Lightning Strykes

by Sherryl Hancock

  Wynter, who had just glanced toward the back of the bus to see where Remington went, saw her go down.

  “Remi!” Wynter yelled, jumping up from where she sat and running back to where Remington lay on the floor kneeling on the floor. “Quinn!” she screamed, her voice sounding terrified.

  Quinn came on the run.

  “Let me get in there,” Quinn told Wynter. Wynter stood to get out of Quinn’s way. “Remi!” Quinn called, jostling Remington’s shoulder.

  Remington groaned slightly, moving her head.

  “Come on,” Quinn said, picking Remington up off the floor, and sitting her down on the closest bunk.

  “I’m okay…” Remington said, not looking at all like that was true. She was pale and looking dazed.

  “Yeah, right,” Quinn said unconvinced.

  Remington blinked slowly wavering a bit as she did.

  “Okay, okay, lay back, Rem,” Quinn said, pushing her friend back, glancing over at Xandy who was watching worriedly.

  Remington complied, lying back on the bunk, her breathing slightly labored.

  “Okay, you get some rest,” Quinn told Remington. Then she looked at Wynter. “You,” she said sternly, and then gestured with her head for Wynter to go up front.

  Wynter saw anger in her green eyes and was surprised by it. She nodded, turning to walk toward the front of the bus. Quinn pulled off Remington’s shoes and pulled the cover up over her. Straightening, she looked over at Xandy, shaking her head and blowing her breath out.

  Xandy and Quinn had already discussed how much Remington was overdoing it with letting Wynter drag her out every night while they’d been in New York. Quinn had seen how exhausted Remington was getting and it had worried her, which had served to annoy her. Xandy knew Quinn was about to lay into Wynter, and she tended to think it was what Wynter needed at this point. She nodded supportively to Quinn.

  Quinn turned to walk up to the front of the bus. Wynter was sitting at the table. Clamping down on her desire to yell, Quinn moved to sit across from Wynter and Xandy sat next to Quinn. Putting her hand on the table between them, Quinn looked at Wynter.

  “You do get what just happened back there, right?” Quinn asked, her Irish accent thicker in her restrained anger.

  Wynter looked back at Quinn, surprised by her tone and the anger she saw in Quinn’s eyes. She shook her head slowly. Quinn gave a short laugh, shaking her head and looking at Xandy. She scornfully looked back over at Wynter.

  “You’ve run her into the fucking ground with your bullshit,” Quinn snapped, her eyes flashing in anger.

  Wynter was shocked by not only by what Quinn had just said, but by the venom in her voice. She started to shake her head, thinking that Remington was just getting sick and that had been what had caused her to faint.

  “We’ve stayed out late a few times, but—”

  “What what?” Quinn asked, cutting her off. “You thought she went to sleep when you did? She couldn’t, she was working, she’s always working.”

  Surprise was evident on Wynter’s face. Then she closed her eyes as she thought about what Quin was saying. Yes, she had assumed that Remington had gone to sleep when she did but they’d been in separate rooms, so she couldn’t have known for sure. But Remington had always stayed up later than she had working on plans for the next tour date. There’d been shows every night when they were in New York, and Remington had had to plan the security for those.

  “I…” Wynter stammered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry…” she said, feeling horrible suddenly. “I never even thought—”

  “No, you didn’t think,” Quinn interrupted again, “you were busy licking your fucking wounds over that cunt Lauren.”

  Wynter winced at Quinn’s sharp words, but she knew she was right.

  “Quinn, you have to know that I never meant to hurt Remi,” Wynter said, her look solemn.

  “Okay, but you did,” Quinn said, her words short, not looking placated.

  Wynter nodded, accepting the blame. “What can I do to fix it?”

  Quinn thought about it for a moment.

  “You’re gonna need to convince her to rest tonight instead of doing the show. She needs a break.”

  Wynter nodded. “I can do that.”

  “You think it’s gonna be easy?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. “Remi takes her protection of you very seriously. She’s not just going to willingly sit this one out.”

  “I’ll convince her,” Wynter said, looking determined. “Even if I have to be a complete bitch to do it.”

  Remington slept on the bus for the next six hours. They arrived in Chicago at five in the evening and the show was at seven that night. The intent was to leave after the show and head to their next stop in Noblesville, Indiana. Another three-hour drive. When the bus pulled up to the venue, iWireless Center, Wynter was sitting on the bunk next to Remington.

  Feeling the bus stop and the front door open, Remington stirred, moving to get up.

  “Uh, no,” Wynter said, putting her hand on Remington’s shoulder to stop her from getting up.

  “What?” Remington asked, looking perplexed.

  “You’re taking the night off,” Wynter said simply.

  “Like hell…” Remington said, giving her a shocked look and moving to sit up again, this time avoiding Wynter’s hand.

  Wynter stayed where she was, blocking Remington from being able to climb out of the bunk.

  “Wynter,” Remington said, gesturing for Wynter to move.

  Wynter folded her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head.

  Remington gave her a narrowed look, blowing her breath out when that didn’t change Wynter’s stance. “Wyn, I’m fine, okay? I just needed a little bit of sleep. I’m good now, and time’s a wasting.”

  “You’re taking the night off, Remi,” Wynter told her, her tone brooking no argument.

  “And I say I’m not,” Remington replied her tone equally inflexible, moving again to get out of the bunk.

  Wynter moved to block her from doing so.

  Remington gave her a stern look. “Don’t make me move you.”

  “Don’t make me smack the shit out of you,” Wynter replied seriously.

  She saw a flicker of a challenge flare in Remington’s eyes, and then she saw Remington clamp down on the thought, her eyes dropping below Wynter’s as she fought to control her apparent annoyance.

  When she raised her eyes to Wynter’s again, she was calm.

  “I’m fine, Wynter, I need to do my job,” Remington reasoned

  “And I’m saying you don’t need to do your job tonight,” Wynter said. “Quinn is going to walk me in and keep an eye on things here.”

  “It’s not Quinn’s job…” Remington said, her tone lowering in her ire.

  “Well, she’s just as good as you, so, I’m going. Stay here I won’t need you tonight,” Wynter said off-handedly, looking away as she stood up dismissively.

  Remington was so stunned by her statement she didn’t move. Wynter was gone a moment later.

  As she walked off the bus Wynter had tears in her eyes. Quinn looked at her and glanced back to see if Remington was following but she wasn’t. Quinn nodded, putting her arm around Wynter, guessing easily that Wynter had had to be nasty to get Remington to stay put.

  “You okay?” Quinn asked, as she, Wynter and Xandy walked toward the doors arena’s back door.

  Wynter shook her head. “No, I feel like shit, and I was just so nasty to her that she’s probably going to be mad at me for a while…” Her voice trailed off as a stricken feeling came over her.

  She’d pointedly stood up and walked away so she couldn’t see the look on Remington’s face when she’d said what she had. She knew that she’d just minimized what Remington had done back in South Carolina, and she felt horrendous about it. It affected her performance that night, and when the audience chanted for Remington, Wynter left the stage in tears. Xandy, who was on after Wynter, had told the crowd that Remington wasn’t fe
eling well that night and was therefore taking a well-deserved rest.

  That night when Wynter climbed onto the bus, she noted that Remington was sleeping with her back to the opening of the bunk. After changing into her sleeping clothes, she climbed into the bunk above Remington, doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering; it was snowing. She bundled up as best she could, but found that she deeply missed Remington’s arms around her. Not just because of her body heat, but because she missed the closeness she felt with Remington when they slept next to each other on the bus.

  It was six o’clock in the morning when the bus pulled into Noblesville, Indiana. It had taken longer due to accidents on the roadway. The buses pulled into the parking lot of the hotel where they’d been booked for the day.

  When Wynter crawled out of her bunk, feeling sore and unhappy, she noticed that Remington was no longer in the bunk. She wasn’t even on the bus. Looking out the windows, Wynter finally located her talking to Quinn. She sat down at the table on the bus, not wanting to approach Remington at that point, dreading having to do so.

  She wasn’t surprised when Remington’s manner was all business. Remington had walked past her on the bus, picking up both of their bags, and walking back down the aisle. She waited for Wynter outside the bus without a word.

  Wynter walked off the bus, forcing herself to maintain her composure. They walked into the hotel together, and Remington led her up to the room. At the room door, Remington put the card key into the lock and then opened it, gesturing for Wynter to precede her. Wynter did, and noted right away that there were two queen beds in this particular room. She wondered if fate had done that to teach her a lesson. She hadn’t made any arrangements for the rooms to have one bed, she’d figured that it had been fate all along.

  In the room, Remington put Wynter’s bags on the bed closest to the windows, and set her bags down, pulling out the few things she needed.

  “I’m going to go over to the venue with Quinn,” Remington said without preamble, “please don’t leave the room.” With that she turned and walked out, pocketing one of the card keys.

  Wynter stood in the room, feeling terrible and wanting to cry. She pulled her overnight bag out, and took it into the bathroom with a change of clothes. She took a long hot shower and let herself cry. When she climbed out, she dried off, and blow-dried her hair and put on the clothes she’d taken into the bathroom. It was silent in the room when she walked out. She thought about turning on music, but she just didn’t want to. She lay down on the bed, staring out the glass door onto the balcony, watching it snow.

  She was asleep when she heard the door open. She didn’t move, listening to Remington move around the room. She heard the bathroom door close and the shower start a few minutes later. Turning over onto her back, Wynter stared up at the ceiling. She had no idea how to bridge the sudden distance between her and Remington. Part of her wondered if she had the right to even try. It had been her desire to drink and party and forget about what was happening with Lauren that had caused Remington to get sick, so saying what she had for Remington’s own good didn’t excuse the reason for it in the first place.

  Wynter got up, picking up her phone, headphones, and cigarettes. She then pulled on warmer clothes and Remington’s leather Affliction jacket that she’d doggedly kept thus far on the tour. She walked out onto the balcony, fortunately blocked from snow actually landing on it. She put her headphones in her ears and sat in one of the chairs cranking her music and smoking.

  Remington emerged from the bathroom, tensing when she realized Wynter wasn’t in the room, but then saw her on the balcony. Remington watched Wynter smoking, her lips twitching in consternation. She knew that it was snowing outside and well below zero, and that Wynter shouldn’t be out in the cold like that. Part of her wanted to do what she would normally have and tell Wynter to come back inside. The part that was still feeling stung by Wynter’s comment the night before, however, reminded her that Wynter was an adult and could decide for herself if she should be outside.

  It dragged at her that she was allowing her personal hurt feelings to interfere with what she saw as her job. Protecting Wynter Kincade sometimes meant protecting her from herself as well. Remington couldn’t begin to think of a way to address the situation without sounding angry, because the fact was, she was angry. It bothered her no end that she’d allowed Wynter’s comments to hurt her feelings, but they had hurt, and she couldn’t seem to get past it at that moment. Blowing her breath out, Remington sat on the bed, and pulled out her laptop. She concentrated on starting to look at the next leg of the tour, after their break, to see where there might be issues or things to be addressed.

  Part of her wondered if she’d even continue on the tour after the break. She wondered if it might be better if she asked John to replace her. It had been going around in her head since the night before that maybe she was just getting too close to Wynter, and that it was interfering with her objectivity. She thought that it might be better in the long run if Wynter was protected by someone that was better able to cope with her changeable moods. Bodyguard work had just been one of the ideas she’d had as a career choice and she was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake. Her time back in New York had reminded her that she had other options. She’d never sold her apartment in New York because she hadn’t been sure she’d stay in Los Angeles. She was hoping her trip home in two days would help her make some decisions about where her life was going.

  Before long, it was time to get ready to the show. Remington was dressed and waiting for Wynter when she came in from the balcony.

  “I just need to change,” Wynter said softly, keeping her eyes averted from Remington.

  Remington nodded, sitting back down on the bed and opening her laptop again.

  Wynter was ready twenty minutes later. Remington led her out of the hotel and onto the bus without comment. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the venue. Remington led her to her dressing room, telling her to text her when she was ready to go to the stage. Wynter nodded, closing the door to the dressing room softly.

  Again, that night Wynter’s performance was affected by her depressed mood. Once again, the audience cheered for Remington’s presence. Remington stood offstage, standing in an ‘at ease’ position, when Wynter looked over at her to see if she was willing to come onstage. Remington simply shook her head stoically.

  “Sorry, guys,” Wynter said, sadly. “Remi’s busy at the moment. But thank you for a great night,” she said, but it was obvious her heart wasn’t in it.

  She walked off stage, the opposite side from where Remington stood. Xandy met her backstage and hugged her. Wynter cried in her arms for a few minutes.

  “She hates me now…” Wynter said sounding lost.

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Xandy said, “she’s just mad. Give her time, she’ll get over it. Do you want me to have Quinn talk to her?”

  Wynter shook her head vehemently. “No, I made this mess, I’ll deal with it.”

  Later that night they were back in the room. Wynter had taken a shower to clean up after the show. When she emerged, she saw that Remington was lying on the bed she’d chosen near the door, one arm over her eyes.

  “Can we talk?” Wynter asked softly.

  Remington dropped her arm, turning her head to look at Wynter, her look considering. Finally, she nodded, moving to sit up, putting her back against the headboard. Wynter moved to sit on the bed facing her.

  “What I said the other night in Chicago,” Wynter said, “I didn’t mean it. I was worried about you because you had fainted, and I knew that you needed to rest…”

  Remington looked back at her for a long moment. “I told you I was fine,” she said evenly.

  “I know,” Wynter said, “but you weren’t fine, Remi. I could see how tired you still were…” Her voice trailed off as she reached out to touch Remington’s hand that rested on the bed between them. “Quinn pointed out that it was my fault that you were so tired, because I kept dragging you
out in New York.”

  Remington gave a short, frustrated laugh. “Does it ever occur to you that Quinn doesn’t know everything?” she asked, her tone slightly derisive.

  Wynter narrowed her eyes. “Yes, it does, but the fact was I did drag you out every night and you weren’t apparently sleeping much during the day while I was…”

  Remington didn’t answer that, simply looking back at Wynter. Finally, she shook her head unhappily.

  “I just think things are getting skewed here…” Remington said then.

  “Skewed how?” Wynter asked, surprised by the statement.

  “I just…” Remington started to say, grimacing slightly as she felt emotions churn up in her again. “I think we need to think about whether or not this is really working.”

  “This?” Wynter asked, her eyes searching Remington’s.

  “This, me protecting you,” Remington said.

  “ I ” Wynter began, her look suddenly panicked. A knock at the door interrupted whatever she was going to say.

  Remington stood up and went to open the door. Wynter couldn’t see who was at the door because Remington’s body blocked the way.

  “What are you doing here?” Remington said, her tone far from friendly.

  “I came to see Wynter, just get her,” Wynter heard Lauren say.

  Remington dropped her arm from the door where she held it and moved to stand back, gesturing for Lauren to enter the room.

  Lauren walked in, her eyes finding Wynter immediately.

  “Lauren, what are you doing here?” Wynter asked, her eyes going from Lauren to Remington and then back to Lauren.

  “I came to talk to you,” Lauren said, her tone earnest, “to apologize, to make it up to you…”

  Wynter looked warily at Lauren for a long moment.