Page 57 of Sangre
“No thanks.” An awkward silence filled the space between the trio.
“Then what do you want?” Sangre said, cutting through the quietness.
Arsen looked at Isla. “You asked me to come by and pick you up at four. We have to be at the studio at four thirty.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Shit! I forgot.”
The guitarist gave Sangre a sideways glance. “I can see that.”
“Let me just get my purse. I’ll be right down.” She dashed up the stairs.
Arsen shifted from one foot to the other as he looked at his cell phone. Sangre looked at him fixedly, enjoying how nervous he was making him.
“So, that’s cool AF that you and Isla grew up together.”
Sangre nodded.
Arsen cleared his throat. “Do you know any good strip bars? We’ve seen a couple around here but they look sketchy.”
“Lust is good. Tell them you know me.”
“Oh yeah? Are the strippers there pretty hot?”
Sangre nodded.
“So… are you in a biker club? Your vest tells me you are.”
“You’re observant.”
Arsen raked his fingers through his hair. “I see the one percent patch. Damn, that’s savage as hell, dude. I bet that Harley on the street is yours.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“Are you guys getting to know each other?” Isla asked as she came into the foyer.
“No,” Sangre answered at the same time Arsen said, “Yes.”
Looking at both of them, she gave an anxious laugh. “I guess we better be off,” she said to Arsen. He walked out of the house and headed toward a white Impala parked in front. She closed the door to set the alarm, and Sanger pulled her back into him, bending down and nuzzling her neck.
“Call me when you’re done recording and let me know where you’ll be.”
She stepped out of his hold. “That’s okay. I’ll probably go out to eat with the band, and I know they’ll come over to go over some of the new music. A lot of times after recording, we listen to the scratch tracks and make changes and such. By the time we’re done, one of the guards will be coming on duty.”
Flames of anger licked up his every nerve. “I’ll make sure someone is here at six in the morning.”
“Will you pick up the shift tomorrow night?”
“No.” His jaw tightened and he opened the door. “Set your alarm.”
“Sangre. Don’t be that way. I really do have to jam with the band tonight.”
He put on his sunglasses, walked down the steps, and went over to his Harley. Arsen started to come up to him, but he started his bike and let his cams drown all the words coming out of his mouth as well as Isla’s as she came over to him.
Pulling away from the curb, he pulled in the clutch and released the throttle; he wanted to put as much distance between him and Isla as fast as possible. As he sped toward the clubhouse, he cursed himself for being such a fucking idiot.I never should’ve kissed her. I can’t believe I let her tits and ass get to me.He rode faster, harder, wanting nothing but to forget all about her. He didn’t believe her about jamming with the guys after recording.She wants to be with Benz. Go ahead, sweetheart, fuck your brains out.He shifted gears making the Harley go faster as the landscape blurred by him and the wind cocooned him. It was hot just like the anger inside him. All of a sudden he was seventeen again, kissing a sixteen-year-old Isla in Liberty Park. After that kiss, it’d been tense and awkward between them, and then she left without even a goodbye.Now she wants to do that same shit to me again.
“Fuck!” he screamed into the wind.
He wasn’t seventeen anymore, and Isla wasn’t going to break his heart again.
That he was sure of.
