Page 34 of Sangre
Chapter Ten
It was eighto’clock at night, and Isla stood by the window looking out at the street. She saw a dark blue SUV pull up to the curb, where a man of medium height got out and walked over to Mark. She watched while the two men talked to each other, but when Mark went into his car, started it, and drove away, her heart sank. She knew that the man who had just arrived was relieving Mark in watching over her.
For the past three days, she hadn’t heard a word from Sangre and had a feeling that he was mad at her, but she wasn’t quite sure why. He’d seemed more than annoyed when Benz had come over that night at the festival. It’d surprised her because she’d always thought that he didn’t want anything more from her than just friendship.But he was going to kiss me. I know it.If Benz hadn’t come by, she’d swear that Sangre would’ve kissed her. That thought made her stomach flutter and her head swim.
She’d kissed him only once, years ago, when they’d gone to the Fourth of July picnic in Liberty Park. After that, it’d been awkward between them, and they stopped hanging out as much. Sangre had ramped up his hours at Elmer’s Shop and Go, and when she’d bring her car in for gas, he’d tell her that he needed all the money he could make because he wanted to buy a Harley.
When her dad had announced that he’d decided the whole family was moving with him to California, she’d been devastated. She wanted to stay and see if something would ever come out of their kiss. Not wanting to talk to Sangre about it, she wrote him a letter, left it on his door, and drove away, her heart breaking. The whole ride to California, she kept hoping to hear from him but never did. Her eyes stayed glued on the blurring landscapes as they changed from state to state. There was no way she’d wanted her dad to know she was crying; he wouldn’t have been too sympathetic. For weeks, she’d rush home from school in anticipation of a letter, an email, or even a voice message from Sangre, but silence was all that had greeted her.
And now, he’d wanted to kiss her again.Does he want something more than just friends, or does he want to be friends with benefits? Is that what I want?The truth was that she still adored Sangre even after all these years and not hearing from him. When they hung out now, it seemed like old times, like a span of thirteen years never happened.Won’t everything fall apart if I—we—cross the line? And what about Benz?
Isla wasn’t the cheating type, and even when her friends dragged her to a nightclub and plied her with drinks, she didn’t go home with the first good-looking man who came on to her. Amy, her bestie in LA, had been livid with Isla and had told her that she deserved a good “revenge fuck” after she’d found out Benz was screwing not just one but two groupies in their bed. But she hadn’t wanted to get back at him by screwing a stranger; she’d just wanted to eat a pint of double chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips, wrap herself in a blanket, watch her favorite movie, and shed a few tears. The problem with the whole cheating bit that Benz had pulled was she hadn’t beenthathurt about it. Of course, her pride was bruised, and she’d been madder than hell at him for banging the women intheir bed, but it hadn’t been emotionally devastating to her the way she’d thought it should’ve been.
When Amy’s two-timing boyfriend had been caught with his pants down,literally, Amy was inconsolable for weeks. She’d loved Jared so much, and she’d kept telling Isla over and over that she’d rather be dead than go on without him. Isla didn’t feel even one-eighth of the heartbreak that Amy had. For her, the anger had always been directed at the way he disrespected her.I wasn’t and still amnotin love with Benz. I’m not sure if I even know how to love as an adult. Sangre was teenage love. Right?
She’d taken Benz back because he’d been moping around after she kicked him to the curb, and the band was suffering because of it. So she’d relented, and Benz was thrilled; the band was back on track with great music and performances. Did she believe he’d reformed? Not for a second. She suspected that he hooked up with a few women while they were on tour before her meltdown. When she’d confronted him about it in a hotel in San Francisco, he went ballistic on her, and they had one of their worst, most dragged-out fights ever. It made for great streaming on YouTube and random online sites; Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook blew up with all the tags, tweets, and shares. If only their concerts could garner such intense response in such a short time.
When they’d come back to LA, Benz kept pressuring Isla to forgive his outbursts—although he never did admit to his infidelity—as haters were saying awful things about her on social media. Kent was beyond pissed at the both of them, and reporters for online gossip magazines hounded her. It had all been overwhelming, and on top of that, the band had four shows to perform in Southern California before leaving on another four-month tour. The stress had been unbearable, and she’d turned to the only thing that made her feel empowered, euphoric, and energized: cocaine. By the time the band had performed the fourth show, she was so damn high, her brain on mega-alert even though her body was exhausted from lack of sleep, and she’d had a nosebleed for days. After she’d taken the last bow of the night, she walked off the stage and collapsed. Isla was a damn mess, crying and yelling at the same time as the staff tried to help her. She thought they were trying to kill her. The hallucinations had been severe.
Shivering, she folded her arms around herself.God,I was so out of control. I never want to be that way again.Being back in Alina brought her such a deep sense of peace, but now the stirrings of panic nipped at her nerves whenever she thought of touring, Benz, or going back to LA. Since Benz had come to Alina, she’d had to call her recovery coach a few times when the cravings for coke began to escalate.
Glancing at the street again, she saw the replacement sitting in his vehicle, his eyes fixed on her home. She turned away and took out her phone. Tapping her finger on the windowsill, she waited until Sangre picked up.Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.
“Isla. What’s up?”
His voice startled her and for a second she couldn’t talk.
“Did Keith show up?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, he’s here. How’ve you’ve been?”
“Busy. How’s the recording going?”
“Good. I was in the studio all day yesterday and today.”
She waited for him to respond, but silence stretched between them.
“Are you mad at me or something?” she asked.
“No. Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know, but I have the vibe that you are. You seemed pissed about Benz.”
“Benz? Oh… the ass wipe you’re dating. It doesn’t make any difference to me who you go out with. I was pissed by his attitude and the way he acted toward me and you. Disrespect is something I don’t tolerate. It’s over. No big deal.”
“We got in a big fight over you that night.”
“No shit? Why?” She heard the satisfaction in his voice.
“Benz thinks I have a thing for you. I’ve told him many times that we were friends. He got pissed because we were sitting so close together when he came over.”
He chuckled. “Do you have a thing for me?”
“As much as you do for me,” she said casually.
Silence again.Why the fuck did I have to say that?
“Was the make-up sex good?” he asked.
