“She needs to stay on her side of the fence,” Wynter said.
Remington chuckled, shaking her head and exchanging a look with Quinn. They both knew that Billy Montague was only harassing Remington because she knew Wynter would react to it, whereas Xandy simply looked on patiently.
When Billy came back through, she went to sit on Remington’s lap, throwing her arm around her shoulders.
“So, what are you bois back here talking about?” she asked, smiling down at Remington.
“Fighting techniques, different throws,” Remington replied with a mild look.
“Throws?” Billy queried.
“Ways to take someone down to the mat,” Quinn provided.
“Ohhh…” Billy said, her tone full of sexual innuendo. “You can do that to me anytime,” she said, sliding the back of her index finger down Remington’s cheek.
“Her girlfriend might have a problem with that,” Wynter said.
“From the way you’re acting, you’d think you were her girlfriend,” Billy replied mildly, the sparkle in her blue eyes belying that mild tone.
Wynter narrowed her eyes at Billy. “Don’t you have a husband to take care of?”
“He’s asleep, but thanks for your concern,” Billy replied tartly.
Wynter started to stand up, but Remington was faster once again and quickly stood first, easily picking Billy up as she did. She set her on her feet, turning so her back was to Wynter.
“Oh my, so strong…” Billy said, smiling lasciviously.
Wynter sprang to her feet and reached for Billy. Quinn jumped up, taking Billy by the shoulders and pulling her back, as Remington turned to deal with Wynter.
“Stop,” Remington told Wynter calmly, seeing that her eyes were blazing.
“She needs to jus t ” Wynter began.
“Just stop,” Remington said, her voice still calm and still soft, her eyes searching Wynter’s. “This isn’t about her… Don’t make it about her.”
Wynter looked up at Remington surprised by what she was saying. Her lips parted to say something, but then she shook her head and sat back down. Remington turned to Billy then.
“Ms. Montague,” she said, her tone both formal and polite, “please respect my position enough to stop causing trouble for me , Dakò? Okay?”
Billy stared up at Remington, smiling softly, then she lowered her eyes and nodded. “I apologize,” she said, not to Wynter, but to Remington.
With that she walked away. Quinn and Remington rolled their eyes at each other, each grinning and sat down again.
Later when Xandy and Quinn went forward to talk to Jordan and Dylan, Wynter took a moment to speak to Remington without the others around.
“What did you mean earlier?” she asked. “When you said that it wasn’t about Billy.”
Remington looked over at her, her look considering. “I think it’s about you and Lauren,” she said honestly.
“How?” Wynter asked.
“You can’t control how Lauren acts, or what she does, and now you feel out of control with how Billy is acting.”
Wynter looked back at Remington, canting her head sideways. “Couldn’t be that I’m totally jealous of her attention to you?”
Remington looked surprised by that question but then suddenly cautious.
“Why would you be jealous of that?” Remington asked.
Wynter dropped her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m just saying, you think it’s about Lauren, and I think it’s because Billy’s a bitch.”
“Okay, but you know that, so stop helping her out by letting it bother you,” Remington pointed out.
“Are you into her?” Wynter asked suddenly.
Remington’s mouth dropped open slightly at such a direct question. She closed her mouth, looking toward the ceiling. “Other than teenage fantasies,” she said with a sly grin, “no.”
Wynter narrowed her eyes, not liking that Remington had any fantasies relating to Billy Montague. “Teenage fantasies?”
Remington looked embarrassed and lowered her head, her lips pursing in consternation.
“Oh my… you’re actually embarrassed,” Wynter said, her ire increasing. “Jesus, how many of them did you have?”
Remington coughed, shaking her head and looking away. “Not the time or the place,” she said simply.
“Name the time and place, I’ll be there,” Wynter replied seriously.
Remington looked over at her sharply, once again surprised by Wynter’s tone.
Wynter knew she was saying too much, and showing too much as well. To deflect whatever questions Remington might ask, Wynter stood and stretched. Remington stood as well, still looking perplexed by Wynter’s comments. Wynter walked past Remington and headed for the bathroom. In the bathroom, she put the lid on the toilet down and sat on it, banging her head against the wall for a few minutes.
“Just shut up next time, Wynter, just shut up…” she muttered to herself.
She knew that her obsession with Remington was going to continue to be an issue, but she had no idea what to do about it. She desperately wanted to make a play for Remington to see what would happen, but she was afraid that if she did and Remington turned her down, it would hurt a lot and Remington would leave. Self-control wasn’t something Wynter Kincade had in any quantifiable amount. It was one of her biggest flaws.
By the time they landed in Albany, New York, Wynter was climbing the walls wanting out of the plane. It was 4 p.m. local time and their first show was set for 7 p.m. In the meantime, they needed to do a sound check and get ready for the show. A fleet of Escalades picked them up from the airport and drove the twenty-five minutes to the venue, Times Union Center. Remington and Quinn stood by and directed the security team that met them at the venue. Then they each made their way to either side of the stage, waiting while sound checks were done.
The first sound check was with Jordan, who sailed through with minimal drama. Next was Billy who screamed at the sound engineer for twenty minutes because she kept getting feedback.
Wynter stood next to Remington watching Billy rage.
“She just loves to yell, doesn’t she?” Wynter said to Remington. “Is that really what people think I’m like too?”
Remington’s look said yes because she couldn’t.
“Damnit…” Wynter said. “Gotta change that. I don’t want to sound like that to people!”
“It’s all under your control,” Remington told her. “Just be who you really are.”
Wynter glanced up at her in surprise and then smiled as she realized that Remington was trying to encourage her.
After Billy’s sound check, Wynter walked out onto the stage. She shaded her eyes because the light crew was doing their thing at the same time and it was rather bright.
“Memphis, is it?” Wynter called, having heard the sound engineer’s name a few times.
“You got it, sweetie!” came the reply from the brash-blond sound engineer. One of the best.
“For my in-ears, I just want the rhythm line, okay?” Wynter asked.
“Got it,” Memphis replied, winking at Wynter. “Go for it.”
Wynter started to sing one of her new songs. Her voice started low and soft, and slowly built. When she hit the highest note there was a screech of feedback and she winced at the loud sound.
“Sorry!” Memphis called. “This system is garbage! Can we try it again, Ms. Kincade? Just the last few notes, please.”
Wynter nodded, taking a deep breath and beginning to sing again. This time when she hit the note and held it, the sound was perfect. Remington found herself smiling proudly at the incredible beauty of Wynter’s singing. She had an incredible voice that went right through a person.
“She’s got some serious range on her,” Jordan said from beside Remington.
“Range?” Remington asked.
“You know how her voice started out low then built and finally hit that last note?” Jordan said. “That’s her range, and I’m betting the longer she w
orks with Beege, the farther he’ll push her. She’s definitely got a serious future if she doesn’t fuck it up.”
“How would she do that?” Remington asked.
Jordan was surprised by the question. “Oh, things like drugs, drinking, screwing around, getting arrested…”
Remington’s eyes widened. “I thought those kinds of things made you rock stars famous,” she said, grinning.
“Only the men, sweetie,” Jordan said, her tone sneering.
“Double standard?” Remington said.
“We’re in America, right?” Jordan replied, winking.
“Yes we are…” Remington replied.
Wynter walked off stage then and smiled at Jordan.
“Nice job,” Jordan said, “short and sweet.”
“Well, I figure Billy took care of the bitchfest for all of us,” Wynter said, grinning.
“She always does,” Jordan replied, grinning as well.
Fortunately, the hotel they were set to stay in that evening within was walking distance from the center, so the group was able to go back to the hotel to get ready for the show. The room Remington and Wynter had was a single queen, much to Remington’s dismay. Wynter made a show of asking for a room with two beds, but was told that the hotel was completely booked due to their show that evening.
“I’m really sorry, Ms. Kincade,” the girl said. She was a big fan. “When the rooms were booked they didn’t tell us anything about who would be staying in them.”
Wynter nodded, glancing up at Remington.
“Sorry, Remi,” she said.
Remington just nodded, and turned to pick up their bags to take them to the room.
Twenty minutes later Wynter was prowling the room, pacing. Before long, she grabbed her cigarettes and her phone and walked out onto the room’s small balcony. Remington stood in the doorway watching Wynter pace back and forth in the span of a ten-foot balcony. Wynter was playing music on her phone and was singing and smoking as she paced.
“You do realize people can see you from here, right?” Remington said at one point, seeing people standing on the street below, only two floors away, looking up at her.
Wynter glanced down at the street, waved to the people below and continued to pace.
“They have cameras,” Remington pointed out.
“So?” Wynter said, rolling her eyes. “What am I doing that’s interesting?”
“I think people feel whatever you do is interesting,” Remington replied.
“Remi, I have cameras pointed at me all day every day, I don’t even care anymore. I mean,” she said, turning to lean a hip against the railing looking back at Remington, “unless you want to give them something interesting to take pictures of…” Her voice trailed off seductively.
“Not funny,” Remington said her eyes narrowed.
“Are ya sure?” Wynter asked, grinning. “’Cause I think it was kinda funny,” she said with a wink.
Remington just looked back at her, her face composed in a serious look.
“Oh my God, Remi, lighten up, sheesh!” Wynter exclaimed throwing her hands up.
“Have you had bodyguards that took you up on that offer previously?” Remington asked doubtfully.
Wynter laughed mirthlessly, shaking her hair out. “Oh, sure, all the time, actually,” she said derisively. “Problem was they were all men.”
Remington looked shocked. “Are you being serious?”
Wynter threw her a disdainful look. “Sadly, yes, I am.”
Remington shook her head. “Fout…” she muttered, not liking the feeling of possessive rage that wiggled its way into her heart.
“Is that why you requested me?” Remington asked.
Wynter looked over at her sharply, then she sighed, shrugging. “I guess, partly.”
“What does that mean?” Remington asked.
“What’s ‘fout’?” Wynter countered.
“It’s like… damn,” Remington said.
“So you’re allowed to cuss in front of me if it’s in Creole?” Wynter asked, grinning.
Remington drew in a breath and blew it out in obvious frustration as she shook her head. “No, that was inappropriate of me.”
“Remi, I didn’t even know what it meant,” Wynter said, wondering if the woman ever gave herself a break.
“What did you mean by partly?” Remington asked again.
Wynter’s lips twitched, she had hoped Remington wouldn’t ask the question again. She lit another cigarette and continued to pace. Finally, she shrugged noncommittally.
“I don’t know, I guess that I liked you right off the bat, and I felt like you could really protect me.”
Remington’s look reflected shock.
“You liked me right off?” Remington asked.
“Yeah,” Wynter said, grinning, “you didn’t take my shit.”
“I also manhandled you,” Remington said.
“Is that what that was?” Wynter said, smiling with her tongue between her teeth. Her eyes shone mischievously which should have warned Remington. “I’ve been handled rougher during sex, Remi.”
Remington closed her eyes, feeling the words go right to her core. What was it about this woman that had a way of making her body stir in ways it never had, even when she was being outrageous?
Wynter saw the look on Remington’s face, and knew she’d nailed her with that one. She did her best not to look triumphant.
“What I mean to say is that you hardly ‘manhandled’ me,” Wynter explained, her tone perfectly innocent this time.
Remington didn’t fall for it. She knew that Wynter liked her effect on people; she knew she was just the target for the moment.
“Why do you do that?” Remington asked her, trying to turn the tables.
“Do what?” Wynter asked innocently enough, but the look in her eyes told Remington she knew exactly what she meant.
Remington lowered her chin, looking directly into Wynter’s eyes. “Say things like that.”
Wynter was about to say, ‘like what?’ but the words died on her lips as she stared back up at Remington, getting tangled in the sudden desire to push her luck.
“Because I want to,” Wynter said her answer completely honest.
“Because you want to or because you want people to react?” Remington asked, her tone softening.
“Because I want you to react,” Wynter said, feeling her pulse race and her breathing becoming heavier as she waited for Remington’s response.
“Me?” Remington asked.
“You,” Wynter said, her eyes staring up into Remington’s, her look completely open.
Remington contemplated Wynter’s words as she looked for signs of deception on Wynter’s face. She couldn’t detect any sign of deceit, or any sign that Wynter was kidding. It scared the hell out of her. That fear manifested itself physically as Remington took a step back, keeping her eyes on Wynter.
Wynter didn’t say a word, she didn’t move for a long moment. She felt the stab in her heart at Remington’s rejection. She’d known it would hurt if she rejected her, but she’d pushed anyway. Fortunately, she hadn’t gone too far yet.
She tossed aside her cigarette and stripped off the tank top she wore, exposing a black lace bra and a lot of perfectly smooth, toned and tanned skin. She walked past Remington into the room and headed for the bathroom.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said over her shoulder.
Remington stood where she was, putting an arm out to brace herself on the doorjamb. She knew the picture of Wynter in the black lace bra was going to be burned into her brain for many nights to come. The woman had an illegally sexy body and it was going to be living hell to live with that for the next eight to nine months. Blowing her breath out, Remington looked up at the ceiling, hearing the shower start.
“E koulye a, mwen bezwen yon douch frèt…” Remington muttered under her breath. And now I need a cold shower .
The first show went off with a few minor glitches though fortunately
, nothing horrendous. There was resounding applause and each of the acts did at least two encores. It was a triumphant night and Wynter returned to her room feeling her soul restored a bit. Remington LaRoché might not adore her but her fans sure did. She was thrilled at their reception of her new songs. They were an extreme departure from her previous music, and she was very connected to it. Having her fans seem to really love the new stuff made her feel incredible.
“They loved it!” Wynter said to Xandy not for the first time. She was so thrilled she knew she was repeating herself.
“I know that feeling,” Xandy said, nodding. “When I first changed over to BJ’s label I was worried that people would miss the bubblegum stuff…”
“Exactly!” Wynter said. “Fucking Lauren keeps going on about how I should stick with the formula, the formula, the formula! Ugh I fucking hate that term!”
Quinn and Remington were behind the two singers and Quinn had sensed Remington’s tension all night.
“What’s goin’ on?” Quinn asked as the girls continued to talk excitedly.
Remington glanced at Quinn, grimacing slightly, then shook her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Quinn nodded, accepting that answer for the moment. “Well, you let me know if I can help at some point, clear?”
“Clear,” Remington said, nodding with a smile of appreciation.
In the hotel room, Wynter went to take another shower. Remington sat down in the chair and started doing research on her laptop on their next stop in Wantagh, New York. She was still doing calculations when Wynter walked out of the bathroom wearing a skimpy tank top and bikini underwear.
“That isn’t what you’re wearing to bed…” Remington said, her voice trailing off short of saying ‘are you’ because she was hoping Wynter would take the hint.
“Yep,” Wynter said, as she climbed onto the bed, grabbing her iPad off the nightstand.
Remington looked over at the woman for a long moment. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her face was devoid of all makeup. She looked far too damned good for Remington to be stuck in a room with for the entire night. What’s worse, she was hardly wearing anything! And apparently, she expected to sleep that way next to Remington.
Lightning Strykes Page 10
