“So,” Remington began glancing over at Wynter, “we’re not gonna stay in the hotel with everyone else in New York…”
Wynter looked over at her, surprised.
“We’re not?” she asked. “Why?”
Remington grinned. “Well, my apartment in New York is right around the corner from the first venue, so…”
“You have an apartment in New York?” Wynter asked, not sure why she was surprised.
“Yeah,” Remington nodded.
“Okay,” Wynter said nodding.
“It’s a two bedroom,” Remington said, “and I figure we can stay there for the next five or six show dates. It’ll be more comfortable than a hotel.”
Wynter nodded, surprised by this turn of events, but also really curious to see what Remington’s apartment would look like.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Wynter asked Remington as the bus drove away and a doorman busily loaded their bags onto a trolley.
Remington looked back at her perplexed. “Uh, no,” she said, her tone reflecting her confusion at Wynter’s question.
“Your apartment has a doorman?” Wynter asked.
“It’s New York,” Remington said, grinning, “lots of them do.”
“Okay…” Wynter said, following Remington into the building.
Inside, Wynter looked around. It looked very nice and far from what she’d expected.
“Ms. LaRoché, excellent to see you again, ma’am,” the slim gray-haired uniformed man at the front desk said, bowing slightly to her.
“Thanks, James,” Remington said smiling. “How’s it been going?”
“Well, ma’am, it’s definitely getting colder out there by the minute, early winter this year I think. How is California fairing for you?”
“It’s had its trials,” Remington said, grinning at Wynter. “Oh, and there was an earthquake not more than a week after I got out there.”
“California, where natural disasters abound…” James said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“We like it,” Wynter put in, grinning. “It keeps things interesting!”
James inclined his head politely to Wynter. “If you say so, miss.” He looked over at Remington then. “Will you be needing your car later, Ms. LaRoché?”
Remington looked at her watch, and nodded. “Yeah, can you have them give it a quick clean, I’m sure it’s got a huge layer of dust.”
“Of course, ma’am,” James said, nodding.
Remington led her to the elevator and the doorman followed at a polite distance. Wynter leaned against the wall of the elevator, her eyes searching Remington’s. She sensed that she was about to be completely shocked by Remington LaRoché. Remington simply looked back at her, a slightly amused grin on her lips.
They walked off the elevator directly into a foyer, with marble floors and elegant wainscoted walls in earth tones. Remington walked through an open doorway and Wynter followed, suddenly finding herself in a room with the most incredible view of Central Park and the buildings on the other side of the park. They were seventeen floors up and Wynter could not believe what she was seeing.
The room was a long loft-style room with windows along its entire length. Looking from left to right, she saw a dining room, a living room area, and what looked like another sitting room to the far right. The furniture was all wood and earth tones, it definitely wasn’t fussy or overly decorated, which was very much Remington.
“Fuckin’ A, Remi…” Wynter breathed, unable to come up with any other suitable adjectives.
Remington chuckled, shaking her head at Wynter’s comment, and turning to the doorman.
“Put those,” she said, pointing to Wynter’s bags, “into the second bedroom, please. My stuff can go in the master. Thanks,” she said, smiling.
The doorman nodded, and headed off to the right.
Wynter turned to look at Remington. “This is a rental right?”
“No,” Remington said, “why?”
“You own this?” Wynter asked, unable to keep the shock off her face or out of her voice.
Remington curled her lips, grinning as she nodded. Wynter reached out and swatted Remington on the arm. Remington laughed, putting her arm up defensively to fend off any other attacks.
“What?” she asked, laughing as she did.
“What?” Wynter repeated sarcastically. “You knew this was going to shock the shit out of me, didn’t you?”
Remington was still smiling as she shrugged. “How was I supposed to know what you expected.”
“Well, there was no way I was expecting this!” Wynter said, gesturing to the view of New York.
“Well, let me show you the rest then,” Remington said, smiling warmly.
The kitchen off to the left of the dining room had butcher-block counters and stainless steel appliances. Behind the kitchen Remington had an enviable home gym, complete with treadmill, free weights, weight bench, stair climber, and a seventy-five-inch flat panel TV mounted to the wall.
Wynter shook her head, thinking that Remington was going to always be one surprise after another to her. Remington then led her to the other side of the apartment where the bedrooms were located. To the left was the ‘guest bedroom’ which featured three walls of windows, with low light colored wooden built in dressers under the windows on all three sides as well as built in bookcases filled with books. There were also comfortable chairs at the end of the bed that faced out toward Central Park. All of the rooms were decorated in earth tones: light beiges, some greens, and darker browns. There was nothing flashy or ostentatious about the apartment. The view itself was the key feature.
“Okay, now let’s see your room,” Wynter said, smiling.
Remington grinned, and gestured across the hall. Wynter walked into Remington’s room, and once again thought that it was totally her. There was nothing too flashy, nothing too over-the-top, just sturdy wood furniture, and lots of built-ins. One of which was a full wall of drawers, shelves and doors with a large screen TV in the center. Even the comforter on the bed was white.
Wynter looked around, continuing to shake her head in complete awe.
“This place is absolutely incredible, Remi,” she said, looking over at her bodyguard. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Remington smiled softly, her expression pleased. “Thanks,” she said simply.
“Never one to gush, are you?” Wynter said, shaking her head.
“Why don’t you go get settled, and we’ll go get some dinner,” Remington said.
Going to ‘get some dinner’ turned out to be yet another shock for Wynter. As they walked out of the lobby, a bright orange Porsche drove up in front of them. To Wynter’s utter shock, the young man got out of the car and walked around to hand the keys to Remington.
“Thanks,” Remington said, smiling and handing the young man a folded bill.
“Anytime, Ms. LaRoché,” the young man said, smiling widely as he moved to open the passenger’s door for Wynter.
“Thank you,” Wynter said, looking over at Remington completely floored.
Inside the car, Wynter turned to look at Remington as she got in on the driver’s side.
“This is yours too, I take it?” she asked.
Remington chuckled at her tone. “Yes,” she said, nodding.
Wynter shook her head once again. “So this is like your New York car?” she asked, grinning.
“I guess you could call it that,” Remington said, as she pulled away from the curb and smoothly into traffic. “So, does seafood sound good?”
“I,” Wynter stammered, “sure.”
Remington nodded, changing lanes. Wynter watched as Remington drove; she looked very much at home behind the wheel of the sports car.
“What is this?” Wynter asked, gesturing to the car.
“It’s a Porsche 911 GT3 RS,” Remington answered.
Wynter blinked a couple of times. “So like… fast, fast car…” she said, her voice trailing off as she grinned.
�
��Or that,” Remington said, smiling.
It took a half an hour to get to the restaurant, and Wynter was surprised to find that it was down on the water, and in Brooklyn. The restaurant had a valet. Remington got out, handing the guy the keys, and opening Wynter’s door for her, looking around as she did.
The restaurant they walked up to was very unassuming looking, with a large number of potted plants on either side of black and glass paneled door. It was called “River Café.” Inside, however, Wynter was wowed by the beautiful view of the New York skyline across the river.
“Remi, this is amazing…” Wynter said, feeling like she was saying that a lot on that particular day.
“Yeah, I love the view here,” Remington said. “The food is excellent too.”
“Handy,” Wynter said, grinning.
They ordered their meals, and had an incredible dinner. Wynter enjoyed Remington’s company. She felt like they were getting closer as friends, since the fall. Remington seemed a lot less formal, laughing and smiling more, and opening up by taking her to her home and what was obviously a favorite restaurant, since most of the staff seemed to know her.
Wynter Kincade, of course, didn’t go unnoticed either. She received a lot of requests for autographs, and much to Remington’s dismay, so did the retired MMA fighter. One woman was completely unabashed when speaking to Remington.
“I just think you are so amazing!” she said, smiling with bright white teeth and darkly painted lips. “The way you saved Miss Kincade here, it was just so fantastic!”
Remington inclined her head, blinking a couple of times. She never had any idea how to respond to compliments like that, and couldn’t begin to extricate herself from the woman who was holding her arm tightly as she gushed.
“Yes, she’s pretty incredible, that’s why I love her…” Wynter said taking Remington’s hand to make it look as though they were there on a date, so the woman would take the hint.
“Oh my goodness,” the woman said, looking embarrassed suddenly. “I’m so sorry I’m interrupting your date…”
She hurried away shortly thereafter. Remington grinned at Wynter. “Our date?” she asked.
“Well, she wasn’t going away any time soon and I figured you probably wanted her to, so…” Wynter said, shrugging.
“I’ve never known what to say to people like that,” Remington admitted.
“That’s because you’re not a gloater,” Wynter said. “You’d make a terrible rock star,” she said, grinning.
“That and the fact that I can’t sing or play an instrument,” Remington said, grinning.
“Eh, there’s lots of those out there,” Wynter said, waving her hand to the ‘outside.’
“You’re not one of those, though,” Remington said with a serious look.
“What? A talentless hack?” Wynter asked, grinning. “I’d like to think I’m not.”
“You’re not,” Remington said, her tone sure. “The other night I was watching you perform…” She shook her head as her voice trailed off. “You were born to do this. You had those people in the palm of your hand, it was absolutely amazing.”
“And then I fell,” Wynter said, grinning.
Remington laughed, nodding. “There is that part too, yeah.”
“Uh-huh…” Wynter murmured, her look chagrinned.
“That experience should show you just how many people care about you,” Remington said, her tone earnest. “You’ve had so many of those ‘hits’ things on Facebook and all that… People don’t do that for talentless hacks, they do that for people they adore.”
Wynter looked back at Remington for a long moment, debating whether or not to say what came to mind. She wasn’t sure if it was the candlelight, the wine, or the amazing view of the New York city lights, but she felt all soft and warm inside in that moment.
“What that experience showed me was one thing that was important to me, Remi…” Wynter said, her look searching.
“What’s that?” Remington asked, picking up her wine and taking a drink.
“That you care about me,” Wynter said softly. Though she wondered if she was crazy to tell Remington.
Remington tilted her head looking somewhat pained. “You didn’t know that before?” she asked, her voice reflecting the look on her face.
Wynter looked back at the woman who was her bodyguard, this incredibly strong, beautiful and gentle woman, and shook her head.
Remington blew her breath out, grimacing slightly. “Well, then I wasn’t doing a very good job of expressing myself,” she said, her tone matter of fact. “I do care about you, Wyn,” she said. “I know that things have been difficult sometimes, because you and I are extremely different, but I do care. You should know that.”
Wynter smiled softly, nodding her head.
“I care about you too, Remi,” Wynter said, “and I’m really glad that you’re becoming more open with me. I feel like we’re finally becoming friends.”
Remington smiled. “Yes, I think it’s safe to say we are.”
“Good,” Wynter said, nodding. “Now… what kind of nightlife do you New Yorkers have?”
“Well, there are a few bars,” Remington said. “One I usually go to in the West Village… Did you want to dance, drink or what?”
“Tonight?” Wynter said, thinking about it. “Tonight I think just drinking would work.”
“Then I know where to take you,” Remington said, smiling.
They ended up at a bar called The Cubbyhole in the West Village. Wynter wasn’t too shocked to hear people hail Remington with hellos. A number of women came up to her shaking her hand, or pounding her on the back. They all were happy to be introduced to Wynter Kincade. They ended up staying out until two in the morning.
The next morning, Remington was awake long before Wynter stirred. Wynter finally walked out of the guest bedroom, finding Remington sitting with her feet up on the windowsill in the dining room, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
As soon as she saw Wynter entering the room, Remington dropped her feet to the ground and stood, looking over at her charge.
“You look like you need coffee,” Remington said, smiling.
“Oh yes, please…” Wynter said, smiling as she sat down at the dining room table, looking out over the park. “This is such a beautiful view…” she said wistfully.
Remington handed her coffee a couple of minutes later. Wynter sipped it and smiled blissfully.
“So good…” she said, sighing, then she looked over at Remington. “We still have most of a day to ourselves,” she said, smiling. “What’s on the agenda?”
Remington looked over at her. “Well, I need to get a workout in or the next time you decide to fall, I might be too weak to catch you.”
“Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen,” Wynter said, shaking her head. “You ever weak… ha!”
Remington chuckled at her tone. “I can work out here, or I can show you where it all started…”
“Oh, definitely option B, please,” Wynter said, smiling. “I want to see all your old haunts…”
“I don’t think we’ll go that far…” Remington said, rolling her eyes.
“Chicken,” Wynter said, grinning.
“You got it,” Remington said simply.
An hour later, Remington was driving up to an old brick building. She pulled around to the alley and parked in the dock area. Getting out of the car, she walked around to open Wynter’s door, and then went to take her gear bag from the trunk.
“You aren’t going to get in trouble parking back here?” Wynter asked, pointing to the huge ‘no parking’ signs.
Remington grinned as she looked at the signs and popped the gum she was chewing.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, nodding toward the opening of the alley and getting Wynter to precede her.
As they walked up the alley, a man wearing a T-shirt that said “Billy’s Bar” and jeans was walking toward them.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” the ma
n said slyly.
“Shut up, Billy,” Remington said, grinning as they passed him.
“You know him, I take it?” Wynter asked.
“Oh yeah,” Remington said, nodding.
She knew a lot people as it turned out, including the owner of the gym, Jack Sands.
“And there’s my long-lost partner!” a sandy-haired man called, walking up to Remington on the street and hugging her.
“Hey Jack, it’s good to see you,” Remington said. “Jack, this is Wynter Kincade, Wynter this is Jack, he owns the place.”
Jack extended his hand to Wynter, smiling widely. “Remi’s half-owner, she just won’t tell anyone.”
“No point in it,” Remington said simply.
“Hell, if you’d let me put ‘Remi LaRoché used to live here’ on the sign, I’d triple my business!” Jack said, guffawing at his own joke. “Come on inside, you training this morning?”
“That was my plan,” Remington said, nodding. “Got anyone good I can spar with?” she asked as they walked up the stairs.
“I got a few youngsters that could use the workout, and the ass kicking,” he said, with a wink. “Speaking of ass kicking…” Jack began.
“No, no, don’t start that shit,” Remington said, grimacing and glancing down at Wynter. “Sorry,” she said softly.
Wynter shook her head smiling.
“You can’t let that little bitch talk trash about you like that!” Jack exclaimed. “You need to shut her up.”
“She’ll shut up eventually,” Remington said, looking unconcerned.
“Not soon enough for my tastes…” Jack muttered.
The word was already running through the gym that Remington LaRoché was there, and slowly but surely people started to make their way over to talk to her and joke with her. Wynter looked on, seeing the way that Remington took in what people said, but never got cocky. Even when others were talking about how amazing she was, how awesome, how cool… Remington never agreed with them, or seemed to preen in the slightest. In fact, while people talked around her, Remington stood talking and nodding, but also taping her hands, flexing her muscles, and stretching.
“Okay, I need to work out guys,” she finally said, grinning.
Lightning Strykes Page 15
