Page 25 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

She pushes out of her seat and strides over to me.

Aria remains in her seat the whole time, watching us as she chews on lettuce from her salad.

Ivory stops in front of my drum set and leans in, “Bullshit. Speak up and say whatever it is you want to say but won’t.

We know you have a problem.” See, what does it for me is the word choice here.

The constant use of the word “we.” It shows me they’re a united front. It’s the two of them against me.

I feel my blood boiling. I jump out of my seat and walk around the set until I’m only inches away from Ivory’s face.

We’re on eye level, both shorter than Aria by about five inches.

“You want to know what I have to say? Fine. You’re right, I’m not fucking excited about this tour because the two of you are gonna be off doing God knows what on your own while I’m stuck in my little hotel room bored out of my mind and watching the news.

Selene told all of us it was time to get sober and I’m doing my part to clean up our image but the two of you aren’t doing shit,” I snap, my face turning red with anger.

Ivory’s brows crease in the middle and I can practically see steam rolling out of her ears. “Are you forgetting that ninety percent of the trouble we got into was your fault from the very beginning?”

“Are you forgetting that you did plenty on your own too? Nobody forced you to do anything,” I argue. “Selene thought I was the problem here, but it’s been the two of you the entire time. You’re worse than I ever was and you know it, you just won’t admit it,” I seethe at her.

Ivory completely flies off the rail and snaps, grabbing my hair in her hands and tossing me to the ground.

I fall and grab her shirt in the process.

We both fall in a heap of limbs, scratching at each other’s faces like wild animals.

For her, this is caused by whatever drugs she’d taken today.

She would never do this clear headed. For me, this is all my anger, insecurity, and fear coming out to play.

I’ve never fought with my friends before, not like this, but it seems we’re all falling apart and becoming people we aren’t.

A hand reaches out to separate us but Ivory balls her hand into a fist and punches whoever it is in the face.

I roll on top of Ivory and tussle with her from on top but a body piles into us and joins the fray.

Blood sprays and I’m not sure who it belongs to but it doesn’t stop me.

I’m too blinded by rage to notice. Suddenly, the fight goes from one against one to three against three.

Aria’s involved, blood on her lip, and she wrestles with Ivory while Ivory scratches and pulls at me, and I scratch and pull and wrestle with both of them.

Another person joins, pulling only me out from under Aria, and untangling my limbs from Ivory’s.

I don’t know how I ended up at the bottom, but Aria was focusing her brutality on Ivory rather than me when I was below her and Ivory was rolled onto her side.

The arms cage me into a broad chest and I’m reminded of when Harvey intercepted me from the pap.

I know it’s him without having to look and for a second, my anger at him dissipates.

I’m more angry with the girls right now anyway.

My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths and I dig my nails into Harvey’s arm, itching to get out and get back to unleashing my rage.

Two security guards separate Ivory and Aria and I finally get a chance to take them in.

Aria’s hair is a shit show. Her lip is bleeding, and a bruise is forming under her left eye.

Ivory’s nose has a huge scratch, probably from my nails, running across it and onto her cheek, small beads of blood forming.

Her shirt is also ripped and hangs off one shoulder. I can only imagine what I look like.

“Breathe. Calm down.” Harvey whispers in my ear.

The door slams open and rebounds off the wall. Selene enters with angry, hurried footsteps. She wears one of her signature suits and enters in a cloud of Chanel perfume. “What the fuck is going on here?” She demands.

None of us answer. Selene only continues, “First of all, you two,” She points between Aria and Ivory, “I told you to get sober and you didn’t listen to me.

Your drug tests start next week and I meant what I said.

If you disobey me on this, I’m out and you’re all on your own with the prosecutors and the state.

” She focuses on Ivory, “And you! How dare you put your hands on Brody and start this whole brawl?”

Ivory doesn’t respond. She looks at the ground with a look of regret on her face.

Selene turns on me, “You.” She snaps. “You’ve been doing so well and I hear you charged at a pap?

And then this….this-” She gestures between the mess we created in the room while murdering each other.

“Cat fight.” She finishes. She sighs and continues, “Do I need to sign you up for anger management? Because it looks to me like I do.”

“I think you’ve done enough.” My smart-ass mouth starts.

She raises a brow, “Brody Drake, remember what I said to you? I will walk away and you know it, so don’t test me.”

I don’t respond. Selene looks at Harvey and the other security guards and nods at them.

“Thank you for breaking that up. You can let go of them.” She commands and they all obey.

She speaks of us like we’re children that were scolded in the principal’s office but I guess in a way, we are.

The three of us stand on our own, awkward and uncomfortable.

We sneak glances at each other and the regret on each of our faces at the damage we’ve done to each other speaks for itself.

Selene lowers her voice to a sympathetic tone, “The three of you are best friends. Look what’s happening to you.

Pretty soon, there won’t be a band at all if you keep this up.

Are you all okay with never speaking to each other again and losing your band? ” Selene asks all of us.

None of us answer.

“I didn’t think so. Work this out before the tour or I’m upholding my threat.” She fumes before turning on her heel and storming out of the room as fast as she entered.

I keep my eyes glued to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Brody.

” Ivory chokes and tears start streaming down her cheeks.

“I don’t feel like myself at all lately and I can’t believe I just did that.

” She looks up at Aria, “I’m sorry I punched you.

I was just so mad and I couldn’t-” She searches for the right word, “Control myself.”

“I’m sorry for getting involved. I only made it worse.” Aria shakes her head at herself. “And for last week, Brody.” She says only to me.

I take a deep breath. “What’s happening to us?

” I ask, my voice shaking. They don’t answer me.

“Selene is right. If we keep this up, we won’t have a band at all.

I’m sorry my attitude has been shit lately.

I’ve just been feeling so left out and trapped in my home while you guys are having fun without me.

” Tears freely roll down my cheeks. “I’m not okay with never speaking to you guys again and I’m not okay with losing our band,” I sob.

Ivory strides over to me and hugs me, Aria follows right after.

We hug each other and just cry, and I realize how bizarre the last four hours have been.

We’ve been all over the place and have hit wave after wave of emotions.

I guess I did accomplish one thing today.

I wanted to distract myself from my issues with Harvey and that worked, but at what cost?

“No more drugs,” Ivory declares. “We’re all sober from now on.”

Aria nods, “Agreed. We’re sorry you felt left out, Brody. No drugs on the tour.” She agrees.

I smile through my tears, “Thank you, guys.”

––––––––

THE RIDE HOME FROM Hell is as expected, silent. Harvey hasn’t once mentioned the bloody scratches marring my cheek or the bruise forming on my cheekbone that I caught a glimpse of in the rearview mirror.

Once we make it home, I walk my sore body up to my room, Harvey on my heels. I immediately make my way into my bathroom to assess the real damage of my face and Harvey disappears somewhere down the hall, to his own room I assume.

I look in the mirror and find my cheek, slightly torn up with dried blood coming from three long scratches.

The bruise on my cheekbone is turning a deep purple color, and I notice for the first time, a cut in my right eyebrow.

I remember Ivory swinging a fist at me with her ringed fingers, so I assume the metal is to blame for the split skin.

I turn the sink on and tie my hair up into a low bun so it’s out of the way while I clean my cuts.

I pull the first aid kid out from under the cabinet and open the small red box.

Just as I start rifling through the box for the proper supplies, my bathroom door barges open and I jolt, a squeal tearing from my throat.

Harvey stands in the doorway, changed into a pair of loose fitted sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my tone outraged.

He assesses the state I’m in and strides over to me, stealing the first aid supplies from my grip.

I watch in silence, completely awed, as he starts cleaning my scratches with gentle fingers.

He applies a thin layer of healing ointment after and avoids my eyes the entire time.

“Put ice on your cheek,” he instructs before taking a step back to retreat from my room.

“Stop,” I command him. He doesn’t get to walk away from me after ignoring me for days and then take care of me when I have a few scratches.

He stops in the doorway and slowly turns around, his movements full of regret and discomfort.

I cross my arms over my chest, “Is there something wrong with me or something?” I ask, needing to know the answer.

It’s been on my mind since he walked out of that room.

He blinks slowly and then shakes his head, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Why would you ask that?” He looks up at me through dark lashes and I feel the breath get stolen from my lungs.

“Because you just walked away and didn’t talk to me for days. You went back to treating me like something you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe,” I snap, raising my voice. I didn’t want to reveal just how bothered I was by what he did, how insecure it made me feel.

He sighs, “What we did was a mistake, Brody. It should never have happened.”

Rejection pierces a hole right through my chest with a scalding hot branding iron. “Is that what this has been about? Ignoring me? You kissed me , remember?” I remind him.

Harvey rubs the spot between his eyes with his index finger and thumb. “Yes, I remember, and it was a mistake. You are my client. I should never have crossed that line with you, and it will never happen again.”

I snort a laugh even though I want to curl in on myself, “You’re implying I’d ever want you to touch me again.”

He just stares at me for a fleeting moment in silence.

I feel my cheeks turn red with my embarrassment.

The truth is that I do want him to touch me again.

I want him to do what he did to me the other night, again, and more.

I’ve never felt as messy or as wild as I did with Harvey and that’s saying a lot because I’m a fucking rockstar for fucks sake.

I’ve never been with someone who’s been so in control and who was capable of making me feel that way and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it all again, with Harvey.

We’d never actually work as anything non casual.

He’s a stuck up, control freak who’s probably never taken a sip of alcohol in his life and I’m an all-over-the-place rockstar with a tendency to take too many drugs and drink too much whiskey.

He wakes up at the crack ass of dawn to work out and I wake up at noon after drinking all night the night before, only to start drinking again.

He craves order and I crave chaos. With all of these differences, we’d be doomed for failure before we even started but it feels nearly impossible to stay away.

He relaxes his shoulders, “Good, then I guess we’re on the same page. It will never happen again and we will go back to having a professional relationship.” He gestures between the two of us with his pointer finger.

I raise an apathetic brow, “Sounds good to me.” I lie. I clench my jaw so tight; my gums start to hurt.

“It’s settled then. Goodnight.” He nods at me before he turns around and walks away from me almost as quickly as he walked away from me the other night.

It felt shitty to get walked out on the first time and those wounds scabbed over. Him walking away from me tonight just reopened them. I exhale a pent-up breath before I close the bathroom door and lock it behind me. I turn the shower on scalding hot and strip out of my clothes.

I step into the shower and hope the water will wash away the memory of Harvey touching, kissing, licking, but it won’t go away no matter how hard I try.

The night in the studio plays on a loop in my mind, wringing emotions out of me I’d rather not dissect.

I scrub my scalp with some shampoo and force myself to push my wavering emotions towards Harvey aside.

He obviously doesn’t feel the way I feel about that night and he regrets it, so that should speak for itself.

We may have made progress when we made our truce and formed an almost friendship but that progress is a faded memory now.