CHAPTER THREE
Raven Dawn
Fringe isn’t at work when I get to Frank’s Motorcycle Repair Shop and that tells me he’ll probably be in a bad mood. He takes a lot of shit from Frank and it doesn’t help when he’s late. But he’ll never get fired. Fringe is the best mechanic Toronto has ever seen and the owner knows it. People come here just so Fringe can work on their custom bikes. Frank makes a decent living off of Fringe and all his bluster is just for show.
I hear the roar of an approaching Triumph Bonneville Street Twin motorcycle as I open the door to the shop and see the man of the hour coming up fast. I hold it open and when he reaches the lot and spin-stops, spitting gravel everywhere, I give him an upnod, joining him in the parking area. “S’up.”
I can tell he’s hungover but Fringe smiles and returns the nod and greeting in a throaty rumble reminiscent of the bike he’s sitting on. My stomach does a little flip then I burst out in giggles.
Fringe is my best friend. Been that for going on six years now. He’s seen me at my best and at my worst and he never judges, lectures, or complains. Some days I don’t know what the hell I’d do without him. He lives as far from my world as a person can get but he seems to understand my problems almost better than I do. And, he has amazingly broad shoulders to lean on.
“Missed you last night,” I say, feigning nonchalance. He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “You said you’d stop by.”
“No.” He swings a leg over his bike and dismounts. “You said I should and I said it wasn’t a good idea.”
“But—”
“Oh, no, don’t go giving me those puppy eyes, Raven… or is it Dawn this week?”
I punch him lightly on the arm. “Dawn, you doofus. You know I could have used your support last night.”
For a moment, he pretends to be mortally wounded, which makes me roll into a new wave of giggles.
“And it would’ve just caused a bigger stink than either of us want to deal with. C’mon, how many times have you told me that they’ll think I’m not good enough for their baby? You know better than me that your parents won’t approve of us hanging together. I’m too old for you and all that shit.”
“Screw ‘em! I’m not making the same mistakes they made at my age, so they can just back the fuck off.”
“Oh, no, you’re going to wait until you’re all of eighteen, baby doll. When you’re all grown up.” The sarcasm in his voice gets my blood boiling.
“There’s nothing wrong with my plan and you know it.”
He just laughs and shakes his head, changing the subject. “Seen Frank around?”
“Yeah, I think he’s in his office.”
“Fucking great,” he mutters. “Hey, wanna help me with the Harley this morning? You hang out here enough, you ought to start pulling your weight.”
I know he’s teasing but it’s fun watching Fringe work. He lets me help sometimes—like a nurse in the operating room, slapping tools into his palm. He might be surprised how much I’ve picked up from him.
“Bet I could,” I say as we head into the garage.
“Yeah? You could rebuild a tranny?” He playfully side-kicks me in the ass as we walk.
“Hey!” I laugh and land a punch on his arm.
When he chuckles and drapes an arm around my shoulders, all at once I feel safe, like nothing in the world can hurt me.
For a change, Frank doesn’t come in to harass Fringe and he works quickly and efficiently on the Harley’s transmission. He explains everything he’s doing and I watch like an apt pupil, which is ironic since I ditched school again today. But I’d rather apprentice under Fringe any day than sit at a desk straining my brain over useless algebra. Or is it geometry I’m taking?
After about an hour or so, Fringe looks at me and laughs. “You have grease smudged all over you. How the hell did that happen?” I self-consciously rub my cheeks, probably making it worse, and he motions for me to stop. “It looks good on you.” He’s kneeling with a wrench in his hand and stares at my face until I fidget.
Standing up, he stretches and runs a hand through his unruly, long dark hair. He has a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, which for some reason makes me breathless. I can see why the sluts throw themselves at his feet. I know about his conquests, although he mostly keeps them to himself.
I know he still sees me as that gangly twelve-year-old he met when he first roared by my parents and I. We were just leaving a restaurant when he pulled his bike to a halt and stared, starstruck, until a horn honked behind him and he got his motorcycle moving again. That happens a lot with Mom. With her long flame-red curls, she’s easily recognized.
I was the only one who noticed him following us as the limo took us home. But I wasn’t worried. I didn’t get a stranger-danger vibe from him, so as soon as I could I raced back down from the penthouse to see if he was still lurking. He was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, the same age I’ll be turning in twenty-nine days, but who’s counting?
He upnodded me when he saw he’d been spotted, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Let’s take a break.” He yawns and takes on a bored expression.
“Your old man bones aching?” I tease.
He laughs as he walks to the drink vending machine, plugging in a couple of loonies, what we call dollar coins. Frank makes a killing by charging two dollars. Coming back, he tosses me one of the bottled waters and we sit in companionable silence as we drink.
“So, what are you getting me for my birthday?”
Without missing a beat, he says, “Birth control.”
I’m so shocked, I choke. “Eww, don’t say that!”
He shrugs. “You’re the one who keeps bragging about doing the nasty on your birthday. Did you get a prescription yet?”
“Umm, can we change the subject?”
“No, you don’t want to put a bun in that sweet little oven of yours on the very first go, do ya?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why, because you say so?” He snorts out a laugh.
“Yeah,” I say, heat rising to my cheeks. I’m being flippant and he knows it.
“Shit, Dawn, be serious for a minute. Do the right thing. Don’t go getting in trouble. That would fuck up your life.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll go see a gyno. I’ll ask Divine who she sees. But, fuck, Lobo’s going to use a condom anyway.”
“Fuck all! What are they teaching you these days in sex ed? Condoms aren’t one-hundred-percent safe. Go see a gyno. Get on the pill and use a condom.”
“Okay, okay, jeesh.” I’ve never seen Fringe so worked up. “What’s eating at you all of a sudden?”
He gets up, paces a few steps, then turns back to me. “Your birthday is almost here and I’m starting to think you’re serious about this. That’s what’s eating at me.” I just stare at him openmouthed. “Fuck, are you sure about Lobo?” He says the name like it’s a bad taste in his mouth.
I just nod.
“You know he’s an asshole, right?”
I nod again. “It’s not like I’m marrying him or anything.”
“Thank god for small miracles.”
“Shut up,” I say, but I’m not angry. Just a little hurt.
“Make me.” The words come out in a long, slow drawl. He’s smiling now but I’m not in the mood.
Still smiling, he flicks his water bottle at me, spraying me with water and I yelp, surprised. Just then we hear a female voice calling out.
“Fringe? Are you in here?”
“Fuck,” he mutters and mouths I’m sorry. “Yeah, back here!”
A minute later one of Fringe’s long-legged sluts comes into view. I roll my eyes but she doesn’t notice me right away.
“It’s so cold out, baby. Come warm me up?”
“I’m busy…” he pauses like he’s trying to pull her name out of his ass, “Trish,” and motions to his workbench.
“Aww, baby, you can finish that later. Gimme some sugar.” She plants her lips on his and wraps her arms around his neck.
I stare, transfixed. It’s like passing an accident on the highway. I want to look away but I can’t seem to make my body move.
Breaking the kiss, Trish rests her chin on his shoulder and spots me. “Aww, how cute. You’re babysitting.”
Fringe pushes away from her, a frown forming on his face. “C’mon, Trish. Be nice. She’s a friend.”
She laughs. “If that’s what you want to call it. C’mon, baby. Let’s play.”
She reaches down between his legs and my eyes widen. I find that I want him to stop her from doing that. She shouldn’t be rubbing his cock. At least, not right in front of me. Or… not at all even.
“Trish…”
I jump up. “Hey, that’s alright, Fringe. I should get going anyway. I’ll see you later.”
I grab my coat and head out into the cold, feeling all sorts of unsettled and not knowing why.