by Tammy Coons
Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her.
“Present company excluded, of course.”
Cheyenne tossed her head and laughed.
“Hey guys!” Goddess yelled, bursting through the door that connected their rooms.
“Doesn’t she sleep?” Steph asked. She rolled off the bed and stood. “I’m taking a shower.”
Goddess plopped down in the same spot on Steph’s bed, seemingly immune to Steph’s rudeness.
“How’s it going?” She asked Cheyenne.
“Slow,” Cheyenne sighed. “I have never been so unprepared. There’s just not a lot of information on Fury.”
“But you’ll be the first person to present all their information to the public. It’s a totally gnarly opportunity,” Goddess replied.
Cheyenne turned away, pretending to be organizing her papers, trying not to laugh. She hadn’t heard the term gnarly since she’d been a kid.
“So where are you from?” Cheyenne asked once she’d gotten ahold of herself.
“LA born and raised.” Goddess looked at the photos on the table. They were silent for a while.
“Boy your room is so neat,” Goddess finally said.
“Isn’t your room just like this one?”
“Nope.”
Cheyenne shook her head. She glanced down at her phone and noticed the time. “Damn! We’re running out of time. We should really start getting ready for the show.”
“I’d better go,” Goddess said, jumping off the bed. She was out the door before Cheyenne could utter a syllable.
Steph came out of the bathroom just in time to see Goddess leaving.
“How did you manage that?” Steph brushed her wet hair.
“Hurry up! I need to get something to eat before the show,” Cheyenne urged. After a quick shower, she selected a black, clingy top and dark denim. Steph’s choice was a white, flowing shirt and black pants.
Goddess came back into the room. She wore ripped jeans, biker boots and a Fury t-shirt. No one would place the three together.
Cheyenne felt wired but forced a smile. “Let’s go!”
Jumping out of their cab, they rushed into the Royal Highland Exhibition Hall as if fleeing from a disaster. People milled everywhere and the electricity of the crowd felt overpowering.
“This is great!” Goddess exclaimed. “Are we gonna go up front?”
Cheyenne looked at Steph, who smirked.
“Knock yourself out; we’ll catch up with you later,” Steph urged.
Goddess happily bounded off into the crowd.
“I hope that’s the last time we see her ass tonight,” Steph mumbled, heaving a pleased-with-herself-sigh.
They headed up the stairs and were delighted that the seats were approximately 15 feet over the heads of the roadies testing the equipment on stage.
“These seats are unbelievable,” Cheyenne raved. “You’re going to have some fun with your camera.”
“Yeah. I don’t understand why we didn’t get press passes.” Steph scanned the panoramic view through her zoom lens. “Oh look. There’s Goddess… she looks so little.”
They both laughed merrily. The lights slowly began to fade and the crowd went wild. Steph and Cheyenne immediately stood.
“They don’t have an opening act?” Cheyenne asked.
“Evidently not. They probably don’t want to let anyone into their inner circle.” Steph perfectly impersonated Ian’s deep voice and British accent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and give a warm welcome to Fury!” the voice was echoed by the screaming fans in the crowd.
Fog filled the dark stage and Scot Charles appeared out of the mist directly below them, possessively clutching his bass. Steph was pointing to something in the crowd, nudging Cheyenne. Ignoring Steph, Cheyenne couldn’t take her eyes off of Scot. He tossed his dark hair, shaded his eyes from the brilliant spotlight and fixed his sites on the balcony. He raised a pick, as if to salute them, and began to play. For a moment Cheyenne felt as if he were playing just to her. He ran toward center stage and shaded his eyes again, a classic stage technique to whip the crowd into a frenzy. Phillip appeared at his side. He sang a haunting melody with fierce conviction. He and Scot were nearly the same height; Scot was thin and lanky while Philip’s build appeared much more muscular. Philip’s bronze skin made him stand out from the rest of his fair-skinned band mates. He dropped to his knees and crawled across the stage, growling into the microphone and the song ended. The hall erupted in a tremendous roar.
David Evans began the next song, beating the drums in a wild frenzy. His well-kept looks made him hard to miss, despite being positioned in the far back. He seemed to be just as entranced by the music as the crowd he entertained was. Close by was Nathan at the keyboards, seducing the crowd with an angry smile. The red in his hair gleamed under the bright lights. A small man, he came across as deceptively larger due to his powerful presence. At his side, Bret whirled around like a dancer picking furiously at his guitar. Smiling wickedly, he entertained, tossing a guitar pick into the eager crowd. Bret ran to Nathan and they played in unison and laughed, as if sharing some sort of private joke.
The music rocked on as huge video screens fired up on each side of the hall. The intensity of the show blew Cheyenne’s mind. She looked at Steph and could tell that she also had been mesmerized by the visual and audio fantasy.
The concert ended in what seemed like minutes. Cheyenne put her hand on her throat to feel her swollen glands. Her throat ached from screaming.
“We’d better go find Goddess,” Cheyenne croaked as they filed out of their seats.
“Do we have to?” Steph laughed. “Wait, you have to see this.”
She held up her camera for Cheyenne to see the video she’d taken of Goddess during the show. Goddess had been body surfing, and flailed around like a beached whale. They laughed and Cheyenne’s hands went to her sore throat once more.
“You really should be nicer to her.” Cheyenne grabbed Steph’s arm and pulled her closer toward the stage. They spotted Goddess talking to a huge roadie near the backstage entrance. The roadie was allowing a pretty blonde groupie through the gate as he and Goddess spoke.
“So do you want it or not?” he was asking Goddess as they approached. The roadie’s gaze shifted to Cheyenne and Stephanie. The hulking man put Goddess’s large stature to shame and his glare made Cheyenne shiver as if someone were tap dancing on her grave. He had spikey, tea colored hair with noticeable grey throughout. Cheyenne thought he looked like a former body builder who was past his prime. He smiled at them and she realized that both of his front teeth were gold.
“I suppose you two want backstage?” he asked with a smarmy grin.
“These are my friends,” Goddess said.
He turned and scowled at her.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” He snapped his gaze back to Cheyenne and Steph. His eyes settled on Steph and he licked his lips. “What about you, Love? I fancy red heads.”
Steph’s heart-shaped face looked hard as stone.
“What will you give me if I let you backstage?” he continued, reaching out for Steph. He caught the ruffle of her shirt in his fingers.
Cheyenne tried to yank Steph away and a tug of war ensued.
“What will you do for me?” he taunted.
Steph pulled away from his grasp and her blouse ripped.
“You’re a disgusting pig!” Steph turned to walk away.
“Tease!” he chuckled, tossing a glass of water at her. It saturated the back of her white shirt.
Steph gasped. “You son of a bitch!”
“Come on let’s get out of here.” Cheyenne pushed Steph away before things could get uglier.
“See you later, Goddess,” the roadie called from behind them.
“You’re going to see him later?” Cheyenne was dazed by the incident.
“I like him.” Goddess seemed defensive.
“What the...? Are you alright, Steph?” Cheyenne aske
d.
“Yeah, just freezing my ass off.” Steph shivered as she looked down at her wet ripped shirt. “Damn. I loved this shirt.”
“You guys really screwed that up for me. I could have gotten backstage!” Goddess complained.
Cheyenne and Steph exchanged annoyed looks and Steph rolled her eyes.
“Let me explain something to you, Goddess,” Cheyenne began as they watched for a cab. “We will be meeting the band tomorrow. Why the hell would want backstage?”
“It just seemed like fun.”
“Do you know what that asshole was going to make you do in order to get backstage?” Steph clutched her shirt to hold it in place.
“I don’t care,” Goddess countered.
“That’s sad.” Cheyenne’s face felt incredulous. “Don’t you have any respect for yourself?”
Goddess didn’t respond. After a few moments a cab pulled up. The girls got in and rode back to the hotel in silence.
The next morning, Cheyenne was the first one up and around. After a soothing bubble bath, she sat on the veranda wrapped in a decadent robe. Sipping her coffee and smoking a cigarette, she enjoyed the crisp but beautiful August morning.
When she reflected on the night before, irritation overwhelmed her. It was tragic and silly for a grown woman to behave as Goddess had. The music business definitely had an ugly side; this was not news to Cheyenne. She abruptly scolded herself for thinking poorly of Goddess. Who was she to judge when she had done so many questionable things in her life just to pay the bills? Having no time to dwell on the memories, she pushed them aside.
“Hey,” Steph said from behind her, startling her. She held a cup of coffee. “This seems surreal. It’s almost cold out here.”
Steph leaned casually on the balcony and took in the view. Cheyenne put out her cigarette.
“I know, it’s beautiful isn’t it?” Cheyenne sighed, as she tried to memorize her view in case she never got a chance to return.
Steph nodded, her red waves bouncing.
“Have you talked to Ian this morning?” Steph picked up her camera and snapped several pictures of their London view.
“No, I just wanted to enjoy some quiet normal time before we’re forced to deal with the bullshit fantasy world.”
The two friends sat, enjoying their coffee and the view in silence.
“Hey you ordered breakfast! Thanks. I’m starving,” Goddess bellowed as she appeared on the veranda. Cheyenne couldn’t believe such a large woman could move with such stealth.
Steph emitted a long suffering sigh.
“I just talked to Ian and he said we should meet at Scot’s suite around ten. He’s the only one staying here ‘cause the others guys all have flats in London,” Goddess added, shoving food in her mouth. “He said he had to make a few phone calls and would meet us there.”
“Well I guess I should shower then,” Steph remarked. “I still need to get the crust of that nasty roadie off of me.”
Cheyenne walked into the room and sat next to Goddess. Determination to counsel the newbie consumed her. “So how was your night?” Cheyenne began as she removed the towel from her head. Her long damp hair fell onto her shoulders.
“It was awesome!” Goddess squealed. “I really like Duncan, the roadie from last night.”
Cheyenne forced a smile. “That’s great. He seemed like a real charmer.”
Goddess smiled back. She seemed unfazed by Cheyenne’s sarcasm.
“I’ll be right back; I just need to grab my equipment,” she said, jumping up from the table.
“I’m going to get dressed so give us a few minutes please. We’ll knock when we are ready.”
“Ok.” Goddess grabbed a piece of toast and bounded off.
“Good God!” Cheyenne exclaimed.
After dressing, Cheyenne and Steph knocked on Goddess’s door. She yanked it open as if she’d been waiting on the other side to pounce.
“Did you get the room number?” Steph asked Goddess.
“Yeah, its 628. The Terrace Suite.”
“Let’s go,” Steph groaned and slung her camera bags over her shoulder.
They arrived on sixth floor. The suite had its own private elevator access which opened onto a black and white marbled hall. It struck Cheyenne as eerily quiet on the 6th floor.. They encountered no security, no housekeeping, not another living soul. She realized that since the suite had a private elevator, there would be no traffic from any other rooms. At the suite, they were greeted by a half open door. Unnerved, Cheyenne knocked.
“Just open it.” Goddess side stepped her and pushed the door open wide. “It’s not like they aren’t expecting us.”
Cheyenne and Steph exchanged concerned glances and followed Goddess into the vast suite through double doors. A spacious living area showcased a charcoal colored travertine fireplace, hardwood floors, a built in library, and a wet bar. At the far end sat a large oak table and chairs, In the foreground, a sofa and a chaise lounge sat near the fireplace.
“Wow,” Goddess cooed.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Cheyenne asked, scanning the room for clues. Travel bags, full ashtrays, and empty beer bottles proved the suite was occupied. Cheyenne was almost disappointed; she felt like these trivial items tarnished the beauty of the stunning suite.
“Maybe they’re in the bedroom?” Steph joked.
“Do you want me to check?” Goddess volunteered as she headed for the hallway that led to the bedroom area.
“No,” Cheyenne ordered. She couldn’t understand why Fury hadn’t had the decency to be present. She joined Steph at the bar.
“Well, the bar is well stocked.” Steph checked out the shelves.
“Wow, look at this terrace! What a view.” Cheyenne made her way to the terrace with Steph close behind. The terrace was larger than their entire room. They took in the view of the Mayfair area of London, which put their view to shame.
A door closed somewhere in the suite behind them. From their vantage point on the terrace, they had a clear view of Scot Charles as he danced into the room wearing nothing but a towel. His eyes were closed and he was singing along with whatever song was playing on his MP3 player.
Steph and Cheyenne exchanged a saucy glance and Steph’s eyes flew wide. She pointed wildly to Cheyenne. Cheyenne realized with a sinking feeling what Steph meant for her to see: though Scott couldn’t easily see them through the tinted glass, he would surely spot Goddess who was standing ten feet from him, still inside the suite. As if he’d heard her thoughts, Scot opened his eyes and looked directly at Goddess.
“Scot!” Goddess shrieked. Steph and Cheyenne watched helplessly as she pounced toward him.
Cheyenne saw terror on his face as he turned to escape.
“Help!” he shrieked, as Goddess closed the distance between them and grabbed at his towel. He retreated leaving the towel behind.
Steph and Cheyenne watched in shock as Scot’s naked body disappeared into the hallway.
“Goddess!” Steph grumbled in a whisper. Her hands were clenched in fists.
Cheyenne stood stunned, with her mouth hanging open.
Immediately they heard a door slam and a male voice rang out. Cheyenne saw two men enter through the same door they’d used when they’d arrived
“So I told Sarah she had to try it on, cause it was made by Stella McCartney—What the hell!” The men gawked at Goddess; Cheyenne recognized them as Phillip and Bret.
“Bret!” Goddess exclaimed. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted, falling like a redwood tree.
“Blimey!” Bret said, looking down at Goddess with surprise.
Cheyenne realized that none of the band had noticed her and Steph. She wished she had the ability to parachute off of the terrace.
Scot reentered the room wearing a pair of shorts. “She attacked me.” Scot pointed at Goddess. He looked startled. “She saw me naked.”
“I’ve had women faint at the sight of me naked,” Phillip joked.
“It mu
st be an awesome sight,” came Bret’s dry reply.
“I’m calling security.” Scot grabbed the phone.
Cheyenne’s mouth was dry. It was obvious that the band was not expecting them. She opened her mouth to announce their presence when the entrance door opened and Nathan and David joined the action.
“Bloody hell,” Nathan exclaimed, seeing Goddess. “That’s a big one.”
“No fooling,” David agreed.
Scot hung up the phone and all five men gathered around Goddess.
“Security is on the way.” Scot lit a cigarette. “Man I feel so violated.”
A flash illuminated the room, All five men blinked and Cheyenne presumed it was Goddess’s camera going off.
“I need some air.” Scot turned to the terrace and stopped in his tracks. He was face to face with Cheyenne. Their eyes met and she looked at him in fascination. Steph was wrong—he was just as attractive in person. Slowly her eyes shifted past him and she noticed the entire band staring at them. She slid the door of the terrace fully open.
“This is definitely a Kodak moment.” Steph raised her camera and began snapping pictures.
“Stop it, dammit!” Phillip exclaimed and advanced on her, snatching her camera and hurling it off the terrace.
“Hey!”Steph exclaimed in disbelief. “What the—”
“You Birds have two minutes to get the hell out of here,” Phillip stated, looking from Steph to Cheyenne.
“Is she with you?” Bret pointed to Goddess, who still appeared to be unconscious.
“Yeah, I guess.” Steph looked at her empty camera bag longingly.
“Well then take her with you.” Phillip folded his arms across his chest.
“Got a fork lift?” Steph snapped up at him. Cheyenne had never seen Steph’s face so red.
“This is a violation of our privacy,” Phillip blurted.
Cheyenne brushed past him.
“You lost the privilege of privacy when your album went triple platinum. We’re from The Sound Wave. Ian sent us.”
“Yeah, right.” Nathan stared at Cheyenne. His tone was well natured while his emerald eyes travelled up and down her body. Cheyenne shook her head then noticed him look at Steph again, seeing doubt cross his face.
