Page 9 of Sangre
“We’re fucking starving,” Jac said, his fingers curled around the neck of his bass guitar.
“Leroy’s is a diner not too far from here, but I’m exhausted, so take me home first.”
“That’s cool,” Gage said, and Arsen bobbed his head.
“Where’s your redhead?” Isla asked.
“I finished with her,” Arsen replied.
“She didn’t even merit a bite to eat?” Gage said.
“I don’t like eating with chicks I don’t know. What the hell is there to talk about?” Arsen stood up. “Does this diner have good food?”
“It used to when I lived here. I’m sure it’s still owned by the same people.”
“Sure you don’t wanna go?” Jac said.
“She said she didn’t, so who the fuck cares? It’s… whatever.” Benz stormed past them and went out back to the alley.
“Why’s he in such a dour mood?” Gage asked.
Isla shrugged. “Who knows? I’m too tired to care.”
“Let’s head out,” Arsen said.
The rest of the band followed him out, and Isla noticed how Benz sat hunched in the front seat, staring straight ahead. They all piled into the van, which was a tight squeeze since it also held their equipment.
Twenty minutes later, she waved at them as Gage pulled away from the curb. During the drive, Benz didn’t speak or look at her once, and that suited her just fine. She was so sorry that she’d allowed herself to get sexually and emotionally involved with him after a couple of years of vowing that she’d never give in to his advances.
Isla closed and locked the door then headed upstairs. Beyond tired, she was tempted to just peel off her clothes and fall into bed without taking off her makeup. Not wanting to wake up with a peppering of zits on her face, she shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
After smoothing moisturizer on her face, she padded over to her bed, pulled back the covers, and slipped in. Her head sank into the fluffy pillow, and she reached over and turned off the small lamp on her nightstand. Sangre’s face popped into her mind.I’ve never heard that name before. The man acted like some alpha asshole, but she had to admit that sex oozed out of all his pores. There was something brutish and exciting about him.
She turned on her side. I have to stop thinking about him.The band had to be at the studio early the following morning, and then Isla needed to meet with the security company in the afternoon. I probably won’t see him again. In another couple of months or so, we’ll be headed back to LA.Her stomach lurched with that thought.What if I’m not ready?The past year, she’d been run down by constant touring, the stress of dating Benz, the pressure of being in the spotlight, and the extra anxiety of being scrutinized every second because she was a woman. There never was a damn tweet about any of the guys either gaining an ounce of weight or eating a large bag of fries or not being tanned enough. They could do as they pleased and wear what they wanted without any repercussions, but it wasn’t so for her: Isla was constantly being watched.
Isla began to pant as blood rushed through her ears; she sat upright and instantly felt a clammy sweat coating her face and back.Dammit! I have to get a fucking grip. I love performing. I love singing. Why can’t I just chill?
Switching the lamp on, she reached for the bottle of prescription pills that would make her breathe normally and help her calm down and sleep. She unscrewed the top to a bottle of water she always kept on the nightstand and swallowed the two pills. Lying back down, she waited until the magic capsules took effect. Sangre entered her thoughts again, but this time he had his arms wrapped tightly around her, his handsome face close to hers as he leaned in and… her eyes shut and darkness erased all images from her mind.
