by Rylee Swann
“Off you go then,” Milo says and ushers me toward the studio. “We’ll be in here to listen, all official like. Don’t get jangled up in nerves. We’re just like you. Raven says you can sing and we’d like to hear.”
I nod, putting one foot in front of the other. Every movement has a dreamlike quality to it and I silently plea to not wake up. Once on the other side of the glass, I look at the three of them. Dawn waves, a gigantic smile on her face. My face feels frozen but I manage to smile back.
Looking around, I grab a tall three-legged stool and plant an ass cheek on it. Positioning my fingers on the strings of David’s guitar, I test it to find that it’s tuned to perfection. Nodding to show I’m ready, I wait for some sort of signal.
David leans forward and flips a switch. “Whenever you’re ready, mate.”
My stomach leaps and I do my best to settle down. I already know what I’m going to sing. My own little slice of good luck, When Raven Calls. Placing my fingers in the proper position on the strings, I tease the notes from the guitar that’s already warmed in my hands.
Dawn raises her arms, shaking them in the air in a silent salute. She’s recognized the song.
Midway through the first stanza, I’m transported, no longer seeing anything but the vivid colors of the notes as I play them. I’m lost to the emotions the words draw from deep within me. I remember the elation when I wrote this song, the incredible high when I performed it to the frenzied screams of the crowd at Lucifer’s. Most of all, I remember the tears of joy sparkling in Dawn’s eyes when I sang it to her this morning.
Everything I have now is represented in this song, and I sing the heartbreak and sorrows with a catch in my throat that’s new—a perspective of love that shines above all else.
I’m emotionally wrung out when I finish and just sit, breathing deeply and letting my surroundings filter back in. There’s a moment of complete silence, and I dare not look up at the faces on the other side of the glass.
Then, finally, there’s the clicking sound of someone turning on the intercom.
I take a steadying breath and look up, trying to be grateful for the chance to play where the legends have, whether or not it leads to anything. What I see is better than I could ever have hoped for.
Milo and David are awash in the emotions I brought forth from my song.
My heart starts beating double-time. Do they really like it? Is it possible I’m in the middle of my big break? Dare I dream?
“Blimey,” Milo exclaims and turns to Dawn. “Where have you been hiding him? The lad’s a fucking musical genius.” He turns back to me. “A fucking genius! Play us another.”
Feeling more confident, I smile and settle my fingers on the strings, rolling right into another song I’ve memorized the words to. The music I always know, it’s a gift that comes naturally. I’m in my happy place, secure and safe, singing my heart out. When I reach the end, I pause only long enough to indicate a break between songs, and keep singing. I have a rapt audience and I never want to stop.
A couple of songs later, I’m laughing. “Fuck, I wish I had the tracks laid down to one of my harder rock songs. Ballads are cool and all, but not one after another.”
Milo grins and flips the switch to talk. “D’you know “I Want to be Dirty?””
I break into a broad grin. “Fuck yeah!” How could I not. It’s Rachel St. Claire’s biggest hit.
“Right, then, show us wot you got.”
I nod, putting down the guitar and standing. When I hear the first strains of music, I shut my eyes and take the mic in hand. When it’s time to jump in, I belt out the lyrics like I so love to do and use the length and breadth of the studio to show off my moves like a true rock ‘n roller. My heart thumping, adrenaline rushing, I reach a high so sweet I know this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.
The song comes to an end and the music dies away to be replaced by applause. I look to the three of them and grin sheepishly.
“Would you be interested in touring with us, mate?” David says. “You could have a spot of fun and take the burden off us to always do the singing. If you’re of a mind we can meet with you to discuss the details.”
Milo clears his throat. “Davy might be jumping the gun a tad. We don’t even know if you’ve ever been in front of an audience or what your own plans for the future are, but I’m more than willing to have that discussion with you.”
I’m not quite believing my ears but my heart swells and a huge smile forms on my face. Dawn is jumping up and down, grinning like a little maniac, unable to contain her excitement. “I’d be fucking honored. Just one thing first, if you’ll indulge me?”
“Aye,” they say in unison.
“Dawn, join me.” I raise a hand and beckon to her.
“What? Why?” It’s her turn to be stunned.
“I have an idea. Do you trust me?” She recognizes the words as what she so recently said to me and opens the door, stepping into the studio. When she’s standing beside me, I look at her until she meets my eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation.
I motion for her to take my seat while I continue to stand. Picking up the guitar, I begin playing. She knows the tune and her mouth drops open, but soon her lips are curving into a smile. When I sing the first stanza of her poem, she puts a hand on my bicep and squeezes. When I get to the chorus, I nod for her to join me. She knows the words as well as I do.
Are you sure? she mouths.
I nod again and she joins her voice with mine in a transcendent two-part harmony.
When we finish, Milo and David are openmouthed and stunned speechless.
Dawn flings herself at me, crushing her lips to mine. Snaking an arm around her, I bring her close and add my heat to the kiss.
“Well, fuck a duck and see what hatches. You two have done the nasty.” Milo’s found his voice and Dawn turns to him, blushing madly.
David laughs, grinning proudly at her. “Helluva secret you’ve been keeping, darlin’. Does your mum know you sing like a nightingale?”
Dawn covers her cheeks with her hands and shakes her head. “You really thought I was that good?”
“If you didn’t have school, we’d ask you along on tour. Is that answer enough for you?”
She gapes at him while I beam.
“I don’t have school!” She laughs a little self-deprecatingly. “I mean, there’s only a couple of months left and I’m probably not gonna graduate anyway. I’d love to go! Ask me to go!” She pauses. “Oh, wait. Mom’ll be mad. Didn’t you have a big fight with her or something?”
Milo and David turn to each other, their eyebrows creasing at the same time, making them look like mirror images. “What makes you say that?”
“You broke up with her. Isn’t that why she’s not going on tour with you?”
“Oi! Doesn’t anyone in your family talk to each other?” Milo shakes his head. “There was no fight, no breakup. You’re as bad as the rags, spreading that shit.”
David jumps in. “Your mum’s not touring with us now because she wanted to be here for your graduation, Raven. She didn’t want to miss it. She’s planning to join us on tour later.”
“Oh.” Her blush deepens. “Sorry, really. I feel stupid. Umm… can I go on tour with you?”
They both laugh good-naturedly. It’s clear they weren’t upset with her and love Dawn as if she really was related to them.
David nods with a grin. “If your mum and pa say yes, we’d love to have you.”
“Raven, your phone just buzzed.” Milo rummages in her bag, pulls it out and reads the text. Laughing delightedly, he enlightens us. “Your mum says you’ll have to stay seventeen for another year if you don’t get your ass home to celebrate your birthday like… right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Raven Dawn
Holding hands, Fringe and I enter the penthouse a short time later. I made Milo and David come with us. Hell, it wouldn’t be a celebration witho
ut them. I also figure I need my uncles here to help convince Mom to let me go on tour.
Divine tackle-hugs me right away, wishing me a happy birthday at the top of her lungs. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me away from Fringe and into the living room where some of my girlfriends are gathered. They all clap their hands and sing happy birthday in a rowdy group. They’re so off-key my ears hurt, but I love it all nonetheless.
Mom and Dad join in, coming up on either side of me, then kiss and hug me—all that mushy stuff we don’t usually show in public. I’m thinking I’ve grown up a lot in the past couple of days since I don’t blush or even feel uncomfortable. Without a doubt, this is the best day of my life.
Milo, David, and Fringe have hung back until all the greetings are out of the way. When they enter the room, the girls squeal when they recognize them and pandemonium ensues.
I take the opportunity to sneak away to talk to my parents. Beckoning to them, I lead them to the kitchen where I invite them to sit. They’re still smiling proudly but I’m not sure that’ll continue once I spill my news.
“So, you and Fringe…?” Mom’s foot thumps impatiently under the table as she awaits my answer.
I’m too nervous to sit, and have to wrestle myself to keep from dancing in place in front of them. “Yes, I have a boyfriend! He’s so amazing. Mom, Dad, you’ll love him when you get to know him better.”
“I’m beginning to think I will.” Mom sounds so surprised it’s amusing and Dad beams at me. Seems he knew all along. “You didn’t bring us in here to talk about that though, did you?”
Here we go. “Umm, no.”
I tell them everything, not leaving out a single detail. Well, that’s not exactly true. I don’t tell them anything about sleeping with Fringe. I’m guessing they figured that out for themselves but I don’t need to talk to them about it. That would be just… eww. They listen quietly, not interjecting or interrupting, even when I tell them about how Fringe rescued me from Lobo. How he saved me, in more ways than one. About how we love each other and have for longer than either of us ever realized. How crazy happy I am.
Halfway through, I’ve calmed down enough to sit at the table with them but reaching the most important part, I have an urge to jump up again. But I hold myself in my seat. I need to be at my most mature, and talk to them openly, honestly.
“Mom, Dad, today I took Fringe to Metal Works and we met with Uncle Milo and Uncle Dave.” Mom’s face takes on a comical look of surprise while Dad continues to listen. “Fringe has talent, real talent. They confirmed it and will be discussing the details of him going on tour with them.”
“Really?” Mom glances to the doorway. I look, too, to find Uncle Milo and Uncle Dave standing there.
“Yes, really. He’s not just a singer. He writes, too.”
“Bloody amazing lyrics,” Milo adds. I smile, seeing that he’s holding Fringe’s notebook.
I chew on my lip then blurt out the rest. “They asked me to go on tour, too. They think I can complement their voices. Can I go? Missing the last couple of months of school isn’t that bad, is it? I mean… Mom, you never graduated either.”
“Before you get your panties in a bunch, Rachel,” David holds his hands out in front of him as if he can fend her off, “you should hear your daughter sing. She wants this, I’d hazard as much as you did at her age.”
“Raven pens lyrics, too. She’s a real talent in her own right.” Milo nods sagely, lifting a hand to hold up a sheave of papers. I recognize the binder and my stomach twists. “These are all quite good, Raven. Some rougher than others but they all have potential. In fact, some of ‘em are golden.”
“Where did you get that!” I stand, my nerves jangling so loudly I can barely think. “Those are… my… my poems.”
“Now, don’t rush off to have a row with Fringe. He thought we should see this and, ehm… located them in your bedroom.” David takes the binder from Milo and hands it to Mom. She sets it on the table with a hand over it like it’s the single most important thing in the world.
Dad’s face is taken over by a huge, proud smile while Mom looks back and forth at each of us. “Is all of this true, Raven?” I nod and bite my lip. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Uncle Milo snorts and Mom shoots him a don’t start with me look. “This is amazing news, sweetie. I can’t wait to hear you singing…” She pauses and shares a look with Dad. He nods. “Up on stage.”
“Oh my god!” I squeal but Mom raises a hand.
“There’s a condition, kiddo,” Dad says before Mom has a chance.
She looks to him with a loving smile. “He’s right. You have to finish high school.”
My heart drops. “But—”
“But nothing, kiddo. You’re not going to win this one.” Dad winks at me. “You can take—”
“Online classes and get your diploma while you’re on the road,” Mom finishes for him.
I look between them, my heart swelling with the evidence of their love for each other. So much so, it’s like they’re connected and have the same thoughts. This is what I want, what I think I’ve found in Fringe.
“Sounds like a fair enough deal,” Uncle David says.
Agreeing, I break into a broad smile and make the rounds to hug everyone.
Later, much later, when all the party guests have departed and Mom and Dad have gone to bed and it’s just Fringe and me sitting on the couch, I snuggle close to his chest and smile. “Going on tour with you is going to be so much fun.”
He pulls me in closer. Looking up at him, I can almost feel the heat of his love as he gazes into my eyes. “I love you, Raven Dawn St. Claire Fahr.” He runs his fingers through my hair and I’m warmed by his touch. “You might need a shorter stage name though.”
I grow thoughtful for a moment. “I think I’ll stick with Raven Dawn.” I lean in close until our lips are almost touching. “I love you, too, James Fringe Shaw.”
He pokes me for using his real first name but our lips are already crushed together in a kiss that I hope goes on forever.
EPILOGUE
Raven Dawn
Three years later…
From backstage, I watch the crowd stamp their feet and scream my name. I’ll never tire of this. It’s the best drug in the world.
My fans are screaming and holding up their phones. They want more, another encore. I’ve already given them two, but this is a very special night for me and they know it. When the clock strikes twelve, I’ll turn twenty-one. Another big milestone.
I’m happy I’m back home in Toronto for my birthday, performing at the enormous Air Canada Centre. I’m awed that I’ve been able to fill it to capacity. This is the final show of a five-night stand and although I’ve warned them twice already that I’m almost done for the night, I have one more trick up my sleeve.
I nod to my band and they retake the stage. I didn’t think the crowd could get any louder, but they do. They know this means they’re getting another encore.
I smile, drinking in their love, take a deep breath, and walk onstage.
I changed outfits one final time for this encore, to pay homage to my mom and her hero, David Bowie. I can barely breathe in a skintight multicolored bodysuit that leaves nothing to the imagination. It looks almost exactly like the one Mom wore when she performed live on the TV show, Much Music, years ago. More, it looks like one David Bowie wore years before that.
Standing in front of the mic stand, I wait for the crowd to settle down, but they don’t seem to want to.
“Thank you, thank you,” I say into the mic, trying to quiet them. At last they quiet enough for me to continue speaking. “I love my hometown fans! You guys are the greatest! So I put together something very special for you!”
I nod toward stage right and the lights on stage dim. The only illumination is a spotlight next to me, leaving me in darkness. The audience can’t see what’s going on but they sure know something is up. I almost can’t contain myself, I’m so excited.
Finally, when the anticipati
on has been drawn out long enough, the spotlight is suddenly filled by a figure. When the crowd realizes who it is, they scream loud enough to blow the roof.
Still shrouded in darkness, I speak into the mic. “Please give my mom, Rachel St. Claire, a warm Toronto welcome!”
The band starts playing one of mom’s biggest hits, “I Want to be Dirty,” and when she takes the mic the crowd roars out the lyrics with her.
I move to the far side of the stage to give Mom her shining moment and when the stage lighting comes back up, it’s just her singing her heart out. I’ve never been more proud. Catching a glimpse of Dad watching from the wings, I smile and he blows me a kiss. This is a perfect night, but it’s not over yet.
Mom is about to get to the first chorus, which is my cue to come back center stage. A stagehand hands me a mic and I join Mom to sing the rest of the song with her. I’m about to bust with pride but there’s still one more treat I have in store.
Fringe and I went on tour with Uncle Milo and Uncle Dave as planned two months after I turned eighteen and those were some of the happiest days of my life. Fringe was an instant success when he took the stage and got more than his fair share of solos. It worked out well since Uncle Milo and Uncle Dave don’t enjoy singing the lead the way Fringe does.
Then came the shows during which Fringe insisted I come out and duet with him on “When Raven Calls” or solo on the poem I wrote, “Losing It.” I caught the rock star bug quick. I guess it’s in my genes.
We lived this way in a blissful and not very private bubble for nearly a year—performing, then writing lyrics and music during the day and practicing our lovemaking at night. Oh, did we practice, and got damn good at it, too. We were never tempted by the usual pitfalls of rock star fame, like drugs and alcohol. I guess we’d both had our fill of that before we ever hit the stage.
Over the months, Fringe got more and more popular until my uncles made it official and he became the main attraction, the star of the show. My man was the lead singer, and I was so proud of him. Especially because it never went to his head. He was forever grateful to finally get his big break and it couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. He no longer needed to worry about money or Lucifer’s Angels.
