Rage

by Michelle Pace

  comfortable.

  “Where’s Sarah?” she snapped. Nathan bit his olive off its

  skewer, and Saffron sipped her mojito. “Alright. What did I

  miss?”

  “She ditched him days ago. No one knows why.” Nathan in-

  formed her.

  “We’d better go save him from himself.” Saffron insisted,

  setting down her glass and taking Nathan by the hand. With a

  half-assed wave, they vanished into the crowd without another

  word.

  Making a mental note to call Sarah, Steph left the bar and

  found a quiet corner seat at the far end of the building by the

  couches. She didn’t want to look conspicuously lonely and was

  contended to drink in solitude. A loud squeal of pleasure startled her, and she nearly spilled her beer.

  “Stephanie! Oh my God! I’m so happy you came!” Yara’s

  high-pitched voice and terrible pronunciation of the English lan-80

  RAGE

  guage typically made Stephanie laugh, but tonight was just an-

  noying. The exotic bombshell’s hazel eyes flew wide. “Oh no!

  Did Phillip make you upset? Why are you hiding in the corner?”

  “Everything’s fine, Yara.” Steph shot David a “save me”

  look. David looked glassy eyed from a day of drinking and

  shrugged at her.

  “Was the dinner good? Did you eat yet? David, she needs to

  eat. Go find someone to bring her a plate.” Yara railed at David, who suppressed a yawn.

  “It’s okay. I ate. Calm down. Come sit down and tell me

  about the ceremony.” Steph managed levelly, pulling out her

  IPad and waving the waiter over for another beer. With a wide-

  eyed “you asked for it” look, David wandered away.

  “I’m so sorry about blowing up at you earlier. I don’t mean

  to pressure you.” Scot held her close as they danced to the soft guitar music.

  “It’s all right. I hate fighting with you.” Cheyenne nestled

  closer to him. She did love making up, though. She rarely fought with Scot. He had a natural talent for diffusing tension, so they rarely got into a shouting match.

  “I just want to make you happy, Cheyenne. I feel like we’ve

  been growing apart with the deadlines and whatnot. I hate it

  when we’re not connecting.”

  She nodded and cautiously met his eyes. “Me too. But an-

  other baby isn’t the answer. More ‘us time’ is. We need more

  family time, too. “

  “Not likely with the Asian tour. But I feel better knowing

  you’ll both be there.”

  “I know.” She sighed, hoping the rest of the band would try

  to remember there was a baby on board.

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  “Liam’s going to love seeing the dolphins tomorrow.” Scot

  laughed.

  Cheyenne looked up at him and shook her head. “No. Tod-

  dler on a boat with a bunch of drunken adults? Bad idea. You

  know how cranky he gets when he’s confined to small spaces.

  Not to mention that would be way too much sun for him.”

  “You worry way too much, my love.” He kissed her fore-

  head.

  Cheyenne closed her eyes. “It scares the shit out of me,

  Scot. I won’t be able to relax.”

  “Fine. We’ll leave him behind. I just think we need some

  real family time.”

  “You’re not getting any arguments from me.”

  “I’ll talk to the front desk. Find out what family friendly

  things they have to offer on this rock.” Scot graced her with his sweet grin, and Cheyenne pulled him down to kiss his gorgeous

  mouth. He was always so thoughtful, and he still made her melt

  on a daily basis.

  Stephanie had spent the last hour listening to Yara drone on

  about rose petals, bamboo archways, and sand mounds in the

  shape of a giant heart. She nodded seriously, and Yara spoke as

  if this were the most important event Steph had ever photo-

  graphed. She prepared a “must shoot” list for the ceremony on

  her IPad feeling bourgeois for the first time in her career.

  “No! Oh my God! That is not the right champagne! David!”

  She shrieked midsentence and bolted away from Stephanie after

  some poor, unsuspecting servers. Steph tossed her IPad into her

  purse and quickly changed location. She had just reemerged on

  the patio, when Bret Williams, the lead guitarist of Fury, stepped into her path.

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  “Would you care to samba, Mi’lady?” He bowed dramati-

  cally to her. He was clearly buzzing. Steph cackled.

  “I don’t know how,” she admitted. Bret grinned.

  “Neither do I, but I’m not gonna let that stop me.” He

  tossed her bag onto the table and pulled her onto the dance floor.

  He yanked a rose from a nearby centerpiece, placing it between

  his teeth. Halfway through their butchering of a bastardized tan-go, Yara stomped up and violently pulled the rose from his

  mouth.

  “This is for decoration only!” She shook her finger at him

  and stuffed the rose back into the centerpiece. It sprawled cockeyed from the vase.

  “So why isn’t Sarah here with you?” Steph asked once he’d

  led her away from the crowd to the far edge of the dance floor.

  Bret’s chipper expression vanished, and he slowed involuntarily.

  He seemed to forcibly gather himself and continued leading her

  in their bastardized dance with a casual shrug.

  “I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know my-

  self. I came home from the studio the other day, and she was

  gone. She just took the kids and left.” Bret’s lovely Welsh accent normally cheered her up, but his voice cracked in a heartbreaking way as he spoke.

  “I’m so sorry, Bret. You two always seemed so happy. I

  hope you work it out.” Steph felt surprisingly choked up. She

  knew it was lame—showering him with platitudes—but she had

  no idea what else to say.

  “How do you know when it’s time to walk away from

  someone? At a certain point, it’s just pathetic. I put everything into our marriage, and then she just…leaves. No explanation, no

  fight—like she doesn’t even think we were worth fighting for.”

  Stephanie tried to keep a poker face, but his train of thought

  sounded a little too familiar. Though she and Phillip were more

  than willing to publicly spar, neither of them had been willing to push up their sleeves and fight long enough to come to any real

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  resolution.

  “Tee tee!” Liam shouted, and as Bret stepped back from

  Steph, the impact of Liam slamming into her legs nearly

  knocked her into the pool. Bret snatched Liam back by the arm

  as she started to stumble, and Phillip appeared, yanking her back from the edge by the front of her skirt. His other arm came

  around her to steady her, and pulled her against him. Her face

  was smashed against his chest, and she could hear his heart

  hammering and smell the familiar scent of his cologne. The feel

  of his body against hers was all too familiar, and she looked up into his silvery eyes. He seemed to search every millimeter of

  her face, and the color flared in his cheeks.

  “Pip!” Liam complained, and Phillip reluctantly released

&
nbsp; Stephanie from his grasp.

  “Pip?” Bret laughed, and Phillip flushed an even deeper

  shade of red.

  “That’s me. Uncle Pip.” He explained. Steph tried to sup-

  press a giggle at his Mary Poppins-like nickname, but it was useless. Phillip’s lips curved in a tiny smile.

  “Tee Tee!” Liam complained, wrapping himself around one

  of her legs. Steph struggled to keep his head from ending up un-

  der her skirt.

  “He certainly takes after his father,” Bret muttered, and

  Phillip huffed out a surprised laugh. Cheyenne raced up with

  panicked eyes.

  “Where the hell is my nanny?” She growled, picking up

  Liam, who reached out for Stephanie with all the theatrics of a

  prisoner being dragged to the gallows.

  “She’s in the ladies room. She asked me to watch him for a

  minute. But he saw ‘Tee tee’, and suddenly I was no longer his

  preferred playmate.” Phillip explained, cocking his head toward

  Stephanie.

  Scot wandered up with a drink in his hand. “What’s going

  on?”

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  Cheyenne blew her bangs out of her eyes with a loud ex-

  hale. It had been a very long time since Steph had seen her look so stressed. “Come on, Liam. Let’s put you down for the night.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Scot offered. Without looking back at

  him, Cheyenne shook her head.

  “I got it, Scot.”

  Steph saw the hurt expression etched on Scot’s face. He

  turned away. As she trailed after Cheyenne, she heard Phillip

  behind her.

  “Come on blokes, I’ll get the next round.”

  Steph regretted her choice of shoes as she clomped after

  Cheyenne down the curvy steep path toward the bungalow. The

  moon was almost full, and the tropical vegetation surrounding

  the path had a haunting quality. As they walked through the door of the bungalow, Steph exclaimed,

  “Holy crap!” This place is beautiful!”

  “Shhhh.” Cheyenne responded, and Steph realized that dur-

  ing the short walk, Liam had crashed in his mother’s arms.

  “What is going on with you and Scot?” Steph demanded.

  Cheyenne pointed to the balcony and pulled two drinks out

  of the fridge, handing one to Steph. Once they were away from

  the sleeping boy, Steph sat down expectantly.

  Cheyenne ran her hands though her dark hair. “What you

  asked about us having another kid kind of set things off.”

  Steph slapped her own forehead. “Shit, Cheyenne. I’m such

  an asshole!”

  “No, it wasn’t just that. We’ve been arguing for weeks. Ev-

  er since we…” Cheyenne trained off.

  “Since what?” Steph titled her head curiously.

  Cheyenne paused. “Since we hired a nanny.”

  “Kara seems great. A bit cheerful for my taste, but what do

  I know?” Steph leaned forward, trying to read Cheyenne’s fine

  features in the moonlight.

  “Scot’s been on this kick now that he wants to have a gag-

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  gle of kids. You know how much I struggled with the idea of one

  baby. We’re so busy with work that we have no choice but to

  have a nanny. I don’t want to just pop out kids so another person can raise them. It’s hard enough to find the family time to focus on one child.”

  Steph sat frozen in the dark, rolling Cheyenne’s words

  around in her head. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would

  have had the same issues with Phillip had her pregnancy been

  normal. A disturbing idea hit her. Would he have even wanted

  kids? Maybe he wouldn’t have.

  “And now we have this other person living in our home.”

  Cheyenne continued, “So we actually only have one day a week

  together without her there. We’re usually so tired that we can’t even enjoy it. Last Sunday, I took one of Liam’s toys away, and

  he looked me in the face and said, ‘I want Kara’.”

  Steph shook her head sympathetically and set down her

  drink. She was starting to feel a bit too tipsy and wished that she hadn’t started this conversation. Unsure of what to say that

  wouldn’t sound bitter, she vamped for time. “So what are you

  going to do?”

  Cheyenne shrugged with a smile. “I plan to get out of this

  dress, finish this drink, and gorge myself on chocolate.”

  Steph exhaled. “I guess I kind of dodged a bullet.”

  Cheyenne face fell, and she went pale. She raised her glass

  to Steph. “Who’s the asshole now?”

  Steph tapped Cheyenne’s bottle with her own on autopilot.

  She wished she could find a way to make Cheyenne see how

  lucky she was.

  86

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Phillip drove his dune buggy down the third world road like

  he was a stunt man in some Mad Max-style post-apocalyptic

  movie. He’d stumbled up to eat breakfast at the restaurant and

  realized he was terribly late. After running back to his room after breakfast for a quick shower, he missed the shuttle ride to the

  boat for today’s excursion. He was glad he’d had the forethought to rent the buggy. He was sure that Yara would be pissed that

  he’d overslept, but at least he was hangover-free, which was

  more than he could say for David, Scot, and Bret.

  Nathan looked relatively normal at breakfast, but he’d been

  a lot more focused on sex than alcohol as of late, so he had bags under his eyes, but a smile on his face. Phillip remembered those days fondly. He tried to derail that particular train of thought, but after having Steph in his arms the night before, that was an impossible mission. Her hair had smelled like peppermint, and

  when she turned those eyes up at him, he’d nearly kissed her.

  Old habits die hard.

  He pulled up to the dock, and a quick headcount revealed

  the only people conspicuously missing were the nanny and Liam.

  He saw Cedric boarding the boat behind Saffron, and thought

  about turning around and driving away. He’d managed to avoid

  the priest the previous evening and was contented with keeping

  the rest of the trip confrontation free.

  He found a spot toward the back of the yacht far away from

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  Cedric and his fan club. He’d manage to suppress a laugh when

  Bret complained the night before that even a priest got more ac-

  tion that he did. As Phillip climbed aboard, all three bridesmaids chattered with Cedric in Portuguese, which the priest in turn

  translated for Bret. Yara and her parents were deep in discussion about the latest wedding drama. He purposefully went to the far

  back of the boat, where Scot and Cheyenne were cuddled up to-

  gether, making him soon feel like a third wheel. In the center of the boat, Nathan and David puffed on cigars in the wheelhouse,

  while right outside, in full view of Phillip, Saffron made quite a production of rubbing sunscreen all over Stephanie, which

  turned out to be an incredibly riveting sight. Steph had on a pink two-piece, and her body looked unreal. Whatever her workout

  was, he wanted to sign up for the thirty day free trial. Saffron caught him watching them and gave him a conspiratorial nod.

  They set out toward the smaller islands for a sail-by. The

  untouched beauty m
ade for stunning views, yet he found himself

  distracted by Stephanie, who perpetually bounced from one side

  of the boat to the other taking pictures. As they rounded the islands and headed back in the opposite direction, D.J. Dave fired up his playlist. The boat took on a party atmosphere. Not long

  after, Nathan and Steph cheered foolishly when a saccharine

  sweet Ke$ha song came on. The pair jumped to their feet and

  danced enthusiastically around the deck. As Steph danced by

  him, he caught a glimpse of the scar to the lower right of her naval. It was surprisingly large and jagged; the scar of an emergen-cy, not a planned precise incision. She seemed completely un-

  concerned about covering it. Saffron joined the dancing, and she seemed intent on grinding on Steph for Nathan’s viewing pleasure. Nathan soon became the meat in their dance party sandwich,

  and Steph carelessly twirled away and bumped David’s hip with

  her own on her way to sit with Cedric. David shook his head,

  smiling at Steph and then approached Phillip, sympathetically

  handing him a beer.

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  An hour later, their yacht arrived at Dolphin Bay. The entire

  ship was surrounded by the creatures, and Steph’s camera made

  continuous noise as their acrobatics entertained everyone on

  board. Steph leaned over Phillip’s lap for several minutes during that portion of the trip, and perched beside him to capture her

  shots as the dolphins swarmed his side of the boat. Her delighted laughter twisted him in painful knots, and he nearly crawled out of his skin at her nearness.

  A short while later, they dropped anchor at Pria do Sancho,

  arguably the most beautiful beach in Brazil, according to all of the literature. Phillip couldn’t speak to that, but it was awe-inspiring. He pulled off his shirt and shorts and dove into the

  water. Most of the group was going snorkeling, but several peo-

  ple made directly for the beach and the tiny bar. Phillip saw

  Steph wading through the clear water holding her miniature

  backpack protectively over her head. He tried to close his eyes

  and enjoy the sun, but found himself peeking at her from behind

  his sunglasses. Once she was on the sand, she dried off her feet and pulled sneakers and her camera from her backpack. She

  slung both over her shoulder and made for the stairs that lead to a crevice which the guide had informed them contained a treacherous ladder leading straight up the cliff face. A crooked smile tugged at his lips. Of course she’d climb the cliff. The pictures would be better from above.