Rage (23 page)

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RAGE

“You need to buy the one you used as a tissue.”

Thirty minutes later, Cheyenne had drained her second mo-

jito, and Steph was lost in thought as she looked out over the

square. Scot had always been enamored with Cheyenne, and

Steph couldn’t believe it was all some sort of an act. The wait-

ress produced another drink for Cheyenne, who chugged it.

Steph pushed her food around on her plate, and Cheyenne didn’t

even bother to pick up her fork.

“We should just head back to Maravilha. You can hang out

in my room until the luau.”

Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t guarantee I won’t attack

Kara.”

“I’ll switch rooms with Pilar.” Steph was referring to the

lone bridesmaid Saffron always referred to as “fat.” Cheyenne

shrugged and threw a wad of cash onto the table.

When they returned to the square to catch their ride, the on-

ly members of their group present just happened to be Phillip

and Scot. They were sitting on a bench near the fountain, seem-

ingly deep in conversation. Scot was holding Liam, who was fast

asleep.

“Great.” Cheyenne huffed, as both men looked in their di-

rection. Steph tried to stifle it, but she laughed out loud. Cheyenne glared her down, and she quit immediately.

Steph found it impossible not to look in Phillip’s direction.

He sat unmoving, watching her. When they made eye contact, he

stood and took a step in their direction. Cheyenne stormed past

Steph, nearly knocking her down on her way over to Scot. She

took Liam from him without a word. The shocked look on Phil-

lip’s face was nothing compared to the devastated look Scot

wore. Steph wanted to shake Cheyenne, but after all the times

Cheyenne had put up with her episodes, she deserved nothing

short of Steph’s unwavering support.

As she turned to follow Cheyenne toward the street, Phillip

mouthed something to her. She frowned and squinted at him,

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unable to read his lips. As she mouthed “what?” back at him, an

ear piercing whistle near her ear caused her to jump. Cheyenne

waved her free hand in the air, and a taxi appeared on the street beside them. Cheyenne hopped in, and Steph scrambled in after

her. Through the taxi window, she saw Scot throw his hands up

and exclaim something to Phillip, who simply nodded and

stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cheyenne tossed some cash at

the driver, and Steph was forced to try out her Portuguese as she told the driver which pousada was theirs. She glanced at Cheyenne, who seemed to cling to Liam for dear life. Steph reached

over and stroked Liam’s hair. Cheyenne had tears oozing out

from underneath her sunglasses. Steph hoped there was a rational explanation for all of this. Tonight at the luau, she intended to corner Scot and get some answers.

148

Cheyenne hugged Yara’s mom and tried to blink away

grateful tears. Yara’s jovial parents had been offering to keep an eye on Liam since they’d laid eyes on him their first day on the island. Cheyenne didn’t want Kara anywhere near her family and

practically kissed Yara’s dad when he mentioned that they

weren’t going to the luau. Liam splashed happily in the pool and virtually ignored Cheyenne as she waved goodbye.

If Scot was going to toss her aside for some young girl, so

be it. She planned to go out, get drunk, and dance the night

away. She’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing her skimpiest

halter dress and strappy sandals that she was sure would give her a broken ankle by the end of the night. Steph refused to change

her clothes and muttered something like “you’re lucky I’m

brushing my teeth and hair tonight.”

Earlier that afternoon, Scot had been banging on the door of

Steph’s old room for about thirty minutes. Luckily the brides-

maids had been at the spa, and Liam was still asleep. Cheyenne

was convinced that the hours on the plane with Bret had trained

her son to sleep through a hurricane. Once Scot finally gave up

and left, Cheyenne noticed Steph seemed edgy.

“Cheyenne, don’t you think maybe—” Steph began, but

Cheyenne cut her off.

“I know what I saw.”

Steph ran an exasperated hand through her hair.

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“Maybe you should brush your hair again.” Cheyenne rec-

ommended.

Steph’s eyebrow twitched. “Maybe you should confront

your husband.

“Maybe you should have told Phillip he was a daddy.”

Cheyenne stood up.

Steph folded her arms. “Maybe you should bite my ass.”

They both glared at each other for a moment, then burst out

laughing simultaneously.

“Yeah, we pretty much suck at life in general.” Steph ran a

hairbrush through her wild mane and practically killed Cheyenne

with a cloud of insect repellent.

“That’s a scent that’ll get you laid.” Cheyenne joked.

“That’s the last thing on my mind, Chey,” Steph murmured,

and their light mood dissipated.

They rode alone to the luau and saw the largest crowd

they’d seen anywhere since they’d been on the island. One third

of the beach was packed with people migrating around two large

bonfires. Cheyenne immediately started toward the bar, and

Steph scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The only person she

recognized was one of the bridesmaids who wandered away

from the crowd hand in hand with a man Steph had never seen

before.

Her satellite phone rang. Stephanie dug through her purse

and held it up. By the light of the nearby tiki torch, she saw it was Christopher. She answered immediately.

“Hello?” she said loudly, covering her ear in an attempt to

block out the sound of the enthusiastic crowd.

“Steph? Where the hell… like you’re…a concert,” she

heard Christopher stutter his words sporadically.

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“Chris? You’re cutting out!” she exclaimed and tried to

move a few feet over for better reception. When she heard noth-

ing more, she looked at the phone and saw the call had dropped.

Frustrated, she tried to call him back, and her call failed to connect. She blew her bangs out of her face and stuffed the phone

back into her purse.

Steph hesitated, nervous to leave Cheyenne alone in such a

large crowd. If they were separated, there was a good chance

she’d have to spend the rest of the night looking for her. Chey-

enne’s current state of mind was somewhat dangerous based on

past experience. With a determined exhale, she made her way

toward the water, continuing her search for Scot. She needed to

confront him and find out what the hell was really going on,

since she didn’t buy any of Cheyenne’s theories.

She noticed a rowdy gathering near one of the bonfires and

moved closer to investigate. As she grew near, she realized Phillip, Bret, and Nathan were allowing a growing group of fans to

take pictures with them. She backed away as she heard a couple

of the members of Bret’s ever-present security detail whisper, “I think we’re going to need more men.”

Steph worked her away around the back of the crowd in an

effort to go unnoticed. Phillip, who was a notorious camera hog, hung back as Nathan and Bret mugged for every cell phone and

camera that pointed in their direction. Steph snapped a couple of shots, and her flash caused a few heads to turn her way, including Phillip’s. Phillip started to push past several fans, who clung to him and pulled at his clothes. When Nathan called Steph’s

name and waved to her, several of the females nearby murmured

and pointed to her. Remembering her recent feel-good experi-

ences with “the Furies,” she promptly left to find Cheyenne. It

was a relief to have that part of her private life behind her.

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Cheyenne looked up at the thatched roof of the tiki hut and

then took a sip of her second drink. She turned and leaned her

elbows on the bar, her eyes panning over the massive crowd. She

was torn; part of her wanted to see Scot, and the other part

dreaded it. Her eyes landed on Kara, who had two drinks in her

hands and appeared to be walking purposely in the direction of

the water. Cheyenne pushed off the bar and tried to follow her,

bumping into several people along the way. She came out from

under the tiki hut as she continued to fight her way through the crowd. Her heels immediately sank into the sand.

She downed the remainder of her drink and tried to remove

her shoes. As she did, she thought about Scot helping her take

off her shoes the first night they were together. She’d been tipsy then, falling on top of him in the hotel hallway. This memory

normally made her smile, but tonight it was like rock salt in a

fresh wound.

She half-emptied her plastic cup and continued down the

bank toward the water. Just when she thought she’d lost her, she heard Kara’s familiar giggle. It froze her in place. Cheyenne

slowly turned in the direction of the sound and watched Kara

hand one of the drinks to Scot. He was smiling that centerfold

smile of his, and Cheyenne felt like all of her nightmares had

come true.

Unable to see through her blinding anger, she hurled her

cup at Kara, but missed and hit Scot in the shoulder. Beer

sloshed all over both of them.

“Bloody hell!” Scot exclaimed and glanced down at his

shirt. He looked at her, his face a mask of confusion. Kara

gasped in horror, and Cheyenne wanted to claw her eyes out, but

she was too overwhelmed to move. Her hands were clasped in

fists at her sides.

“Sorry to interrupt your good time,” Cheyenne hissed

through gritted teeth. “I hope she’s worth it.”

She turned and stomped up the bank and into the crowd.

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She felt his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off violently. He forcibly stopped her and pulled her back to him. Both of

his hands were on her shoulders, and he was in her face.

“Let’s go back to our room, so we can talk.”

She glared at him, shaking so hard, she wondered how she

could still stand. “Fuck you.”

His face dawned with enlightenment. “Cheyenne, this isn’t

what it looks like.”

“Wow. Highly original,” she blurted, pulling herself free

from his grasp.

“Oh my God, it’s Scot Charles! Scot, can we have a picture

of you?” A bubbly blonde with a southern accent embraced

Scot’s waist as she and three of her friends descended on him