Lightning Strykes

by Sherryl Hancock

  “Oh you ain’t seen nothin’,” Quinn said, grinning. “Everyone is gonna be there.”

  “Everyone?” Remington queried, even as Wynter tapped a nail on the plate, reminding Remington to eat.

  “Yeah, even the attorney general herself,” Quinn said, grinning. “Apparently her body guard, Kana Sorbinno, is a huge fan of yours.”

  Remington chewed her food, looking surprised.

  “BJ is even chartering a larger plane so he can get more people to New York,” Xandy said, grinning.

  “You’ve got some of the heaviest hitters in the music industry coming to this fight,” Quinn said.

  “I heard Allexxiss is even pulling in fans from the movie business.”

  “Good God…” Remington said, shaking her head. “I better not lose.”

  “Stop that!” Wynter said, giving Remington a narrowed look. “You aren’t going to lose. You’re going to beat the living shit out of Akasha ‘Veruca’ Salt.”

  “And to do my part,” Quinn said, “I know that Kai is going to be traveling with us, but I’m happy to spar with you too, if you need me to.”

  “Yeah, I’d really appreciate that, I need different fighting styles to respond to,” Remington said, nodding. “Yours is very street, and that’s Akasha’s too, so yeah, that would be fantastic.”

  “You got it,” Quinn said, nodding, “but we’ll need to agree to pull punches,” she said, grinning. “Or we both might be out of commission and useless to our girls here.”

  “I won’t let this fight get in the way of protecting our girls,” Remington said, smiling over at Wynter.

  “Didn’t think ya would,” Quinn said, grinning.

  Before long, they were back in New York and it was the night before the fight. The press had been all over Remington for days asking her how she was feeling about the fight. Her responses had been simply that she was ready. Wynter had been interviewed too, and her responses were much more vehement, since Akasha had stepped up her trash talk, and Wynter had been referred to a few times.

  When asked what she thought of Akasha’s assertions that Remington couldn’t keep her, Wynter had replied, “Well, I’m in love with her, so I’m thinking Akasha Salt doesn’t know a damned thing about women. Maybe that’s why her own girlfriend tried to get to Remi before.”

  “Are you referring to Sage Baker?” the reporter had asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Wynter had said, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked at the camera. “No matter what she told Akasha, Remi would never come onto another woman’s girl, that’s not her style, and anyone that knows her, knows that for a fact.”

  “You’re saying that Sage Baker lied about Remington attacking her?” the reporter had asked then, looking excited to be getting the juicy scoop.

  “Remington LaRoché has more class in one pinkie finger than either of those women could even hope to have, she doesn’t have to attack women. So, yes, I’m saying she was lying, and she needs to shut the fuck up. She also needs to stop calling Remi every five minutes, like she has for the last week.”

  “Well there you have it,” the reporter had said, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Did you really have to say all of that?” Remington had asked Wynter later that day.

  “Yes,” Wynter said, “I’m tired of Akasha talking about you like that. No one is telling her to shut up. So I did.”

  Wynter was not the only one to go on the record. After Wynter’s interview, all of Remington’s friends and even some of her previous opponents in the ring reported that Remington LaRoché was indeed one of the classiest people they knew and that she had integrity in spades. It only spurred ticket sales further. Within three hours of the tickets going on sale, they sold out.

  The night before the fight, Remington and Wynter were cajoled into going out to a club. Remington was stunned by the amount of people there, and it seemed most of them were part of BJ’s group. She received accolades from people that she’d never met, but whose music she’d listened to or whose movies she’d watched over the years. It was a surreal experience. At one point, she just needed to escape the insanity. She walked out the back door of the club and lit a cigarette, then stood in the back alley, smoking.

  She wasn’t completely surprised when Akasha walked out of the door she had. It was obvious she’d followed her. Remington was standing with her back to the wall, one booted foot up on the wall behind her. She looked over at Akasha, her eyes registering absolutely no emotion.

  “So you ready for a beat down tomorrow night?” Akasha asked full of bravado and ego.

  Remington looked back at her, chewing the gum in her mouth pointedly. “There aren’t any cameras out here Veruca, so you really don’t need to perform.”

  “Don’t fucking call me that!” Akasha snapped.

  Remington eyes flickered with amusement at how easily she’d gotten to the other woman.

  “You know all those fancy friends of yours aren’t going to help you in the ring tomorrow,” Akasha said derisively.

  Once again, Remington looked back at her impassively. “Good thing I can actually back up my talk.”

  “I’m gonna put you down hard,” Akasha said, her tone all street.

  “You’re going to try,” Remington replied mildly.

  “You wait and see, Remi, you better be ready for your first defeat!” Akasha snapped.

  Remington leaned her head back against the wall, her gesture dismissive.

  “Don’t fucking blow me off bitch!” Akasha snapped, striding over to get into Remington’s face.

  Fast as lightning, Remington tossed aside her cigarette and straightened from the wall, her stance at the ready.

  “Remi?” Wynter queried from her right side. She’d come out of another door farther down the alley and had seen Akasha talking to her and then going at her.

  Wynter walked up and put her hand on Remington’s arm, looking back at Akasha with barely veiled disgust. Remington turned her head slightly, glancing down at Wynter, keeping Akasha in her peripheral vision.

  “What’s up, babe?” she asked.

  “Quinn was looking for you,” Wynter said, sliding her hand down Remington’s arm to take her hand, wanting to pull her away from Akasha.

  Remington’s hand in hers was soft, but when Wynter took a step backward, Remington didn’t move, her hand squeezing Wynter’s gently. Remington turned then to face Akasha, keeping her hand in Wynter’s.

  “So, what is it your ego needs right now, Akasha?” Remington asked derisively. “Because I’m here with my girl, and I really don’t feel like playing with you right now.”

  Akasha took a step forward. Remington’s hand tightened in Wynter’s as she pulled Wynter behind her, even though she gave no outward sign of noticing that Akasha was attempting to be threatening.

  “Maybe we should just settle this now in front of your girl, that way I can take care of her after…” Akasha said, winking at Wynter.

  “You can’t even take care of your cage whores, Akasha, let alone a woman the quality of Wynter,” Remington said mildly.

  “Let’s just see about that!” Akasha said, taking another step forward.

  Remington extended her arm behind her, keeping Wynter back, even as she dropped one booted foot behind her in a fighter’s stance.

  “Come try,” Remington said, her voice low and threatening, her look deadly serious.

  Akasha noted the tone and the look and thought better of her actions.

  “Nah,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “I’d rather put you down in front of all your friends, bitch.”

  Remington straightened, inclining her head cordially. “As you wish.”

  “What the fuck…” came an Irish voice from behind Remington and Wynter.

  Akasha turned and went back through the door she’d come through.

  “What the hell was that?” Quinn asked, walking up.

  “Akasha just being Akasha,” Remington said. “What’s up?”

  “Our little so
und engineer wants to play somethin’ for ya,” Quinn said, grinning.

  “Memphis?” Wynter asked, smiling.

  “None other,” Quinn said, grinning. “They got her guest spinnin’ right now, so get yer ass in there.”

  “Well, let’s go,” Remington said, turning to lead the way back to the door.

  Inside, Remington was hailed with applause and cheers. Memphis, the sound engineer for the tour was at the DJ’s table, and pointing at Remington, her headphones half on and half off her ear. She leaned over to the microphone and said, “I’ve been lucky enough to be around Remington for this tour, and I gotta say, she’s got some serious style… I put this together for you, Remi, hope you like it!”

  The song started off with a techno back beat, that was more rock themed, then Linkin Park’s “Hit the Floor” lyrics spoke over the music and said, “ There are just too many times that people have tried to look inside of me, wondering what I think of you well I protect you out of courtesy. Too many things that you've said about me when I'm not around, You think having the upper hand means you gotta keep putting me down, but I've had too many standoffs with you it's about as much as I could stand, So I wait till the upper hand is mine!”

  A number of people cheered as the song continued. Remington grinned at Memphis, appreciating that the girl had taken into account her taste in music. They’d had a few conversations about it during the tour.

  The techno music took on a darker tone and Breaking Benjamin’s lyrics to “Follow” were played over it. The lyrics “You know my head, you know my gaze, you’d know my heart if you knew your place!” caused more people to yell, “Yeah!”

  The music morphed again into a hard driving beat, and Disturbed’s “The Vengeful One” lyrics played over it. “ So sleep soundly in your beds tonight, For judgement falls upon you at first light. I'm the hand of God, I'm the dark messiah, I'm the vengeful one.” Memphis pointed at Quinn at that point, since it was a song that had once been attributed to the her. Quinn pointed right back at Memphis, smiling broadly.

  The music moved to a guitar melody, and the lyrics to Queensrÿche’s “Hand On Heart” played. “Hand on heart, A promise, a word and a voice. Hand on heart, A rhythm of hope and a vision of choice. Hand on heart, Promising, I’ll never go, Hand on heart.” Remington pulled Wynter back to her, her arms hugging her from behind, kissing her temple.

  The music changed one last time, to the chorus of David Guetta’s “Titanium” featuring Sia. The lyrics saying, “I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose, Fire away, fire away, Ricochet, you take your aim, Fire away, fire away, You shoot me down but I won’t fall, I am titanium, You shoot me down but I won’t fall, I am titanium.”

  It was definitely a statement on who Remington LaRoché was, and it had everyone clapping and cheering when the song ended. Remington and Wynter walked over to the DJ booth and Remington extended her hand to Memphis. Memphis, tiny compared to Remington, reached across to shake the other woman’s hand.

  “That was great,” Remington said. “I’d love a copy of that.”

  Memphis smiled, happy that Remington had liked it. She’d been working on it since the Thanksgiving break when she’d heard that Remington had finally accepted Akasha’s challenge. Grinning she pulled out a CD and handed it to Remington.

  “I was hopin’ you’d like it,” she said with a broad smile by way of explanation.

  Remington took the CD and slid it into her jacket pocket. “Thank you,” she said, her face reflecting the gratitude she had for the younger woman’s hard work.

  “Catch me after this,” Memphis said. “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

  “I’ll buy you one,” Remington said, smiling.

  “Deal!” Memphis said, laughing.

  A half an hour later, Memphis, Remington, and Wynter had a drink together. BJ walked up, leaning over to kiss Wynter’s cheek, and extending his hand to Remington. He reached over mussing Memphis’ hair with a fond look.

  “Nice work,” he told Memphis, “we gotta talk.” Then he turned to Remington. “So you need anything before the fight?” he asked her.

  Remington shook her head. “I’m good,” she said.

  “Hand that bitch her lungs,” BJ said, his tone low.

  Remington grinned, inclining her head.

  BJ strolled off then. Remington and Wynter looked at each other, grinning. It was an interesting night.

  Later they lay in Remington’s apartment staring at the lights of the city. Wynter lay in front of Remington on the bed in the master suite. Remington held her from behind, her head above Wynter’s on the pillow.

  “Remi?” Wynter queried softly, unsure if Remington was asleep, because she’d been quiet for the last ten minutes.

  “Hmm?” Remington answered, her mind having been on the fight.

  Wynter turned over to look at her. “Have you made a decision yet about Los Angeles?” she asked, her look searching.

  Remington blinked a couple of times, having to drag her mind back to the present. She took a deep breath and nodded.

  “What did you decide?” Wynter asked, feeling her stomach tie into a knot.

  Things with them had been good, but they hadn’t had sex in a couple of weeks. Remington said that she needed to save all her energy and tension for the fight. Wynter believed her, because Remington didn’t lie about things, but she also felt like they had lost a little bit of their connection because of it. Remington had been really distracted over the last couple of weeks too. Wynter knew it was to be expected, but she just worried that it wasn’t just the pending fight.

  “I’m not selling this apartment,” Remington said, shocking Wynter who drew in a sharp breath in response. “Wait,” Remington said, putting her hand to Wynter’s cheek. “Let me finish babe. I’m not selling this apartment, because I want us to have a place to come when we’re here in New York where we won’t be bothered, okay?”

  “When we come to New York?” Wynter asked.

  “Yes, we ,” Remington said. “And as for the house in Los Angeles, I will move in there with you, but,” she said, putting her finger to Wynter’s lips, “I will be the one buying Lauren out, not you.”

  “Remi, that’s a lot…” Wynter said.

  “I’ve got it,” Remington told her, “and I want to. If we’re going to live there, it’s going to be ours.”

  Wynter smiled tightly, with tears in her eyes. “Okay.” She said.

  “Okay,” Remington said, smiling, then she leaned down to kiss Wynter’s lips.

  Wynter wrapped her arms around Remington’s neck, kissing her back and pressing closer. Remington groaned against her lips.

  “I can’t babe…” Remington said remorsefully. “Not yet… I need all this tension for tomorrow night.”

  Wynter blew her breath out, nodding. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just been so long…” she said, her voice full of longing.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Remington said, “but trust me, it’ll give me the edge I need.”

  Wynter drew in a deep breath, nodding again. “Okay.”

  The night of the fight finally came and Wynter could see that Remington was extremely focused. She became more and more quiet as the time for the fight drew closer. The entry into the Garden was, as always, theatrical. Remington had requested to use the compilation Memphis had done for her, both because she liked it, and she felt it was doing Memphis a favor getting it played for the crowd and everyone on Pay Per View. Remington also made sure it was announced as a compilation put together by Memphis McQueen. The cameras panned to locate Memphis McQueen who was sitting with Xandy Blue near the ring with the hood of her jacket up over her head. As she noticed the camera pointing at her, she pulled the hood down further.

  “I hear a hit single here…” BJ muttered to Allexxiss, who laughed.

  “You need to cut her in on the profits,” Allexxiss said.

  “As I will,” BJ said, nodding.

  Remington made her way to the ring, as Akasha came in
to Rhianna’s, “Bitch Better Have My Money.”

  Wynter and Quinn stood with Remington.

  “Classy girl…” Wynter muttered as Akasha came in and threw up both middle fingers to the people booing her.

  “Always,” Remington said, grinning.

  When Remington and Akasha were called into the ring, Remington kissed Wynter’s lips, then looked into her eyes. “I love you,” she said softly.

  “I love you,” Wynter replied, giving her a pointed look that drove her words home to Remington’s heart.

  The cameras clicked away, capturing every moment. Remington climbed into the ring and stood in her corner, her look like stone. Akasha was busy showboating for the crowd, making a show of her muscles and throwing her hands above her head, moving her head from side to side, hood-style. Remington simply looked on, a slightly sardonic grin on her lips.

  When Remington was introduced to the crowd as the f ive-time bantamweight champion, she simply put her hands together in front of her chest, prayer-style and bowed her head to the crowd’s thunderous applause.

  When Akasha was introduced as the challenger, and it was made clear that this was not a title fight, Akasha screamed that it was because Remington was afraid she’d lose it. It was then explained by the announcer that it was not an MMA sanctioned fight. Remington just stood, moving her neck to stretch it, her look serious. Akasha of course did a victory lap and made a show of getting into Remington’s face. Remington didn’t seem to notice, staring straight ahead and breathing slowly.

  “She’s centering herself,” Quinn said, standing next to Wynter.

  “She can do this, right?” Wynter asked, voicing the slightest doubt for the first time.

  “With both hands tied behind her back, love,” Quinn said, grinning.

  Wynter nodded, appreciating Quinn’s bravado, but she was still terrified. Her dream had haunted her for weeks; it still came to mind every time she thought of the fight. Now she was about to watch Remington fight and she was doing her very best to be supportive and not put any of her fears on Remington.