Page 17 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

Harvey

“Come here. I want you to see it,” I command Brody.

She gives me a look of irritation, one I’ve come to know very well from her, from where she sits on the leather couch with her arms crossed and her lips pursed.

She’s embarrassed. Good. I want her to feel embarrassed every time she gets drug tested so that the desire to do the drugs fizzles out.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine sitting right where I am, thanks.”

I bring the positive drug test over to her instead and she frowns deeper, her brows knotting in the middle. I hold it up in front of her face. “Look.”

She slaps the positive test out of my hand and rises to her feet, storming out of the room. “I don’t need to look at it to know it’s positive, Asshole. I literally took edibles yesterday.”

I follow her out of the room, hot on her heels. “How does it make you feel?”

She snorts a laugh, “The drugs or the piss test?”

I raise a brow and contemplate the question before answering, “Both.”

She stops walking and turns to face me. She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it and thinks better of what she was going to say.

She takes a minute to answer and finally speaks with a gleam in her eyes, “The drugs make me feel good. They make the hard feelings go away. When I take them, the things that bother me and worry me when I’m sober can’t get to me.

” Her eyes glaze over as she speaks, and I can hear the heavy emotion behind her words but what could bother her so much when she’s sober that she feels a need to take drugs?

What goes on in that head of hers? She wipes the emotion off her face and replaces it with a look of disgust, “As for the piss test, it makes me feel like shit. I don’t like the idea of you demanding I piss in cups. It’s weird.”

“What bothers you so much when you’re sober?” I ask. Maybe if I can get to the root of the problem, I can get rid of the problem itself.

She rolls her eyes and turns her back on me, walking away once more. “We’re not going there. It’s personal.”

“Come on, Little Rockstar, you told me you were gonna play nice so play nice.” I push her but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she continues walking and I follow her all the way up the stairs and to her bedroom, hoping she’ll give me something.

She’s about to shut the door in my face when emotion tears a small hole in the wall she’s built around her emotions. “It’s better for me and for everyone else when I’m high.” Is all she says as she closes the door and cuts off our connection.

It’s better for me and for everyone else when I’m high. What does she mean by that?

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ANOTHER WEEK PASSES AND I’m pleased to report that the little rockstar has been on good behavior.

She hasn’t snuck out or attempted to sneak out, she hasn’t taken any more of the edibles I know she still has hidden somewhere, she hasn’t asked to see her friends, and all she’s really been doing is playing the drums in her room or in the recording studio in the basement of her mansion.

I don’t eavesdrop on her while she plays because I know my presence makes her uncomfortable when she’s playing but also because I’m not a fan of music.

I think music is pointless. Why would someone waste their time listening to music when they could be listening to an audiobook or podcast that’s going to make a difference in their lives and inspire them to be better?

I try to give her space because I know we have a tendency to fight when we’re in the same room for too long.

I don’t want to argue with her. I know before I did because I liked the challenge that she presented me with, but that was before I saw her as a real human being.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t go soft or anything, I just see that she is trying even if the effort is minimal and that’s all I can ask for right now.

I don’t want to bicker or argue with her and make her go back five steps.

Besides, she’s grown on me but only a little.

The other night, she ventured outside of her room and into the home theater to watch a mafia movie of some kind and I joined her without asking.

I sat on the opposite end of the large couch, but I still watched it with her.

She didn’t complain about my presence and I didn’t dare initiate a conversation.

When the movie ended, we both went our separate ways with low “good nights” and we didn’t speak again until breakfast the next morning.

I hear footsteps padding down the stairs and look up from where I’m plating her breakfast -the same way I have been every morning since our arrangement was made- to find her with a faraway expression on her face. “Morning,” she greets but her voice sounds dead.

I raise a brow, “What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, “Nothing.”

She tries to dig into her breakfast, but I pull the plate away. “Talk.”

Brody sighs, “I’m bored.”

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Where do I even have to go?” She looks anywhere but at me. Her chest deflates as she speaks, and I feel a small tinge of pity in my chest.

I push the food towards her, and she no longer looks at it like she’s starving.

In fact, she doesn’t look hungry at all.

“You have to be at the studio in a few hours. Selene wants you three making a new album. Apparently, you have a contract with the record label and you guys have to put a new album out within the next three months. If you don’t, they’re gonna sue you and most likely drop you. ”

She throws her head back and groans. “Great, another lawsuit.”

“Not if you make the music. Besides, you’ve spent hours in your room with your drum set, I’m sure you have more than enough material.” I try to reassure her but it feels weird and also sounds disingenuous coming out of my mouth.

She rests her chin in her palm on the counter and meets my eyes lazily, “I start the songs and I like where they’re going but then I lose them halfway through. I don’t think the girls are gonna like what I have.”

I take a deep breath and try my best to sound sincere because I am, but the action is new territory for me. “Don’t underestimate what you have. I’m sure it sounds just fine and the girls will like it. It’ll all come together when you guys are together.”

She shrugs and picks at the food, still not putting any in her mouth.

“Brody.”

She looks up at me but says nothing.

“It’ll be fine. Stop worrying,” I encourage her.

I have no experience being sympathetic or empathetic with anyone aside from Lucy.

I practically helped raise Lucy after boyfriend number nine left mom alone with a newborn.

Lucy is the only girl that I have a soft spot for.

I’d do anything for her, be anything for her, and kill anyone for her and I’m trying my best to funnel a little bit of that into Brody because I can see that she needs it right now.

Maybe you need it too . My inner voice inserts before I push it away. I don’t need it. Not one bit.

Besides, Brody and I made a truce agreement and this is me upholding my end. That’s all this is.

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I SIT IN THE far corner of the recording studio.

Far enough away where Brody doesn’t feel suffocated by my presence but close enough where I’m still able to watch her closely.

It’s not that I feel she needs the eagle eye on her like she needed three weeks ago, it’s that I don’t trust her friends one bit.

Aria snorts so much cocaine I don’t even know how the girl is still alive and semi-functional and Ivory is such a dingbat I don’t think she knows how to count to ten while high or sober.

The two are horrible influences and I wish there was a way to keep them away from Brody.

She’s on the right path but Aria and Ivory could throw her off that path and send her into a spiral.

I noticed that Brody has a faraway look in her eyes when she’s around the girls now and I know exactly why without her having to say anything.

She feels like the odd man out and she hates it.

Aria and Ivory have no restrictions and they can do whatever they want but Brody can’t and it kills her.

She feels left out and hurt and I can see it on her face whenever she’s around them and they’re higher than kites and laughing about things she isn’t in on or a part of.

Personally, I think Brody would be better off without them but that’s my opinion and I know it would never happen.

They’re bandmates and best friends and that will never change.

Still, watching the dynamic between these three while they’re making music makes me pity Brody.

Part of me wants to not care about her emotions and whether or not she’s okay mentally but the other part of me, the stronger part of me, wants to whisk her out of here and back home where she may be bored but doesn’t have to feel left out and not included.

That same part wants to continue making her breakfast every morning and joining her for movie nights.

Shit, I really have gone soft… No . I scold myself internally.

A loud, shrieking laugh draws my attention from my conflicting thoughts and I look up to find Aria and Ivory laughing about something while Brody sits there and watches them, a frown on her face and a sad look in her eyes.

Her hair is tied into a half-up half-down bun and she wears skinny jeans and a black cropped tank top that ends right under her breasts.

The tanned skin of her stomach has been on display all day and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t imagining what the rest of her body looked like completely naked.

Those thoughts wandered further into forbidden territory as I imagined what it would be like to touch every square inch of her bare flesh, the noises she would make, the expressions on her face.

I shove the emotions away again as I have been all day, an internal war occurring inside me, and focus on what’s really important here.