Page 6 of Heart Strings

Chapter Four

Alejandro

I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose, fending off the headache I could feel blossoming in my skull from the shrill voice coming through the speakers of my phone. “Why? I would have come with you if I’d known you were going to cancel seven flights and stay in some hotel for two extra days. Now we’re going to have less time together before your next show, and your mother’s going to be pissed.”

“Leave my mother out of this,” I snapped shortly, instantly regretting my loss of temper as Sierra drew in an angry breath. “I’m sorry. Listen, mi Loba, the boys want to stay for another day or two and see the sights. Us men only.” She liked it when I called her mi Loba - my Wolf. I used to like her fiery, confrontational attitude. I thought it was sexy, that Sierra was like a she-wolf protecting her young.

Now, it just irritated the hell out of me. I couldn’t talk to her anymore, not like I used to. If what I was saying wasn’t something Sierra wanted to hear, she would just ignore me completely.

I had tried to tell her I was staying in New Orleans for another day or two without lying through my teeth, but that had proven impossible, and I didn’t regret it in the slightest. This little lie was nothing compared to the ones she had told me to hide her cheating. I needed a little more time to be alone and enjoy myself, and I knew Sierra would fly here immediately to claw the idea out of me with her nails if I told her I wanted to spend more time in The Big Easy getting to know a woman.

I’d probably tell her I kissed Abigail eventually, and Sierra would lay into me and be angry for weeks…all while rolling around in bed with whatever boy-toy she had on the side. It had taken me a long time to realize it, but this was who she was.

“Fine.” Sierra’s voice shattered my thoughts, dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Just don’t stay away too long. I miss you…all of you.”

Just a month or so ago, that voice whispering those implications would have gotten me a little excited.My body. My money. My fame.Those were the three things Sierra liked best about me. “Jake’s calling,” I lied, just wanting to escape. “I’ve got to go.” I hung up without waiting for an answer, glancing at the time as I did.

3 PM. After talking to Abigail all night last night, I had gone to sleep about 9 and slept until about thirty minutes ago, at which point I woke up and found three missed calls and several texts from Sierra.

She just wouldn’t leave me alone, even for a day or two. I had to give her credit, though. When she wanted something - or someone - she absolutely refused to let that thing or person slip out of her fingers.

That was probably why she wanted me to buy a condo in Miami. I had a house already and she lived there, but the house was sort of a monument to Vaporized. The bandmates were in and out all the time, we practiced there often, and it had walls dedicated to our album cover art and band photos. It was kind of like the whole band’s house, not just mine - and I liked it that way.

Sierra hated most things I liked, so of course, she hated the house. She wanted me to give up the house - giving up the always-on-the-road lifestyle at the same time - and settle down with her. Could she not feel how strained we were? We could barely live with each other on tour. What made her think sharing a condo was a good idea? It was always the same with her. She wanted me to give up everything while she gave up nothing.

Don’t get me wrong. Drugs, women, petty crimes I could get away with because of my money and who I was - I’d done it all and I’d done it from the day Vaporized had put out our first hit single. Money and fame did things to people, and I knew that sometimes when my down-to-earth Cuban mamá looked at me and shook her head, she wondered when I would realize something was missing from this lifestyle.

I was starting to do just that, and Sierra had been the catalyst. For a while, we went the whole nine yards together, and we had some wild, drug-induced times that I still didn’t regret…but then, one day, I hadn’t wanted the high. As usual, she had gotten angry and gone there by herself.

I had looked at her and seen myself for what I was - a just-turned-thirty-year-old man who had been content with fleeting, unhealthy pleasures for too long.

I need to get rid of her.I headed into the bathroom for a shower, pausing for a moment to scratch at my beard and extricate one or two stray hairs. But how? I had tried breaking up with Sierra before, with pitiable results involving me actually somehow apologizing to her.

When I tossed my clothes on the floor and stepped into the steaming shower, the water was so hot it scalded my skin. I ignored the heat and tried to scrub away my worries with a hotel washrag. It didn’t work at all. I stepped out of the shower clean in body but wallowing through a pool of muck in my mind.

I needed a distraction, and I knew just the person to call. Wrapping a towel around my waist and abandoning the far-too-steamy bathroom, I sat on a corner of the bed and called Abigail.

“Hello?”

It had been so long since a voice put a smile on my face. “Hola. I hope you got some sleep.”

“Not exactly enough of it, but I’ll manage. I just need some coffee.” Loud, girlish voices laughed in the background. “Sorry about that, I’m in the living room. Sorority, you know.”

Perfect. “Come get coffee with me, then,” I suggested. “I can be there in thirty minutes.”

“Uh...” Whispered voices hissed on the other end, and then muted giggles. “Sure.”

“Great,” I said briskly. “Hasta pronto…see you soon.” I let the call linger for a few heartbeats, listening to the hysterical giggles and shushing sounds on the other end, then hung up, laughing.Sorority girls.Except Abigail, of course. Abigail was interesting, funny, talented, and driven…the kind of person of whom I needed more in my life.

The kind of person I needed to spend time with while I could, so I needed to put on something besides this towel. Or maybe she’d like the towel better…

I smirked to myself but rummaged around for something to wear. I settled on a pair of black jeans with rips in the knees, a plain white t-shirt that you could just see the color of my tattoos through, and rolled the sleeves of the denim jacket I chose to wear just below my elbow. A quick glance in the mirror told me I looked good - but I always looked good, so that wasn’t anything unusual.

Time to go.My bandmates had already all gotten on planes back to Miami, Chicago - wherever they wanted to go or had family, really - and we had only booked the limo for that evening, but we had also rented a more economical car that should still be parked outside the hotel. We hadn’t actually used it since arriving in New Orleans - most of us had been too drunk to drive most of the time - but I still had the keys, and the BMW was in fact still parked where I had left it.

I set my wallet, keys, and phone in the center console and pulled out of the hotel parking lot, following the directions on the map app. Even though I had never written down Abigail’s address or put it in my contacts, it didn’t matter. I remembered it word for word and number for number.

A few minutes later, I pulled up to the sorority house. Now that it was light out, I could see the symbols that denoted the place as a sorority, and the large house had those white columns and molding that added to the Greek feel from the lettering on the front. No doubt there was a name for this style of house, but I knew nothing about any sort of architecture. Actually, growing up helping a mother who liked to grow her own vegetables and esthetic flowering plants, I probably knew more about the flower beds and bushes that paralleled the sidewalk leading up to the front door.

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