Page 80 of The Pursuit of Happiness

Did something happen? What a stupid question. What didn’t happen, is what he should’ve asked me. “I’m not in shock,” I clarify.

“What’s wrong?” He leans in closer to me and lowers his voice so that nobody around us can hear.

I don’t entirely trust Rogan. I didn’t trust him before because of Slater. But I also can’t trust Slater. So maybe the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I decide to answer honestly, but to keep the information given minimal. I raise the phone and wave it in the air, a broken smile on my face, “I found this in Slater’s bedroom. In the drawer he has for me.”

Rogan looks at the phone but doesn’t seem to understand why the phone would have any significance. It dawns on me that he has no clue what the phone is and what it means. “This was the phone used to record and distribute the sex tape. He had it all along.”

Rogan’s brows rise and his mouth gapes, “Holy shit.”

I laugh, “Yup.” I bring the glass back to my lips and drain the last few sips before setting it back down.

Rogan shakes his head in disbelief, “I can’t believe he would do something like that. He seemed to really care about you.”

I give him an annoyed look, “Yeah, well, people can lie whenthey want something from you.”

“What do you think he wanted from you?” Rogan tilts his head in thought.

I shrug, “To ruin my chances of winning the Muse Award.”

He scoffs, “Fuck that award. I can’t believe he would do something like this just to win.” His eyes soften, “I’m so sorry, Aria.”

I take a deep breath at the sincerity in his words. I look for the bartender only to find him on the other end of the bar. Rogan glances in that direction and offers, “Do you want me to get you another one? I think you could use it right now.”

I nod, “Please.”

He disappears a moment later, leaving me alone with my thoughts and this fucking phone. I want to crush this phone. I don’t even know why I kept it. I don’t even know what I plan on doing with it.

When Rogan returns with a fresh drink, he offers it to me with a smile. I accept it and take a sip. He has a drink of his own and takes a sip in tune with me. When I lower my glass, my brows pull together, “Have you seen Ivory and Brody?”

Rogan shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen them. I think they left earlier around when Miles and Nate left.”

“You’re here alone?” I ask, confused. Why would he have stuck around if his friends left?

He takes another sip of his drink before he answers me, “No. I have a few friends floating around.”

I nod even though the response is vague.

“So what brings you here?” Rogan asks.

I give him a look as though he already knows the answer and he quickly clarifies, “I mean I know what happened, but why comehere?”

I shrug, “I thought Brody and Ivory would be here.” My voice lowers and is heavy with disappointment.

Rogan shakes his head and gives me an empty look. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now.”

I sigh. “Can we talk about something else?”

He nods, “Anything.”

I tilt my head at him and the room spins with the rapid movement. I steady myself on the ledge of the bar, “Tell me about you.” I don’t really care to gain more knowledge about Rogan, but I need him to talk about something or anything so that I can think about anything aside from Slater.

His eyes seem to shine as he smiles, “Well, I was born and raised in Michigan. I met the guys when I moved to LA and I started playing the guitar when I was ten.”

The tip of my tongue tingles and I glance at my drink and furrow my brows in confusion. Damn, this vodka must be strong as fuck. I’m only a drink and a half deep and I feel like I’m landing on a new planet.

“When did you start to play?”

I glance up at him and his face is spinning and coming in and out of focus, “When I was six,” I answer, my words slurring slightly.

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