Rage

by Michelle Pace

  Cheyenne blink awkwardly at them. Nathan seemed titillated by

  her disparaging attitude, and he simply chomped on his straw

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  suggestively.

  “Sorry, Mistress.” His tone had a playful, sing-song quality.

  Cheyenne proceeded with a sigh as if she’d noticed nothing out

  of the ordinary.

  “Phillip and Clive have hated each other for nearly a dec-

  ade.”

  Nathan nodded in agreement. “Fury and Toxicity used to

  play the same circuit. When we released our first album, they

  had to open for us. There was a bit of band rivalry, sure, but

  Phillip and Clive took it to a whole new level. When Toxicity

  got signed, things just got more obnoxious between them. Clive

  became ridiculous, and you know Phillip’s temper. They both

  thought they were the “cock of the walk”—though everyone

  knows I had the biggest cock of them all.”

  Cheyenne groaned and rolled her eyes to the heavens. Saf-

  fron merely blinked at him then turned back to Cheyenne, run-

  ning a hand through her brassy hair.

  “I was supposed to interview them about their upcoming

  American tour, and The Sound Wave recruited Stephanie to get a couple of shots of the band. The art director really wanted her to get a solo shot of Clive with his guitar.”

  Saffron nodded. “Oh…the gargoyle winged guitar. Nice.”

  Nathan cocked a disapproving eyebrow at Saffron, who

  shrugged carelessly. “Anyway, Phillip and I went to that concert to see if we could find Cheyenne and Steph. But they’d already

  left by the time we got backstage.”

  “What the hell?” Cheyenne couldn’t contain her surprise.

  She’d had no idea that they’d come looking for them, and if Scot knew, he hadn’t told her this story. “Why?”

  Nathan’s seemed uncharacteristically serious. “The concert

  was the evening after Phillip resurfaced. He came into the studio apologizing with all these brilliant songs talking about how he’d

  ‘just needed time to clear his head and refocus.’ He told us he

  had to go find Stephanie and try to talk to her—the sooner the

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  better. Scot mentioned she was with you at the Toxicity concert.

  And Phillip went ballistic.”

  Cheyenne paused, feeling a bit sheepish. Finally she pro-

  ceeded with her portion of the tale. “Steph’s dad called her at the last minute when Gerald couldn’t catch a flight in time to do the shoot. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

  Nathan shook his head and looked grave. “It was to Phil-

  lip.”

  Cheyenne huffed and sat back in her seat. “Okay, yes. Steph

  knew Phillip despised Clive. But Phillip left. He walked away

  from her for saying she didn’t want to get married and then

  trashed their little love nest like an angry two year old.”

  “What?” Saffron asked, wide eyes peeking out from under

  her blunt bangs.

  “Oh, quit being so melodramatic. He didn’t take a bulldozer

  to it or burn it to the ground. He punched a couple of holes in the wall and turned over some furniture.” Nathan scoffed. “Hardly

  surprising. This is Phillip Kersey we’re talking about.”

  “And he disappeared. She was really worried about him at first. But after a day or two of him not answering her calls, like everyone else on the planet, she assumed he was in Bangkok

  sniffing coke off some hooker’s ass. Why shouldn’t she go ahead

  and do her job?” Cheyenne emphasized her argument directly to

  Saffron, who nodded as if she’d made perfect sense.

  Nathan paused and looked pointedly into Cheyenne’s eyes.

  “Cheyenne, you know I love Steph. But Clive bloody Richards?

  You know, the very first thing Clive did when Phillip explained

  that he was there looking for Steph was pull up a cell phone pic of him hanging all over Steph. It looked really bad, Cheyenne.

  Phillip grabbed him by the throat, and that’s when the row with

  security started. I was still pissed at Phil for skipping town at the time, so as long as someone’s ass got kicked, it was all right by me.”

  Cheyenne furrowed her brow, “Don’t make me bitch slap

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  you again, Nathan! Get your fucking facts straight next time be-

  fore you allow that pit bull off of his chain. Clive was all over Steph that night. But he’s not her type, and she’s not an idiot.

  She knew he was doing it because of Phillip, and she told him to go to hell. He wouldn’t leave her alone. When he put his hand up her shirt, she punched him in the junk.”

  Nathan’s eyes darted back and forth, and Cheyenne could

  see he was truly surprised by this bit of information.

  “Kinky,” Saffron laughed and reached out for Cheyenne’s

  knee. Cheyenne tucked her legs underneath her. A loud snore

  erupted from Bret.

  “So…” Scot said from behind her, startling all three of

  them. His dark eyes danced with intrigue. “…we’re retelling the

  trials and tribulations of Steph and Phillip in preparation for their reunion, I take it?”

  “Why, yes we are, my love.” Cheyenne smiled at her hus-

  band and beckoned him to sit next to her.

  “Well, then. Move over.” He heaved a weary sigh and

  gracefully maneuvered his lanky body into the seat next to

  Cheyenne. “The next debacle was the “Fire Woman” video.”

  Cheyenne groaned and shook her head. “I thought Steph

  was going to end up in prison after she saw that little stunt.”

  Scot put a finger to her lips, interrupting her. “Let me tell

  this particular part of the story.” He removed his finger and replaced it with his mouth, giving her a quick kiss.

  “That’s hot.” Saffron remarked, and Nathan shushed her.

  “I love it when Scot gets all catty. He’s a pro.” Nathan

  sipped his drink. “Go on.”

  “After the Toxicity concert, Phillip went a bit mental. One

  could argue he went on a long overdue bender. When he sobered

  up, he crashed at our place for a few weeks. Phillip Bret, and I virtually lived in the studio throwing down demo tracks. He was

  writing a lot of…hostile, dark music. Then one day he comes in

  and says we need to cover this old song by The Cult. So we rec-

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  orded ‘Fire Woman.’”

  “Which turned out to be a major catastrophe.” Cheyenne

  blurted.

  “Hey! We rocked that song. It’s the video that needs to go,”

  Scot argued, pushing his long dark hair out of his face.

  “But I love that video. I find it very provocative…sexy.”

  Saffron frowned.

  “Oh, it is. Too bad it’s the retelling of Phillip and Stepha-

  nie’s relationship.” Cheyenne crossed her arms, remembering

  Steph’s tirade when she first showed her the video. When Scot

  brought the video home and she saw it, Cheyenne flew straight

  to Milan to forewarn Steph before Phillip’s “vision” debuted.

  Stephanie’s first reaction was to make a snarky comment about

  Fury (“Oh, they’re doing covers now? How very retro.”), but

  once the images of Phillip re-enacting their private moments

  with a pale, red headed model (breaking her camera, the airplane bathroom, the rainstorm kiss), she be
came completely enraged.

  She had a total meltdown and nearly took some pretty impressive

  revenge. Cheyenne put a stop to the evil plot and saved Steph

  from a move she would have really regretted. She dragged her

  out to a nearby café to try to help her gain some perspective.

  Three bottles of wine later, Steph broke down and, through una-

  bashed tears, confessed to Cheyenne about the loss of her baby.

  The way that Steph could barely choke the words out hurt Chey-

  enne’s heart. Steph was typically cold as ice, so witnessing her fragility was downright terrifying. Thinking about it even now

  pissed Cheyenne off all over again, and she wanted to go scream

  in Phillip’s face; however, Stephanie had sworn her to secrecy.

  Loyalty had become vitally important to Cheyenne, and she

  hadn’t even told Scot. Stephanie was of the opinion that telling Phillip about the baby now would serve no useful purpose.

  “Which brings us to the UK Music Video Awards.” Na-

  than’s devilish eyes appeared even greener as he laughed mali-

  ciously. Scot and Cheyenne exchanged a thoughtful glance, and

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  Scot shook his head at Cheyenne in warning. Cheyenne simply

  looked away. Things were about to take an ugly turn, she was

  certain of it.

  “What on earth happened there?” Saffron looked from one

  person to the next.

  “You were there, Nathan. Tell it.” Scot waved an exasperat-

  ed hand in the air.

  Nathan topped off his drink and sat forward. “Phillip, David

  and I were doing shots at the bar when some twat in a suit ap-

  proached us. He introduced himself as Steph’s agent and got in

  Phillip’s face. I’m not sure what all was said, but he was defi-

  nitely spouting off about the Fire Woman video.”

  At that moment, Phillip approached them and grabbed a

  beer from the mini fridge.

  “What’s up?” he asked, pulling out his ear buds. The as-

  sembled group exchanged a collective smirk.

  “Hey, mate. What was the wanker’s name that shoved you

  at the U.K. Awards?” Nathan had clearly chosen to brazen

  through the fact that they’d all been talking about him. Phillip leveled an acknowledging gaze at Nathan and glanced awkwardly at Cheyenne. When he visibly puffed up, she shook her head.

  “Christopher…something or another.” He shrugged and

  tried to look unconcerned.

  “Hoult.” Cheyenne informed them all. Scott removed his

  arm from around her, and she knew he was pissed at her, but she

  didn’t care. “Christopher Hoult.”

  “Yes! Phillip told him to piss off and started to walk away,

  but the bloke grabbed his shoulder and hit him. Before I knew

  what was what, this Christopher dude was on the floor, and Dave

  was yanking Phillip off of him.” Nathan held his fist out at Phillip who halfheartedly bumped it.

  “Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’.” Scot agreed with a

  cocky shrug that was out of character for him. Phillip nodded at Scot in thanks for his obvious support.

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  Cheyenne glowered at them both like they were simpletons

  and turned to Saffron ready to deliver the coup de grace. “Christopher ended up in the hospital with a broken nose and a frac-

  tured rib. Stephanie felt awful that her agent had the crap kicked out of him for trying to stand up for her…defend her honor. So

  she went to the hospital to thank him for what she considered

  going way above and beyond his job description. Steph was pret-

  ty surprised when Christopher told her he needed to resign as her agent because he was having trouble remaining professionally

  detached when it came to her. She was shocked, but she refused

  his resignation. Then a month later he finally asked her out.”

  “No way! Did she say yes? Are they dating now?” Saffron

  graced Cheyenne with an impish grin. Cheyenne turned her dark

  eyes on Phillip who froze with his beer halfway to his lips, gaping at her words. Steph was no angel, but dammit, he’d messed

  with her best friend and needed to be taken down a notch or two.

  Phillip seemed glued to the spot, and his blue eyes seemed both

  surprised and troubled.

  Good.

  Out of the corner of her eye Cheyenne watched him tilt his

  head to one side and stare at her, waiting for her response. She smiled cheerfully at Saffron.

  “At first she said no, but by the holidays he wore her down.

  They’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

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  CHAPTER FIVE

  Steph pushed back her seat and reclined tiredly. She accept-

  ed a beer from the flight attendant with a grateful smile. They

  were on the last leg of what had been the never-ending trip to

  hell. Sure, hell happened to look a lot like the Garden of Eden, but as Cedric had often reminded her, the devil’s favorite trick was convincing folks he didn’t exist.

  Fernando de Noronha. In college she’d drooled over the

  photographs in Condé Nast Traveler. She’d been dying to go to the exclusive island off the coast of Brazil and photograph it for herself, and now she’d be there in less than an hour. Unbelievable. If she’d stayed for a month and never slept, she would never get all the shots she wanted. But she wasn’t going for herself, or for National Geographic. She was going as a favor to D.J. Dave, Fury’s fabulous drummer and all-around nice guy. Her photos of

  the astounding beaches, turquoise waters, and dramatic rock

  formations would have to be squeezed in between Yara’s in-

  creasingly Bridezilla-esque demands.

  Even so, who doesn’t love an all-expense-paid trip to para-

  dise? Someone who feels like she’s marching toward the guillo-

  tine, that’s who. Stephanie was about to face a group of old

  friends whom she adored, but who had witnessed her make a

  series of unfixable mistakes. She would have to watch Cheyenne

  frolic happily with Scot and little Liam and beat back the grow-

  ing jealousy of the happy family, an envy that pulsed through her 52

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  veins like poisonous venom. And for Steph, a wedding didn’t

  symbolize new beginnings, but served as a tragic reminder of her own self mutilating cowardice.

  And then there was Phillip.

  Steph rubbed her temple and wondered if she’d need to take

  migraine medicine for the first time in over a year. Phillip would be on the island. The archipelago was roughly ten square miles,

  and she was convinced that it just wouldn’t be big enough for the both of them. He was in the wedding, of course, so she would

  soon be photographing him. She’d see him in person for the first time since the hospital and most assuredly would have no choice

  but to interact with him.

  Even though she knew it wasn’t cool, Steph popped a

  Xanax and washed it down with a big swig of beer. She looked

  around and tried to find a way to distract herself. She reached

  into the back of the seat in front of her and pulled out a People Magazine someone had left behind. She stared blankly at the

  cover. Her ex-boyfriend Kevin Wiley was on the cover with his

  new wife, Maria (the woman he’d cheated on her with) and their

  adorable newborn baby. Cut in the right hand upper corner of the cover was a picture of Fury and a sensational mention of their

/>   upcoming release, Rage.

  “Lord, why have you forsaken me?” She gazed at the ceil-

  ing of the airplane tiredly, as if she had a direct line to God.

  “Because you are a filthy, blaspheming heathen.” Cedric

  said from behind her in an affected theatrical voice, and she

  turned to fix her plus-one with a withering stare.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was a rhetorical question,”

  he quipped as he took his seat next to her. She presented the

  magazine for his viewing pleasure. “Oh.”

  “Thanks for coming with me. If Phillip and I are going to

  breathe the same air, I’m sure I’m going to need the spiritual

  guidance.”

  His sassy smile vanishing, Cedric tilted his head and firmly

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  replied. “You’re in a good place, Sis.”

  “I know. I’m just really jittery. I’m so glad that you’re here

  with me and not Christopher. He’d insist I meditate instead of

  drinking to excess.” Though she’d only been seeing him for

  roughly three months, she knew Christopher had her best inter-

  ests at heart. He’d wanted very much to come with her, but he

  had pressing issues with a couple of his other clients. She’d

  twisted Cedric’s arm to come in his place and after a healthy

  dose of sisterly guilt and promises that he’d have his own room

  in more modest accommodations, he’d relented.

  She was finally, as Cedric mentioned, “in a good place.”

  Thanks to continuous support and supervision from Cedric and

  Cheyenne, she was healthier physically and spiritually than she’d ever been in her adult life. However, the week on the island with Fury would be awkward enough without Christopher challenging

  Phillip to a duel or some other such nonsense. Christopher was

  always a gentleman, but principled to a fault. His outburst to-

  ward Phillip at the Video Awards still had her reeling.

  She was yanked out of her thoughts as the flight attendant

  returned with a glass of white wine for Cedric. He accepted it

  and graced her with a charming smile. She blushed and with a

  glance at his collar, hurried away. Steph smiled wryly at him

  with a sideways glance. It was impossible not to be amused at

  the way women responded to her brother. Especially when he wore his priestly collar. It was as if the “forbidden fruit factor”