Rock 'n' Roll Rebel: A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance

by Rylee Swann

I learned a while ago that the backdoor emergency exit of the penthouse leads down one flight of stairs to the floor below us. From there, it’s a simple elevator ride to the lobby.

  I was nervous the first couple of times I used it, but Mom and Dad never figured it out. Too busy, too much on their minds.

  When I got home from school, I found Dad deep in the zone in his studio, painting. I didn’t bother saying hello, not wanting to disrupt his flow. I was happy to scrounge for dinner myself. Mom didn’t get home until well after. When they went to bed, I made my exit.

  The less face time with my parents these days, the better.

  I wave to Henry as I make my way to the building’s exit. He knows I haven’t used the elevator from my floor but it’s none of his business.

  “Have a nice evening, Miss Fahr,” he calls out to me.

  Peach and Divine are waiting for me in Peach’s car. I slide into the backseat and let out a whoop. “Let’s go!”

  The car reeks with a familiar aroma. The two of them giggle and Peach turns the engine on as Divine half turns in her seat to face me. “Ready to par-tay?” She giggles and holds out a lit joint.

  “Started without me, I see.” I take it, put the sticky tip between my lips and fill my lungs before tapping Peach on the shoulder to pass it to her.

  “I’m good. Give it to Divine. I’ll have more when we get to Lucifer’s.”

  Divine takes it back from me and we pass it between ourselves until we get to the bar. It’s good shit, probably some of Lobo’s, and I have a nice little high going by the time we get there.

  The place is packed, as usual, and we shoulder our way through hoping to find an open booth or space at the bar. We don’t find either and wind up standing near the dance floor.

  One of the LAs, Reno, I think, stops by and hands each of us a fresh, opened beer. We drink and toke and sway our hips to the beat of the pounding music. It’s not much but anything is better than staying cooped up in that stuffy old penthouse.

  A little while later, he motions to Divine and we all scurry over to share his booth. In another half second, I see why he motioned to her of the three of us. He’s already set up double rows of coke and Divine is the one who does the most hard drugs in our group.

  Now, she’s quick to grab the rolled up hundred-dollar bill and snort the two lines closest to her. Wiping away any loose white grains from her nose, she offers a dreamy smile. “That is some good shit.”

  Reno nods, his eyes widening, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. I’m remembering him now. He was under consideration for the great pop my cherry event. Chestnut hair, tall, dimples, good in bed by all reports. I crossed him off the list when he kept offering me blow. “Good enough to keep your nose out of Candy Crush?”

  “For now!” She’s talking loud, louder than necessary to be heard over the music. “C’mere.” She leans across the table and suctions her lips to Reno’s.

  And stays that way until Peach shoves her back. “I can’t get to mine.” When she’s done, she hands me the homemade straw.

  I debate for only a moment, then bend my head to the remaining lines on the table. I’m only going to have these, I promise myself. It won’t be a hard promise to keep. I prefer pot.

  The effects hit me almost immediately and I’m shouting and laughing with the others, all of us acting invincible.

  Reno takes his time setting up more lines, expertly wielding the credit card to get the lines just right. He’s barely finished when Divine puts the rolled up hundred to the line he just finished, snorting it up her nose like she’s in a race. Then it’s Peach’s turn. Next, I’ll get a bunch of peer pressure to do mine. I’m not in the mood for that and am thankful when Lobo suddenly appears. His eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated. I know that look well. He’s stoned.

  With a lopsided leer, he grabs my hand and drags me to the dance floor. We don’t talk. We just dance, making exaggerated movements with our arms and legs, both of us too high to have much of a conversation. Hours go by, or maybe minutes. I have no idea. I’m exhausted and euphoric. One of the LAs cuts in, asking me to dance. Every time someone cuts in on Lobo, he allows it but after a song or two he’s chasing the other guy away. I find this hilarious and can’t stop laughing. Then I’m dancing with so many of the LAs I can’t keep track.

  At some point, I realize I’m dancing alone. Lobo has disappeared. Looking around, I see there’s a big commotion going on at one of the booths. I kind of want to keep dancing but I’m also getting curious. The crowd at the booth is getting bigger.

  Then Peach is frantically waving at me and it slowly registers that something isn’t right. My heart squeezes and I can’t breathe, a sense of dread coming over me like a shroud.

  When I get to Peach, she’s crying and babbling. Grabbing me in a fierce hug, I can’t make out a word of what she’s saying.

  It takes a lot of strength but I finally break free of her grip and grab her by the shoulders. “What are you saying? What happened?”

  Her eyes are wide and red. She’s still crying and it’s either snot or coke dripping from her nose. “It’s Divine. They called 911. Oh my god. Oh god.”

  “What?” I can’t figure out what she’s talking about or maybe my brain doesn’t want me to know. The music goes to a lower volume and there’s sirens outside, approaching fast. “What’s wrong with Divine?!”

  “She passed out. Stopped breathing. Oh fuck. ODed.”

  My heart stops beating. I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. The room expands and contracts then spins. Tears fall from my eyes, my body reacting to the news before my brain even processes it.

  “From coke?” I scream into Peach’s face. I want, need her to tell me Divine is fine or is going to be. “How the fuck much did she do?!”

  “Oh fuck, Dawn, she started mixing. Popping pills. I don’t even know what.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her!” I need a scapegoat and Peach is my nearest victim. I know it’s a stupid thing to say, even as I’m saying it. No one can stop Divine when she gets going.

  “It’s not my fault!” She breaks into blubbering so hard that the only thing to do is hug her. She hugs me back but I’m looking up, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of Divine. “Divine!” I try to break away from Peach but she’s got me in a death hold.

  “No, don’t leave me! Let them take care of her!”

  “Lemme go, Peach!”

  I struggle some more but it’s no use. I’m too late. Paramedics are already lifting Divine onto a stretcher. All I catch is a glimpse of closed eyes on a face much too pale.

  Someone grabs my hand. Chaos surrounds me and I can’t tell who it is. I struggle to get free but the grip is strong. “Come on. The guys are loading up the vans.” It’s Lobo, and I gratefully let him lead me out of Lucifer’s and to the club’s two vans.

  Peach has my other hand and together we pile into the first van. It’s already half full with quiet, stunned LAs and other girls I recognize from the bar. Everyone loves Divine. She never gets into petty fights with the club’s other bitches and she loves giving the guys head. But none of them can claim to be her best friend. That’s my privilege, one I’ve abused for too long.

  Right then, I swear to god, the universe, or whatever holds us together that I’ll do better. So much better, if only Divine will be alright.

  The van fills up and someone slams the door closed. We lurch forward, on our way to the hospital, Lobo holding on to my hand and me holding on to Peach’s.

  I’m not sure how we make it to the hospital in one piece. We’re all drunk and high, including the driver, and when I get out on shaky legs I have an urge to kiss the pavement. Peach holds me up when I stumble and we half walk, half drag each other from the parking lot to the emergency room.

  The hospital is not prepared for the onslaught of a couple dozen or more of Lucifer’s Angels.

  Hospital employees back off, worried looks on their faces, one frantically gesturing while on the phone. A few minutes lat
er, several security guards descend on us. They try to herd us out of the hospital but we refuse to move. It quickly becomes a tense standoff.

  “Hey, hey now, brothers.” Kickstand, the LA who drove us here, holds out placating hands. “We don’t want no trouble. One of our girls was just brung in and we wanna know how she is, is all.”

  “We’ll be quiet,” another member pipes up. “We just wanna be here for our girl.”

  Practically in unison, the group agrees and moves off to take seats. The guards keep a close eye on us until we’re all settled and looking a little less intimidating.

  That’s when one of the guards finally speaks up. “Well, I guess that’s alright then. You just make sure of that, hear?”

  If it wasn’t for Divine, the guys would knock the arrogant asshole down a few pegs, but instead a few shoot him death stares.

  Kickstand nods to the guard and points at the reception desk. “I’m just gonna ask about our girl.” He makes his way forward and the security guards back off and disperse.

  The nurses don’t have any information, he tells us. Divine just arrived and the doctors are checking on her. We probably won’t know anything for hours.

  I suddenly want my mom. I want to hear her voice. I want her to know I’m okay, to tell me Divine will be okay. Giving in to the impulse, I pull out my cell phone and hit her autodial number.

  It rings and rings and goes to voicemail three times before a groggy and familiar voice picks up.

  “Mom. I—”

  She’s instantly alert. I guess it’s the mom gene kicking in. “Raven? Where are you? What’s wrong?” It’s so good to hear her voice, I start crying and hear her calling to Dad to wake up. “Raven, tell me where you are. We’ll come get you.”

  “I’m at Toronto General—”

  “Oh my god! What happened?!”

  I almost laugh through my tears. “Mom, if you’d let me finish a sentence, I’ll tell you.”

  “Alright, then tell me.” Her voice is going supersonic and I pull the phone away from my ear so I don’t go deaf.

  “I’m fine. Nothing happened to me, okay?” She sighs in relief. “It’s Divine.” My voice breaks. “We don’t know yet… Mom, she might… might…” Die. I can’t say the word, like saying it would give it too much power and make it come true.

  “Raven, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Are you alone?”

  “N-no… with f-friends.”

  “Okay, good. Hang on, we’re coming.”

  Even before she hits the disconnect button, I hear her start to explain what’s going on to Dad. I’ve never been so happy to know my parents are on their way.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Fringe

  I’m home alone channel surfing when Peach calls me about Divine.

  Fuck.

  I don’t hesitate, jumping up and pulling on my boots and coat. I’m out the door in record time to get to the hospital. I’m not eager to see any members of the club but Divine is a friend and I want to be there for her.

  It’s different with Angie. She and I never went dancing the other night, the party had just been too much. I drove her home, hugged her tight, and apologized a couple more times. She insisted that everything was alright and we’d get together soon, but we haven’t. I’d thought something good was happening between us, something I could hold on to, something I need in my life. But shit outta luck again, it would seem.

  The motorcycle ride to the hospital is cold and quick, the streets mostly empty this time of night. Parking away from all the Harleys in the visitor lot, I hurry to the motion-activated hospital entrance.

  But I don’t go in immediately. Instead, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, focus on clearing my mind, keeping calm.

  I’ve stayed away from Lucifer’s and so far the LAs haven’t paid me a visit. A shitstorm is coming, I just don’t know when. The only thing I do know is that I’m going to make things right with Angie just as soon as I figure out how.

  I don’t know how the LAs are going to react to my presence, and a fight breaking out in the waiting room is the last thing I want. When I have my roaring emotions in check, I go in.

  As expected, the waiting area is packed with LAs and their women. They’re taking up all of the available seating and some are sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  Pulling off my heavy gloves, I look around for Peach, hoping to thank her in person for the call and offer whatever comfort I can.

  Instead, my eyes land on Dawn and I’m amazed that I hadn’t even considered she would be here, too. She’s slumped in a chair, looking small and frightened, and I rush to her before I even know I’m moving.

  “Dawn.” I speak in a library voice and take a knee in front of her. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying as she looks up at me, and my heart both swells and contracts at the sight. She looks sad, yet I’m so happy to see her.

  “Fringe!” She utters my name like a prayer and throws herself into my arms.

  I take her meager weight and envelop her in my arms, realizing how very much I’ve missed her. “Shh, it’s alright, baby doll.” I stroke her hair. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  She doesn’t reply, only hugs me tighter.

  Peach is sitting beside her and I reach over and lay a hand on her knee. “Is there any word?”

  She shakes her head, looking as morose as Dawn.

  I nod and give her knee a little squeeze. “Thanks for calling me.”

  Giving Dawn another squeeze, I gently place my hands under her arms and lift her back into her chair. I’m already feeling the tension in the room, crawling across my flesh like an omen. She doesn’t want to let go, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to let go of her either. The familiar scent of her flowery shampoo is in my nose, bringing a warm rush of memories of better times. It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen her but it feels like an eternity.

  “You gotta let go, baby doll. There might be some trouble here. You gotta let me deal with this. Don’t get involved.” Still using my hushed voice but not yet daring to turn around to glance at the LAs, I nod to Peach. “Take care of my girl, you hear?”

  Peach nods, nervously biting her lower lip, her eyes darting from me to the space behind me. I give Dawn’s arms a comforting rub, looking into her eyes until she nods. That’s my signal. It’s time to deal with them, the LAs.

  Standing and spinning on my heel, I face the mess that has gathered behind me. It’s a big one. All of the LAs are on their feet, some with hands fisted at their sides, all eyes trained on me. Needless to say, they don’t look happy to see me.

  I sigh, stepping away from Dawn while not making a threatening move in their direction. In this moment, I know I’d lay down my life for her. It’s a stunning realization, one that almost takes my breath away, but I have no time to explore it now. I have to deal with the situation at hand.

  Skull and the nameless punk I punched out are at the forefront of the crowd. One word or motion from Skull and the invisible leash keeping the kid and all the others at bay would be released. They’d be on me in a flash, beating me down, paying me back for the affront I inflicted on one of their own.

  Regardless, I stand tall in front of them, holding my head high, not showing any fear. Whatever is going to happen is already in motion, it’s going to play out sometime–why not now. It’s like the approaching tide. It can’t be stopped unless the world starts spinning in the opposite direction, and I don’t claim to be Superman.

  “Not too smart of you to show up here tonight, Fringe.” Skull sneers at me. Some of his buddies shift their weight from one foot to the other, like they can’t wait to get at me.

  “I’m not looking for trouble, brother.” I keep my tone level, my hands at my sides. “I’m here for Divine, just like you. She’s a friend.”

  “You ain’t no fucking brother to me and Divine ain’t your fucking business. You made that plenty clear the other night.” Skull is barely holding it together. I know it, the others know it.


  Fuck. At least I’m in the right place for this, a hospital.

  “Divine is a friend. What happened the other night—”

  Skull raises an arm, stabbing a finger at me, but I don’t hear what he says. Sudden and excruciating pain blocks everything else out and I stagger back, unable to breathe. The punk sucker punched me in the solar plexus, thinking Skull’s motion was the signal to attack. I swing wildly as he comes at me again. I don’t make contact and he tackles me, taking us to the floor. Scrambling up and away, he attacks again, this time with his foot, raining kicks down on me as I curl into a protective ball.

  There’s screams and curses, but can’t make sense of them, other than Dawn’s voice. I can’t stand her seeing this.

  My lungs are on fire but I manage to reach out, grab his leg on his next assault and swing it away from me. He’s thrown off balance and it gives me a chance to come to my knees. By this time, security is converging on the scene and the room is in pandemonium, hospital staff and other families of patients cowering in corners.

  “Piston, enough!” Skull shouts, and motions for the others to drag him off.

  “Fuck!” Piston growls and rears back for one more kick but I’m able to turn and he lands only a glancing blow to my shoulder before being pulled away and restrained.

  Hospital security and newly arrived police officers roughly herd the LAs away amid more curses and promises of retribution. I go down onto my back with a thud I feel in my teeth, gasping for air. Small hands tug at me, trying in vain to pull me up. I can’t sit and roll onto my side, holding on to my chest.

  “Fringe!” Dawn’s voice rings through the chaos. She’s crying, on her knees in front of me.

  I try to smile but I think it’s more like a grimace. Hands pull her away and I look up through my haze of pain to see a couple of nurses taking care of her, another kneeling in front of me.

  “Try to relax, sir. Your diaphragm is spasming.” She lays a hand on my chest. “Don’t try so hard to breathe. You just got the wind knocked out of you. Don’t panic. Breathe easy, you’ll be alright.”

  She’s an angel, breaking into my stunned senses. I stop gasping for air and force my body to relax. I wind up coughing, but it’s a welcome improvement. Feeling the need to move, I come up on all fours and slowly test my lung capacity. More coughing, but I’m heartened by my small success.