Renegade Hearts (Rebels of Sandland 1)

“So today, I would invite you all to make a donation to our cause and join us in this crusade in any way you can. We’ve made great headway in tackling the drink and drug culture and stamping out the criminal element that plagues our streets. Let’s do the same on our roads too. Take back this town and use our power; grow with it. Make this a safer place for all our children. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, with the up and coming election, we need all the support we can get. Remember… Winters for the win. Thank you.”

The marquee erupted into a sea of applause and my dad held our hands and lifted them up, like he was championing himself at some political rally. My mother gave him the look of adoration that would secure the front page of the papers for them tomorrow. And I focused on breathing; wishing I could sink into the floor to escape the pitiful looks the room was giving me.

I heard raised voices in the distance and glanced over the heads of the guests, noticing some kind of commotion going on at the doorway into the house. The security staff were talking into their earpieces and marching towards it. When I saw my two best friends emerge from the house, I knew why. They didn’t want any uninvited guests, and my friends weren’t welcome at my eighteenth birthday party. Go figure.

I marched across the perfectly manicured lawn, like a woman on a mission, and made it to the doorway just as one of the security guards was manhandling Liv, getting ready to throw her out. She was giving as good as she got though, telling him in no uncertain terms what an asshole he was.

I couldn’t believe they’d shown up here. Word must’ve got to them that I was stuck in the parental twilight zone of hell. I smiled at their ripped skinny jeans and tight tops. They mustn’t have got the memo about the shitty dress code for my little shindig either. Hell, they hadn’t got any memo. They weren’t invited. They were my personal superheroes swooping in to save the day.

“You couldn’t have come at a better time.” I sighed and then turned to glare at the security guy still holding Liv in a death-like grip.

“You can let her go now. She’s not a gate-crasher.”

Liv sniggered and Effy just looked mortified by it all.

&nbs

p; “Their names aren’t on our guest list, Ma’am.” The security guy made the effort to look contrite in the knowledge that he was speaking to the boss’s daughter. Not that that made any difference. He probably had more say over this event than I did.

“You’re looking at the wrong guest list. Try the one entitled non-arse-lickers.” I elbowed him out of the way as his nostrils flared at my insolence. I didn’t care. He was rude to my friends, so that gave me free rein.

“Please tell me you haven’t come to spend the rest of Friday evening here in this Stepford wives’ tribute? As much as I love you girls, I really need a get out of jail free card.” I led us through the lounge to the hallway and away from the pomp and ceremony. Another minute in the company of my parents’ fake friends and I’d have self-combusted.

“Do you really think we’d be here to sip mocktails and suck ass with those oldies?” Liv laughed, turning her nose up. “We came here to get you and take you to where the real party is happening tonight, and it’s about as far away from shitty drinks and ass kissing as it gets.”

That’s what I loved about Liv. She was a no-nonsense, straight-talking kind of girl. If there was ever a feisty female you’d want in your corner, it was her.

“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.