Lightning Strykes

by Sherryl Hancock

  “Yes ma’am,” Xandy said, her tone tremulous.

  “Ma’am?” Billy snapped. “Did you just call me ma’am?”

  “Um, yes?” Xandy said, looking terrified suddenly.

  “Ah Jesus…” Skylar breathed, pushing off the wall. “She was being respectful, Billy. Take it easy.”

  “How fucking old do you think I am!” Billy exclaimed, vaulting to her feet and turning to Xandy.

  In a flash Quinn was there putting her arm out to block Billy from getting any closer to Xandy.

  “You need to relax,” Quinn told Billy, in the suddenly quiet room.

  “Or what?” Billy asked, looking up at Quinn. “I’m betting you won’t hit a girl.”

  “Touch one hair on my girl’s head and you’ll find out,” Quinn said with a menacing smile.

  Billy’s blue eyes widened at the look on Quinn’s face. Then she craned her neck around to look at Xandy.

  “That’s pretty hot, right?” she asked Xandy.

  Xandy had no idea how to answer. Billy just laughed and sat back down.

  “Relax Braveheart, I’m cool,” Billy said.

  “He was Scottish, I’m from Northern Ireland,” Quinn said wryly as she turned and walked back over to the wall.

  “Same difference,” Billy said.

  “Two different islands, babe,” Skylar said, grinning at Quinn.

  “Shut up, Sky,” Billy said, even as she smiled, not looking back at her husband.

  Jerith Michaels, also known as “the Kid” of Billy and the Kid walked in. He walked over and shook hands with Skylar immediately, then looked at Quinn and Remington.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling, his eyes sparkling. “I’m Jerith.”

  “Quinn,” she said, nodding and shaking Jerith’s hand.

  Jerith looked at Remington. “Holy shit, you’re Remington LaRoché.”

  Remington nodded her head. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “It’s great to meet you. I’ve seen you fight, you’re like lighting.”

  Remington inclined her head. “Thank you,” she said humbly.

  “She’s who?” Billy asked, leaning around to look at Wynter.

  “She’s a former MMA fighter,” Wynter told Billy.

  “Seriously?” Billy asked.

  “Yes,” Wynter said, “like five-time champion.”

  “I don’t know squat about that stuff,” Billy said, shaking her head, “but that definitely explains the build.”

  “You haven’t seen anything,” Wynter said, grinning, as she pulled out her phone and showed her a pre-fight picture of Remington.

  “Holy fucking shit!” Billy exclaimed loudly.

  “And how do I know Billy’s here?” asked BJ from the door to the conference room, his grin wide.

  Jordan Tate and her husband Dylan Silver walked in with BJ. Dylan made a beeline for Remington, apparently a fan of hers as well. Wynter glanced back at Remington and could see that her bodyguard was distinctly uncomfortable with so much attention. It was only made worse when before he got down to business, BJ informed Remington that he too thought she was an amazing athlete.

  “I’ve watched fights for years,” BJ said, “male and female, and I’ve never seen anyone as fast as you.” He shook his head. “It’s a damned shame you retired.”

  “Gonna have to check this chick out...” Billy muttered.

  Jerith handed Billy his phone a moment later, grinning. Billy spent the next few minutes occupied with watching highlights from Remington LaRoché’s fights. BJ looked over at Jerith and grinned, knowing he was helping by distracting Billy, keeping her from causing trouble momentarily. Jerith gave BJ a completely innocent look. Wynter glanced back at Skylar Kristiani and saw that he was nodding with a grin on his lips as well. These men apparently knew how to handle the dynamic singer quite well.

  “So, a couple of you know,” BJ said, glancing at Xandy and Quinn, “but I’ve been working on putting this together for a bit. I’ve finally got four power house women under my label.” His eyes touched on each of the women, then he grinned, his light green eyes widening. “And I want to show them off…”

  “Wait, what?” Billy asked, looking up.

  “The four of you, on tour, together,” BJ said, his look pointed, telling Billy that he wasn’t going to argue with her on this one.

  “You want to put me out there with these kids?” Billy asked.

  “I want one of my top acts to go out with two of my newest artists, Wynter and Xandy, yes,” BJ said.

  Billy narrowed her eyes at BJ. she wasn’t fooled by his stroking. “Who’s the headliner?”

  “There is no headliner,” BJ said. “Just like our last major label tour.”

  BJ’s band Sparks had toured with Billy and the Kid, Jordan, and Fast Lane.

  “Why isn’t Cassie here? Fast Lane’s not one of your top acts anymore?” Billy asked sharply.

  “Cassie is pregnant, and Mackie would kill me if I even breathed in her direction right now,” BJ said, his look serious.

  Billy snapped her mouth shut then, glancing back at Skylar who nodded at her. BJ saw the confused look on both Wynter and Xandy’s faces.

  “Cassie Roads is the lead singer of Fast Lane, as you may already know. Cassie had a couple of miscarriages a couple of years back… one almost cost her life. The fact that she’s pregnant at all is a miracle, but Mackie isn’t taking any chances with her health. He’s not letting her out of his sight for much. And he definitely wouldn’t let her tour right now.”

  Both Xandy and Wynter nodded, understanding now what had shut Billy up about Fast Lane. In the back of the room, Remington glanced at Quinn, who nodded, having known about John Machiavelli’s wife being pregnant with a risky pregnancy. Remington’s opinion of John Machiavelli raised a few more points at that moment.

  The meeting continued with BJ laying out the tour schedule. When they got to the point of discussing travel arrangements things got a little sticky again.

  “Jordan and her band will have their own bus,” BJ said, holding his hand up as Billy sat forward, looking over at Jordan, who’d yet to say anything in the meeting. “She’s pregnant again, Billy, and their daughter will be traveling with them too.”

  Billy’s mouth dropped open as she looked over at Jordan. Jordan’s gold eyes sparkled as she glanced over at her husband Dylan. As Skylar was for Billy, Dylan was Jordan’s ‘calm mate.’

  “So that’s what it takes?” Billy said snidely. “Skylar, get me pregnant again, will ya?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Not if my life depended on it, babe,” Skylar replied rolling his eyes.

  Quinn and Remington looked over at him with varied degrees of amusement on their faces. Skylar gave a dramatic shudder, grinning all the while.

  “Don’t be a bitch, Billy,” Jordan said, keeping her tone perfectly calm.

  “Kiss my ass, Jordan,” Billy replied with a sweet smile.

  “Not on your life, honey,” Jordan replied, narrowing her eyes slightly.

  Dylan reached his hand over to lay it over Jordan’s hand on the table, and leaned over to say something in her ear. Jordan nodded, and said nothing else.

  BJ was ever pleased by the match he’d accidentally made in putting Dylan and Jordan together to write songs when Jordan was blocked. Dylan had been the one man that not only had a way of calming Jordan down, but also wouldn’t take her crap when she tried to dish it at him. He was perfect for her. Jordan was BJ’s best friend in the world, and he loved her dearly, but she could be impossible at times.

  “Now, back to what I was saying,” BJ said, looking pointedly over at Billy. “I was about to say that Billy and the Kid will have a bus as well.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that!” Billy snapped.

  “Because you interrupted him, Billy,” Jerith told her calmly.

  Billy shot Jerith a vile look, but didn’t say anything. BJ knew that Billy wouldn’t blow up at Jerith. She needed him and she knew it. Jerith Michaels had proven
to be a force to be reckoned with when Billy had temporarily left Billy and the Kid. Jerith had put out a solo album, aptly titled “Solo” and it had gone platinum quickly. Jerith Michaels didn’t need Billy Montague, but she definitely needed him, and everyone knew it now.

  “Wynter and Xandy, you girls okay in a bus together?” BJ asked.

  Xandy nodded, looking over at Wynter who also nodded.

  “Good,” BJ said, looking relieved. “I don’t need a bloody convoy goin’ down the road, I’ll get fined!” he said, with a grin. “Now, you two,” BJ said, looking to the back of the room at Quinn and Remington.

  “Wot?” Quinn said, looking instantly wary.

  BJ grinned knowing her well at this point, and appreciating her concern, considering the personalities already clashing in this pre-tour meeting.

  “I’m counting on you two to be my point people on security for this tour.” He held up his hands as Quinn came off the wall ready to protest mightily. Remington merely pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes slightly. “There will be other security hired for the tour, but you two girls are my aces, okay? And I assure you, you will be highly compensated for the…” His eyes touched on Billy and Jordan. “Trouble.”

  “Did I just lose my bodyguard?” Wynter asked Xandy under her breath.

  “It sounds like it,” Xandy said, grimacing, “and I lost my girlfriend.”

  “Guess you two will have to learn to share,” Billy said, smiling blithely at them.

  “I’ve never been good at sharing…” Wynter said pointedly.

  “Might want to work on that one, sweetie,” Billy said, giving Wynter a knowing wink.

  Wynter started to stand, and Billy was already grinning wickedly, happy to have riled the younger singer.

  “Knock it off, Billy,” Jerith warned.

  Wynter felt a hand at her back and glanced back to see Remington standing by her chair, her hazel eyes narrowed slightly as she shook her head slowly. Blowing her breath out, Wynter sat back down.

  Billy grinned gleefully, knowing now what would get to Wynter Kincade.

  Remington stepped back to the wall then, glancing at Quinn.

  “Máthair Dia…” Quinn muttered under her breath, saying “mother of God” in Gaelic.

  “Pwoblèm p ap fini…” Remington muttered at the same time. It was a Haitian Creole saying that translated to ‘problems will not end’, or more aptly, ‘when it rains it pours.’

  On the way back to the house, Wynter was fit to be tied.

  “What the fuck is he thinking?” Wynter exclaimed, not for the first time. “I can’t be on tour with that woman, I’ll fucking kill her!”

  Remington didn’t reply, knowing that Wynter was beyond hearing anything she would say.

  “And what the fuck is up with her coming at you like that?” Wynter said then, staring over at Remington as if she herself had done something wrong. Remington looked warily over at Wynter.

  Billy had walked over to Remington at the end of the meeting, and slid a fingernail down the side of Remington’s cheek. “Looks like you’ll have time to give me some lessons, huh?” she’d said, glancing back at Wynter.

  “What did she mean by lessons?’ Wynter asked, still storming.

  “I have no idea,” Remington answered simply.

  “Her husband was standing right there! Is she fucking crazy?” Wynter asked.

  “Maybe,” Remington offered.

  “You’re not helping right now,” Wynter said, her look narrowed.

  Remington pressed her lips together, doing her best to subdue a grin.

  “Stop it,” Wynter said.

  “Why are you letting her get to you?” Remington asked. “You know she’s just playing a game, and you’re letting her win.”

  “How is she winning?” Wynter asked.

  “Do you think she’s still raging about you right now?” Remington asked.

  That pulled Wynter up short and she screwed up her lips in consternation. “Probably not.”

  “ L i te voye flè,” Remington said then.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Wynter asked, looking confused. “That’s Creole right?”

  “Haitian Creole, yes,” Remington said. “It translates to she’s throwing flowers, but it’s an old saying that basically means that she’s talking nonsense and you shouldn’t listen.”

  “Tell me again,” Wynter said, her look serious.

  “ L i te voye flè,” Remington repeated.

  “ L i te voye flè,” Wynter said, doing her best to get the accent right.

  “Got it,” Remington told her, grinning.

  A few days later, Remington had the unfortunate luck of having to drive both Wynter and Lauren into the city. When they all went to leave, using the Escalade from Mach 3’s fleet, Wynter started to get in on the passenger’s side.

  “Wynter, get in back with me,” Lauren told her.

  Wynter looked over at Remington as she got in on the driver’s side. Remington simply shrugged.

  “Wynter,” Lauren said again, her tone sharper this time.

  Wynter caught the narrowing of Remington’s eyes.

  “Okay, okay,” Wynter said, holding up her hand at Lauren to keep her from saying something else.

  Lauren did not like Remington at all. She told Wynter that she needed to get rid of the woman and get a normal bodyguard. Wynter refused, not wanting to even discuss the matter anymore with Lauren. She claimed that BJ had requested Remington and that she had no say in the matter. The last thing she wanted was for Lauren to hear that she’d personally requested Remington. Lauren was insecure enough without adding more fuel to the fire.

  In the back seat, Lauren made a point of putting her arm around Wynter, pulling her close, and kissing her lips deeply to the point that it made Wynter uncomfortable. When she dragged her lips away from Lauren, Wynter glanced toward the front and caught Remington’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She grimaced apologetically.

  There was music playing; rock music that Remington tended to listen to. When one song ended, Lauren made a rude noise, and said snidely, “We’re really rocking out this morning, huh?”

  Once again, Wynter saw Remington’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They were more green than gold and from what Wynter had seen so far, which usually indicated irritation. Still, Remington didn’t say anything. She just switched the speakers to the front so they wouldn’t have to listen.

  “You could just put on some good music,” Lauren said, her tone nasty.

  I could just throw you off a bridge too , enèvan bra, but… Remington thought maliciously.

  After they’d stopped to let Lauren out at her “appointment” which to Remington had become code for ‘drug deal,’ Wynter got into the front seat. As she did, she heard Remington mutter something she’d heard from her before.

  “What was that?” Wynter asked, recognizing the Haitian Creole that Remington used often.

  Remington curled her lips in a sardonic grin. “I said ‘bon Deberá enèvan bra,’ ” Remington she said smiling pleasantly.

  “Which translates to…” Wynter said, her voice trailing off as she gave Remington a sidelong look.

  “I forget,” Remington said her look far from honest.

  “You’ve never forgotten a word of Creole in your life, Remington LaRoché,” Wynter said, narrowing her blue eyes. “What does it mean?”

  Remington had the temerity to look embarrassed for a moment, embarrassed and somewhat ashamed.

  ‘It’s unkind,” she told Wynter.

  “Which is rare for you, isn’t it?” Wynter asked.

  “Not when it comes to her, no,” Remington answered honestly.

  “You two really don’t like each other,” Wynter said.

  “At least it’s mutual,” Remington said mildly.

  “So what did you say?” Wynter asked again.

  “It means, ‘good riddance irritating brat,’ ” Remington said.

  Wynter looked back at her for a long moment and then started
to laugh, shaking her head.

  “You really need help when it comes to being insulting,” Wynter told Remington.

  “Oh, believe me, I can be very insulting when the need arises,” Remington told her.

  “Oh, my…” Wynter said, widening her eyes. “So is Katrina still coming over tonight?”

  “As far as I know,” Remington said, glancing over at Wynter. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

  “I am sure I’m okay with this,” Wynter said, nodding. “If Lauren is home, I’ll make sure to keep her bound and gagged upstairs with me, okay?”

  Remington made a noise in the back of her throat.

  “We won’t mess up your date, I promise,” Wynter said, holding up her hands.

  That evening Katrina arrived at the house and Remington opened the door, smiling down at her. Katrina walked inside, looking a bit awestruck. Remington couldn’t blame her for that, the house was impressive. Starting with the stone path that led to the front door, looking like a lush garden and the entry of natural stone and exposed timber and natural wood crown molding. There was a solid wood coffered ceiling that opened into an impressive dining room with one wall covered with a colorful and beautiful mural.

  “This is amazing,” Katrina said, as she admired her surroundings.

  Remington nodded. “It is definitely that,” she said, smiling.

  Remington led Katrina into the massive kitchen. Katrina noted the pot simmering on the stove and could smell fresh bread.

  “You cook too?” Katrina asked, her tone shocked.

  “A few things,” Remington said, smiling. “Since it’s cold, I figured soup would be good. This is an old recipe, it’s called Squah Soup.”

  “It is Haitian?” Katrina asked.

  “Creole, yes,” Remington said. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course!” Katrina said. “I’ve never had Haitian food before.”

  “Well, it’s Haitian Creole, so it’s different from both Haitian food and Creole. When people came from Haiti to America, settling in Louisiana, they used what they could get, so it changed the way people made the old recipes.”