Rage

by Michelle Pace

ing photos from every imaginable angle. An ancient canon loom-

  ing over the breathtaking beach below made for an amazing shot.

  She spotted David and Yara embracing by an aged brick fortifi-

  cation, and she captured them against the azure mirror of the sea and sky. They appeared oblivious to her presence, and she

  couldn’t wait to frame it for them as a wedding gift. She also

  snapped a candid picture of Cheyenne swinging on a tree swing

  with Liam clapping enthusiastically on her lap. It was the sweetest moment, and Steph couldn’t wait to develop it.

  She took her time as she wandered in and out of various

  portions of the fort. She thought about all the history that must have happened in that spot and shuddered at the enormity of it.

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  She was about to leave through an ancient archway when she

  saw Phillip leaning against it looking her direction. As she’d

  done so many times in the past couple of years, she lifted her

  camera and zoomed in on him. He was staring directly at her,

  and she snapped a photo of him automatically. He moved pur-

  posely toward her, and she stayed frozen by a dilapidated door-

  way, waiting for whatever wrathful words he had for her.

  He came to a rapid halt about two feet in front of her. She

  stared at the grass between their shoes, and after a full minute of silence, she dared to meet his eyes. Those grey-blue eyes had

  always had a certain transparency for her. She could never tell

  exactly what he was thinking, but she could read his emotional

  state fairly well most of the time. The sorrow she now saw be-

  hind them overwhelmed her with remorse. Yet she still stood

  behind her original decision. He’d been far better off not know-

  ing. But it was too late to think about all that now.

  “I’m finding it hard to form a cohesive sentence,” he finally

  sighed, rubbing his stubble nervously.

  Stephanie nodded and released her camera so that it hung

  forgotten around her neck. “That makes two of us.”

  He heaved a gut-wrenching sigh and put his hands in his

  pockets. “I have no idea where to begin.”

  She nodded. “I’ll start. Plain and simple: I should have told

  you. But honestly, now I’m really sorry you had to find out at

  all.”

  He nodded, never taking his eyes off of the crashing surf of

  the shore below. She saw grief weighing on his handsome fea-

  tures and vividly remembered when it had all been so fresh for

  her that it stung every morning when she woke. She’d robbed

  him of the opportunity to properly mourn for far too long. Regret crippled her, and she took slow, steady breathes to calm herself so that when she spoke again, she sounded level and calm.

  “It was a girl, Phillip.” She offered. His eyes shot to hers,

  and he took a jarring step back as if she’d hit him. Tears sprang 144

  RAGE

  to his eyes, and he held up a defensive hand. Steph’s eyes darted to his, trying to understand his body language. She was shocked

  at the extent of his reaction.

  “I….I really thought I was ready to do this. I…I’m sorry; I

  just can’t.” He backed slowly away from her as if she had a gun

  trained on him. She opened her mouth to ask him not to go, but

  his eyes begged her not to speak, to spare him further wounds.

  She said nothing and watched him walk away once again.

  She made sure to lag behind as everyone piled into SUV’s

  for their next stop, the village center. Finally, she climbed into the last remaining Land Rover with Saffron, Nathan, and Cheyenne, who looked psychotically pissed. When they disembarked

  in town, Steph watched Scot approach their vehicle. Though she

  couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another, Cheyenne

  looked like she was about to go fifty shades of ghetto on Scot.

  Kara stood a few yards away from them, cradling Liam. The

  nanny looked incredibly afraid.

  “Fine!” Cheyenne shouted, and she stalked off in the oppo-

  site direction of the rest of their party. Steph trailed after her, running to catch up.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Steph panted as she fell in

  next to Cheyenne.

  “To spend obscene amounts of Scot’s money.” Her icy tone

  took Steph by surprise.

  “Right on. Mind if I tag along?” she sputtered.

  “Sure. Why the hell not?” Cheyenne snapped. Steph led

  Cheyenne to the boutique she’d gone to earlier, and the moment

  they entered, Cheyenne spoke. “What’s the most expensive thing

  in this store?”

  The same saleswoman that had helped Steph in broken Por-

  tuguese two nights before suddenly spoke English like a duchess.

  Steph glared at her, but the saleswoman was too busy fawning

  over Cheyenne and her platinum card to notice.

  Steph sat outside of the dressing room flipping through old

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  issues of Vogue, when she heard a strangled, choking sound and

  realized it was Cheyenne sobbing.

  “Chey, is everything ok?” It was a ridiculous question, and

  Steph actually slapped herself in the forehead for asking it.

  “No!” Cheyenne blubbered and after beating on the door for

  a couple more minutes, Steph unceremoniously crawled under

  the dressing room door. Cheyenne hadn’t even managed to un-

  dress. She had her face buried in the corner, sniffling. Steph

  walked over and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her

  around.

  “What in the hell is going on with you and Scot?” Steph

  demanded. Cheyenne dissolved into racking sobs.

  “I think he’s sleeping with Kara.” Cheyenne yanked the

  shirt off over her head and dropped her skirt to the floor. She

  tossed a dress worth a few grand onto the floor to get at another one. She yanked it over her head as if it were a Fury t-shirt and not a designer gown.

  Steph’s eyes bugged out, and her jaw hit the floor. “I’m sor-

  ry. What?”

  Cheyenne proceeded to wipe her nose on the gown she was

  wearing, and then yank it back off. “I keep catching them off

  alone whispering. And he’s always touching her.”

  Steph couldn’t imagine it could be true. Scot was one of the

  good guys. He worshiped Cheyenne. This all had to be some sort

  of mistake. She was about to say as much, but the homicidal look on Cheyenne’s face made her think better of it. “Did you confront him?”

  “No. I demanded he fire her, and he refused. He defended

  her and said she was a ‘really good nanny’.”

  “That son of a…” Steph spat, and she flopped down on the

  bench in the dressing room.

  “You know, I hate all of this shit.” Cheyenne reached down

  and held up a gold, glittery clutch. “This is the only thing in this store I like. I’m buying this, and we’re getting a liquid lunch.”

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  “You need to buy the one you used as a tissue.”

  Thirty minutes later, Cheyenne had drained her second mo-

  jito, and Steph was lost in thought as she looked out over the

  square. Scot had always been enamored with Cheyenne, and

  Steph couldn’t believe it was all some sort of an act. The wait-

  ress produced ano
ther drink for Cheyenne, who chugged it.

  Steph pushed her food around on her plate, and Cheyenne didn’t

  even bother to pick up her fork.

  “We should just head back to Maravilha. You can hang out

  in my room until the luau.”

  Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t guarantee I won’t attack

  Kara.”

  “I’ll switch rooms with Pilar.” Steph was referring to the

  lone bridesmaid Saffron always referred to as “fat.” Cheyenne

  shrugged and threw a wad of cash onto the table.

  When they returned to the square to catch their ride, the on-

  ly members of their group present just happened to be Phillip

  and Scot. They were sitting on a bench near the fountain, seem-

  ingly deep in conversation. Scot was holding Liam, who was fast

  asleep.

  “Great.” Cheyenne huffed, as both men looked in their di-

  rection. Steph tried to stifle it, but she laughed out loud. Cheyenne glared her down, and she quit immediately.

  Steph found it impossible not to look in Phillip’s direction.

  He sat unmoving, watching her. When they made eye contact, he

  stood and took a step in their direction. Cheyenne stormed past

  Steph, nearly knocking her down on her way over to Scot. She

  took Liam from him without a word. The shocked look on Phil-

  lip’s face was nothing compared to the devastated look Scot

  wore. Steph wanted to shake Cheyenne, but after all the times

  Cheyenne had put up with her episodes, she deserved nothing

  short of Steph’s unwavering support.

  As she turned to follow Cheyenne toward the street, Phillip

  mouthed something to her. She frowned and squinted at him,

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  unable to read his lips. As she mouthed “what?” back at him, an

  ear piercing whistle near her ear caused her to jump. Cheyenne

  waved her free hand in the air, and a taxi appeared on the street beside them. Cheyenne hopped in, and Steph scrambled in after

  her. Through the taxi window, she saw Scot throw his hands up

  and exclaim something to Phillip, who simply nodded and

  stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cheyenne tossed some cash at

  the driver, and Steph was forced to try out her Portuguese as she told the driver which pousada was theirs. She glanced at Cheyenne, who seemed to cling to Liam for dear life. Steph reached

  over and stroked Liam’s hair. Cheyenne had tears oozing out

  from underneath her sunglasses. Steph hoped there was a rational explanation for all of this. Tonight at the luau, she intended to corner Scot and get some answers.

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Cheyenne hugged Yara’s mom and tried to blink away

  grateful tears. Yara’s jovial parents had been offering to keep an eye on Liam since they’d laid eyes on him their first day on the island. Cheyenne didn’t want Kara anywhere near her family and

  practically kissed Yara’s dad when he mentioned that they

  weren’t going to the luau. Liam splashed happily in the pool and virtually ignored Cheyenne as she waved goodbye.

  If Scot was going to toss her aside for some young girl, so

  be it. She planned to go out, get drunk, and dance the night

  away. She’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing her skimpiest

  halter dress and strappy sandals that she was sure would give her a broken ankle by the end of the night. Steph refused to change

  her clothes and muttered something like “you’re lucky I’m

  brushing my teeth and hair tonight.”

  Earlier that afternoon, Scot had been banging on the door of

  Steph’s old room for about thirty minutes. Luckily the brides-

  maids had been at the spa, and Liam was still asleep. Cheyenne

  was convinced that the hours on the plane with Bret had trained

  her son to sleep through a hurricane. Once Scot finally gave up

  and left, Cheyenne noticed Steph seemed edgy.

  “Cheyenne, don’t you think maybe—” Steph began, but

  Cheyenne cut her off.

  “I know what I saw.”

  Steph ran an exasperated hand through her hair.

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  “Maybe you should brush your hair again.” Cheyenne rec-

  ommended.

  Steph’s eyebrow twitched. “Maybe you should confront

  your husband.

  “Maybe you should have told Phillip he was a daddy.”

  Cheyenne stood up.

  Steph folded her arms. “Maybe you should bite my ass.”

  They both glared at each other for a moment, then burst out

  laughing simultaneously.

  “Yeah, we pretty much suck at life in general.” Steph ran a

  hairbrush through her wild mane and practically killed Cheyenne

  with a cloud of insect repellent.

  “That’s a scent that’ll get you laid.” Cheyenne joked.

  “That’s the last thing on my mind, Chey,” Steph murmured,

  and their light mood dissipated.

  They rode alone to the luau and saw the largest crowd

  they’d seen anywhere since they’d been on the island. One third

  of the beach was packed with people migrating around two large

  bonfires. Cheyenne immediately started toward the bar, and

  Steph scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The only person she

  recognized was one of the bridesmaids who wandered away

  from the crowd hand in hand with a man Steph had never seen

  before.

  Her satellite phone rang. Stephanie dug through her purse

  and held it up. By the light of the nearby tiki torch, she saw it was Christopher. She answered immediately.

  “Hello?” she said loudly, covering her ear in an attempt to

  block out the sound of the enthusiastic crowd.

  “Steph? Where the hell… like you’re…a concert,” she

  heard Christopher stutter his words sporadically.

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  “Chris? You’re cutting out!” she exclaimed and tried to

  move a few feet over for better reception. When she heard noth-

  ing more, she looked at the phone and saw the call had dropped.

  Frustrated, she tried to call him back, and her call failed to connect. She blew her bangs out of her face and stuffed the phone

  back into her purse.

  Steph hesitated, nervous to leave Cheyenne alone in such a

  large crowd. If they were separated, there was a good chance

  she’d have to spend the rest of the night looking for her. Chey-

  enne’s current state of mind was somewhat dangerous based on

  past experience. With a determined exhale, she made her way

  toward the water, continuing her search for Scot. She needed to

  confront him and find out what the hell was really going on,

  since she didn’t buy any of Cheyenne’s theories.

  She noticed a rowdy gathering near one of the bonfires and

  moved closer to investigate. As she grew near, she realized Phillip, Bret, and Nathan were allowing a growing group of fans to

  take pictures with them. She backed away as she heard a couple

  of the members of Bret’s ever-present security detail whisper, “I think we’re going to need more men.”

  Steph worked her away around the back of the crowd in an

  effort to go unnoticed. Phillip, who was a notorious camera hog, hung back as Nathan and Bret mugged for every cell phone and

  camera that pointed in their direction. Steph snapped a couple of shots, and her flash cau
sed a few heads to turn her way, including Phillip’s. Phillip started to push past several fans, who clung to him and pulled at his clothes. When Nathan called Steph’s

  name and waved to her, several of the females nearby murmured

  and pointed to her. Remembering her recent feel-good experi-

  ences with “the Furies,” she promptly left to find Cheyenne. It

  was a relief to have that part of her private life behind her.

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  Cheyenne looked up at the thatched roof of the tiki hut and

  then took a sip of her second drink. She turned and leaned her

  elbows on the bar, her eyes panning over the massive crowd. She

  was torn; part of her wanted to see Scot, and the other part

  dreaded it. Her eyes landed on Kara, who had two drinks in her

  hands and appeared to be walking purposely in the direction of

  the water. Cheyenne pushed off the bar and tried to follow her,

  bumping into several people along the way. She came out from

  under the tiki hut as she continued to fight her way through the crowd. Her heels immediately sank into the sand.

  She downed the remainder of her drink and tried to remove

  her shoes. As she did, she thought about Scot helping her take

  off her shoes the first night they were together. She’d been tipsy then, falling on top of him in the hotel hallway. This memory

  normally made her smile, but tonight it was like rock salt in a

  fresh wound.

  She half-emptied her plastic cup and continued down the

  bank toward the water. Just when she thought she’d lost her, she heard Kara’s familiar giggle. It froze her in place. Cheyenne

  slowly turned in the direction of the sound and watched Kara

  hand one of the drinks to Scot. He was smiling that centerfold

  smile of his, and Cheyenne felt like all of her nightmares had

  come true.

  Unable to see through her blinding anger, she hurled her

  cup at Kara, but missed and hit Scot in the shoulder. Beer

  sloshed all over both of them.

  “Bloody hell!” Scot exclaimed and glanced down at his

  shirt. He looked at her, his face a mask of confusion. Kara

  gasped in horror, and Cheyenne wanted to claw her eyes out, but

  she was too overwhelmed to move. Her hands were clasped in

  fists at her sides.

  “Sorry to interrupt your good time,” Cheyenne hissed