by Tammy Coons
Phillip, Bret, David and Scot sat near the bar laughing gregariously.
“Hello Boys!” Ian called.
“Hey,” David said.
Scot turned and, upon seeing Cheyenne, stood and offered her his chair. “Got a date, Ian?”
Cheyenne wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Ian in a romantic context, or the envious look in Scott’s eyes, but she felt compelled let go of Ian’s arm. Ian chuckled.
“What would you like, Cheyenne?”
“A nice cold beer sounds good.” Cheyenne felt like and intruder. Her discomfort increased when she glanced to her right and caught Scot staring at her. She shifted, uncomfortable in her seat. “What?”
She looked at him sheepishly, questioning her choice of attire. She hadn’t straightened her hair so it hung in thick waves down her back. She wore a spaghetti-strapped white sundress. Suddenly she felt many sets of eyes on her.
Scot smiled. “You look lovely.”
Unable to stop herself, Cheyenne glanced at the others. His band mates nodded in agreement and raised their beverages, as if to salute the sentiment.
“Your beer.” Ian handed her the glass.
Cheyenne took it and downed the liquid. She handed the glass back. “Another, please.”
Ian raised an eyebrow and poured her another glass.
As she sipped her second beer, Cheyenne’s could feel Scot’s eyes on her. She avoided looking at him and let her eyes roam the room again. David and Bret had assembled by the fireplace. Ian made his way to join them. Phillip tossed back a shot and left the bar.. Cheyenne stole a glance at Scot, who seemed to search her eyes. Without a word, he stood and joined the others. Soon the band and their manager were in deep discussions about an upcoming television appearance on a Parisian talk show. Feeling like a party crasher, she decided to text Steph and invite her down. She had her phone in her hand when Steph and Nathan trudged in, their faces looking grim. Stephanie wore no make-up and seemed frazzled. Cheyenne went to her.
“You two look like you’ve been through airport security. What the hell happened?” Cheyenne asked.
“Please, let me get a drink first.” Steph brushed past her.
“Ok.” Cheyenne looked at Nathan expecting more information. The serious expression he wore did not ease her mind. She trailed after them, curiosity driving her mad. Nathan glanced at her over his shoulder. He stopped suddenly, turned to her and placed both hands gently on her shoulders.
“Just give her a moment,” he murmured, his green eyes locking with hers. His thumbs seemed briefly to caress her shoulders, leaving Cheyenne bewildered as he turned back to the bar.
“What will it be?” the bartender asked.
“Rum,” Steph ordered forcefully, and the bartender gave her a sideways glance. “Splash a little Coke in there if it makes you feel better.”
Cheyenne noticed Steph rub her temple and groaned inwardly.
“Where have you two been?” Bret playfully taunted.
Cheyenne saw him taking in Steph’s ruffled appearance.
“Neither one of you are glowing.” Phillip smirked looking from Nathan to Stephanie.
From behind, Cheyenne couldn’t see Nathan’s face, but whatever look he gave Phillip seemed to shut him up.
The bartender gave Steph her drink, and she downed it. “Keep ‘em coming.”
“Wow,” Phillip chimed in. “A little thirsty today?”
Steph turned in his direction and fixed him with a withering gaze. Cheyenne watched as they stared each other down.
“Can I come see some of your photos tomorrow before my interview?” David asked as he sauntered to Steph.
“Sure, you can come around 11.” Steph picked up her second rum and grabbed Cheyenne’s wrist, leading her to a quiet corner.
“Do you need a pill? I saw you rubbing your head.”
“I took one.”
“Ok, let’s hear it,” Cheyenne whispered.
Steph stared at her drink. “Goddess had another spill in her room and we sent her to the hospital to get checked out. She says she’s OK.”
The room was eerily quiet, and Cheyenne noticed the men were listening in. For ten seconds you could hear a pin drop. Suddenly, everyone began to ask questions at once. Nathan silenced them with one hand. Cheyenne marveled at his control and startled herself as she wondered if he was as commanding in bed.
“She collapsed and bumped her head on a piece of furniture. End of story. Let’s drink.”
Phillip chuckled.
“Try having some compassion, you jackass,” Steph snapped.
His eyes flew open wide and his mouth snapped shut. Cheyenne covered a smile with her hand. She turned her attention back to Steph, suspicious of her newfound protectiveness for Goddess.
“Steph,” Cheyenne prodded, whispering so only Steph could hear. “Is that the entire story?”
“No, we found drugs in her room and it was ransacked. Some guy ran out of her room and Nathan chased him away.”
“Jesus Christ!” Cheyenne blurted, much more loudly than she intended to.
“Is everything alright?” Ian inquired.
Cheyenne smiled sweetly. “Everything’s great.”
Ian glanced at her for a moment, then continued his conversation with the band.
Cheyenne turned to Steph. “I can’t believe it. That girl is troubled.”
“True, but there has to be more to it.”
“It’s plain and simple. She’s a drug addict.” Steph shrugged.
“But you said a man was running from her room.”
“So?” Steph said, rubbing her head.
“I heard a guy in her room last night.”
“And?” Steph motioned for Cheyenne to go on.
“Maybe she’s gotten in with a bad crowd...”
“What is this, an afterschool special? He was probably her dealer. I have to get out for a while. I need some fresh air…” Steph ran her hands through her fiery hair. She tapped her swizzle stick on her crystal glass. “Would any of you like to go to The Eiffel Tower for an impromptu photo shoot?”
“I suppose that would be fine. I’ll have security go along, just to make sure there aren’t any issues,” Ian said with a shrug.
“Sure,” Nathan replied. “I’ll go.”
“Me too,” David said and Bret nodded in agreement.
“Phillip, how about you? All I have are concert shots of you.” She stood, crossing her arms.
Phillip looked at her with indifference.
“You can see the wretched tower from my balcony, we can go to my room and you can photograph me there...” he scoffed.
The room was dead silent and Bret and Nathan began laughing uproariously.
Cheyenne watched as Phillip blushed and she nearly giggled at his double entendre. Steph looked like a professional poker player, stoically waiting for a reply.
“I’m not in the mood,” he blurted.
Bret and Nathan burst into fits of laughter again. Steph looked away from him and turned to leave, murmuring something to Nathan. Phillip’s refusal to cooperate with them was really pissing Cheyenne off; she wanted to smack the smug look off of his face.
“Cheyenne are you coming?” Steph turned to back her.
“No I think I’ll stay here. I have a bunch of work I need to get done and I’m really tired.” Cheyenne rested her head on the back of the sofa comfortably.
“Scot?” Steph asked.
Scot glanced at Cheyenne.
“Nah. I think I’ll stay.”
Steph and Nathan both rolled their eyes. Cheyenne stole a glance at Scot and caught him giving Nathan a dirty look.
“I’m going to my room,” Phillip blurted to no one in particular.
It wasn’t long before they’d all left, leaving Scot and Cheyenne in silence.
Scot turned to the bartender. “Excuse me, what was your name?”
“Jean, Monsieur.”
“How about it, Jean? Could you take a long break?” Scot shook hands wi
th the Frenchman. Cheyenne suspected he’d slipped him some cash. She had missed her window of opportunity to flee along with the others and was surprised at how pleased she felt to be alone with him. Jean smiled.
“Oui, Monsieur. As you wish.”
“My, it’s gotten quiet in here.” Scot walked to the stereo. He turned on some soft music. He made his way over to her and offered her a hand. She looked from the hand to his dark eyes and took it. He led her over to the sofa near the fireplace. Caution tugged at her, and she was relieved when he gestured for her to take a seat. She sat as he opened a bottle of wine.
“I’m afraid you have the upper hand. You know quite a lot about me now and I know nothing about you. Wine?”
“Sure.” She sat back on the loveseat and watched him pour.
“So, what do you say?” He wiggled his eyebrows devilishly, “May I interview you?” His dark eyes sparkled with curiosity.
As he stood by the fireplace, he graced her with a dazzling smile. He exuded confidence and class. Instinctively, her eyes traveled the length of his lanky body and she reflected on the sight of him naked. Dirty mental images flashed through her mind. Scot must have noticed something in her expression, because his grin turned from warm and welcoming to lascivious. Despite her business ideals, she felt her resolution crumbling. Scot Charles was the entire package and she found him captivating.
“What do you want to know?” she asked, her voice husky.
“I don’t know.” Scot shrugged and took a seat. “Just tell me about yourself. I would love to know your story.”
“OK,” she replied, and stopped to sip the wine. It was dry and citrusy. She sipped it again, and tried to relax.
“I was born in a small town in Iowa but I was conceived in Cheyenne Wyoming, hence the name,” she joked with a self-depreciating eye roll.
Scot grinned appreciatively.
“I think it’s lovely…exotic. It suits you,” he offered. “Continue.”
“I’ve been writing all of my life. I guess I always knew that’s what I would do. I’ve worked at The Sound Wave for a couple of years.”
“Great magazine,” Scot said, tossing his long curly hair away from his eyes. In the dimly lit room, the shadows emphasized his chiseled features. She’d always been attracted to tall, dark, and handsome types and Scot was no exception.
“What else?” Scot asked as Cheyenne attempted to collect her thoughts.
“That’s it.” She threw her hands up with a laugh. The rest of her story seemed provincial or shameful. The thought of him knowing about her past as a stripper nearly made her nauseated.
Scot waved a finger at her.
“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be. What’s the saying… ‘doctors make the worst patients’? Journalists make the worst interviewees?”
“I lead a very boring life. Believe me, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time.” His gentle nature made her feel so comfortable. Too comfortable. Remembering herself, she sat up a little straighter.
“How old are you Cheyenne?”
“That’s a rude question.” She tossed her dark hair coyly.
“I answer rude questions all the time,” Scot countered.
“No you don’t, you don’t give interviews,” Cheyenne retorted. Scot watched her expectantly. “I’m 26.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Where do you live? Is The Sound Wave in New York City?”
“Chicago.”
“Ah yes, The Windy City. Gangsters…Lake Michigan. I have always wanted to visit.”
“I could give you a tour and you could meet all my gangster friends.’ Cheyenne joked.
Scot laughed and nodded.
“Alright, I will admit, my travel information on Chicago might be a bit dated.”
“A bit.” Cheyenne grinned.
“Any family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“One of each. But I don’t claim them.”
“Care to elaborate?” He asked carefully but she waved her hand as if to say ‘move on’. He shrugged.
“I have one brother. He’s married and has two daughters. Those two imps are my favorite people in the world.” Scot’s broad smile lit up the room.
She took a sip... “This is really good. So, is that all you want to know? Please say yes; the pressure’s too much.”
“Yes,” Scot conceded, allowing Cheyenne to breathe a melodramatic sigh of relief. “For now”.
They shared a moment of silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Cheyenne was flooded with images of touching him in inappropriate places. The level of her arousal startled her.
“What are you thinking about?” Scot asked, pulling Cheyenne out of her introspection.
“Huh?”
“You looked so involved in your thoughts.”
Her lips curved slightly as she imagined his reaction if she were to share her thoughts out loud.. “I’m tired. It’s been a hectic few days. “She folded her shaking hands in her lap.
“I’ll agree with you on that one.” He never took his eyes off of her.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” He stood.
“A little,” Cheyenne confessed.
“I’m sorry.” Scot walked to the window. He opened it and a gentle breeze blew in. He lit a cigarette, silently offering one to her. She joined him. “It’s just that you intrigue me.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Scot shook his head.
“I don’t really speak with many women, Cheyenne. Unless you count groupies screaming and clawing at you while hurling panties in your face a conversation.” This comment was a lifesaver to her. She’d regained some sense of reality. This man was literally a sex symbol. She couldn’t afford to be sucked in by his charms.
“Would you like another drink?” He asked.
“No, I’ll be drunk before 3!” Cheyenne joked “I should go get to work.”
Scot leaned closer and her pulse sped to a gallop. She crossed her arms as if to deflect from his magnetic pull.
“Why did you stay, Scot?”
“I wanted to get to know you a little better. I needed to be alone with you.”
“I knew you were up to something,” Cheyenne joked.
“Well, with Nathan and Ian around, I really couldn’t get a word in. They gab like old hens. I haven’t been able to get you alone since Liverpool. I just wanted to speak with you one on one again.
Cheyenne smiled, feeling a little flattered; however, her internal alarms were blaring. Conflicted, she needed to be alone to examine her situation. Was it possible that she could explore her attraction to Scott without mucking up the job at hand?
“Why did you stay, Cheyenne?” He asked.
“I have no idea.”
“I have a theory.”
“Oh? Do share.”
“I think you’re curious,” Scott replied after a small pause. He licked his lips and Cheyenne suppressed a shudder.
“Curious about what?’
“About mixing business with pleasure. About breaking the taboo.”
Scot moved closer. As he reached out to stroke her cheek, Cheyenne bit the inside of her lip. His gentle touch sent a shiver from her scalp to her toes.
“Well I should really get busy. I’ve been going a million miles an hour and I think exhaustion is setting in.” She put her cigarette out abruptly.
“OK,” Scot said with a small grin. “I can take a hint.”
“What do you mean?”
“You obviously aren’t interested in me. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.”
“No, you’re definitely interesting.” Cheyenne touched his arm before she could stop herself. The tingle shot through her to her loins and she moved to pull her hand away.
Scot swiftly caught her wrist and pulled her to him. There was no denying that his touch drove her crazy. She closed her eyes and tried to gather her senses. Without warni
ng, Scot leaned in to her and his hands cupped her face. As his lips met hers and he tasted her gently, Cheyenne broke out in goose bumps; the electricity between them spiked white hot, threatening to consume her. She placed her hands against his chest and pushed him back. He pulled away.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” Scot whispered, tracing her lower lip with his thumb..
Cheyenne’s mind still reeled from his kiss. She gulped and cleared her throat. “I’m not in the habit of sleeping with men I hardly know.” Once more, he surprised herself . She was rarely this candid.
“That’s a refreshing change.” Scot’s eyes seemed earnest, “I’m appalled by fast women. That’s more Nathan’s style.”
Cheyenne laughed at his bluntness.
He placed his hands in his pockets.” So? Dinner?”
“I don’t know…” Cheyenne shook her head. She knew spending any time alone with Scot was playing with fire.
“It’s just a meal...no expectations. Perhaps I can show you The Eiffel Tower at night. If it makes you feel better, we can take Ms. Brier along. She needs more photographs of me anyway.” He shrugged and his proposition seemed innocent.
“OK.” she replied. Scot was like no man she’d ever met. He somehow seemed both provocative and protective. Crossing this line with him was diametrically opposed to her personal ethics. Instead of feeling shame at breaking herself imposed code, she felt intrigued.
“I’ll stop by your room around 7:00.”
Cheyenne nodded breathlessly.
He walked her to the door, his hand on the small of her back, and opened it for her.
All the way back to her suite, Cheyenne felt like she floating.
“That’s great, very sexy!” Steph shouted as she eyed Nathan through her camera lens. He was very photogenic and an obnoxious camera hog. As she changed lenses, she turned her camera on Bret, who was on his cell phone. He smiled then waved to the camera, never removing the cell phone from his ear.. She stopped for a moment to adjust her aperture and searched for David. She found him standing by the fence, his gaze fixed on the blue sky over Paris. Steph composed her shot and captured the moment. The sound of her shutter got his attention and he smiled at her, revealing dimples. Playing with different techniques such as Bokeh and Contra jour, Steph had been busy and was having a blast, but time was flying and she was losing the light. Unfortunately, the pain in her head had escalated throughout the shoot.
