Rage (7 page)

what is your answer?”

She tried to form the sentences, to construct her many con-

cerns and fears into coherent thoughts, but the narcotics had tak-en hold. Battling heavy eyelids, she pressed her lips tight and

shook her head.

His face clouded over. He wore a disdainful expression that

she was all too familiar with.

“Right, then.” He nodded and snapped the ring box closed

loud enough that she jumped.

As he vanished through the door, she tried to call out to

him. But her sobs made speaking impossible. She felt her body

relax. and she had no fight left in her as the morphine tide took her under.

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“I mean, I think I’m a damn good man! Am I or am I not a

good man?” Bret’s wild gesticulations were starting to grate on

Cheyenne’s nerves. They’d been in the air for hours, and Fury’s

lead guitarist had already woken Liam twice. She loved her rock

star husband, but sometimes it felt like she was married to a

rowdy fraternity. Nathan, who in his own twisted way was trying

to be a supportive pal, had been plying Bret with Vodka since

takeoff. The keyboardist put a little flair on his pour and handed Bret another glass. He accepted it greedily. Cheyenne really did sympathize with Bret; only six days earlier, his wife of 5 years had seemingly packed up the kids and left without an ounce of

provocation.

Nathan tossed his auburn hair out of his wicked eyes and

sloshed more Vodka into a tumbler glass. He held the glass up

for a toast. “You, my friend, are an absolute
prince
among men.”

“I love you, man.” Bret slurred, flopping into his seat and

guzzling his drink. Cheyenne glared back at them and pointedly

shushed them. Nathan smirked at her, cleared his throat, and

took a sip of his drink.

“Do you need us to freshen up your drink?” he asked her.

Cheyenne glanced to her right at her son and husband, who slept

in identical positions. Liam’s first birthday would be here before too long, and he already looked exactly like Scot. He seemed to

have her shy disposition, which suited her fine. One celebrity in 41

TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

the family was plenty.

Liam had been walking for almost a month when Scot had

finally convinced her they needed help. Between her deadlines

for
The Sound Wave
and Scot always at the soundboard in their home studio mixing and mastering the final touches for Rage,

Liam being so mobile was downright dangerous.

She shook her glass, and her lonely ice cubes rattled. Empty

already and there were hours left to go before they reached their destination, Noronha. She’d seen the pictures and knew it was

the definition of paradise, but it truly was at the far edge of the world. They’d be staying for seven glorious days of isolated

beaches marred only by a few mandatory wedding obligations.

Fury’s drummer David had timed his wedding to his Brazilian

model fiancé wisely. Fury had finished Rage, and the label said

it would drop in four weeks. Fury weren’t scheduled to start

touring Asia for eight weeks. The band had time to celebrate

with David and Yara and still have some down time to decom-

press before heading back out on the road.

Cheyenne dreaded the thought of dragging Liam out on

tour, but the thought of Scot being away from them for weeks on

end was more than she could deal with. Adam had been steadily

sending her more assignments, and she’d been working like a

dog. So if this far flung wedding meant time at Brazil’s most

beautiful beach with her two boys, she was game. She kissed

Liam’s cheek and headed into the lion’s den. As she stood, she

shot an unhappy sideways glance at her twenty-one-year-old

nanny, Kara, who was chatting up Fury’s manager and his wife.

Kara’s Barbie doll hair and perky body incensed Cheyenne al-

most as much as her cheerful smile and overly friendly disposi-

tion did.

She was still scowling when she took a seat across from Na-

than, Bret, and Nathan’s frightening new lady friend.

“If all the festivities are bothering you, Cheyenne, perhaps

you should have stayed home.” Nathan cocked an eyebrow at

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RAGE

her. Cheyenne merely held her glass out to him. Time spent with

Nathan was like breaking in a new pair of shoes. Expensive and

always rubbing her the wrong way.

“Shut up and pour me a drink.” Cheyenne instructed, and

Nathan’s girlfriend sat back with a coy smile and crossed her

impossibly long legs.

“Ooo…bossy,” Saffron cooed, and Cheyenne barely

glanced at her. Nathan had been running around with Saffron for

a couple of months. Her outrageous behavior had been off-

putting at first, but Cheyenne was starting to understand how she ticked. Saffron had a sassy blonde bob, Cheshire-like grin, and a collar that matched her studded fuck-me stilettos. Tall and commanding, she seemed to be way too “into” everyone she encoun-

tered. It was obvious by the way he tolerated her behavior that

she had Nathan wrapped tightly around her pinkie finger.

When they were first boarding the plane at Heathrow, Saf-

fron’s fingers had been wandering all over her husband, Scot.

He’d been stowing his bass in the overhead compartment, and

Saffron had been murmuring softly to him about his instrument.

Cheyenne plucked Saffron’s hand off her husband’s chest.

“Keep this to yourself if you’re attached to it,” Cheyenne

instructed her in an icy manner. When she looked to Scot for

support, he simply shrugged and flashed his crooked toothpaste

commercial smile. At the time, Cheyenne had wanted to back-

hand him. Now Saffron’s attentions seemed to be focused on

her
. Cheyenne repositioned herself so her knees were out of arm’s reach.

“Where’s Phil? Phillip! Kersey!” Bret shouted toward the

back of the plane. Phillip’s head poked out from behind the

seats. As always, he was in the back row. He yanked off his sun-

glasses and ear buds, curiosity dominating his bronze features.

“Bret, would you kindly shut the hell up?” Cheyenne mur-

mured as she gestured to Liam and Scot. Bret stared at her wide

eyed, his mouth forming the shape of an O.

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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

“Oh…shhhhh…sorry!” he stage whispered and turned back

to Phillip. “Come have a drink, Phil!”

Phillip waved a non-committal hand at him. He ran a hand

through his thick, short hair, readjusting his ear buds and resum-ing his antisocial position out of sight.

“Do you remember when he used to be fun?” Nathan re-

marked, and Bret nodded emphatically.

“Yeah. You used to be fun, Phillip. He used to have long

hair, too.” He continued in his ridiculous stage whisper. He

looked at Nathan’s hair with sad eyes. “So did you. Why does

everything have to change?”

“Bret. Maybe you should lie down and take a little nap,”

Cheyenne suggested. She was on the verge of grasping hold of

his “long” ponytailed hair and swinging him around by it. Maybe

that would get him queued up for a haircut as well.

“So what’s with tall, blonde, and broody back there?” Saf-

fron nodded her head in Phillip’s direction. Cheyenne, Bret, and Nathan all exchanged knowing eye rolls. Saffron noticed immediately and leaned forward.

“I sense a yummy story. Well, go on, then. Spill it.” She

pressed them, and Nathan snorted and topped off his drink again.

“Let’s see.” He thoughtfully tapped his chin, and his green

eyes twinkled with mischief. “Where to begin?”

“Phillip’s pissed because Yara and David invited his ex-

girlfriend to photograph their wedding,” Cheyenne stated in a

fairly diplomatic tone, all things considered.

“Ha!” Nathan exclaimed, shaking his spiky red streaked

hair. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

Bret cackled drunkenly from beneath his blanket.

Cheyenne downed her drink suddenly and slammed the

glass down on the table in front of Nathan. “I’m gonna need an-

other if we’re going to tell this story.”

Nathan winked at her and topped off her glass while Saffron

settled back into her seat. “It’s been what? About a year ago that 44

RAGE

Phillip proposed to Stephanie and she turned him away?”

Cheyenne nodded and Nathan proceeded. “Phillip didn’t

take it well.”

“No. That is the understatement of the century,” Cheyenne

retorted.

Nathan ignored the interruption. “He pulled a vanishing act.

I’m talking Elvis-style. We were in the middle of recording

Rage, and
no one
had any idea where he was—not even the tabloids. His security team went mental. His family did too, think-

ing he’d gone out somewhere and offed himself. They hired a

private detective. He found nothing. The label execs were posi-

tively rabid! I think they thought we were covering for him.

Then a few weeks later, he turns back up with all his hair buzzed off and a new tattoo on his chest. He had a stack of new songs

and was ready to work. No explanations, no excuses. The only

reason we even knew he’d proposed at all was because Scot told

us.”

“Then he went psycho backstage at that Toxicity concert for

no apparent reason.” Cheyenne tossed her long brown hair over

one shoulder as she mixed a splash of orange juice into her glass of vodka. Nathan nodded cheerfully and clapped his hands.

“Oh yeah. Now
that
was a sight to behold. Phillip took

down three of Clive Richards’ body guards to get at him. Clive

pissed himself in front of everyone backstage. It was classic.”

“I don’t understand. Why would Phillip go after Clive

Richards?” Saffron’s eyebrow twitched curiously.

“You don’t know any of this? Where have you been? Liv-

ing in a cave?” Nathan looked genuinely surprised. Cheyenne

couldn’t argue. Every paper in the U.K. had featured either Phillip or Stephanie’s picture for months during their ongoing feud.

“That tone is unacceptable, Nathan Clayton. Apologize to

me.” Saffron’s deadpan expression as she scolded him made

Cheyenne blink awkwardly at them. Nathan seemed titillated by

her disparaging attitude, and he simply chomped on his straw

45

TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

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.”