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.
Sliding into the passenger seat, the luxurious seat makes me smile. “Damn, this ride is so sweet.”
He flashes a grin as he pulls back out into traffic. “Did you start taking driving lessons yet?”
“No.” I scowl. “You know Mom and Dad won’t let me until I’m eighteen. And you were what? Driving by sixteen? So unfair.”
He chuckles. “You’re a girl. It’s different for you than it was for me.”
“If you mean unfair, double standard, you’re right.”
He’s silent for a minute while he navigates through traffic. “At least you’ll be eighteen soon.” He glances at me, his eyes questioning. “Got plans for the big day?”
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I wonder if he heard what I said to the reporters.
“Nah, the usual. Party hat and cake.”
To this, he busts out laughing. “I heard a different story.” Damn, here it comes. “Although, a party hat and cake could make for some kinky fun.”
I turn to him and stare, openmouthed. Is this really Dean, my straight-laced, genuinely nice brother?
He glances at me and winks. “What’s the matter? Pussy got your tongue?”
I’m mortified. I’ve never heard him talk like this. Heat rises to my cheeks. “Oh my god, Dean. Shut up!”
“Aww, did I embarrass you?”
I know he’s messing with me but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “Cut it out.” I’m playing the role of sullen teenager, but I have to admit, I’m kind of enjoying this.
Dean suddenly seems approachable. Maybe he can be my confidant during this hell week. I need someone to talk to. And—bonus—who knows my parents better than him?
He laughs and pulls up to a restaurant, stopping in front of valet parking. I guess we’re not just going for burgers and fries. Barberian’s Steak House is one of the most expensive restaurants in Toronto. The valet opens my door and I get out while he rushes around the hood to open Dean’s door. I catch Dean handing him money—a flash of brown, meaning one hundred dollars.
I’m wearing denim shorts over thick black tights and a flowing, oversized tee. As we walk inside, I whisper to Dean. “I’m underdressed for this place. You should have told me.”
“Right this way, Mr. Fahr,” the maître d’ says as he leads us to a table in the main dining room. It’s about half filled, which I’m grateful for. I want to be able to talk without being overheard.
“Nah,” Dean says. “You look perfect for the daughter of a rock star. French boho rock. Where’s your beret?”
“Mom told you about my beret?” The maître d’ pulls out my chair and I sit. “Dad thinks it’s stupid. I think Mom wishes she had one.”
Dean laughs and sits across from me at the small table for two. “If Dad thinks it’s stupid, then it’s the height of fashion.”
I can’t help giggling. Dad has the worst fashion sense and no amount of Mom’s intervention over the years has rubbed off on him.
When we’ve gone over the menu and decided, Dean motions for a waiter, who scoots over quickly. He orders a mountain of food while I opt for a salad and a baked potato. Dean also orders a half carafe of red from the wine menu.
“I’ll have your best on tap in a large stein.” I give the waiter my best adult look but he shakes his head sadly.
“I’m so terribly sorry but the drinking age—”
“That’s quite alright. My sister’ll have a pop.” Dean looks at me with a clearly amused face at my attempt and I just sigh in defeat.
Soon garlic bread is delivered to our table and the wine is poured by the sommelier. He waits patiently until Dean takes a first taste. He makes such a big show of swirling the glass and sniffing it, I want to kick him under the table. Finally, he takes a sip but instead of swallowing, moves it around his mouth like it’s mouthwash.
I do my best not to huff.
At last, he swallows it, nods his approval.
The sommelier gives a half bow. “Excellent, sir.” Then he fades off into the background.
“What the hell was that?” I grab a piece of bread and make a point of rolling my eyes.
“What?” Dean’s had a lot of practice with the fake innocent expression he’s sporting.
“When did you become such a showboat?” I nod my head toward a couple of tables on the other side of the room. “You know you’re being stared at? Recognized?”
He laughs, leaning closer to me over the table. “Of course. Look, it comes with the territory. Besides, it’s not going to last so I might as well enjoy it.”
“You do enjoy it.”
He lifts his glass of wine and toasts me. “I do. It’s fun.”
I shake my head and tear off a piece of the garlic bread. It’s time to strike before Dean gets the upper hand. “So, you heard about what I said. Is that why you invited me out tonight?”
He chuckles and takes a sip of wine. “I did hear about it but that’s not why I asked you to dinner.”
“No?”
“No. Seriously. I wanted to spend some time with you. It’s been a while.” He motions with his glass.
I study Dean for a second. Blond hair and bright blue eyes just like our dad. No wonder he’s a heart throb. He’s my big brother and I trust him so I know he’s not laying a trap. I take a bite of bread and wash it down with a sip of pop, quietly grumbling to myself that it’s not a better beverage.
He winks with a teasing smile. “I spoke to Uncle Guy. Mom’s not going to hear about what you said from him.”
I nearly choke. “Umm, thank you.” Coughing, I take a sip of water rather than my pop to clear my throat. “It was a stupid thing to say.”
“But they got under your skin, eh? Paparazzi can be such a pain in the ass.” He leans in close again. “Did you mean it?”
Ah, crap. Hear it comes.
I shrug and chew on my bread.
“Raven. Come on, you can talk to me.” He pins me with a serious look. “Do you have a boyfriend? Someone you’ve already decided will be the one?
I come close to choking again and my cheeks flame with heat. “Oh my god, Dean, shut up.”
He sighs. “I know this is embarrassing for you. I also know that Mom and Dad are terrible at this kind of discussion. One of my worst memories is when Dad tried to have the birds and the bees talk with me. What a nightmare that was.” He grimaces and takes a fortifying sip of wine. “I couldn’t figure out a thing he was saying, then he couldn’t run away fast enough. It was awful.”
“Well, at least he tried. Mom has never said a single word to me about that.” I didn’t expect to be having this talk with Dean, of all people, but now that the topic has been broached, my resentment comes out in a rush. “Not a single word. Not a hey, Raven, do you know how babies are made? Or even, do you have any questions? What kind of mother doesn’t prepare her daughter? I mean, she must want me to learn it on the street.” I tear at a chunk of bread until there’s nothing left but crumbs on the plate.
Dean leans back in his chair and raises his eyes to the ceiling, taking a deep breath before looking at me again. “Yeah, I know. I see how frustrated you are. It’s a really hard situation. You know Mom’s history, don’t you? How her manager took complete control of her when her singing career was just starting? How he made her do despicable things when she was barely sixteen?”
I shudder. “Yeah. Wolf somebody. I read the book Dad wrote.”
“Yeah, right. Wolf.” Dean growls out the name and takes a swig of wine like he needs to cleanse his mouth. “It’s not Mom’s fault that she doesn’t know how to have the sex talk with you. To be honest, I think she still has issues about that time of her life. Dad helped a lot to banish those demons, but I think a few still linger.”
“Wow, I never thought about it like that.”
Dean nods. “I didn’t either, at first.”
“So, what changed?” I wave my glass at him. “I mean, how are you so… I don’t know, all put together now?”
“It took a lot of hard work.” He leans in closer to whisper, “I see a therapist. Have been for years.”
My mouth drops open. I couldn’t be more shocked if someone had stuck electrodes on me and pulled the lever.
“You see a shrink?” I whisper back.
“A psychologist. I can give you his name if you’re interested.”
“I… I… don’t know…”
“It’s okay. Think about it. You know, kids of famous parents are expected to be messed up. Meantime, do you have any questions for me? About your plans for your birthday?”
I stare at him, my mouth back to hanging open.
He reaches out, lays his hand over mine. “It’s fine, Raven. You can ask me anything. I won’t judge you and I’ll answer as honestly as I can.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Thank you, Dean. I love you so much.”
He smiles warmly. “I love you too, little sis.”