by Riley Scott
“You don’t seem to want to be the authority,” he noted.
“I don’t and I’m not,” she said. “I just hope she sees that.”
“She will in time,” he said. “She’s had a rough go of it with some who have traipsed in here, vowing to save the day and only succeeding in pissing her off and ruining a few shows.”
“I don’t want to do that,” Chris said, letting the smoke linger in her lungs.
“You won’t,” he said. “I have faith in you. Besides, you’ve immersed yourself into her world more in a day than most have done in their entire time representing her.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to the cigarette in her hand. “You’re partying with us, aren’t you?”
“I hope that doesn’t send the wrong signals,” she said, the alcohol allowing her words to tumble out freely and unfiltered.
“Not at all,” he said. “At least not to her—or to the rest of us. It shows us that you’re legitimate in your promise not to change her.”
“She told you about that?” Chris asked, not sure whether to be flattered that she had been the subject of band gossip or unnerved that nothing in this place was secret.
“We’re a family,” he said. “Especially her and me. We’ve been friends for a long time. Besides, although you’re here for her, we’re all kind of a package deal.”
Chris nodded, taking the words for what they were. He was right. There was a very communal feel to the whole situation. From everything she had read and heard about Raven, relatives were never mentioned. In the absence of a family, Chris assumed that the band and Frank functioned as such in these close quarters. “Where did she go, by the way?” Chris asked, finally giving way to her curiosity and deciding that she could trust Paul as much as anyone else at this point.
“She’s probably taking some of her ‘alone time’ right now,” he said, using air quotes to emphasize the point.
“And what does she do in her alone time?”
“Ask her,” he said. “I’d venture a guess that it changes night to night.”
“Ah,” Chris said, letting out a steady stream of smoke. “So alone time might not necessarily be alone time.”
Paul smirked at her. “Jealous?”
“No,” Chris answered as quickly as she could get the word out. “She’s a grown woman. She can do what she pleases.”
“I do think she’s in there alone tonight, for what that’s worth,” Paul said, laughing with ease. “At least I didn’t see anyone else go back there.”
The door of the bus opened behind them, causing Chris to jump. She scolded herself silently, noting that she was going to have to get a better grip on remembering her surroundings, even if she had been drinking.
“Look at you,” she heard Raven’s voice call out, sounding like a songbird in the night. “I thought you didn’t smoke much these days.”
“I’m going to regret it in the morning, I’m sure,” she said. “I’ll end up sounding like one of those eighty-year-old ladies who hasn’t left the casino in months and my throat will burn. But it just felt right in the moment.”
“God, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve uttered that phrase,” Raven said, letting out a throaty laugh as she lit up beside Chris.
They all laughed and Chris tried to still her mind’s wondering just how many times Raven had uttered that phrase. She decided she didn’t want to dwell on that thought. There would be no circumstance under which developing anything more than a professional relationship with Raven would be acceptable.
“Are you enjoying your first big party?” Raven asked, nudging Chris’s shoulder playfully, her eyes twinkling and appearing cognac-brown under the light of a flood lamp. Chris marveled at their beauty, previously unaware of how brown eyes could change so much. “And why is your glass empty?”
“I’m just taking it a little easier,” she said. “But I’m certainly enjoying myself.”
“There is no taking it easy,” Raven said, draping her arm around Chris’s neck. As she leaned closer, Chris noticed that her eyes looked a little glassier than they had before she had disappeared.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. It hadn’t been “alone time,” nor had it been time with another human being. It had been time with the type of friend that Raven needed to stay away from if she was going to not only reinvent her image, but if she was going to stay alive. Period.
Gone was the girl who had been so free of peer pressure and in her place stood a party-hard rock star, ready to bring anyone along on the ride with her.
“What do you say?” Paul asked, cutting into her thoughts. “One more and then we all go home?”
She laughed. “I thought this was home for you all.”
“It is,” Raven said, her words tumbling out of her mouth like rapid fire. “And it will be for you too in just a couple of days. For now, let’s finish up your welcome party the right way. You have to taxi back to your hotel room anyway, so you’ve already got a built in DD. You’re set and there’s no reason you shouldn’t have one more with us. Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Chris agreed, inexplicably pulled to Raven.
“You have amazing eyes, by the way,” Raven said as she threw open the door to the bus. “Now, let’s get this green-eyed beauty a cocktail.”
The words danced all over Chris’s heart and made her emotions jump like a live wire. Her smile grew and she was thrilled to have the compliments tossed in her direction. Raven was raw, she was bare and she was ready to tell the world exactly what she felt.
As Raven poured them all another drink—tequila on the rocks—Chris noted her rapid speech and shaky movements. No doubt, this was far from her first rodeo on what Chris assumed was cocaine. But it was clear that this must be highly powered coke, or she must have taken far too much. The thought of her overdosing sent Chris’s heart rate through the ceiling.
She accepted the drink and tried to smile at Raven’s toast.
“Here’s to the heat—not the kind that ignites and burns down shanties, but the kind that delights and burns panties,” Raven said, her dimple twinkling with each word as she raised the glass into the air.
Chris watched with eyes wide, surprised that the crude toast didn’t shock her. She guessed she was saturated with shock value. It was clear that there were many sides to this woman—and this side simply wanted to do nothing more than bristle against anyone who stood in her way of her rough edges.
“Cheers to that!” Joe called, sidling up beside the pair and offering his glass for a toast.
“And cheers to your first day,” Pete added, throwing his arm around Chris and joining the group.
She raised her glass to theirs and smiled.
“We’re a team now,” Paul added with a wink. The five of them stood huddled, glasses raised in the air and Chris nodded. In unison, they raised the glasses to their lips and Chris let the alcohol slide down the back of her throat, her eyes never leaving Raven. She wanted to stay, not for her job, not for anything other than to make sure that Raven was okay—that someone with so much potential, with so much ahead of her, didn’t give up the fight too early in some type of “accident.”
“Are you okay?” Raven asked, sliding over to stand right beside her and in so doing signaling to Paul that he was free to do as he pleased with the rest of his evening.
“I’m fine,” Chris lied. She chose her words carefully, not wanting to push Raven away by being over solicitous. “Are you?”
“I’m great,” Raven said, a sloppy smile spreading across her face. “I know you agreed to one more drink and you’ve already drunk it, but would you like to dance with me just once more?”
It was as good an excuse as any to stay with her and make sure she was fine for just a little longer. There was no denying she had enjoyed their previous dance, so she nodded her head and Raven grabbed her by the hand much to her reluctant delight.
“Here,” Raven said, grabbing the bottle of tequila and adding a
nother splash to Chris’s glass. “You’ll need this for what we’re about to do. Trust me.” She winked as she walked over to the deejay, not letting go of Chris’s hand. She whispered something in his ear and judging from his mischievous smile, Chris decided Raven had been right about needing more tequila.
She took a long drink as the speakers bumped with the opening beats of a song that Chris couldn’t place at first. Chris stared mesmerized as Raven walked over to the wall, glancing back with a dazzling grin and turning on a dime to slide her body down the wall. Moving her hips to the beat and shimmying her chest seductively, she gyrated like a seasoned stripper, keeping eye contact with Chris through each movement.
Singing every word, Raven never missed a beat. The singer belted out a line about a “porn star dancing,” and Chris had no doubt that she was watching exactly that. Regardless of whether or not Raven was clothed, Chris was watching Raven make love to her through dance.
When Raven reached out to pull Chris into her striptease-like moves, Chris wanted to pull back. But overtaken by Raven’s charisma, she gave in. As the song ended, Chris knew she had to get out of there. She was feeling far more than she should have—whether thanks to the tequila or thanks to Raven’s sheer sexuality. She couldn’t stay. And thankfully Raven looked as if she was coming down. Her eyes had cleared somewhat and Chris assured herself that she would be just fine come morning.
Gathering her things, she looked around the room, noting that no one showed signs of stopping. She was out of her league. She hadn’t partied all night in years and it seemed like that’s what these people had in store.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said, patting Raven awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’ll see you in the morning.”
It looked like Raven might protest, but she nodded. “Have a good one,” she said, adding a wink to the end of it before waving and turning back to the bar.
Out in the night air, Chris walked quickly to catch her taxi, wanting to put the night behind her. She didn’t want to dwell on anything—not her feelings, her worries about Raven’s well-being or her doubts about whether or not she was in over her head. She just wanted to be, to let loose and enjoy the fact that she was blissfully drunk.
Chapter Five
The afternoon sun beat down on her fair skin and though the blue bonnets bloomed nearby, their sweet scent couldn’t calm her. The worst of the massive hangover from the night before had passed through her system, but she still felt both exhausted and nervous. Moving onto the bus was proving more of a commitment than Chris had anticipated. It was a total surrender of privacy and even more than that, it brought her closer to any potential trouble.
Even with her head pounding, she had made sure to take advantage of the hotel gym before surrendering that luxury. She looked down at her arms and flexed, hoping that her usual morning Pilates regimen would be enough to keep them sharp throughout this project. She would miss her CrossFit workouts as much as she would miss her freedom. Though it had been her choice, it was a sacrifice.
She stood nervously wringing her hands together, vacillating over making a grand entrance to her new home. Squaring her shoulders, she smiled confidently and reached for the door handle. Before she could pull it, it swung wide open in front of her. In a blur, Raven bounded down the steps, rapidly punching numbers into her cell phone. She offered a nod in greeting in Chris’s direction but looked right through her.
Chris stepped back into the shadow of the open door.
“Mel,” Raven answered her phone, putting her left hand on her hip as she paced back and forth. “I just saw something online and I need you to tell me if it’s true.”
There was a pause in the conversation and Chris took a moment to take in Raven’s appearance. It was clear she hadn’t quite begun prepping for the day just yet. Clad in a white tank top and blue boxer shorts with green four-leaf clovers, Raven was barefoot and makeup-free with her hair in a messy bun. Even in her natural state and with worry lines creasing her brow, she looked stunning. Chris couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her voice sounded hoarse and gravelly, as if she had just woken, but her eyes were wide, burning with intensity. Watching, Chris’s curiosity was piqued.
“There’s a kid—Ryland Morrow,” Raven said, picking up the pace as she walked a line on the pavement. “I keep an eye on a few message boards from homes—you know, the type of homes we both know a little too well. I pay special attention to blogs and social media pages of the homes in Detroit for obvious reasons…” Chris cocked her head to the side, watching as Raven took a deep breath. “Anyway, I watch for updates of kids who might need a hand more than others. I saw an update today on this kid in my old home. I know he’s not one of yours, but I’m hoping you can help me out.” There was a brief pause, while Raven listened to the person on the line. “You’ve heard of him?”
My old home. Chris played the statement again through her mind, the stark reality behind Raven’s many façades more apparent with each passing moment. She refocused on Raven who still paced side to side in front of her.
As Raven’s expression changed from concerned to thankful and back to concerned, Chris wished she could hear the other half of the conversation. “Yeah, that’s what I read…I also read about the cancer. Tell me it’s not true.”
Raven listened, her expression turning somber in an instant. “Uh-huh,” she said slowly. “I see…” her voice trailed off and she looked off into the distance, the Austin sun rising high in the sky, heat beating down already, even though it was still early. “I want his phone number, please.”
Raven shielded her eyes from the sun and let out a sigh. “I know it’s not typical protocol, but we both know I have my reasons—especially when it comes to kids in that place.”
Raven reached into the waistband of her boxers, pulling out a pen. Scratching numbers on the palm of her hand she thanked her friend. Chris stared, confused and curious, as Raven took a deep breath and sat on the ground. Looking to the horizon, a single tear slid down her cheek.
“Frank is inside,” she said, not turning to directly face Chris but clearly addressing her, nonetheless. “Make yourself at home and get started with him. I have to take care of a few things.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Thank you,” Chris said, taking this as her cue to make her way onto the bus. Inside, Frank was pacing much the same as Raven. He held up a finger in her direction, before turning his attention to the phone at his ear. Not quite sure where she was supposed to go with her luggage, she set it at her feet and took a place on the couch.
“What’s up?” Paul’s voice filled the room as he emerged from the hallway. He was the most approachable person here, the one with a talent for putting people at ease. He sat his tall lanky frame beside her, offering his goofy, reassuring smile.
She shrugged, smiling at him and enjoying the simplicity of what was likely to be the calm before the storm.
* * *
Raven had worked out the details the minute she had read the post about Ryland. Now it all seemed a blur.
“Ryland…seventeen…CNS tumor…fifteen percent survival rate…”
Those details had been heartbreaking enough, but to know he had no one had filled her with a rage against the universe and a pressing need to do something. As she waited for him to answer the phone, she hoped he would let her help. After talking briefly with an angry-sounding woman at Home Again, Detroit’s roughest, nastiest foster care system, she waited for Ryland to pick up the phone. Her mind flashed back to the large house, complete with angry voices, stern rules and no love. She wondered if it still smelled of tapioca pudding and stinky feet, and if Mrs. Johnson—the meanest woman she had ever encountered—still ran the place. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a boy’s voice on the other side of the line.
“Hello,” he said, his voice low but still youthful enough to sound as if he was purposefully trying to make it deeper.
“Hello Ryland.” She smiled to keep her voice l
ight and upbeat. “This is Raven Daniels. Most just call me Raven. I wanted to call you, because I saw your video and I heard you like rock music.”
There was a brief pause. “Is this a joke?”
The question was expected. Through the eyes of a foster kid, a large portion of life could seem like a bad episode of Punk’d. Most kids in Ryland’s situation had learned at an early age not to trust anyone. God knows she certainly had.
“It’s not a joke. It’s me.” She cleared her throat and began to sing along to one of her most famous choruses a capella to prove her point. When she finished, she didn’t have to wait for his response.
“Damn!” he exclaimed, childlike exuberance evident in his voice. “It is you! Wait, is this because I have cancer?” His voice dropped in an instant.
Had it not been such a serious situation, she would have laughed about how much this kid already reminded Raven of herself at his age.
“It’s actually about the fact that you are in a position I was once in—trying to take on the world on your own at seventeen. And like me, you have a passion for music. The cancer thing I can’t understand but the rest I get. And I want to help. I don’t want you to be alone in this and more than anything, I want you to have the chance to play in front of a crowd. Like I said, I watched your video, where you were playing guitar and singing. I’ve watched it about fifteen times. You’re pretty damn good, kid.”
“Thank you,” he said, his hushed tone conveying both disbelief and genuine gratitude. “What do you mean play in front of a crowd?”
“I want you to join me and my band onstage at one of my shows.”
“Are you…are you kidding?” he asked. “I mean, is this one of those ‘in case I die’ things? I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I’m just curious.” His words fired at rapid pace.
Cynical too young, she thought, shaking her head. “Not at all. This is because I want you to see how amazing and exhilarating it is to play for a crowd of screaming fans. I want my fans to know how talented you are. That way, when you’re in treatment, remember that feeling and fight like hell to survive and feel it again.”