Fury

by Tammy Coons

  “Third time’s a charm,” Steph said as she moved into the room. The gown was a shade of aqua marine that matched her eyes and sharply contrasted with her ivory skin. The bodice looked like it had been crafted especially for her. She looked like she should have been on the red carpet.

  “Oh yeah,” Cheyenne nodded, snapping a picture with her phone. “That dress is going to make Gerald’s head blow off.”

  Soon they were on their way with all their purchases except their gowns. They’d both been measured for alterations and the dresses were being shipped to Chicago.

  “One more stop and we’re cabbing it back.”

  Cheyenne groaned tiredly.

  “Don’t be a puss,” Steph scolded. Paying no attention to where she was being led, Cheyenne trailed behind.

  “Here we are,” Steph announced. Cheyenne looked up and smiled broadly. Arc de Triomphe stood before them and its magnificence gave her goose bumps.

  “Please guard the bags and give me five minutes.” Steph’s sheepish expression meant there would be an impromptu photo shoot. Cheyenne obliged, using the opportunity to quietly absorb the atmosphere. Her issues seemed suddenly insignificant. She lived in a wonderful apartment with a great roommate and had an interesting job which she loved. There was money in her bank account and her biggest issue was that two hot sex symbols were fighting over her. She took a moment to count her blessings.

  “Are you ready?” Steph looked as tired as Cheyenne felt.

  They hailed a cab and Cheyenne was overjoyed when the cabbie spoke English.

  Back in their rooms, Cheyenne realized she was ravenous. It was six p.m. As she picked up her phone to dial room service, she noticed she had a blinking message light.

  “Did you order the food?” Steph returned wearing a designer sweat suit she’d bought earlier. It was mocha colored and had the word “Red” embroidered over her heart. Cheyenne shook her head, still listening to messages.

  “Obviously we were missed,” Cheyenne said, placing the receiver in its cradle.

  “Do tell.”

  “The flight has been delayed until tomorrow evening. You are spending tomorrow morning photographing Scot, Bret, and David at a local studio Ian rented. Goddess is aware and is going along.” Cheyenne relayed.

  “Yeehaw,” Steph drawled sardonically as she flopped onto Cheyenne’s bed and picked up the room service menu. “What about Phillip?”

  “He apparently refused the photo-shoot,” Cheyenne replied, rolling her eyes.

  ” Too bad. That Hugo Boss suit! Mmmm. Ya know, I think he was going to kiss me last night.”

  “I told you he wanted you. What stopped him?”

  “I did. He pissed me off.”

  “He’s an ass.”

  “I’m going to go pack before I leave so if the shoot runs late I can head to the plane. I’ve never been to Ireland. I’m so excited! My Dad would be so proud,” Steph added, impersonating Adam’s Irish accent with a smile.

  “I’ll be interviewing Nathan while you’re at the shoot.”

  “I personally think Nathan is gay. Or at least Bi. No straight man is that well-dressed.”

  “This is such a soap opera,” Cheyenne complained. Steph snatched the phone from her and ordered room service. As they waited, Steph toyed with her non Fury trip photos and uploaded the dress pictures from their phones.

  Focusing on the article, Cheyenne contacted Gerald.

  “Love the gowns. Tres elegante. Got any naked pictures for me yet?” Gerald asked, without even greeting her. Cheyenne could hear loud thumping club music in the background.

  “Hey. Know anything yet?” She put him on speaker so Steph could hear.

  “Ian Corneilius has worked for the record label for twelve years. About a year before the label signed Fury, Ian was banned from two Casinos on the French Riviera and about two months later, his wife of 7 years filed for divorce; it was an expensive one. She has sole custody of his daughter.”

  “Well, well,” Cheyenne murmured. “Anything else?”

  “Just that a source at the label says that during the first year Mr. Corneilius managed Fury, two band members requested a different manager on two separate occasions.”

  “Do we know which band members made the requests?”

  “Nope.”

  “I need another background check,” She replied. She gave Gerald Steve’s name and what she knew about him. Gerald promised to call her as soon as he had anything.

  “And you tell Miss Stephanie Brier that I am not speaking to her. She stopped texting me a day ago and hasn’t called me once,” he said, and hung up without another word.

  Steph laughed out loud.

  The following morning, Cheyenne threw herself into work again. Her fingers glided over the keys sometimes moving faster than her brain. After an hour and half of typing she hit save, stood, and stretched. At one point she took a break to primp for the day and pack. It was much harder to pack her bags after the shopping excursion, but she finally managed to get everything into her luggage. Once they arrived at the next hotel, she planned to ship some items home.

  Later, when Cheyenne was at the keyboard, Steph had popped in to say she was going to scope out the studio. Cheyenne vaguely remembered saying goodbye to her. Her next task was to push the food cart out into the hall. Hurrying back inside, she lit a cigarette, readying herself for being totally alone with Nathan for the first time. At the window once again, Cheyenne drank in the view. She was going to miss Paris, and all its glorious, gorgeous splendor. Sneaking a peak at Scot’s jacket, she realized she’d never think of Paris again without thinking of him..

  Cheyenne picked up the jacket and carried it into Steph’s suite and threw it on her bed.

  As she reentered her room someone knocked. She walked to the door and peeked out. Nathan stood there, dressed in a steel blue suit that made his roguish green eyes pop. His auburn hair was carefully styled to perfection. Cheyenne unlocked the door and put on a smile. When she opened it, Nathan eyed her yoga pants and tank top.

  “Laundry day?” He asked looking her up and down.

  “Travel clothes. And you? Prince called, he wants his suit back,” Cheyenne’s sassy retort elicited a laugh.

  “Clever girl.”

  “Please come in.”

  Nathan walked in and looked around the room.

  “Still hung over?” Cheyenne asked.

  “That was one fun night. You should have come with us to Crazy Horse. I think you would have appreciated its artistic qualities.”

  “I’m brokenhearted.” She dripped sarcasm.

  “Where do you want me?” He removed his jacket.

  “Wherever you’re most comfortable.” Cheyenne grabbed her digital recorder. Nathan walked to the bed, situated the pillows, and lay back on them.

  “Figures.”

  Nathan’s wicked grin widened as he patted the bed. Cheyenne sat down on the edge, not wanting to face him. “Are you ready?”

  “Not quite. I don’t want to talk to your back.”

  “This is awkward.”. She pointed to the table and chairs.

  Nathan shrugged.

  “Ok. Love, we’ll do it your way.” He stood, walked to the bar, and poured a drink. “Care for one?”

  “No thanks.” Cheyenne sat down and watched him carefully.

  Nathan lit a cigarette then joined her. “Do I make you nervous?” He leaned forward slightly, looking her up and down.

  “No. I’m just really tired. I haven’t had much sleep lately.”

  Nathan took a drag from his cigarette. “I’m sure all of the late nights have been hard on you.” He smirked.

  Cheyenne cleared her throat. “Shall we begin?”

  “Sure.” Nathan shrugged.

  Cheyenne hit record and began the interview. Cool and collected, Nathan’s voice was hypnotic. As he told it, he was the creative tour de force in Fury. Many of the striking costumes, video images, and both album cover concepts were largely his ideas. He loved to gambl
e and had won many a wager with his band mates. He admitted that he was a ladies’ man; he had no particular type. As he discussed women, it seemed to Cheyenne that he viewed women as menu items to be made available to him as the mood struck. She held back from that response, changing the subject abruptly to his photography hobby and his stint in art school. Bret had been dating Nathan’s cousin and asked him to photograph the band for a flyer. Fury had never intended to have a keyboardist, but they all hit it off and once Nate had jammed with them, he was in. Cheyenne was surprised to learn that Nate’s cousin Sarah was, in fact, Bret’s wife.

  He also adored fashion and often spent hours selecting costumes for the videos. He stated that when he set his mind to something, there was no stopping him. This of course made Cheyenne even more nervous about being alone with him.

  After an hour she hit the stop button on the recorder. “I think I’ve got everything I need.” She stood and poured herself a glass of water.

  “That makes one of us.” Nathan approached her from behind. As she sensed him grow near, she trembled with desire.

  Nathan moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck gently.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Doesn’t it felt good?”

  “Listen Nathan ...” She turned to face him.

  Nathan placed a finger to her lips to silence her. As he moved his hands to her narrow hips, his eyes enticed her.

  “That’s not so bad is it?” He slipped his hand up the back of Cheyenne’s shirt. Speechless, she felt her bra strapped released. He brought his mouth down on hers and at first his kiss was a tease; light and slow. Soon it deepened and his skillful tongue tantalized her. She pushed him away, feeling short of breath.

  “You have such beautiful features, Cheyenne. I would love to photograph you.” He whispered in her ear making Cheyenne shiver. Nathan ran a finger down her back. “There’s something naughty about you. I just want to play,” Nathan added as he nibbled on her neck. His touch was driving her mad with desire. She didn’t want him to stop, even though her mind was screaming at her. Curiosity overpowered her logic.

  Her mind flashed immediately back to Scot and the night they’d shared. He’d been gentle, seemingly as interested in giving pleasure as taking it. Nathan reminded her of a schoolboy whose primary concern was getting his nut off. As he pushed her onto the bed, his body on top of hers, Cheyenne pressed her hands against Nathan’s chest.

  “Stop.”

  As if on cue, the adjoining door to Goddess’s room opened and she sauntered through the door.

  “Hey, Cheyenne. We’re back from the—woah!” Goddess stopped in her tracks and whipped her head away from them averting her eyes.

  “Don’t you knock!” Nathan’s face reddened and he was practically panting. Shoving him away, she scrambled to get off of the bed.

  “Sorry.” Goddess ran into the doorframe on the way out as she tried to exit with her eyes covered. Once alone again, Nathan turned to Cheyenne.

  “I’m sure Goddess will be discreet. This can still be our little secret.”

  He advanced on her, however this time she pushed past him and opened the door.

  “It’s time for you to go.” Nathan eyed her for a moment then shrugged. He left her alone with her guilt and regret.

  “Wait till you see these pictures of Scot! Hey, why isn’t your door locked?” Steph asked as she entered the room. Cheyenne sat at the table, a bottle of jack and a shot glass in front of her. Shrugging, she poured a shot, and downed it.

  “What’s up?” Steph had a sinking feeling as she searched her friend’s face. “Was the interview that bad?”

  “I made out with Nathan and Goddess walked in on us.”

  “Wow.” Steph poured a shot for herself.

  “Why can’t I keep myself in check?” She asked quietly.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She was a little upset with Cheyenne’s behavior. It was as if Cheyenne was purposely sabotaging everything she had worked for. Causing infighting amongst a band on a casual whim was about the worst career move she could make. She was self-destructing before her eyes, and Steph felt powerless to help. Deciding to try ‘tough love’, she fortified herself. “If you don’t get your shit straightened out you are going to lose this assignment.”

  “I know, I’ve got to pack.” Expressionless, Cheyenne scrambled around the suite gathering her last remaining possessions.

  Livid, Steph stood and paced the room. If Cheyenne cost herself this job, it could potentially ruin their friendship. Steph would be torn between her father and her friend and she felt it was very unfair for Cheyenne to put getting laid ahead of their cover story.

  “See you on the plane.” After Steph fled to her room she packed and called a porter to pick up her bags. She’d decided to go to the airport early, afraid if she stayed a moment longer, she would blow up and say something vicious to Cheyenne. Since she’d confided in Scot about Cheyenne’s past, he had made good on his promise to keep his distance. Now it had backfired with Nathan swooping in like a buzzard. Knowing she’d likely made a bad situation worse, Steph hoped they could finish this assignment before Cheyenne’s little triangle blew up in her face.

  On the way to the airport, Goddess informed Steph that her new boyfriend Duncan and another roadie named Richard were riding in the jet with the band. Goddess was ‘totally stoked’ about it. Steph’s stomach churned at the news.

  By the time they’d eaten dinner in the airport lounge, Steph was really missing Cheyenne. It had taken the waitress forever to bring the check and by the time they’d paid they had to sprint for the plane.

  Steph and Goddess boarded to find the place in chaos. The flight had been delayed on the runway and the natives we getting restless. Magda, Fury’s hairdresser was arguing with Ian at the top of her lungs. She had a very nasal voice and a cockney accent.

  Migraine material.

  Bret played his acoustic guitar loudly as he and Phillip sang a tune they were in the process of writing. Scot and Nathan continued to snap at each other. They weren’t physically attacking one another and Goddess had not mentioned to her anything about walking in on Nate and Cheyenne, so Steph assumed Cheyenne’s secret was safe for the time being.

  “Maybe we should sit toward the middle of the plane.” Steph plugged her ears. Everyone seemed to be chattier than ever. Steph noticed Steve had also joined the flight, sitting next to Ian. She groaned inside, knowing Cheyenne was going to flip out.

  Scot approached them.

  “Hi’ya. Where’s Cheyenne?” He looked past them.

  “She’ll be here.” She continued down the aisle and found Nathan.

  “How was the interview?”

  “Really good.” Nathan gave her a naughty wink. Steph rolled her eyes and began to walk away. “Look out. Two of those smelly roadies are sitting toward the back.”

  “I can handle it,” Steph stated.

  He pointed a finger at her. “If you’re not back to sit with me in ten minutes I’m coming to look for you.”

  Steph plastered on a fake smile and headed towards the back of the plane. Suddenly a leg went across the aisle blocking her path., The leg belonged to Duncan who was sprawled out next to a extremely unattractive roadie.

  “What did I tell you Richard?” he asked, looking her up and down.

  Richard smiled to reveal his rotting teeth.

  Steph’s stomach churned with disgust.

  “She’s shag-worthy alright.” Richard laughed.

  “Are you quite finished?” Steph asked.” If you don’t want me to piss on you, I suggest you let me by.”

  “Need any help in there?” Duncan climbed to his feet. For a terrifying moment Steph thought he might actually escort her to the restroom.

  Suddenly Phillip appeared in the aisle ahead of her.

  “Is there a problem here?” He leveled a hard gaze at the roadies.

  “Nope,” Duncan said after a long pause. He sat back down.

  “I thought
not,” Phillip replied, turning and heading to his seat in the back of the plane.

  Steph took advantage of this interruption to continue down the aisle.

  “Bitch,” Duncan mumbled as she passed.

  In the very last row, Phillip was taking his seat while engrossed in his Ipod. Bret sat in front of him, wearing headphones and strumming his guitar in the window seat. As Steph approached, Phillip looked up and his gorgeous eyes stopped her in her tracks.

  “I see you made a couple of new friends.”

  “Yes, they’re very charming. I would really like to spend some quality time with them,” Steph said sarcastically. Phillip grinned and it seemed she’d caught him off guard with her dry wit.

  “That Duncan is a real asshole,” She added.

  “Most of them are.” He his eyes had returned to his IPod screen. “But they work cheap and don’t ask for much.”

  Steph’s insides boiled. She knew there was no way she could confide in him about Duncan.

  “Someday he’s going to go too far and you will have to answer for it,” Steph hissed.

  He shrugged.

  “I’ve got some classy photos of their backstage activities. I’m sure the public would love to see them”

  “Is that a threat?” His eyes shot to hers suddenly.

  “Are they the reason your band shuns the press?”

  Phillip looked away with a sigh. Bret continued to strum away on his guitar, seeming oblivious to their conversation.

  “If they end up hurting someone, Fury’s rep is going to take a hit. If you’re going to own a pet, keep them in your yard.”

  Phillip moved so swiftly Steph nearly jump out of her skin. He stood and gripped her arm. His face burned scarlet. “Why don’t you stay out of my business? I didn’t want you here in the first place.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ve made that perfectly clear.” She yanked her arm away.

  “For growing up in the music biz, you sure seem naïve about being on the road.”

  Steph laughed heartily and was pleased to see Phillip’s eyes narrow with animosity.