by Tammy Coons
“It is essential that the story be finished and in the Anniversary Issue. Fury’s American tour begins in October in New York,” Adam said.
“Are there any questions?” Ian looked from Cheyenne to Steph.
“When do we leave?” Steph stood.
“In three days. You should plan to be gone for 4 weeks.” Adam smiled. He seemed relieved that the meeting was concluding.
Cheyenne’s heart raced. She’d always wanted to travel to Europe, and to do so for a cover story was her dream come true.
“Have you informed Gerald?” Steph asked.
“There has been someone else assigned to assist you.” Adam’s blunt retort took Cheyenne off guard.
“I always have Gerald with me.” Steph’s brow knitted and Cheyenne braced herself for a scene.
“Not this time. You’ll get to meet her at the airport.”
Steph opened her mouth to complain, but Cheyenne shot her a withering look and so she said nothing. Relief washed over Cheyenne as she realized her friend would hold her tongue for the first time in recorded history.
“Who is she?” Steph’s voice was level.
“An intern,” Adam stated.
“You’re sending an intern…on this story...” Steph said each word slowly.
“Don’t fight me on this one, Stephanie, I have made my decision.” Adam’s skin flushed all the way up to his receding hairline.
“Which intern?” Cheyenne tried to remember the names of any of the photography interns..
“She’s from our L.A. office. She goes by the name of Goddess. If this assignment goes well, she’ll be offered a permanent position.” Cheyenne chuckled a little at the intern’s ridiculous name and Steph shot her a dirty look.
“Well, Ladies, if that’s all, I’ll see you in London in a few days.” Steph and Cheyenne both stood and shook Ian’s hand. “Mr. Brier has your plane tickets and itinerary for the remainder of the tour.”
Ian seemed to force a smile and exited the office. Five quiet seconds later, Steph stormed out of the office mumbling all the way.
“Thanks, Mr. Brier. I really appreciate the opportunity,” Cheyenne gushed. Her face already ached from smiling.
“You’re welcome, I’m sure the story will be amazing,” Adam’s attention had already shifted to a pile of paperwork. He waved her out of the office.
“Don’t worry about Steph, I’ll talk to her,” Cheyenne added as she left the room. He looked up from his paperwork and Cheyenne could swear he had a grateful expression on his face.
Cheyenne practically skipped to Steph’s corner office. She was actually going on a real assignment! Pride swelled in her until she was sure she would burst. As she neared Steph’s office she could see her through the glass, pacing and gesticulating wildly. Gerald was with her, watching the entire scene unhappily. Even though the office was fairly soundproof, Cheyenne could hear her ranting. Suddenly, Steph grabbed the phone and Gerald stepped out of Steph’s office; he shook his head, looking at Cheyenne.
“Girl…” He snapped his fingers in a z formation. His handsome black features lit up a little at her fortune. “You two are going to owe me big time. I expect you to come back with naked pictures and DNA, leaving me behind while you are hangin’ with such fine looking men.”
Cheyenne shrugged apologetically. She noticed the staff in the surrounding cubicles were staring and murmuring to each other as the chaos in Steph’s office continued. Cheyenne hurried to join her. Steph held her head and spoke loudly into the telephone.
“I can’t believe you are doing this to me, Dad!” Steph shouted. She slammed the phone onto the desk.
“Goddess? Are you serious?” she asked Cheyenne. Steph took an exaggerated breath.
Cheyenne cleared her throat. She knew the question was rhetorical.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, I’m going for a drink.” Steph brushed past her and grabbed her purse.
“It’s 10:30 in the morning.”
“It’s five o’ clock somewhere, Chey.”
“Do you want some company?”
“Suit yourself,” Steph grumbled. Cheyenne sighed and trailed after her.
“What’s the big deal?” Cheyenne whispered as they walked past droves of gaping staff members toward the elevators.
“He never asks me what I think about things…he just wants me to do as he commands.”
“Ah...this is about control,” Cheyenne murmured.
“No. It’s about respect.”
“Well, heis your boss.” Steph’s glare in response was deadly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Steph said nothing in return. Cheyenne joined her in the elevator, wishing she could enjoy the assignment without Stephanie’s diva drama.
Cheyenne woke with a start, her eyes anxiously darting around. Realizing where she was, she stretched and relaxed back in her seat. Their flight was packed. The hum of the engines had lulled most of the first class passengers to sleep, including Steph who was curled up in the window seat next to her. Cheyenne unbuckled her seatbelt and headed toward the bathrooms. Finding one unoccupied, she entered and locked the door behind her.
Cringing at her appearance, she took out her hair brush and raked it through her thick hair. The last three days had been a whirlwind. Cheyenne remembered how she’d chuckled when Adam mentioned the name of the intern photographer and how she’d almost laughed out loud when she and Steph had met her in the flesh. Goddess towered over them; she was at least six feet tall and weighed about 225 pounds of solid muscle. Seeming a bit old to be an intern, Cheyenne estimated her to be approaching thirty. She wore enough make-up for 5 women and Cheyenne thought she looked like a Punk Rock clown; Goddess had shaggy blonde hair with many multicolored pieces scattered throughout and her style of dress seemed to be a weird mixture of Goth and Heavy Metal.
“What?” Goddess had asked, looking down at herself.
Cheyenne had realized that she and Steph had been staring at her as if she were an alien.
“I’m Cheyenne,” she’d replied, stepping forward to take the giant female’s hand. “This is Stephanie. We’ll be working on the Fury assignment together.”
“I can’t wait!” Goddess had exclaimed, and her overly made up face lit up. “I love Fury; English guys make me crazy!”
As Cheyenne returned to her seat, she thought about how Goddess instantly annoyed Steph. She wondered if Steph was a little intimidated because they’d looked through Goddess’s portfolio and her work was quite good.
Cheyenne spotted Goddess hunched over her laptop, seemingly the only other passenger awake. Cheyenne waved to her.
“Hi.” Goddess took out her earbuds. “It’s so cool that we get to fly first class, Ian’s sure a nice guy for upgrading us.”
Cheyenne smiled and nodded.
As she took her seat, Steph stirred and opened her blue blood shot eyes. Cheyenne fidgeted and popped a piece of nicotine gum in her mouth. Steph seemed to notice.
“I bet your dying for a cig.”
“Yep,” Cheyenne agreed. She’d been trying to cut back, but the pressure of the Fury story already gripped her. “At least we only have an hour left before we land.”
A flight attendant approached them wearing a gracious smile.
“May I offer you ladies a drink?”
“Yes, please.” Steph pointed to her favorite beer.
Cheyenne eyed Steph.
“I’ll have the same, thanks.” The flight attendant nodded. Handing them their drinks, she quickly moved on. As she retreated, Cheyenne teased, “Still pissy?”
“I have to admit I don’t know how I feel about taking on this assignment without my regular assistant. We’re all creatures of habit, I guess.”
“Think of it this way,” Cheyenne countered her tone playful. “You won’t be home when Kevin gets back.”
Stephanie looked out the window thoughtfully.
“Do you think I should get my hair done like that?” she as
ked, pointing to Goddess’s multi colored coif.
Cheyenne almost choked on her drink. “Oh yes, and your nails would look lovely with skull and cross bone decals.”
Goddess looked up and caught them watching her. “What?” she asked, taking out her ear buds again.
“How did you get the name Goddess?” Steph asked before Cheyenne could silence her.
“One of my many boyfriends gave it to me,” Goddess replied with a shrug. “Speaking of men, I can’t wait to get my hands on Bret Williams. I have a thing for guitar players.”
“Isn’t he married?” Steph asked Cheyenne, who responded with a nod.
“Who cares?” Goddess replied.
Steph took a long swig of her beer.
“And there ya have it, folks,” she muttered as she glanced at Cheyenne who blinked in astonishment. This was definitely going to be an interesting adventure.
After landing at Heathrow, making their way through customs was fairly painless. As they approached the exit, they found that Ian had sent a limo for them. Ironically, the driver held up a sign with one word: Goddess. While Cheyenne (giddy from lack of sleep) found this hysterical, Stephanie did not appear to be amused.
Entering the hotel lobby of The Connaught was a stunning experience for Cheyenne; she’d never stayed in anything more regal than a Holiday Inn Express. A stately six story establishment, the hotel had a domed lobby and an enormous staircase with painstakingly maintained wood work. To Cheyenne, the place was everything she envisioned in a fine European inn, from its Michelin starred restaurant to its Asian style spa. Delighted, she read the brochure and found that an indoor pool had been added in the latest remodel. The marble floors made every footstep echo. Wealthy travelers were bustling about in every direction, and Cheyenne was suddenly invigorated by the activity.
“Wow,” she said stunned. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting to remember the smell of freshly starched clean linens.
“It’s lovely isn’t it?” Ian asked from behind her. She gave a small nod, trying not to appear as unworldly as she felt.
“Is this place bitchin’ or what?” Goddess cracked her gum and Cheyenne shot her a disapproving look. With Goddess around she doubted anyone would think she was small time.
“Did you get the keys? She bumbled on, seeming oblivious.
“Yes,” Ian replied, handing her a room key.
“Cool.” Goddess beamed. “Catch ya later.”
Steph opened her mouth to say something but Cheyenne pinched her.
“Yeowch! I’m going to go check out the pool.” Steph plucked a room key from Cheyenne’s hand with a look of admonishment and disappeared.
“When can we meet the band?” Cheyenne took the room key from Ian.
“We have a show tonight, so probably tomorrow around 10 a.m. Here’s that information you asked for.” Ian handed a folder to Cheyenne.
“Sounds good.” Cheyenne really wanted a hot bath, a cold beer, a cigarette and sleep.
“Here are your tickets to tonight’s show. I’m sorry, but the press passes will have to wait.”
“That’s fine.” Though it struck her as out of the ordinary, she was too tired to ask questions.
“Let me give you my room number if you need anything.” He scribbled and s he handed her a piece of paper, their skin touched. Cheyenne was surprised at how unpleasant the sensation was; she willed herself to smile as she nearly shivered with disgust. Though she wasn’t sure why, something about him bothered her, and she had learned to trust her instincts. Perhaps she was jet lagged. To her relief, he turned and walked into one of the elevators.
“Ma’am would you like me to take your bags to your room?” the bellhop said from behind her, bringing her out of her sleepy fog.
“Yes please. Room 527, thank you,” she said, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Cheyenne followed the map in the brochure until she arrived at the sliding glass doors that led to the pool area.
The smell of the fresh water pool hit her nostrils, waking her up a little more. The huge pool seemed to call her name, inviting in its ultra-modern splendor. Spotting Steph, she meandered in her direction. Steph stood close to the pool talking to a group of teenage girls. They all seemed enamored by something in the distance. Cheyenne squinted in the same direction; she noticed the glass ceiling and thought to herself how beautiful it must be at night. She spotted a figure standing on a terrace a couple of floors up.
The figure looked in their direction, waved, and vanished.
“Oh, my God…I think that was Scot!”
Cheyenne realized the figure must have been Scot Charles, the bassist from Fury.
“I’m surprised he’d show his face outside the room,” Steph murmured as they walked back through the glass doors and onto the closest elevator.
“I think it’s sad.” Cheyenne eyes narrowed. “They can’t just walk down the street like us. Must be annoying at times.”
Steph shrugged.
“When we get to the room we need to regroup. Ian just gave me a little information and a few photos. We have a few hours before the concert tonight.”
“For the love of God…” Steph groaned.
They exited the elevator and found their room. After ogling the gorgeous décor for a few moments, Cheyenne grabbed her notebook and set up her laptop.
“You better get some sleep before the concert.” Cheyenne lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply, as if she hadn’t smoked in years. She wasn’t sure if the hotel allowed smoking, but threw caution to the wind to protect her sanity. “The last thing you need is a migraine.”
“No, I’ll be fine, but I’m already tired of Goddess,” Steph commented as they heard loud music coming from the next room. “She’s like fingernails down my chalkboard.”
“You’re just tired. We’ve got four weeks with her so you’d better get over it.” Cheyenne began typing.
“How can you be so tolerant of her? She’s ridiculous.”
Cheyenne laughed lightly as she pulled out a folder. “Forget about her, let’s go over the information we have on Fury.”
“Alright.” Steph flopped onto the bed and purred with delight. “This mattress is orgasmic. I need one.”
“Down to business, Stephanie. W Fury won three Grammy awards and maybe the most popular band of the decade so far…” Cheyenne typed away.
“I think their videos have a lot to do with it. They’re really creative.”
“They are far more popular in Europe than in the US,” Cheyenne added.
“All we know for sure is that they are elusive and perhaps publicity geniuses. To hear Ian tell it, that’s his idea, not theirs. Still, sales on their new album ‘Freudian Slip’ were triple platinum in pre orders,” Steph offered.” And it has already produced two top ten singles.”
“Ok, what do we know about the band members?” Cheyenne asked aloud, looking up at the ceiling as if it had answers for her.
“Very little.” Steph shrugged. Cheyenne opened her folder and fanned out the photos inside.
“Phillip Kersey, the front man, lead singer, writes all the lyrics. He’s one of the cofounders of the group. Ian described him as very headstrong and creative.” Cheyenne took a photo of Phillip out of the file and sat it on the table. He had a commanding presence, even in a photograph. His arms were crossed over his chest, a defiant glare plastered on his rugged face. He was ruggedly handsome, with fair hair, a strong jaw, and a smattering of tattoos on his bulging muscles.
Steph took the photo and looked at it closer, her eyes twinkling.
“Yummy.”
“I know, right?” Cheyenne agreed, fanning herself.
“And that’s Scot Charles,” Steph continued, taking another photo out of the folder.
As Cheyenne looked at the picture, she was taken aback. He was photogenic, with long dark brown hair and dark pools for eyes. His high cheekbones, chiseled features, and perfect pale skin enraptured her. She was vaguely aware that Steph was talking to her.
; “Sorry, what did you say?” Cheyenne pulled her curious eyes away from the photo and attempted to focus on Steph’s words.
“According to Ian’s little dossier sheet here, Scot is the brains of the band. He’s supposed to have this huge IQ. He’s the other cofounder of the group. In the early days, he did the managing. Who’s next?” Steph took a drink of bottled water and swallowed a pill.
“That would be Nathan Clayton.” Cheyenne produced another picture. Nathan had light brown hair with red highlights and gorgeous green eyes.
“God, these guys are going to be fun to photograph.” Steph snatched the picture..
“Nathan is the keyboardist. He’s some sort of art school dropout. He has a lot to do with establishing the image of the band. Always makes a fashion statement, apparently a ‘ladies’ man’.”
Steph snorted. “Aren’t they all?”
“David Evans,” Cheyenne continued, passing her the photo. “Not much is known about him—even to Ian—except that he’s an awesome drummer.”
“And conveniently good looking...”
David looked clean cut, with his short dark hair dark and wholesome eyes. He had strong muscular arms that Cheyenne presumed were from years of banging on a drum set.
“I think you’ll find they’re all quite good looking. I wouldn’t mention it to them but most of their success is probably based on their looks,” Cheyenne stated as she typed.
“Who is the last one?”Steph asked.
“Bret Williams. He’s the only married band member. They have a young son. He is Welsh, and I guess the guys razz him about his accent. The lead guitarist, he writes most of the music with Phillip Kersey.” They looked at his picture. He like the others was great looking. He had long dark hair, a wicked grin and blue eyes.
“Photographing all five of these men at once is going to be a friggin’ field day.”
“They’re probably not this attractive in person. You of all people should know that,” Cheyenne stated, still typing away on her laptop.
“Too true. Besides they are probably egotistical assholes. Everyone in the business is.” Steph plopped back on the bed with her arms behind her head.
