upped his desirability to the opposite sex.
Cedric appeared oblivious, though Steph knew he was com-
pletely aware of his magnetism. He continued their conversation
without missing a beat or acknowledging the blushing woman.
“Glad I can help, though I feel criminal about the extravagance.
One of these first class plane tickets alone could feed an African village for a year.”
“Hey, not all of us took a vow of poverty.” Steph tapped her beer bottle against his wine glass in an impromptu toast.
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Cedric smirked at her and shook his head. “You brought
wide brimmed hats, right? You’ll burst into flames if you aren’t careful.”
“Right back at you, Ginger.” Steph replied, though she
knew Cedric could survive a whole lot more ultra violet rays
than she could. “I hope you listened to me about the insect repellant. They say you can’t even see the borrachudo mosquito so
you don’t know you’ve been bit half the time until your ankles
are shredded the next day.”
“You’ve researched your destination thoroughly. Mom
would be so proud of you,” he replied. She tried to hide her surprise at his mention of their mom. There had been an unspoken
agreement that the subject of mom had been off limits between
them for years. He sipped his drink as if it were normal, and she dropped it. Steph and Cedric’s mother had been an avid traveler, and they’d accompanied their parents all over the globe from the time of their births. She had drilled the importance of reading up on the destination to minimize being ill prepared. “I‘m less concerned about the mosquitos than I am about not being able to
wear sunblock in the water. I guess I won’t be swimming at all.”
“That’s only in certain areas. We’ll figure it out. I’m not go-
ing to two of the world’s most beautiful beaches and not getting in the water,” Steph insisted. A she made idle chit-chat about the tight itinerary for Yara’s week-long wedding death march, she
felt the reality of this trip buzzing around her like a pesky fly.
She’d promised herself many times she’d focus on the exciting
aspects of the wedding. Loads of time with friends she hadn’t
seen in months and the breathtaking locale. The stunning resort
David had spent a fortune buying out for the week that had views most people would never get to see. But the image of that tear
rolling down Phillip’s cheek and the detached look on his face as he’d left her bedside dominated her thoughts.
She had realized the magnitude of her mistake the second
she’d woken up the morning after her surgery. She couldn’t re-
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
member the exact details or wording of their conversation the
night before, but she knew she’d pushed him away too hard and
that he didn’t understand the truth of the circumstances. She’d
called him for two solid days after waking from her drug-
induced haze. Every single call went straight to voicemail. Final-ly, on the third day when she was waiting to be discharged, she’d called Scot out of desperation. He seemed shocked when she
asked if he’d heard from Phillip.
“No, Steph. He gave us strict instructions not to call him for
a week. He wanted you all to himself until the photo shoot for
Rage.” Steph remembered feeling ill when she heard Scot’s light
tone and realized that none of the band members had heard from
Phillip. She told him she had to go and hung up before she had to answer any questions. She sat through a twenty minute discharge
lecture from her doctor about how she was still anemic and mal-
nourished. Then she helplessly watched both her father and
brother promise him that if she didn’t put weight back on in the next month they would admit her to an inpatient program for
eating disorders. Dr. Lucky Charms evidently wasn’t one to be
trifled with. Then her father reluctantly headed to the airport, and Cedric drove her to the cottage to pick up her things. She fidgeted the entire way there. What if Phillip was there? Worse still, what if he wasn’t?
As the crossed the hump-backed bridge, Steph saw the red
door standing wide open. Her legs felt rubbery. and her heart
was in her throat as they entered. She was in no way prepared for what greeted them. It looked as if a cyclone had hit the interior.
“Oh my.” Cedric exclaimed as Steph stepped over the over-
turned hutch and broken china on the floor. Dazed, she wandered
the rooms gathering her suitcase, toiletries, and untouched cam-
era bag. Her keys were still on the bedside table. The plates from their pre-proposal breakfast still sat on the table. She could feel Cedric watching her, but refused to meet his eyes. Minutes later when she pulled the red door shut, her hand was still trembling.
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It wasn’t until Cedric was parking the rental car at the Dub-
lin airport that he finally spoke. “If that’s how Phillip responds to conflict, you made the right call.”
Steph opened her mouth to defend Phillip. She was just
about to tell Cedric that he didn’t know about the pregnancy and realized that it wouldn’t make Phillip look any less reactionary and that Cedric might feel a gallant need to reveal the true circumstances of her hospitalization to him. She needed to tell him herself. She tried to call him again and got a message that his
voicemail box was full.
She called her agent. There was absolutely no way she
could do the Fury shoot. Christopher got a bit terse with her at first about the last minute cancellation. Since their professional relationship was brand new, Steph felt compelled to tell him
about her health crisis and stunned Cedric by calmly revealing
that she’d lost a baby and a fallopian tube. Christopher fell all over himself apologizing for her loss and offered to cancel the
upcoming Milan shoot as well. Steph declined the offer, insisting that she’d be better by then and needed the distraction.
She and Cedric flew back to Milan. They’d barely walked
in the door of her apartment when Cheyenne called. Frantic at
Phillip’s disappearance and news that Steph was not shooting the album cover, she demanded answers. Stephanie glanced up at the
mammoth picture of Phillip hanging over her mantel. All she
could manage was that she’d turned Phillip down. Cheyenne
pressed her, but Cedric took the phone from her and explained
that Steph had just had surgery and needed her rest.
Cedric stayed with her for a week, force feeding her pasta
and dragging her out on “therapeutic” walks. By the time Cedric
left for Rome and she showed up at the Donna Moderna shoot, she’d already gained five pounds and could feel muscles she
never knew she had from her surprisingly vigorous walks with
her cane-dependent brother. And it felt good to work again. In-
vigorating.
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
As Stephanie re-examined the painful events of the past
year, she flipped open the window cover and gasped. Cedric
jumped as if she’d seen a monster on the wing of the plane.
“What?” he demanded.
She stared at the island as it appeared through a hole in the
clouds. “Holy shit, Cedric! It’s Shangri-La.”
“Holy shit, indeed.” Cedric’s astonished exclamation made
her laugh. As they circled for their final approach, Steph practically vibrate
d with enthusiasm. The jutting rocks, stunning natural pools, and lush green tropical slopes of the ecologic sanctuary gave her an itchy shutter release finger. All of her reservations about the island adventure were temporarily forgotten.
Their chauffer fearlessly maneuvered the Land Rover off
the main road and over the pothole-ridden unpaved roads leading
to Cedric’s pousada. After they made dinner plans Cedric
hopped out at his lush accommodations. Steph pondered what
her pousada must look like if Cedric found this lovely one befitting his meager station. She climbed into the front seat. The
driver was a maniac, tearing off down the treacherous dirt paths like they were running from an explosion, and she wanted a better view of her impending death. Unfortunately, this move
seemed to endanger her more, as her driver spent more time eye-
ing her as if she were an exotic animal than watching the road.
He was kind of sexy in a raw, swarthy, “I’m on vacation in the
tropics and what’s a girl to do” sort of way. He attempted to flirt with Steph in very broken English, but Steph’s total lack of any Portuguese vocabulary (except swear words she’d learned from
the bride-to-be) prevented her from any dirty repartee.
It was two p.m. local time when they arrived at her jaw
dropping accommodations at Pousada Maravilha. The blistering
sunshine that had welcomed them when they landed had com-
pletely vanished. and she and the driver managed to get under
cover just before the heavens released a torrential downpour.
Flirty Chauffer Dude carried both her suitcases and still managed 58
RAGE
to hold open the door for her. David and Yara’s wedding may
have been well timed for Fury’s schedule, but in Steph’s opinion, having it during Noronha’s rainy season should have been pondered a bit more thoroughly. She could actually feel her naturally wavy hair coiling in the humidity.
The moment she stepped inside, her keen aesthetic eyes
were immediately drawn upward, admiring the dramatic slopes
of the vaulted ceilings with their exposed beams. The floors were a mix of maple colored planks and pristine white tiles. The scat-tered rock gardens, thatched looking roof, and rustic wood sup-
ports gave the lobby the feel of a tiki hut that had a love child with a McMansion. The charcoal sky was framed dramatically
by the panoramic windows and the central skylight. As she
moved forward, the room opened wider for a 360 degree view of
Sueste Bay. A circle of rattan chairs were centered under the
skylight and divided the room. On the left were dining tables and a bar, on the right long white modern couches and low wood tables were strategically placed for optimal views of the bay and
the infinity pool. She approached the windows, seeing ham-
mocks swinging in the storm outside. Chaise tanning lounges
and pool mattresses completed the island chic décor.
“Teetee!” She heard the familiar battle cry of her favorite
little man. Steph dropped her camera bag and purse on the clos-
est couch in preparation for being pounced on by an eleven-
month-old monkey-boy. She turned in time to have him slam
into her legs full force, knocking her backwards onto the couch.
“Oh my goodness, Liam Sebastian Charles! You are a gi-
ant!” She groaned as he scampered up onto her as if he were
king of the mountain.
“Mamma. Milk!” He yelled in her face, and she grabbed
him and rolled him off of her tickling him. Cheyenne approached
them, gracefully balancing two Sippy cups.
“Bout time you got here.” Cheyenne nudged her knee. “We
got in at nine a.m. We slept some on the plane, but everyone else 59
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
went off to take naps. That was one brutal flight.”
“Tell me about it. Cedric and I flew in from Panama City to
Recife yesterday. Then we had to spend the night before we
could catch the puddle jumper here. Be happy you were on a pri-
vate jet.” Steph laughed as Liam got in her face, effectively
blocking Cheyenne from her view and sticking out his tongue at
her. Steph tackled him onto the couch again. “Where’s Scot?”
Cheyenne nodded toward the dining area. “Having a drink
with David. Want one?”
“Very much so. Let me check in first.” Steph picked up
Liam and threw him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Cheyenne snatched up Steph’s bags and followed her to the
desk. The chauffer was hanging around smiling at her, and Steph
assumed he was angling for a tip, but when she tried to give him one, he waved it off. The staff was incredibly efficient and spoke excellent English. They told her the chauffer was Enrique and he worked for them. He took her bags from her with a wink and in
no time Steph, Cheyenne, and Liam turned the corner into the
dining area.
Steph couldn’t contain her smile when she saw Fury’s bass-
ist, Scot and drummer, David sipping drinks at the end of the
bar.
“D.J. Dave!” She cheered and David was on his feet and
hugging her so suddenly it took her by surprise. David still
looked like an old time movie star. Short hair, clean cut—he al-
ways seemed somewhat out of place in a rock band. But Steph
knew that when he held sticks in his hands, no one would ever
question that he belonged behind a drum kit.
“Steph, thank God!” he uttered in a hushed and panicked
tone. “Yara said she’d call the whole thing off if you didn’t
come.”
“Like I wouldn’t come when you guilt tripped me into it.”
She replied emphatically. Cheyenne and Scot both raised an eye-
brow. An evil grin played on David’s movie star face.
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RAGE
“I told her she owed me. For teaching Yara how to swear
like a sailor in English.” Cheyenne and Scot both nodded. While
Fury was touring America, Yara had spent a great deal of time
hanging out with Steph and Cheyenne.
Steph rolled her eyes and swung Liam around by his arms.
“It’s cool. I’m here. Who am I rooming with?”
“Kara. Our nanny. Liam might spend a night or two with
you, if you know what I mean.” Scot shot her his perfectly
straight toothed smile and a wink as he wrapped his arms around
Cheyenne.
“Working on another one, are we?” Steph joked.
Cheyenne cringed visibly. “No way in hell.”
Scot looked stunned at her reaction as David finished off his
drink. Steph seized this opportunity to segueway into another
topic.
“What are you two drinking. and why don’t I have one?”
“Caipirinhas, of course.” Scot tossed some cash on the bar
and waved the bartender over.
“When in Rome. .” David agreed with a fidgety shrug.
Steph took the seat next to him.
“Where’s your bride-to-be?” she asked, patting him on the
back. David was rarely troubled, so his stricken expression made her nervous. He definitely looked like he could use a few more
drinks.
David heaved such a deep sigh that his shoulders rose and
fell dramatically. “At the spa. Daily facials, so she’s pimple-free for the ceremony.”
Steph nodded and wrinkled her nose slightly. Having spent
her pretty much her en
tire life photographing the world’s most
desirable people, she wasn’t phased in the least. She felt for him.
But this was the life of a soon-to-be husband of a Victoria Secret model.
“I’m taking Liam back up to Kara. I’ll be back in ten.”
Cheyenne took Liam by the hand and headed in the direction of
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
the stairs to the neighboring building where Steph, Kara, and the bridesmaids were staying.
Steph and the two musicians exchanged silent looks. She
squared her shoulders. “Ok. Say what you need to say. Just get it over with.”
David and Scot exchanged an unreadable look of their own,
and Scot spoke. “Steph, your choices are yours. I have nothing to say except I’m sorry, because it would have been cool to have
you as a part of our dysfunctional family.”
David nodded. Steph thought he looked like he had a lot
he’d like to say, but when he spoke, he was brief. “Me too.”
The bartender returned with her lime garnished drink, and
she accepted it in silence. Scott nodded to the outer door. “It quit raining. Let’s go outside.”
The three of them picked up their drinks and headed
poolside bantering about the flash rainstorms of Noronha. David
sounded traumatized as he revealed that in the day and a half
since he and Yara’s friends and family had arrived, they’d had
six such bursts of rain with almost no warning. Steph glanced up from her drink as she crossed the threshold to the patio, and the view nearly made her trip over her own feet. David grabbed her
arm to steady her, and she blinked in disbelief at the pool which seemed to vanish into the beautiful horizon. The guys headed
away from the pool to a shaded table, and she stumbled along
after them.
As she took a seat, Scot spoke again. “I know I speak for
everyone else in Fury when I say we’re sorry about the video,
too. The rest of us tried to tell the label not to release it, or to just release the footage of us playing and cut the scenes with the
model. But they’re a bunch of whores. All they could see were
the vaults full of money they would make.”
“Thanks for trying. That was a jagged-ass pill to swallow.”
Steph murmured.
Scot leaned forward and fixed her with his serious dark
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