Chapter 11 – Remington
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ink and reminders
Remington
I bury my nose in her hair and inhale, taking in the sweet scent of her. She lets out a little whimper and then… barfs on my shirt.
“Shit, sorry,” Phoenix says, trying to take his daughter from my arms, but I switch my niece to the other shoulder and scowl at him.
“It’s just a little spit up,” I protest, rubbing soothing circles around her tiny back. “Hand me that burp rag.”
My brother tosses the pink cloth toward me, and I catch it before swiping away the white, smelly liquid from her lips and my shirt. Then I kiss her silky curls.
“It’s okay, isn’t it, baby girl? You’re the only lady that could get away with yakking on Uncle Remi.”
She makes the goddamn cutest noise I’ve ever heard and rubs her button nose against me. Reece Annette Hale, my absolute favorite human on the planet. My heart literally aches every time I hold her.
“You want me to toss that in the laundry?” Phoenix asks tentatively.
I learned the first week Reece was home that she likes spitting up on her uncle, so I wear a plain, soft tee when I come to visit instead of one of my expensive dry-clean-only shirts. Not that it matters to me. The kid could puke on my entire wardrobe, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say, handing over the baby long enough to strip off my shirt. We trade, and I cuddle the little one to my bare torso. She settles easily, and I gently stroke the little fist balled up against my chest. Her skin is so soft, and her sleepy breaths dust across my skin.
I close my eyes, content to simply sit here and be her human pillow. Reece is a little over a month old, and the entire family is obsessed with our little princess.
My lids pop open when Phoenix asks, “What happened to your side?”
I finger the large bandage there and shrug. “Got some ink.”
My brother chuckles in surprise. “Remington Hale, bad boy extraordinaire. What made you want to do that?”
“Do what?” his twin asks, coming into the living room with a bottle of water.
“Remi got a tattoo and he’s joining the Hell’s Angels,” Phoenix quips.
“Cool,” Helix says, settling down beside me and reaching for the baby.
I growl at him and put a hand possessively on the back of Reece’s head. “I just got here. You can hold her later.”
He huffs his indignation. “Fine, but we all know she likes me best.”
Phoenix smacks him on the back of his head. “I’m literally her father. She likes me best.”
“You’re both wrong,” I argue. “I’m her favorite person in the world. Just look how peaceful she looks when I hold her.”
Reece chooses that exact moment to fart in her sleep, and we all laugh.
“So is the very proper Remington Hale really getting a motorcycle?” Helix asks.
“No, Phe is being stupid. I just got a tat.”
He eyes the bandage. “Can I see?”
I shift the baby over, and Helix peels away the tape, revealing the freshly inked skin. “Dude, that is sweet. The detail is beautiful.”
“Thanks. I just got it done yesterday.”
Phoenix leans over and inspects it as well. “Nice, but what’s the significance?”
Avoiding his blue gaze, I go for nonchalant. “Just reminded me of something.”
He sits in the adjacent recliner and rubs his pointer finger across his lips. “Something or someone?”
I don’t answer the question, but my brothers share a knowing look. “I don’t need a lecture,” I say defensively. “I’m sure you think I’m nuts since it was only one night.”
“We didn’t say that,” Helix says. “People come into our lives for a reason, and sometimes that changes us in a fundamental way. Even if we can’t explain it.”
My chest constricts and releases because that’s exactly what happened.
“Dude,” Phoenix says. “That was deep. Maybe I should get me some of those slutty man glasses so I’ll be as intellectually profound as you.”
“You’ll need more than glasses,” I shoot back, and Helix chuckles.
“Any news on finding Minnie? I mean, I know you have the video.”
“Wait,” Phoenix interrupts, waving a hand. “What video? And why hasn’t anyone told me about it?”
“You’ve been a little busy getting ready for this one,” I say, bouncing the baby once. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
He rubs the stubble on his chin with his fingertips. “I guess I have been distracted. Took me three days to figure out how to work the damn Diaper Genie.” We all laugh, and Phoenix leans forward, forearms on his thighs. “What video were you talking about?”
“Antonio was able to get into the security cameras at the hotel,” I explain. “I have footage of us arriving that night. Then, the next morning at 5:07, the camera over the back door caught Minnie leaving. It only captured her from the back, but it appeared as though she was talking on the phone.”
“What time did you wake up?” he asks.
“A little before six.” I shake my head in frustration. “So I missed her by less than an hour.”
Helix takes a long pull of his water and then swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you going to do now?”
My shoulders rise and fall. “I’m kind of at a dead end. If Antonio can’t find her with all his resources…” I let the sentence hang before continuing. “At least I know she left of her own free will and wasn’t kidnapped or something.”
Which makes me feel like crap. I’m glad she seemed to be okay, but it hurts like hell to realize she felt none of the intense connection I felt.
“I have a slightly off-topic question,” Helix says, and we turn to look at him as he pushes his tortoiseshell frames up his nose. “Do you really think my glasses are slutty?”
Without hesitation, Phoenix and I chorus, “Yes.”
I’m seated at Houston Prime, a high-end steakhouse on the top floor of a hotel near Hale Cosmetics. The woman across from me is crying.
“And th-then they busted into the house and started taking things. All the art and furniture are just gone. Mum and I were allowed to get some of our clothes and toiletries, but those assholes were following us around like we were going to steal something.” She throws up her perfectly manicured hands. “In our own home.”
“Damn, Serena. I’m so sorry.”
Serena Greenfield has been my best friend since we were little kids.
When I was eight and she was six, we were both playing at the same park when a bully grabbed my favorite toy car, a red 1975 Corvette Stingray, and took off, laughing like a hyena.
I scrambled to my feet when I saw a blur of pink ruffles zip by and heard a squeaky voice yelling at the much bigger boy.
By the time I reached them, she had my toy car in her hand, and the bully was hopping up and down on one foot, having just received a black patent leather Mary Jane to the right knee. This tiny girl clad in the frilliest dress I’d ever seen was standing there with one fist on her hip, berating him.
“You don’t steal. Mummy says it’s tacky.”
I was about to deliver a kick to his other knee for good measure when our moms intervened. The bully’s mother was aghast that anyone could treat her little darling so abysmally, but my mom shut her down with a few well-placed sharp words.
Serena and I ended up playing together for the rest of the afternoon. She liked playing cars, so that was cool, but we had to sit on the bench instead of in the grass because she didn’t want to get her dress dirty. She’s still just as prissy to this day.
Eventually our families became friends, but recently my father distanced himself from Mr. Greenfield when news of his indictment for embezzlement made the news.
Serena dabs at her eyes with her napkin, and I reach across the table to pat her hand. “And this all happened yesterday?”
“Yes. Can you believe it? Even knowing today is my birthday. I’d think they’d have more decency than to ruin my birthday.”
I can’t help but burst into laughter. “Good god, Serena. Stop being so damn precious. I’m sure the Feds don’t have time to arrange their schedule around your birthday.”
Her thin eyebrows pinch together. “You are such a prick.”
“And you’re such a princess.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m aware. I was simply saying it’s disrespectful to confiscate everything on my birthday week. Couldn’t they have waited till next week or something?”
I’m unable to formulate a response, so I note, “I’m glad your father put your apartment in your name, so they can’t take that.” Serena moved into the luxury apartment after college, though she alternates staying at that place and her parents’ mansion.
“Thank god,” she breathes. “And the beach house is in Mum’s name. But the house here in Houston and the chalet in Aspen are in Daddy’s name, so they seized them both.”
The waiter comes by, letting us know our dinners are almost ready while refilling our glasses from the bottles on the table, mine a rich red and Serena’s a crisp white.
I take a sip and eye Serena over the rim.
She still has the same haircut as the first time I met her, a blunt, raven bob that never seems to have a single strand out of place.
It was a severe look for a six-year-old, but it suits her now.
“At least you’re not going to be homeless,” I console. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do now?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her blue eyes wide and confused.
“Like for work, since your dad is most likely…” Going to jail. I almost said it, but I change course. “Not going to be working anymore.”
“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You probably should,” I tell her gently. “They’re going to seize all the money in your father’s accounts.”
“I have plenty in my account,” she replies, smoothing down her hair.
This is the thing about Serena. She’s pretty much clueless on how the real world functions since she’s never had to work a day in her life.
Yes, I’m rich as fuck, but my father had me and my siblings working at his office before we could even drive.
And not cushy admin jobs. We had to start in the mail room and work our way up.
“That money won’t last forever, Serena. You need to get a job.”
“What kind of job?” she asks, her nose scrunching at the mere thought of anything as mundane as work.
The server brings our food then, and I cut a thick slice of my filet mignon, putting it into my mouth and savoring the tender savory meat. Serena forks up a bite of her pear and prosciutto salad.
“I was thinking you could work on a road construction crew,” I say, fighting to keep a straight face.
Serena’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth, and her eyes widen. “Like those people who wear the orange vests and cause traffic jams?”
I can’t help but laugh at her response. “I’m kidding. You got a degree in business, so why don’t you do something with that?” I suggest.
“Ooh, I could start my own tech company. I hear they do very well,” she says, finally taking a delicate bite and chewing. “I could be the next Apple.”
I hold in my cringe. “Yeah, probably not. That would take a lot of capital. Not to mention, that’s not really in your wheelhouse or knowledge base.” I rack my brain, thinking of what Serena likes, and I can come up with only one solution. “You could be a personal shopper.”
“You mean shop for other people?”
“Yes, Serena. For other people. You have an excellent sense of style, and I think people would trust you to build their wardrobes,” I say, taking a forkful of black truffle risotto. Then I tack on, “I would hire you.”
“Really?” She seems excited about the idea. “Okay, what would I need to do?”
“I can help you come up with a solid business plan, but you’re going to have to be the one to put in the work. You should be able to get started without much money up front other than advertising.”
“And some of that can be from word of mouth,” she says, and I can see excitement flaring in her blue eyes.
I point my fork at her. “There you go. Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. Think about it for a few days, and we’ll meet next week.”
Her smile is beaming with pride, and I hope my friend follows through and finds something to actually do with her life.
“So, what have you been up to today?” she asks.
“I worked,” I tell her pointedly. “And then I went over to see Reecie. You want to see some pictures?”
Serena holds out one hand, doing grabby fingers until I pick up my phone and find the photos Phoenix took earlier this evening. She flicks through them, cooing appropriately. “Aww, her little cheeks are so chubby, and her skin is flawless.”
“She has Phoenix’s dimples,” I say, peering over the table to see which pic she’s looking at. “See? You can tell when she smiles.”
Serena flips to another pic. “Ooh, and look at you all shirtless and looking like a daddy,” Serena purrs with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
I chuckle. “Because the little chickadee spit up on my shirt, so Phe put it in the wash.”
Serena gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Not the baby-blue, herringbone one, I hope.”
“No, just a plain tee,” I assure her, amused at her horror.
She closes the photo app and squints at my screen’s background image. “Wait. Who is this redhead?”
“That’s Minnie,” I say, reaching for the phone, but Serena holds onto it, inspecting the still photo I’d grabbed from the security video. It shows me and Minnie walking into the Hampton Inn that night.
Finally she hands it over with a disapproving sniff. “Remington, don’t you think it’s time you let this go? I mean, it’s been eight months, and it was only a one-night stand.”
“It was more than that,” I snap and instantly feel guilty when Serena’s face registers shock. “Sorry, I just… I can’t get over her. Maybe if I knew why she left without a word, I could get closure and let it go.”
My best friend’s lips curl into a smirk. “Maybe you suck in bed.”
I snort out a laugh. “I’m fucking fantastic in bed, and I was especially virile that night.”
Serena lifts a brow and takes a leisurely drink of her wine. “Evidence says maybe you’re overestimating your abilities. I was just checking your Yelp! reviews the other day and…” She gives an exaggerated wince. “Not good, Mr. Hale.”
“I really hate you,” I snark, earning me a tinkling laugh from Serena and a playful kick under the table.
“I really hate you too, bestie.”