Their friendship quickly deteriorated as Fury became more suc-
cessful and Toxicity was left in the dust. When Fury got their
record deal, things got pretty ugly. The pièce de résistance of
their tale was when Clive caught Phillip shagging his fiancé be-
fore a show. At that point, Toxicity was Fury’s opening act. At
the time, Clive blew it off. He even said, “Fuck that bird. I was done with her anyhow.”
After the concert a major party was in full swing backstage.
Phillip’s little sis, Danielle and her friends turned up as planned.
Clive was falling down drunk at that point and broke a beer bot-
tle by Danielle’s head and threatened Philip with it. Phillip
dodged, and the drunken git stumbled into Danielle, scarring her cheek. Looking back on things, it made complete sense that
Clive had set his sights on Stephanie as the ultimate payback.
He frowned at his reflection and threw a smidge of product
in his hair, while trying to block out how it had felt to have
Stephanie’s hands running through it. He took a deep breath and
tried to shake her off like a layer of dust. He needed to party.
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
Tonight’s itinerary included going into the village—or Vila dos
Remédios as the bridesmaids cheerfully taught him—to see some
popular Carnival percussion band. They all seemed pretty jazzed
about it, so he figured it would be a good time, and he might actually get laid.
All of the other SUV’s were gone by the time Phillip and
Bret wandered out to the parking lot with the bridesmaids.
They’d already been doing body shots in the pousada bar, and by
the time they were on the road, the girls were getting pretty
friendly. The chauffer practically drove off the road looking in the rearview mirror a couple of times. Luckily the trip was short; the girls started making out with each other, and things in the
back seat were about to become positively indecent.
He was the first to climb out of the Land Rover and held the
door for Bret and the ladies. He surveyed Bar do Cachorro, their drinking hole for the evening. It was a sprawling open-air com-pound of thatched tikis with paved walkways and a half-wall to
protect drunks from unintentionally stumbling into Cochurro
Bay below. The moon was nearly full, so the view was still im-
pressive after sunset.
They wandered into the party, and Phillip felt the thumping
of the drums reverberate all the way up to his teeth. The large
crowd was surprisingly exuberant for a Monday night. Most of
the audience shared the floor with the band, dancing and min-
gling with colorful drinks in their hands. Bret guided the girls up to an elevated table, and Phillip shouted at him over the music.
“I’ll go get the first round!”
Phillip wove his way to the bar and stopped short when he
saw Stephanie with her beautiful bare back to him. Her dress
wasn’t so much a dress as a handkerchief. She leaned forward,
focused on a conversation with Cheyenne.
“I’m going to say this one last time, Steph. You need to tell
him.” Cheyenne’s expression was grave and her voice emphatic.
Then she glanced up and spotted Phillip. She sat straight up,
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wide-eyed, and paled. Steph looked over her naked shoulder at
him, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She swiveled back around
and picked up her drink.
“I’ve got to go to find Scot.” Cheyenne stood, and he saw
Steph grip her arm. Cheyenne tugged it away and shot Phillip an
unreadable look. Considering she’d called him an “incomprehen-
sible bastard” and an “egotistical jackass” the night before when Steph was off being a drama queen, she seemed fairly reserved
tonight. Phillip took advantage of the vacancy and slid into her spot at the bar. He placed his order, and as he waited, he leaned against the bar. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned toward Steph.
She seemed oddly focused on her drink. Every muscle in her
mouth-watering body looked tensed.
“You look like you could use another drink or two.” He
couldn’t stop himself from picking at her like a half-healed scab.
She glanced up at him from under long eyelashes, and what he
saw in her eyes hurt his heart. She was abjectly terrified of him.
Feeling like a world class bully, he turned back to her to make
some sort of amends.
“Stephanie…” He began, trailing off. After the crevice,
what could he say?
“You know what? Screw this.” She slurred and was on her
feet and headed toward the exit. He looked after her, shaking his head at her crass, but typical, reaction. He was about to turn back to the bar when he noticed his chauffer sitting by the door. The chauffer’s eyes roamed her body lustfully, as if she were already naked. And in that dress, she practically was. Steph stumbled a
little, and the chauffer jumped up and placed his arm around her.
A moment later they disappeared into the darkness.
Before his brain had time to process the situation, Phillip’s
feet had carried him outside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and by the light of the torches, he spotted Steph stumbling down the crude steps toward the beach. The
chauffer trailed behind her and grabbed for her wrist. He heard
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
the chauffer call her “sexy” and Steph slur “you can let go of my arm now, Dude,” and his vision seemed to go crimson. His long
strides closed the distance between himself and the pair just as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto the beach.
Phillip had the guy by the throat and shoved him onto the sand
so fast that when he turned back to Steph, she was stumbling
around in a confused circle looking for the guy like he’d evapo-
rated. When she turned and saw Phillip standing in the chauffer’s place, she recoiled.
“Seriously?” she slurred and brushed past him, nearly trip-
ping over the chauffer who’d had the good sense to stay down.
She stopped and blinked at him in tipsy confusion. “Enrique!
Dude! Are you okay?”
The bloke mumbled something unintelligible, and Steph
nodded and kept walking toward the water. Phillip continued
after her.
“Stephanie. Why don’t
