Fury

by Tammy Coons

  “Won’t budge, huh?”

  “I don’t understand. It’s just an assignment. Whoopty Doo.” Steph fidgeted with her necklace. She cast a sideways glance at Cheyenne. “I think he’s giving it to you, by the way.”

  “Really?” Cheyenne beamed and sat down her drink a little too quickly, sloshing wine on herself. She barely noticed. “He told you that?”

  “No…but he asked if you have a passport. He’s stringing everyone else along; making the staff squirm. It’s gotta be something special if he won’t tell me.

  In the soft light of their apartment, Cheyenne noticed Steph looked paler than usual and realized she had bags under her sapphire eyes.

  “Ok.” Cheyenne pushed her excitement aside and absently blotted her shirt with a napkin. “Want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

  “Not particularly.” Steph took a cigarette from Cheyenne, placed it between her full lips, and lit it. She coughed and made a face, but didn’t put it out. Cheyenne blinked in astonishment.

  “Since when do you smoke?”

  “Since Kevin called me this morning.” Steph walked over to the bar and grabbed a beer.

  “What the hell did he want?” Cheyenne bit down on several choice swear words; her dark eyes were flashing.

  “He wanted to let me know how things were going, you know, typical Kevin. The film should wrap this month.” Steph shrugged and took a long pull off of her beer.

  “And?” Just thinking about Steph’s ex made her livid.

  “And he said we need to talk.” Steph took another drink.

  “What’s there to discuss? He needed his space and you gave it to him, end of story.” Cheyenne crossed to the bar to get a better read on Steph’s face.

  “He claims he’s had ‘a lot of time to think’. You know how he is, blathering on…as if he has his own film crew following him around.” Steph stared studiously at the label of her beer.

  “I guess four months constitutes ‘a lot of time’.” Cheyenne’s tone was biting. “You’re not going to fall for his bullshit, are you?”

  Steph looked up at her and it pleased Cheyenne to see anger simmering in her blue eyes. “You mean let him back into my life? Not a chance in hell! Especially since he’s been sleeping with anyone he can get his hands on. It’s on the cover of every tabloid.”

  “Good!” Cheyenne snapped. Kevin Wiley was a manipulative creep and Cheyenne despised him.

  “But I am curious to hear what he has to say.” She wouldn’t meet Cheyenne’s eyes.

  “No,Steph! Don’t you see how this works by now?” Cheyenne walked behind the bar to face her friend head on. As she looked down at her, Steph’s body language reminded her of a kid being reprimanded. “How many times have we been over this? He’ll tell you things were perfect before and you’ll get temporary amnesia and believe him.”

  “Ok, Mom.” Steph’s teen-like angst would have made her laugh in most circumstances, but Kevin was no laughing matter. “You have no faith in my intelligence.”

  “Not when it comes to Kevin,” Cheyenne agreed. “The man deserves an Olympic medal he’s played so many head games with you. I bet you still carry pictures of him.”

  Cheyenne walked to the table and yanked Steph’s wallet from her purse. Opening it, she found three pictures of Kevin. She held them up as if they were exhibits in a court case.

  “I haven’t had a chance to clean it out.” Steph’s shoulders slumped and she looked defeated.

  “Wow.” Cheyenne shook her head in disbelief. Steph’s cell phone rang and Cheyenne dashed toward it.

  “If it’s him I’m hanging up,” Cheyenne stated. She picked up the phone swiftly and answered. “Stephanie Brier’s phone.”

  “Cheyenne?” It’s Adam. How are you this fine evening?” The melodious tone of his Irish accent always made Cheyenne smile.

  “I’m fine. One moment…” Intrigued, Cheyenne and Steph looked at each other.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?” Steph stood up tall and she looked suddenly all business as she placed him on speaker phone.

  “Hello, Bonnie.” Adam’s brogue caress and his nickname made Steph crack a smile. “I want you both at the staff meeting 9:00 Monday morning.”

  “Why do you want me at a writers meeting?” Steph raised an eyebrow at Cheyenne.

  “I’ll see you both then.” The phone line went dead.

  “Peculiar...” Steph’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  “It sure is…but were not done talking about Pretty Boy,” Cheyenne added, remembering the dire situation at hand.

  “I’m going to listen to what he has to say—that’s the bottom line,” Steph replied, hands on her hips. “I’m an adult and I can handle it.”

  “If you’re sure you know what you are doing.” Cheyenne sighed. “Just try not to get hair product all over yourself.”

  “I’ve got this.” Steph casually put out the cigarette she had taken from Cheyenne after barely taking a puff. Cheyenne gave a supportive nod and silently hoped she was right.

  “Wanna celebrate? Looks like you’ve wrapped up your assignment too.” Steph nodded at Cheyenne’s closed laptop. Steph popped open two beers and Cheyenne took one, forcing a grin.

  “Sure.” She knew there was no way she’d be able to talk Steph out of seeing Kevin; she was far more stubborn than Cheyenne.

  As she returned to the penthouse from the gym Monday morning, Cheyenne’s stomach was in knots. Frayed nerves left her nauseated and she thought it best to skip breakfast. Closing the door, she locked it behind her. Steph sprawled on the couch, still in her cherry covered pajamas, with a plate of food on her lap and a phone to one ear. Her shoulder length red hair was wild from a night of sleep, and she had her feet slung casually on the two thousand dollar coffee table. Cheyenne shook her head, astonished at Steph’s lack of urgency. After living with her for the last four months, she still couldn’t get over how casually she approached the world.

  Continuing around the corner into their gourmet kitchen, Cheyenne chugged a glass of water and poured a cup of coffee. She glanced at the plate of food Steph had left for her and abandoned it, returning to the living room. Joining Steph on the couch with her coffee,,it only took a moment of listening to her side of the conversation before it was obvious she was talking to Gerald.

  “OK, Ger Bear, I will see you in about an hour.” She hung up.

  “Our self-proclaimed ‘Gay Gossip Monger’ says that there have been closed door meetings at the office all weekend. Gotta’ tell ya, Chey…this whole thing is really odd.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All this cloak and dagger crap is way over the top. Mark my words: something unusual is afoot.” Steph dug into her food.

  Cheyenne pondered Steph’s comment. Nothing seemed to faze Stephanie, professionally or otherwise, which made the upcoming meeting all the more exciting. In fact, she’d only remembered seeing Steph appear shaken once.

  Four months earlier, Cheyenne had received a frantic late night phone call from Stephanie. For the most part, Steph’s sobs had been unintelligible, but Cheyenne could make out one word, Kevin. She’d caught a cab and hurried over.

  “He says he needs space,” Stephanie had blurted as she flung open the door. “But what he’s basically saying is he wants to screw around while on location in Mexico.”

  Cheyenne had rolled her eyes and sat her purse down.

  “You don’t know that, Steph.” Though she was certain Steph was right. Her boyfriend, Kevin, was a ridiculously popular movie actor. Steph had met him when she’d been only 21 on a soundstage in Hollywood, and he’d swept her off her feet. Kevin’s talent wasn’t acting; it was making a great first impression. Having starred in several major films since he’d started dating Steph, he was starting to believe his own press. Cheyenne had long suspected that dating Steph was a career move on Kevin’s part. Her industry contacts and reputation were light years beyond his.

  Steph was quite a catch and, in Cheyenne’s opinion,
she could do much better. Her striking looks turned heads everywhere they went. With dark blue eyes and a heart shaped face, she had a deceptively innocent and baby doll-like quality. She had wavy dark red hair that hit her shoulders and a curvy figure. She and Cheyenne were such a contrast. Cheyenne had a dark complexion, very long brown hair, and matching brown eyes. Tall and svelte, Steph had not been the only person to mistake Cheyenne for a model.

  “This isn’t the first time. Don’t defend him Cheyenne. I know how much you hate him.”

  “That much is true.” Cheyenne had lit a cigarette and settled into her seat.

  “To be honest with you, I’m not even sad about it. I’m just so angry with myself! I kicked him out this time.”

  “Good for you. He’s a user and an asshole!”

  They’d talked into the wee hours, and it was that night that Cheyenne had opened up to Steph about her past. She’d wanted her to understand that she wasn’t the only one who’d been raked over the coals by a manipulative man. She spilled her guts about the abuse, her sordid work history, and her family issues. By the time Cheyenne had finished her story they were both crying. Having both lost their mothers and their trust issues, the two young women managed to forge an exceptional bond. Though incredibly different in temperaments and backgrounds, their very fundamental commonalities superseded their differences. That night had been the true beginning of a solid friendship.

  A week later Cheyenne moved in. At first, she worried that people would assume she was using Steph as Kevin had. Steph had dismissed her concerns outright, reminding Cheyenne that “those whores” at The Sound Wave were going to talk shit about her regardless of what she did. Steph had shared an incredible, pimped out apartment with Kevin, who’d rarely been in Chicago. Since he was officially out of the picture, Steph claimed she didn’t want the space to go to waste. Cheyenne’s roommate was getting engaged, so the offer was timely. Their apartment was huge with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. It overlooked Lake Michigan with a rooftop pool, an on-site gym and underground secure parking. Cheyenne felt like royalty living there.

  After readying themselves for the big meeting, they sped off in Steph’s black Chrysler 300. Steph donned dark mirrored sunglasses and blasted hip hop music, bobbing her head along to the beat. Though Steph truly was bad assed, with her cherubic features, she looked more like a pixie playing dress up as a ‘gangsta’. She seemed unconcerned as other drivers blasted their horns at her. Trying not to bite her newly manicured nails, Cheyenne secretly hoped they would make it to the office in one piece. Steph’s aggressive and competitive nature really rose to the surface when she drove. Cheyenne knew she could always count on their morning commute to involve much honking and many obscene gestures.

  Against all reason, they made it to The Sound Wave alive and early. Cheyenne and Steph took their seats quietly in the main conference room, lovingly referred to as “The War Room”. It was a fitting moniker. The War Room was typically a battleground, as journalists pitched story ideas at a fevered pace. It was up to Shirley, the senior editor, and Adam to decide which story lived or died, and who would be assigned to what.

  As the writers began to file in, Cheyenne noticed the atmosphere in the room was more sedate than usual. The rest of the writing staff regarded Stephanie with an amusing mix of shock, awe, disdain, and confusion. They were clearly as perplexed at her presence at the meeting as she’d been about being invited. Steph slouched in her chair, checked twitter on her phone, and ignored everyone as if they were pieces of furniture. Cheyenne mused at her friend, finding her attitude toward most people borderline sociopathic. Her boredom blatant, Steph looked at Cheyenne and sighed.

  “Dad is always on time. It’s 5 after 9.”

  “The wait is killing me,” Cheyenne whispered, managing to keep her expression calm. She bounced her knee under the table rapidly, feeling so hyper and agitated that she swore she could have run a marathon.

  As if on cue, Adam walked in the room. Following closely behind him was a dark, debonair looking man whom she’d never seen before. With graying temples and startling eyes, he seemed to have a palpable effect on the staff. He appeared to be in his forties and carried himself with a confident air. Cheyenne and Steph exchanged knowing glances, trading thoughts like only best friends can. This man had to be the person Adam had been meeting with all weekend.

  “First order of business today is the upcoming anniversary edition. The feature story is going to be Fury’s first US tour,” Adam announced.

  “We’ve all pitched a Fury article at one time or another. They won’t talk to us,” one of the male writers, Bill, replied dismissively. Cheyenne remembered how he’d tried to feel her up at the Christmas party and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t date coworkers, and since she was almost always working, she didn’t date much at all.

  “Allow me to introduce Ian Corneilius,” Adam continued as if Bill were invisible; his tone of voice was more formal than Cheyenne had ever remembered it being.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Ian’s flowing British accent dazzled the room. He seemed to ooze grace and charm, but Cheyenne immediately got a bad vibe from him. He turned his attention back to Adam.

  “Mr. Corneilius is Fury’s manager,” Adam stated. Cheyenne noticed everyone in the room snapped to attention. On instinct, she sat forward in her seat.

  “I assume you are all familiar with Fury,” Adam continued matter-of-factly. Evidently he was not blind to the mood shift of his staff.

  “Y…Yes of course,” Cheyenne stammered, then quickly recovered. “You would have to be a hermit not to be.” She’d reviewed their second album two issues before and loved it. Fury was a wildly popular band in Europe and Asia and quickly proving themselves on the American charts.

  “It was my understanding they don’t grant interviews…to anyone,” Cheyenne continued, and for once the other writers in the room nodded in agreement.

  “That’s all about to change,” Ian started, and as his eyes focused on hers, Cheyenne’s gut told her there was something cold and calculating behind his smooth exterior.

  “The mysterious persona they’ve created has generated a lot of buzz. Fans love an enigma. They’ve become incredibly popular,” Adam acknowledged.

  “Fury has decided to break their ban on interviews in lieu of the impending American tour,” Ian chimed in.

  Suddenly Adam’s behavior over the last few weeks made sense. Cheyenne understood his need to fly under the radar; everyone in the business would want this story. Fury was the “it” group. They were five scorching hot guys, and their music was intelligent, sensual, and wildly popular. Fury music was a fusion of rock, pop, and funk and they were definitely a standout. The room hummed with excitement.

  “Moving along...” Steph sighed impatiently, not looking up from her cell phone. “Why are we all here?”

  “Fury has requested The Sound Wave to tell their story,” Ian replied, raising an eyebrow at Steph.

  “Why not Rolling Stone or Billboard?” asked a pretty blonde writer. Her cloyingly sweet southern accent made Cheyenne grit her teeth. According to Gerald’s sources, she was the one who had started the rumor that Adam wanted to sleep with Cheyenne.

  “It seems one of the band members is an avid photographer and a fan of one of our photographers,” Adam said pointedly, at his daughter. The tension in the room increased. Cheyenne kicked Stephanie under the table, and she stopped texting and looked up at everyone, oblivious.

  “That would be you, Stephanie,” her father said with a sigh. Cheyenne had seen this look on Adam’s face from time to time and presumed he wanted to wring Steph’s neck.

  “Cheyenne, I‘m sending you on this assignment.” Adam carefully made eye contact with each of the writers around the conference table. “It’s come to my attention that she does twice as much work as the rest of you, so I am going to need you all to pick up the slack. Shirley is reassigning some pieces accordingly.”

  Shirley, his sen
ior editor, winked at Cheyenne. Her expression was that of pure amusement.

  “I’ll take over the meeting now to reassign Cheyenne’s current assignments,” Shirley announced.

  “Cheyenne, Stephanie. With us, please.” Adam waved his hand toward the hall. Steph and Cheyenne followed Adam and Ian; Cheyenne spared a glance at the glass wall of the conference room, and smiled at the rest of the writing staff, who were staring daggers at her. If looks could kill, Cheyenne suspected she’d have been in pieces somewhere in the Chicago River. Adam led them to his office.

  As reality set in, Cheyenne suddenly felt numb. This would be her first cover story, and it took all her effort to contain her composure. She willed her legs to stop shaking as she tried desperately to appear confident. The moment the door closed, Ian’s demeanor changed.

  “It’s no secret that I am not crazy about this entire idea, and I definitely have some concerns,” Ian started, looking directly at Steph.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Corneilius, these girls may be young, but they’re seasoned,” Adam murmured. Cheyenne knew Steph’s lack of perceived interest had agitated Ian. Cheyenne assumed Ian was trying to clear the air before they were on the road.

  “You will be traveling with Fury in their inner circle. With small exceptions, you have full access to the boys for the last month of our European tour.” Ian took a seat near the window. Adam shot Steph another look as she put her phone away. Cheyenne thought this look seemed to say ‘if you don’t speak up I’m going to slap you’.

  Steph shifted in her seat.

  “You have nothing to worry about on our end, Mr. Corneilius,” she chimed in unenthusiastically.

  That’s my girl. Better late than never, Cheyenne thought.

  “It’s a relief to hear you say that. To be frank, it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s them,” Ian added quickly, detecting the ice in her reply. It was, after all, Steph that had brought the band to The Sound Wave. Cheyenne could see he was egotistical, but no fool.

  “Being a manager is a bit like raising children. Very spoiled children,” Ian added.