Page 18 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

“Get out,” Miles growls. Miles is older than the rest of us by a few years and he’s usually the more responsible one of us.

By that I mean he has a better moral compass.

He’s in a different stage of the life cycle than we are, married with two small kids.

He’s head over heels in love with his wife and would never tolerate anyone disrespecting her, so he understands my protectiveness over Aria and is ready to back me at any moment.

Rogan rolls his eyes and storms out, stumbling from my throwing his ass through a table and also from whatever he drank or snorted before I got here.

When he makes it to the door, he looks at me over his shoulder and scoffs, “When that girl crushes you, don’t come crying to me because I’ll just shove my fist down your throat and say ‘I told you so.’” He leaves before I can bite back and slams the door behind him so hard that the entire room shakes.

Nate and Miles release me once he’s gone and I take deep, angry breaths, wanting so badly to chase after him and beat his face in. I’ve never been this angry at Rogan before. Ever. Sensing my rage, Nate hands me the bottle of whiskey and raises a brow, “Here. You need this more than I do.”

I accept it, taking large sips from the bottle and resuming my previous position on the couch, ignoring the shattered table before me.

Nate and Miles rejoin me and the three of us sit in silence for a few minutes before Miles mumbles, “I haven’t seen him like this before. He’s been acting so weird lately.”

Nate nods, “Something is up with him and he’s just taking it out on you. Don’t let it get to you.”

I shake my head and snort a sarcastic laugh, “It’s a little too late for that. Did you see the table?” I nod towards where the table once rested, fully intact.

Nate chuckles, “That was sick, I’m not gonna lie.”

Miles grins, “I didn’t know you had that in you, Sly.”

I rest my body against the back of the couch, “Me neither.” I lift the bottle of whiskey to my lips once more and savor the taste of the liquid, the way it burns down my throat and my chest until it lands in my stomach and spreads a feeling of warmth through me.

Nate smiles, “So, you finally got the girl you’ve been pining after since her band blew up and you first saw her face, huh?”

I grin even though it isn’t true. I still didn’t get the girl and I don’t think I ever will. I mean, have you seen the girl’s face when I flirt with her? She looks like she just witnessed a murder. I don’t share this though. Instead I nod, “Yeah, I did.”

Miles asks, “And when do we get to meet her?”

I shrug, “I don’t know. It’s still new.”

Nate raises a brow, “New enough that you guys already have a leaked sex tape?”

I give him a warning look and he shakes his head, “I’m not making a joke or trying to insult or offend her. I get it, it’s a sensitive topic. But seriously, you guys are all the rage right now. It’s hard to remember you just started dating.”

The lie that Steve and I told my bandmates was that Aria and I were seeing each other secretly for a couple of weeks before the tape.

That way, they wouldn’t ask as many questions.

We told them the truth about the tape for the most part.

The parts where Aria and I were drugged and didn’t film ourselves, but that’s all we shared.

Miles frowns, “You seriously can’t remember that night at all? ”

I shake my head and lower my eyes, “Nope.” Every time I try to remember, my mind draws blanks.

It feels like there’s some kind of brick wall up in my mind where that night is and no matter how hard I kick at it, it doesn’t so much as crack.

It freaks me out that a whole night is erased from my memory and I can only imagine how Aria feels.

Nate shakes his head, “I hope they figure out who did that.”

I nod, “Me too.”

“Is she okay?” Miles asks, concern for Aria in his voice. Knowing him it’s because he’s picturing his wife in her shoes.

I shrug, “I don’t know. I haven’t brought it up because I don’t want to upset her, but I know just from how I’m feeling that she can’t be feeling as good as she’s pretending.

” I’ve wanted to ask Aria how she was feeling because I want to support her.

We went through this experience together and nobody will be able to understand how she’s feeling more than I do.

I just want her to let me, to trust me, but part of her still thinks I’m somehow involved in this.

“I can’t even imagine,” Nate’s voice is low, sympathetic towards Aria. “Especially with how the media has been portraying her. I’ve seen some nasty articles and comments about her. It’s fucked up.”

That, I think, is the worst part about the entire situation.

I have yet to see one hate comment about myself.

All I’ve gotten is praise for having a nice dick but Aria, who did the exact same thing that I did in that video, is being degraded and torn apart for being a slut.

It pisses me off to no end. This double standard needs to stop and I have Steve working around the clock to help stop these articles and pictures from spreading.

“I just wish I knew how to help her,” I admit.

Miles reassures me, “You will. Your relationship is still new. Just give her time and make her feel supported and she’ll open up.”

Nate laughs to lighten the mood, “Who knew you were such a sap, Miles?”

Miles rolls his eyes, “Since I saw my wife for the first time.”

Nate makes a retching sound and mimics vomiting.

We all laugh at him as he dramatically reacts to the idea of being in love.

Nate is not the relationship type. The guy has the worst mommy issues I’ve ever seen and it made him swear off women for most of his life.

Love and romance just aren’t in the cards for him.

“Fucking nasty,” he scrunches his face in bitterness as if he just tasted the back of a lemon peel.

Miles shakes his head, “Shut up.” And then, in typical Miles fashion, he realizes immediately what we all need which is an immediate mood lightener, “Now, why don’t you two rug monkeys go get more whiskey because we’re out,” he frowns as he tears the bottle from my grip and flips it upside down.

Only a drop comes out and that’s when I realize I drank the rest of the bottle.

aria

I CAN’T SLEEP. THAT’S something I never would’ve thought would come out of my mouth considering I am a nap girl forever, but I can’t sleep for the life of me. The reason I can’t sleep can be put into two small, very non-simplistic words; Slater Nicks.

My mind has been going a thousand miles a minute recounting every detail of our fake date. I haven’t enjoyed myself that much since before the whole sex tape scandal, another thing keeping me up but we don’t talk about that.

I felt energized when I came home from our date, alive in a way I haven’t in a while.

I feel like live wire and the electricity needs to funnel out of me and into something else.

Hence why I’ve been writing lyrics for the last four hours.

I have lyrics for about three songs on the new album and the words just can’t stop coming out of me.

Usually when I write the lyrics, they’re playful and the purpose behind them is to leave the audience amused, entertained, and wanting more.

This stuff I’ve been writing is entirely new and like nothing I’ve ever written.

I read over every word and question whether or not the girls will like this new emotion I’m putting into our music.

It’s darker and maybe even a little depressing, but I like it.

Maybe what I like more is the fact that writing lyrics is giving me an outlet to release what I’m feeling inside but don’t have the gall to admit to my friends.

The truth is, I’m in a dark fucking place.

I just don’t want to admit that to my friends because I’m admittedly stubborn and don’t want to appear weak.

I know it’s okay to not be okay but what can my friends tell me anyway?

They can’t tell me they understand how I feel because they don’t.

None of them have been in this situation and I pray they never have to be.

My pen nearly runs out of ink as I jot down the last word in this verse I’m writing and I chuck it over my shoulder and hear it clatter somewhere on the floor of my room. I read over the last verse I’ve written and nod as I start to hear a guitar melody in my head to accompany the words.

I am stripped of all my pride

My world has all but died

And I know that I can’t hide

But I have still cried

Because of your greed

I’m afraid you can not save

I can no longer be brave

This world makes us its slaves

I read it again and again until I start to get an understanding or at least an idea of what I want the guitar to sound like with these words.

Taz takes a deep breath in his sleep from where he rests on my pillow and Kiko sleeps at the foot of my bed, most likely dreaming about endless hordes of catnip and a far less mentally damaged owner.

I lay on my stomach, sprawled out in the middle of my bed, still clutching the notepad close to my chest when my phone starts vibrating like crazy from my nightstand.

I immediately feel a strange feeling in my gut.

One with darkness and foreboding. I just got that phone and the new number.

Who could be texting me so rapidly at this time?

I worry right away that something else has happened and I’m being ostracized all over the media for some other bullshit scandal and I panic, leaping out of bed and startling Kiko and Taz.

I unplug my phone and stare at my lock screen while holding my breath.

My stomach sinks when I see the name blowing up my phone.

It isn’t Selene and for that I’m grateful.

I can’t handle any more of her anger and disappointment in me.

It also isn’t Brody who is most likely sound asleep in bed with Harvey.

It also isn’t Ivory who’s most likely asleep with some ridiculously pink sleeping mask on. No, it’s none of them. It’s Duncan.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Unknown Number

You are such a fucking whore

Unknown Number

This is Duncan. I want you to know

Unknown Number

I know what you did. I saw the pictures and the videos

Unknown Number

Are you proud of yourself?

Oh my God. This can not be happening. Not after we broke up five years ago.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Me

What do you want?

Me

How did you get this number?

Unknown Number

I asked your mom. She always liked me more

Me

What do you want??

Unknown Number

I want you to tell me if it was worth it

Me

If what was worth it?

Unknown Number

Breaking up with me for this. You’re a fucking slut

and the entire world knows it. Did you dump me just

to fuck other guys on video?

Me

Stop it

Unknown Number

I fucking hate you, Aria

Me

So stop texting me. I’m blocking you

I have tears in my eyes. The angriest of angry tears.

How dare he text me for the first time in five years and slut shame me when he has no clue what actually happened?

How dare he do this to me? He’s clearly drunk.

He never would’ve messaged me otherwise.

I guess seeing me all over the news while he’s intoxicated really set him off.

I quickly block his number before he can send me another betraying message and I don’t even try to force back the tears that freefall down my cheeks at the emotions he’s stirring inside me.

God, I hate him. I hate him for not respecting me then and I hate him for not respecting me now.

He and I were never meant to be but he just can’t let go.

He can’t let go of his jealousy and his pride and that’s why he wants to kick me while I’m already down and bleeding.

I send my mother an angry text demanding she never give anyone my phone number again and then mute her message notifications so that I don’t have to speak to her until I feel like it. I feel my legs shake and I sit on my bed, cupping my face in my hands as I sob.

I know the entire world thinks I’m a whore.

I know that the entire world thinks I’m disgusting.

I know that this will always be attached to my name anytime it’s brought up anywhere in the future.

I just thought for one second that the world gave me this perfect day with Slater to make up for all the bad I’ve been through lately.

I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but the rug was ripped right out from under me and I just fell flat on my fucking face.