Page 12 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

I turn to look at them but the same artist from before jerks my face forward aggressively and scoffs in my face.

Harvey clears his throat from behind me, loud enough to steal my focus and for the rude artist’s face to turn red.

From that point on, he’s gentle with me and carries himself like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I make eye contact with Harvey once more to find his eyes burning holes through the artist. A flutter of something runs through my belly that almost feels like gratitude mixed with a little bit of attraction.

I try to tell myself it isn’t attraction, but I’m no fool.

I know from the clench in his jaw and the flare in his nostrils all the way to the crease between his brows, all in my defense that I’m attracted to Harvey Taylor.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t still an asshole though.

You can be attracted to someone you hate… I think.

I’m grateful to Harvey for this small token of kindness and I make a mental note to cut him a break just a little today. Only a tiny little itty-bitty bit.

Once the artists finish my face, I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes look bold and dark. They’re sultry and alluring the same way they look on stage. The blue in my eyes stands out more and the look is all tied together with a crimson lipstick.

Aria and Ivory appear as the hairstylists come over and start working on my hair.

“Hey, guys,” I greet. They’re arm in arm, makeup and hair completely done up, and hysterical laughing over something I don’t know.

I frown but try to force the expression into neutrality.

Aria’s hair is curled and styled in a half up half down style on top of her head, baby blue streaks running through it.

She wears an electric blue lace bralette that shows her ample cleavage and a pair of black leather pants that rest low enough on her hips to leave little to nothing to the imagination.

Ivory’s hair is straightened and the hot pink ombre looks freshly dyed.

She wears a long-sleeved baby pink velvety top that has a deep cut v neckline and stops right below her breasts.

She has a miniskirt on that matches and the whole look is tied together with rhinestones on the fabric and thigh high white leather boots.

They look stunning and the sight of them all done up makes me miss the tour when things were normal. Well, normal for us.

Aria glances at me with heavy lids, “Sticks!”

They rush over and hug me and I hug them back, basking in the connection. I’ve missed my friends so much. “I miss you guys.”

“Aw, we miss you too, B.” Ivory squeezes me so tight it feels like my air supply has been cut off.

Aria leans into my ear and breathes out a whisper laugh, “I’ve got crazy ganja. You want a joint?”

They’re high, I knew it. They’re high and Selene is here which means she probably knows they’re high and isn’t doing anything about it.

Why is it okay that they’re high and I’m not?

Selene set these ridiculous standards for me but doesn’t expect the others to follow them when we’re all in the same amount of trouble.

I squeeze the armrests of my chair so tight my knuckles turn white.

Harvey raises a brow at me in the mirror and I look away, ignoring him because his face is a reminder of everything that isn’t fair.

“I would love to, but I have a babysitter and I’m getting drug tested now.” I whisper in a dark tone.

Aria glances up at the same time Ivory does and they both take Harvey in before Aria licks her lips and whispers, “I see the Henry Cavill and Sebastian Stan in him. He’s hot as fuck. Tell me you’ve tapped that.” She practically salivates, hearts in her eyes.

My mood has been killed by Selene’s inconsistent expectations for all of us and her clear targeting of me. I’m not in the mood to joke with Aria and Ivory over sleeping with Harvey regardless of how hot he is. “I haven’t and I don’t plan on it,” I say dryly.

Ivory groans, “Boring. But if you aren’t would you care if I-”

I snap, my voice raising, “I would care so don’t even think about it.”

Aria and Ivory exchange confused looks, “Woah, calm down,” Aria laughs.

My anger takes over, “Calm down? You want me to calm down when I’m being held to a different standard than you guys are?”

Aria rolls her eyes, “B, we all know you were the worst of us with the drugs. You need to chill.” She fishes around her pocket and pulls out a joint, handing it to me for all to see.

Harvey takes a step forward immediately as if to intercept it before I can smoke the whole thing in two seconds, but I make no move to grab it.

Instead, I look at Aria through dark lashes and a face warm with anger. “Don’t try to cover up the inequality with a fucking joint. Have you forgotten we’re all supposed to be sober? Not just me. All of us. So why am I the only one that’s sober and getting drug tested?”

Harvey stops in his tracks, satisfied with my ability to turn down the joint. Ivory speaks up, “Brody, relax. She was trying to be nice.”

Okay, I’ve had enough. I jump out of the seat just as the hairdresser finishes in perfect timing and charge away from them. “Fuck that! You want to be nice? Get clean with me and stop waving drugs in my face when you know I’m struggling.”

I charge away and into a dressing room, sliding the curtain closed and sighing audibly.

I hear Ivory and Aria laughing about something completely unrelated and feel my chest sink.

I’m already the odd man out. All it took was sobriety.

I knew this would happen. This is the start of the end.

Now that I’m sober and they aren’t, they’ll get bored of me and think I’m no fun and they’ll either kick me out of the band and replace me or ice me out until I leave on my own, and from there the fans will do the same.

Because the truth is, Brody Drake is a fucking nobody.

She’s average in height, weight, size, personality, everything, but Sticks…

she isn’t. She’s unique and she’s talented and people love her and find her fun.

Sticks can only be Sticks when she’s high or drunk or both and now…

I don’t have access to either of those things anymore which means I’m just boring Brody Drake.