at her and then leave it out, palm up. “I know. Now, give me a few.”
She smiles and burrows in her shoulder bag, soon producing a little rectangular business card case, opens it and places some in my hand.
I nod and stow them in a pocket then clap my hands together. “Are we done here? We’ve both been picking at our French fries for a while now.”
She laughs and pushes her plate away. “Yes, please, get these things away from me. I’ll just keep eating them because I can.”
Her laughter is contagious but I’m developing a lump in my throat with what I want to say next. “So, are you ready for part two of this shindig?”
Shindig, really? Whose asshole did I pull that word out of?
She looks at me questioningly and I continue. “Yeah, I was… thinking we could go dancing.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to look nonchalant. “That is, if you like to dance?”
“I love to dance!” She’s so enthusiastic, I can tell she’s not just going along with it.
“Awesome. Then how about you take me back to my place now and then I’ll pick you up later… around ten?”
“Sounds great! Just so long as I drive us to the club. I’m still not going to get on your bike… yet.”
We both stand, and with a hand lightly touching her back, I lead her out and to her car.
***
She rents a studio apartment above a bakery. I don’t know how she does it. I’d go mad, my head filled with confectionary sweetness all the time.
Standing in the entryway to the bakery, shrouded in shadow, she smiles and waves as I roar up. When she steps forward and the light from a streetlamp hits her, she takes my breath away. She’s glowing, her cheeks rosy, the smile on her face wide and so sweet. She’s very girl next door. And, yeah, my cock comes to life.
Great, a boner. On our first date.
Maybe she won’t notice. Or—and this is much better—she will notice and want to do something about it.
Just stop it, Fringe. That is not going to happen. In another minute, she’s probably going to hate me anyway.
“I’m parked around the corner. Follow me and you can grab my spot before someone else does.” She starts to dash off then stops and looks back at me. “And, by the way… hi!”
She makes me smile as I wave her on and slowly follow. Quickly making the exchange, I get in the beat-up old Elantra beside her and she easily pulls out into traffic.
She steals a glance at me and nods. “Don’t you clean up nice.”
I snort out a laugh. I don’t look much different. I changed into a nicer pair of jeans in a darker wash and exchanged my usual t-shirt for a white button-down under my black leather jacket. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
She snorts, copying me. “Half bad? I look ah-maze-ing!” Her tone is light, carefree, and I know she’s teasing. She doesn’t have a conceited bone in that fine, hot little bod of hers. “Where are we going? Directions, an address? Something, so I don’t aimlessly wander the streets of downtown Toronto all night.”
“I was thinking Zanzibar.” I chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I await her reaction.
Her mouth drops open and she looks at me, her eyes wide as she rolls to a stop at a red light. “You’re not serious, are you?” She’s soon laughing incredulously. “You are so not taking me to a strip club!”
“Hey, can’t fault me for trying.”
“Yes, I can!” She dabs at her eyes as she tries to control her laughter. “So, tell me where we’re really going.”
“Handlebar.”
“Is that a biker bar?” She scrunches up her nose in obvious distaste and I know she’s going to hate me in another minute.
“No, handlebar as in bicycle. Most of the people have helmet head from pedaling their bikes there.” I give her a sideways glance. “You’ll fit right in.”
Her mouth drops open again but soon turns into a big smile. “You’re terrible! I do not have helmet head!”
“No, you don’t. You have very nice hair, for a redhead.” Openly laughing, I reach out and comb my fingers through her short locks. “A little too much product, but nice.”
“You’re evil.” She rolls her eyes. “Pure evil.”
“I like it when a girl can handle being teased without taking offense.” It’s time to get serious, time for her to hate me. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I, ahh, have to ask a big favor of you. I know this is lousy timing but…”
She sobers as her foot presses down on the accelerator. “Are you setting me up for another joke?” I shake my head. “Okay, then just tell me what it is.”
I take a deep breath, already feeling terrible about what I’m going to ask. “I need to make a stop before we go to Handlebar’s. There’s this party I was invited to that I should make an appearance at. Thirty minutes tops, then we can ditch.”
“I’m confused. Why would stopping at a party be such a big favor?”
“It’s a motorcycle club party.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t look at me but starts tapping the steering wheel with her finger. “Is this the club that wants you to join but you don’t want to?”
I laugh. “What didn’t I tell you when I was drunk the other night?”
She looks at me with a wry smile. “Have you joined since then?”
“No. It’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Then why go to this party?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated dangerous?” She’s keeping her voice level but I can tell she’s worried.
“Only complicated dangerous if I don’t go.”
She nods. “Okay, then we’ll go.” She reaches out and rubs my shoulder. “What can happen in thirty minutes?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Raven Dawn
My bedroom seems to be getting smaller as the minutes tick by.
I miss my phone and my friends.
I don’t even have a TV. Mom and Dad, in their glorious wisdom, don’t believe in having one in the bedroom.
I’m not quite desperate enough yet to go into the family room to channel surf. I’d rather stay in my self-imposed prison than deal with my parents.
There’s nothing left to do but read, catch up on my schoolwork.
Flopping onto my bed, I crack open my history book. Soon, the words are blurring and my eyelids are drooping. Looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed, I’m amazed to see that only ten minutes have passed. I’ve only gotten through three pages. Shifting my position, I try again.
“Raven!” What does Mom want now? She grounded me. Can’t she just leave it at that?
I roll my eyes, even though no one can see.
“Raven!” She’s getting closer to my room. She’ll just barge in if I don’t answer so
I roll off the bed and crack open my door.
“What!”
“Raven, you have a phone call. Please come out here and take it.”
Oh, what evil, twisted game is this? I’m not allowed phone calls. Better not remind her.
“Can’t you just give me the phone?”
“It’s on the landline. I’d prefer if you came out to the kitchen to take it.”
I snicker, but not loud enough for her to hear. The last time I took a call on the landline, the handset stayed in my room forever. Mom and Dad didn’t know where it went to and when it finally turned up—I slipped it back into its cradle when no one was looking—it needed hours to charge. They were so annoyed.
Waiting a minute or two until Mom has retreated to wherever she was when the phone rang, I bounce down the hall to the kitchen.
Apparently, that’s where Mom was, as she’s here now, her back to me, prepping something for dinner.
“Who is it?”
“Your brother.” She doesn’t even turn to glance at me. I swear, I can’t figure her out.
Picking up the phone, I settle onto the bench seat under the window. “S’up, Dean?”
I’m happy to hear from him. I know, without a doubt, he’ll always have my back no matter what’s going on.
“Wanna go grab some dinner?”
I sigh. “Can’t. I’m grounded.”
“It’s okay. You can come to dinner with me.”
“How do you know?”
“I already asked Mom.”
“Oh.” We both laugh. “In that case, when?”
“In about ten minutes. I’m almost there. Figured you wouldn’t turn down a chance to get sprung for a couple of hours.”
“You’re so smart,” I tease. “Meet you downstairs.”
I have to wait a couple of minutes for the elevator, so I get to the lobby just as Dean is pulling up to the curb outside. He’s in his Jaguar. He’d never admit it, but I know he secretly loves the flashiness of the car. Yet, he’s so kind that he doesn’t let the fame make him a creep. He doesn’t push his fans away, can sign a million autographs and never tire of it.