Page 47 of Sangria


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“It’s not all about what you have in common with someone, Darian. You can’t honestly tell me that each time you hook up with someone, you stop and think about stuff like that.”

“That’s different. That’s just sex. Are you saying this is just sex between the two of you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Right. And from what Laura says, you’re shacking up with him?”

I look behind me at the house and smile. If this is a shack, sign me up. “I like him, D.”

“This is nothing more than a rebound fuck, Zara. The band, hell, even Van, we don’t understand what’s going on here.”

My throat tightens, and I close my eyes to ward off the tears, but it’s too late. Everything around me turns blurry. He’s my brother. He’s supposed to be on my side through everything. “Van cheated on me, Darian. He took the trust I had in him, the vows that he promised to me, and violated them in the worst possible way.”

“He’s sick, Z.”

“So he says. It’s a likely excuse to claim you’re a sex addict when your wife catches you in the act. Do you grasp that, Darian? Do you realize that I walked in on my husband fucking another woman and he didn’t stop right away? He continued while I watched him and acted as if I was inconveniencing him. Not to mention that after I left, he went and finished the deed. He came home smelling like her. Who the hell does that?”

“A man who is sick and suffering.”

I balk at his comment and dig deep within me to keep him on the line. “I have to know, what changed? Because a month ago when I told you, you were team Zara and now you’re team Van.”

“I’m team Reverend Sister, and right now we’re falling apart because you’re off sucking tongue with some Podunk dude who isn’t your husband. I’m trying to look out for us, the band that is your family and you seem content to throw it all away because Van made a mistake.”

“I have to go, Darian,” I tell him before I hang up. He calls me right back, but I send him to voicemail. If he can’t understand where I’m coming from, then there is no need for us to talk.

I think about sulking or drowning myself in a bottle of booze to numb the nagging voice in the back of my head, but realize that doing so will only increase the pain when I’m sober. I’m here at Levi’s and happy. He’s given me a safe haven, away from the media spectacle that was my life in Los Angeles, and offered me peace and quiet in his home.

Staring at my phone, I realize that holding it in my hand is only making me edgy. I shoot off a text to Levi, telling him that I’m powering down but that I’m making breakfast for him and the girls for when they arrive in the morning. I have no preconceived notions about what happens when the girls get here. For all I know, they’re not happy. Not that I can blame them. I know what it’s like to be replaced by another woman, except my father took it one step further and created a whole new family, forgetting about Darian and me.

That’s the last thing I want to do to his girls. I never want to come between him and his daughters, especially with the recent passing of their mother. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. My mom is my best friend and aside from Levi, the only one on my side. She deserves a call though, to let her know what’s going on with Levi, but I know I’ll unload my conversation with Darian onto her shoulders and that is something I don’t want to do. This is my battle and one that I need to figure out. I have a feeling the band is going to give me an ultimatum. It’s going to come down to whether or not I can forgive Van enough to continue performing together or if I call it quits. There’s no doubt in my mind that the band is going to side with him.

Instead of burying myself in a bottle of Jack, I decide a few laps would be better for me except by the time I have my suit on, I can hear someone turning off the alarm system.

“Hello?” I call out as I try to cover myself up. As luck would have it, Barbara is standing in the hallway, looking over my shoulder and through the door, almost as if she suspects someone is in Levi’s room. “Hi, Barbara.” I’m trying to be sweet, but the look she’s giving me makes me feel uncomfortable.

“I brought lunch,” she says, holding up a couple of white bags. As if on cue, my stomach growls, and she cracks a smile. “I told Levi that I would stop by and make sure you didn’t need anything.”

“And to prove that I’m using him?” I hedge.

Barbara shrugs. “I may not like that you’re here, but Levi does, and he’s important to me,” she says, opening the bags. “I’m paid to protect him. . . even from himself.”

I sit on one of the stools across from her and wait for her to push a plate toward me, contemplating what she means about Levi. I wish Laura was more like Barbara and looked after me as a person and not just my checkbook.

“Levi likes you, Zara, and because of that, it’s why I’m here. He asked me to look after you, even though he’ll be back this evening and I’m sure you’re capable of caring for yourself.”

“I am,” I tell her. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why’s that, exactly?” she asks.

“For one, I want to know if you’ll take me on as a client—”

“And the other?” she asks, interrupting me.

“I told Levi that I would make breakfast for him and the girls. I know they’ll be home early, but wanted something ready for when they got here.”

“And you need my help?”

“Or thoughts on what the girls like to eat,” I say with a shrug.

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