“Thank God. You guys are awesome. Do I have time to change? I look like a freak in this dress.” I glanced down at the white monstrosity and grimaced.
“Sorry, no can do. We’re on a deadline. Time is ticking away, and your carriage awaits, Cinders,” Liv said, sprinting for the door.
“Do you have a curfew tonight?” I laughed at Effy’s attempt to stay within the lines of acceptable teenage behaviour. Where I had the devil, Liv, sitting on one shoulder; Effy was my angel, perched on the other side.
“Doubtful. I think the parentals will be too engrossed in sucking up to the press to notice where I am. Let’s do this. My eighteenth birthday sucks balls so far, but I’ve a feeling you girls are gonna change that for me.”
I could feel the ripple of excitement running through me already. I was down for anything tonight. After eighteen years of this bullshit, it was time to set myself free.
I headed out to the driveway, where Effy was parked in amongst all the performance cars and four-by-fours. The two of them jogged down the steps and across the gravel, but I could only totter in my ridiculous heels and curse under my breath about the constraints of my dress.
“Are you sure there isn’t time for me to change?”
“Quit whining,” Liv said as she jumped into the front seat next to Effy. “I think you look cute. Besides, we won’t lose you tonight. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Thanks. Now I feel so much better.” I gave her the eye roll I’d been holding in all day and jumped in the back seat.
“Pull your hair out of that roll and let it loose, that’ll help soften the look,” Effy said, trying to make me feel better. I just sighed and pulled out the pins holding my curls in place, then fluffed them out and groaned at how good it felt to finally let my hair down.
“So, where are we off to? I might be eighteen, but I’m not sure I’ll get into any of the clubs in town. I haven’t got any I.D. on me.” I hadn’t got anything on me. My purse was empty. All I had was my lipstick and phone.
“Relax, Em. We’ve got you covered.” Liv winked from the front seat and my heart flipped and sank at the same time.
I knew what that phrase meant. We weren’t heading to a club or bar. Oh, no. My friends must’ve got the details for the latest illegal warehouse party this weekend. Parties that Sandland was becoming notorious for, and all the work of the Renaissance men.
I Googled what a Renaissance man was once. I had to laugh when it told me there were six attributes to being one.
First, you had to be intelligent. A deep thinker. Smarter than your average guy. Yeah, right. The four guys who called themselves the Renaissance men in our town wouldn’t be blowing up Mensa any time soon. Not by my reckoning, anyway. It took four of them to coordinate an illegal party, and even then, word around town was they got shut down more often than not.
Next, they had to be knowledgeable, voracious readers; using what they’d learned to give them an advantage in life. From what I knew, Ryan Hardy, Renaissance caveman number one, was still working at his father’s garage for minimum wage. I was no snob, but don’t paint yourself to be something you so obviously are not. I knew Ryan Hardy from school. He’d been in the same year as Danny, and they’d been good friends for a few years before he died. Not that Danny would ever let Ryan anywhere near me or our house. My brother’s friendships with the Renaissance boys was kept strictly on the down-low. He said he wanted to keep Dad in the dark, but I’m guessing he was protecting me too.
Quality number three, they had to be artistic. Singing, painting, sculpting, music; that was the forte of a pure Renaissance man. Finn Knowles had spread his art all over this town, tagging his graffiti onto every railway bridge and abandoned building he could find. Don’t get me wrong, he was good, like Banksy good, but he wasn’t a pioneer or a trailblazer. He was a follower, just like Zak Atwood. Zak might be able to D.J. his way into most girls’ beds, but he was no Mozart. He played the music, he didn’t make it. I guess you’re starting to get the picture. These boys held themselves in very high esteem, regardless of what the world around them was trying to say.
Fourth up was physical strength. I couldn’t fault them on that one. They did look like Sandland’s very own Magic Mike troupe, but they knew it. There was no humility where these guys were concerned. Not from what I’d seen growing up. Brandon Mathers loved nothing more than to use his fists whenever he could. The illegal fights and betting scams they ran at their ‘parties’ were the stuff of legends, or nightmares depending on which way you looked at it. I’d overheard my brother and a few of his friends talking about how dirty Brandon fought. He had no compassion. He was like a British bulldog in a china shop. Artistry and sportsmanship didn’t exist in his repertoire, apparently.
Fifth on the list was being socially confident and having strong personal relationships. I knew without a doubt that half the female population would probably agree with this one. They had no shortage of women fawning all over them. Liv, Effy, and myself were probably the few remaining girls in Sandland who didn’t have a story to tell about those four. Plus, they were as thick as thieves. Friends from childhood who always had each other’s backs. I was surprised my brother spoke to them. They were a pretty exclusive group, to put it mildly, and they didn’t trust outsiders.
Finally, the modern Renaissance man could pull off all of these attributes with ease, style, and sophistication. Organising illegal warehouse parties and bare-knuckle fights, setting up betting scams and God knows what else was far from sophisticated. I’d never been to one of their gatherings before, but I’d heard the gossip. There was no style involved in fighting, underage drinking, drug taking, and whatever else they got up to. They were the reason my father stayed up late at night, trying to find new ways to shut down their outfit, and that fact alone made me curious. Ryan Hardy, Brandon Mathers, Zak Atwood and Finn Knowles were the devil incarnate as far as my father was concerned.
“Do I even want to know how you found out about this party?” I asked, looking between the girls. They both grinned back at me as if they’d landed the jackpot.
“One of the girls at my gym got the message. I overheard her in the locker room telling her friends they’d posted in the ‘we’ve got you covered’ group and she announced to everyone where it was. There’s no harm in us checking it out, is there? It is your special day, Em.” Liv shrugged as she spoke, then started rifling through her bag until she found what she was looking for.
“Now, let’s get this party started,” she said, holding up a bottle of vodka.
I made a grab for the bottle as Effy explained that she’d bought cans of Coke, seeing as she was our designated driver. I took a swig and winced from the burn it left down my throat. Then I stared out of the window, wondering how those boys had managed to fly under the radar so successfully for so long, and why none of my friends had ever been invited to join the ‘we’ve got you covered’ group.
Effy’s car started to jolt about as we drove off-road and across a dirt track that lead us into the unknown. It was so dark out, I felt sure that Liv had either misheard the directions or gym girl had sent us on a mad goose chase to some long since forgotten shithole.
We bumped and jostled around as she bounced us over the rough terrain, vodka splashing everywhere as Liv complained about the state of her jeans and waste of good alcohol. Then she swerved around some trees and we saw the sea of cars parked anywhere and everywhere. Ahead of us stood a sinister looking building with barbed wire fencing running around the perimeter. A single floodlight shone from one corner of the warehouse and we could just about make out a lone figure sat, hunched over.
“Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Effy said, swerving the car into a space and cutting the engine.
Liv turned in her seat and smirked at me. “You do realise you’ll be the first one to die, right? The cute girl in the ridiculous outfit always gets mutilated first in the movies.”
“Happy fucking birthday to me.” I leant forward and
grabbed the vodka out of her hand to take another swig. I was gonna need all the liquid courage I could get tonight. “Anyway, isn’t it the blonde who cops it first? In which case, you’re screwed my friend.”
Liv scoffed and flicked her long blonde hair dramatically, then snatched her vodka back. “I’d need to give a fuck first. Don’t think you’ll find me screaming and running away any time soon. I’m all up for this shit.”
We each opened our doors and stepped out. The thick oozing mud under our feet made us groan. My stilettoes were well and truly stuck and I had to grab onto Effy to pull my feet clear and walk to the little gravel path that lead to the eerie looking building.
“I don’t think anyone will be running anywhere in this field,” Effy said, scraping her feet free of the caked-on mud when she got to the path. “So much for making a grand entrance.”
“Quit whining, will you? There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist. Nothing gets solved and it only makes you walk funny. Em is struggling enough in those heels as it is.” Liv laughed at herself. “Anyway, this is Em’s birthday blow out. Let’s keep the drama to a minimum, you know, less diva more party fever.” She shimmied her hips to state her point and led the march forward.
The thump of the steady bass from the warehouse filled the air, and the shouts and chants coming from inside made my stomach clench with a mixture of fear and excitement. I had no idea what to expect, but I liked it. I liked the feeling of the unknown. I’d never done anything like this before and it felt good to be a teenager. A normal teenager. Not one who wears designer clothes and poses for the cameras; just a girl. Me.
“Come on then, Houdini. How are we supposed to get into this place?” Effy asked as she scrunched up her little pixie face and rattled the security fence in front of us. “Looks like this place is on lockdown.”
“There’s got to be a way in somewhere.” Liv started to pace up and down frantically, bending to find a hole or some magical tunnel that the rest of us couldn’t see. “I could probably scale it. What about you?” She looked up at the barbed wire above and grimaced. “No pain no gain, right?”
“What the fuck are you on, Liv?” I folded my arms defensively. “I’m not scaling any fences tonight. You might be okay with your jeans, but in this dress, I’d struggle to climb a step let alone a bloody fence.”
“Chill your boots, princess. If we get in, we can always find someone inside to come back out and get you.”
“And leave me here on my own? Great fucking plan. Not.”
“No one is scaling any fences or being left on their own,” Effy piped up in an effort to halt the impending argument. “Let’s walk to the end there where that floodlight is. Maybe there’s a gate we can use?” Effy was always so positive; eternally hopeful. That’s why she was always the designated driver. She didn’t take risks. If it was left to Liv, we’d be starring in our own version of Prison Break.
We stumbled along the path, checking the fencing as we went, looking for some hint of a way in. When we reached the edge of the area, a deep voice bellowed over to us.
“Bottom right-hand side. Fence is cut. You can climb through.”
“Thanks,” Liv shouted back and began to wrestle with the metal fencing, lifting it up and gesturing for us to shimmy our way under. Easy for those two in their jeans, for me, I had to pray that my skirt wouldn’t split open with the effort.
“Who is that?” Effy asked absent-mindedly, walking towards the light where the lone figure that we saw from the car sat on a tarpaulin surrounded by cans, stencils, and other tools. He was lost in his own world; oblivious to the noise of the party within. Instead, he was gazing at the wall like it held the key to another world, one hand cupping his chin in thought.
“Looks like Finn Knowles is having a party for one,” Liv huffed and we all followed to see what had caught his attention.
When we reached the side of the building and saw what he was looking at, we all gasped. Finn had painted what appeared to be a blasted hole in the wall. The effect of the brickwork crumbling looked so real it was as if you could climb through it. But it was what was pictured inside the hole that was heart-stopping, jaw-dropping, utterly amazing and disturbing at the same time. He’d painted a field like nothing I’d ever seen before. An urban futuristic landscape where trees were mechanical monstrosities, flowers looked like spiked weapons ready to cut you if you went near, and grass as grey and desolate as any wasteland. A beautifully broken barren land; a hostile hell. Was this how he saw the world around him? A reflection of his warped mind?
Liv was the first to break the silence.
“So, what do you call this then? A cruel world or Alice in doomsday land?”
Finn huffed and shook his head, not looking our way as he spoke. “Come on an urban safari, have you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, cocking my head and narrowing my eyes at him. I knew he was mocking us, and I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.
“You know damn well what it means. You’re slumming it for the night. Keep your eyes peeled, you might spot some hoodies, a few low-lives maybe, and if you’re really lucky, someone who even works for a living.”
“You know nothing about us,” Effy said in our defence, beating me to it.
“And I don’t want to know. If I throw a stick will you go away? You’re messing with my creative flow.” He carried on gazing at his masterpiece like he was waiting for the damn thing to tell him the meaning of life.
“Jesus, sorry we disturbed you. You’re clearly disturbed enough already.” Liv scoffed. “Come on, girls. Let’s leave Banksy’s little brother, Wanksy, to his painting. Wanksy? You need to calm down. Take a breath and maybe hold it for ten or twenty minutes.” Liv strutted away, not listening to the sarcastic retort that Finn was no doubt aiming her way.
I hoped we’d get a better reception when we finally made it into the party, but something told me that Finn Knowles was just the warm-up act. There was a reason me and my friends were never invited to these things. We were the town exiles. The good girls. Well tonight, good girls were going bad.
We reached the beaten-up metal doors that led into the venue, if you could call a discarded warehouse that, and waited for the bouncer on the door to let us through.
“Got your phone message to show me, ladies?” he said, looking between the three of us suspiciously. I was rubbish at hiding my guilt, so I shuffled my feet and prayed one of the others had a good explanation.
“Oh, shit. I knew I forgot something. I’m such an airhead. Could you let us through anyway? Just this once?” Liv batted her eyelids and he shrugged, not really giving a fuck that we didn’t have the right means to get in. Good save, Liv.
“Suppose. Don’t do it again though.”
We paid him the entrance fee and he grabbed our hands, one after the other, and stamped us with an ugly black mark to show we’d gone through his rigorous checks. I would say it showed we belonged here, but I felt as far out of my comfort zone as I’d ever been.
As we stepped past him and into the main area, the sound of the music was deafening. All three of us stood still just to take it all in. The place was packed. There were people everywhere, dancing, drinking, letting go and not giving a damn. Sure, the floors were sticky with spilt drinks and goodness knows what else. The smell of sweat and stale beer hung in the air like a thick fog and took some time to get used to. The walls were grey, and the windows mostly broken or boarded up, but if you looked carefully, you could see artwork Finn had created, dotted around. There were strobe lights cutting through the dusty air, making the whole atmosphere come alive. From dirt and ashes they had created something magical. It was electric. Soul-lifting even. I’d never expected it to feel like this.
I glanced around and spotted Zak Atwood in the far corner of the warehouse with his headphones on. His dark floppy hair fell into his eyes as he nodded along to the beat. I’d expected to see a sea of girls swarming around him, but a few guys stood close by to where h
e was working, keeping the girls at bay. Zak was in the zone; his face a picture of concentration as he mixed U.K. grime with old school hits seamlessly. I was mesmerised by him. The sounds he was playing were calling out to everyone here. When he switched up the beat the crowd cheered. He was their messiah, this was his church, and everyone here was his faithful congregation.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Effy smiled. “Do you think he ever comes out from behind there to mingle?”
“If he does, I’ll make sure you’re the first one he talks to.” Liv shoved Effy forward and we pushed our way further into the party. I could tell Liv was itching to get going, dance, and really let go. Effy was more like me, a little more guarded and still taking it all in.
A few people turned and stared for a moment as I walked past. I wasn’t dressed like them, but they were polite enough to turn away after a second take. I smoothed my sweaty palms down my skirt and tried not to let my anxious thoughts and self-conscious mind get to me.
“You look cute, Ems. Head high, girl. There’s a guy over there wearing a Chris de Burgh T-shirt. I really think you’ve got nothing to worry about. Obviously, anything goes here if his choice of music and fashion is anything to go by,” Liv said, grinning at me.
I glanced over to where she was looking, and sure enough, some guy was throwing some very random shapes and wearing his throwback eighties statement with pride. His long curly hair was flying in all directions as he let go like it was nineteen-ninety-nine and he was at a Prince concert. I must’ve been staring for way longer than was socially acceptable, as I suddenly noticed him wink at me and thrust his hips suggestively.
Not tonight, pal. Tonight is not your lucky night.
We started to make our way around the event, pushing through the throngs of revellers. I was sure Liv and Effy felt like they blended in, but I didn’t. I felt like a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. I didn’t like feeling this way, and I decided that after tonight I needed to make some changes. I had to take back control. I wanted my life to be mine. Maybe this party wouldn’t end up being as lame as I thought it would be. Maybe it’d be the kick up the backside that I needed to sort my shit out?
Renegade Hearts (Rebels of Sandland Book 1) Page 2
