Page 14 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

Brody

There’s always a method to my madness. Well, at least when I’m sober, though the madness I’m often trying to achieve when sober is getting violently high or drunk or both, exactly what I’m trying to achieve here.

In this very specific situation however, the method to the madness is putting up a front and letting Harvey think that I’ve given in to him and his stupid ass rules.

I’ve made myself scarce around the house this past week since the photoshoot and have limited conversations with him as much as possible.

The reason for doing this is simply to ensure he doesn’t suspect the plan I’ve concocted.

You see, Selene has Satan’s Angels scheduled for a music video shoot, another thing I’m not looking forward to, especially considering I’ve barely spoken to the girls since my outburst at the shoot.

I’ve been cooped up in my room for a week, bored, miserable, and so painfully sober even though I have a nice baggie of edibles hidden in my tampon box.

I haven’t taken them yet not because of Harvey’s random drug tests -something he hasn’t yet forced me to comply with- but because I’m waiting for the right moment.

And the “right moment” is the video shoot.

“Brody, let’s go.” Harvey demands from downstairs.

I grin as I exit my room with the bag of edibles in my boot.

––––––––

I LOUNGE ON THE little leather couch in my personal dressing room, Harvey seated in the corner on his phone.

He does that a lot. Texting, and I often find myself curious to know who he’s texting.

I’ve never asked because like I said, I’m trying to limit interaction, so he doesn’t suspect anything.

I sigh as I stare at the ceiling. Aria and Ivory are shooting guitar scenes right now so until it’s my turn, I have to just sit here and wait, staring aimlessly at the ceiling and wondering how my life got to the point it’s at right now.

My hair is styled in messy curls with chains and charms embedded into a few small golden braids that are only a quarter of an inch thick.

My eyes are smoky like they usually are on tour and in last week’s shoot, and my outfit consists of a lace up leather corset and matching lace up pants.

Harvey has barely spoken two words to me and I’m unsure of his reasoning for being silent.

Usually, he likes to argue back with me, but I also haven’t initiated any arguments of late.

The desire to do so has been there, but the execution hasn’t in fear of messing up my devious plan.

When I had to change, I left the edibles in my boot where Harvey would never find them.

I don’t want to get high; I need to. I’ve drifted so far from my friends in just one week and I’d give just about anything to go back to how things used to be before all the lawsuits and the very sexy babysitter moved in.

When I get high today, I’ll be sure to hang with the girls so they see I can still be fun.

I’ll fight tooth and nail to remind them I’m special and I’m not replaceable.

I glance at Harvey who’s still typing but there’s a faint smile on his lips as if he’s enjoying speaking to whoever he’s texting.

My brows pull together. I’ve never seen him smile like that and a small seed of jealousy plants in my stomach and sprouts.

His job is to pay attention to me, and he hasn’t been doing so, he’s too busy talking to the girl on the phone.

I know I should be happy to not have his attention on me but for some unknown fucking reason, I’m not.

I want him to smile at me like that and not at her .

I’m not usually one to get jealous but I choose to blame my deep-rooted hatred for Harvey.

I love arguing with him and riling him up and I can’t do that if he’s focused on someone else.

I clear my throat to get his attention, but he doesn’t look up. I clear it again and he looks up, his smile falling and his brow raised in question. “What?” He grunts.

I frown. “I’m bored.” I complain, knowing that isn’t why I interrupted him.

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head as he continues typing, his eyes dropping from mine.

I huff out a breath in defeat. A moment later, I’m still unbearably bored. I decide to roll off the couch and leave the dressing room. I’ll walk around to pass the time. He rises from his seat immediately, “Where do you think you’re going?”

I look at him over my shoulder with an annoyed expression on my face. “To walk around. I’m bored as fuck and you’re not entertaining me. You’re too busy texting.”

He exhales and slides the phone into his pocket. “Sit,” He demands, pointing at the couch I vacated.

I cross my arms but don’t sit. “No.”

He shakes his head. “What do you usually do at these things?”

I raise a brow. “Get fucked up.”

Harvey gives me a disapproving look. “Of course, that’s all you used to do, but that isn’t how it’s gonna work anymore.”

I roll my eyes and plop back onto the couch. “Yeah, yeah, we know. No drinking, no drugs, blah blah blah.” I roll onto my side and face the back of the couch, so I don’t have to look at him. I’m so painfully bored.

“You’ve been on good behavior lately. I told you I would have you on a leash in no time.

” He says arrogantly from his seat. Usually, I’m the one that starts in with him but I have a gut feeling him starting in with me is the only way he knows how to extend an olive branch and keep me entertained. This is probably his way of being nice.

I roll over onto my other side to face him as I prop my head up on my arm. “You totally got me. I’m practically a new woman,” I answer sarcastically.

He snorts a laugh, “Better than the circus animal you were before.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Who knew he had a sense of humor?

His phone pings with a new text and he slides it out of his pocket to answer, all of his attention on the phone.

I frown. “Who are you texting all the time?” I ask, unable to keep my curiosity contained.

He looks up at me with his black eyes, but they shine with protectiveness.

Whoever it is, he loves her. Is she a girlfriend? A wife ? Oh my God, is he married?

“Someone important.” Is all he says.

I sit up straight, “Are you married?” My stomach drops in anticipation.

He gives me a repulsed expression. “No.”

“Is it a girlfriend?”

“No.”

I raise a brow. “Do you have a kid?”

He frowns, “No. Stop asking me questions. My life is none of your business.”

He’s single, unmarried, and has no kids, so who the hell is he texting?

I’m about to ask a follow up question even though he told me not to, but the dressing room door opens and a girl in all black clothing enters.

“Brody, you’re up.” She grins from ear to ear, genuinely excited about her job.

Oh honey, I want to say. Hollywood will eat you up and spit you right out.

But I don’t say either of those things. Instead, I follow her out and Harvey follows me.

I need him to not follow me around. I can’t slip past him if he’s behind me at every waking moment.

I need him distracted and out of my way.

I film my scene before Aria, Ivory, and I have wardrobe changes and updates to our hair and makeup.

They change my makeup and make it look natural, almost as if I’m not wearing any at all.

They take the chains out of my hair and style it in a low bun at the back of my head.

They do the same to Ivory and Aria before they usher us all into identical schoolgirl outfits and have us film the last scenes.

I notice Harvey, typing away on his phone the whole time and know he’s distracted.

Once we finish, Aria and Ivory tell me about their night out at Veil, our favorite nightclub and how much fun they had.

I have the bitter taste of of jealousy on my tongue and in my belly, but I don’t say anything.

I don’t expect them to isolate themselves because I’m isolated, but I expect them to be sympathetic and not rub it in my face.

I can’t hold them accountable though, because again the two of them are fucked up.

“How much blow did you do today?” I ask, suspicion in my voice.

Aria snorts a laugh and Ivory giggles, “Like half a bag. Beatrix gave it to us last night when we were out. You know how good her stuff is.” Beatrix Banes is one of the most well-known faces in rock and metal.

She’s a damn good singer but she doesn’t play any instruments.

If you thought the shit that we did was bad, Beatrix is worse.

She spent a month in jail for slapping a store employee across the face after said employee confronted her for peeing on the floor of the store, pants and panties down and all.

She also crashed into the front of the same store only minutes after the first two offenses.

She was so drugged up she didn’t even know what she was doing.

Beatrix found us before we got big and asked us to open for her shows on her tour and we agreed, excited to work with our idol.

We became super close with her and now she’s like an older, super mentally deranged older sister who falls off the face of the earth but then hits us up every now and then to do a shit ton of drugs and to fuck shit up in LA.

Some of my best times have been with Beatrix so I’m jealous they got to hang with her while I was cooped up in my room with my drum set.