Page 11 of The Masks We Wear

Realization sets in. Her heavy lids, her change in voice, her avoiding my eyes. I clench my jaw and curl my hands into fists, wanting to toss this whole house upside down. I grab her before she can slip past me and push her against the foyer wall, cutting her off from the staircase. Her head hits the wall with a dull thud and if I weren’t so furious with her right now, I may have stopped and asked her if she was okay, but all I can see is red right now. I squeeze her lithe upper arms in each of my fists and she shrinks in on herself, afraid of what she sees on my face or what I’m doing to her but I don’t care. Her expression is worried, anxious and she tries her best to hide from my eyes, but I won’t let her. As close as we are, she’s still a lot shorter than I am so I have to lean down to rip her apart. “You’re fuckinghigh.”

“Let me go!” She demands, anxiousness laced into her tone.

I seethe, “He brought you the drugs. You didn’t just use him to get back at me, you used him as a fucking mule.” I lean in closer to her and squeeze her arms harder as she tries to squirm out of my grip but it’s no use, I’m far stronger than her. “What did he give you?”

She yells, “I said, let me go!”

I release one of her arms and grab her face with one hand, forcing her eyes to meet mine and once I get a close-up view, my anger grows as if that were even possible. Her eyes are bloodshot, making the turquoise color stand out more. “What did you take?” My face feels hot with my anger as I snarl at her.She shudders at the look on my face and tries to turn her chin away from my grip, but I don’t let go. I shake her, “Now!” I slam my fist into the wall beside her head, not hard enough to put a hole in the wall but hard enough to scare a response out of her.

“Coke! He brought me coke!” She admits, flinching as if she actually thinks I’d hit her. I wouldneverput my hands on a woman, especially not a client, but Brody doesn’t need to know that. She needs to fear me so that she obeys me.

I growl, “You are not to see Rocco again, understood?”

She doesn’t respond but I don’t think she cares much. The girl doesn’t seem to care much about anything aside from her band. She’s ruthless, arrogant, cocky, all the things I hate in a human being. She’s my opposite in every way and I can’t stand it, I can’t standher.

“How much did he give you? I want all the leftovers,now.” I demand.

Real fear flashes through her eyes for a brief moment as if the prospect of not having access to drugs actually petrifies her. “I’m not giving you shit.” The deviant I met yesterday finally comes back to the conversation as some sobriety returns to her expression. She’s the Brody I know now. The one that argues with me at every opportunity and doesn’t back down. “And I’m telling Selene you put your hands on me.”

I smirk at her as I lean in, “Go ahead and tell her, I don’t care. You know why? Because then you’ll have to tell her you used again, and she’s going to ditch your ass and let you go to jail.”

The truth in my words sinks in and she chews on her bottom lip anxiously. I release her and take a step away from her, putting enough space between us so that the leather and sage scent of her doesn’t seep into my nostrils and cloud my judgment further. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to her.

She sighs, “I’m gonna ask you nicely. Please, don’t take it all away.” Her eyes glaze over and she looks so vulnerable. In anhour I saw two sides of her I’ve never seen from her when she’s sober. This one is weak and the other was happy but even I, the grumpiest and most miserable of people, was able to see it wasn’t real. I could see right through her.

“You’re an addict. I can’t let you keep anything.” I say sternly as I turn and start for the stairs to her bedroom. I’ll toss the whole thing apart to find what I need to find.

She follows me, hot on my heels, and having to use twice as much energy to keep up with me. “Please! I’ll get on my hands and fucking knees if that’s what you want, just don’t take it!”

I ignore her and continue to her bedroom. I find a small baggie of cocaine on her nightstand and immediately grab it and pocket it before she can get to it first. She fists my button-down shirt in her hands and tries to tug me away from the nightstand. “Harvey, please!”

I turn and face her, “Why do you want it so bad?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’ll let her think I’m considering allowing her to keep them even though I most certainly am not.

“I don’t want it. Ineedit.” A tear finally rolls down her cheek and I find I have a sudden urge to wipe it away, but I refrain from the action, keeping my hand glued to my side.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t.”

“I do! You don’t understand!” She protests as I lift her mattress and find another bag, removing it and pocketing it.

I continue my search, “So explain it to me.”

She opens her mouth to speak but thinks better of it, clamping her jaw shut. A moment later she settles with, “I just do. I don’t expect you to get it because you’ve probably been a boy scout all your life. But this is who I am and I need it.”

This is who I am. What does that even mean? I want to press her for answers, but she doesn’t seem like she’d be willing to share. She doesn’t trust me and I don’t blame her, she doesn’t know me. I’m just the guy who came in to ruin her life in hereyes. I find three more baggies of cocaine around her room all while she sobs and begs me to let it go. Once I’m satisfied that I’ve found everything, I exit her room. She sits on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. I glance at her over my shoulder before I leave the room. “You’ll be getting drug tested every week, so if there’s anything else you’re hiding in here, I would get rid of it.” I keep my voice calm even though my remaining anger from earlier is lingering. The disheveled state of her is enough to evoke only a small amount of sympathy from me.

I have no sympathy for drug addicts, nor do I have sympathy for users in general, but the sight of the strong willed and hot tempered little rockstar who always has something witty and snappy to say to me, completely in tears and vulnerable is enough for me to extend a small olive branch in the form of my calm exterior. I won’t yell at her and berate her anymore tonight. I’ll wait until she isn’t a crying mess anymore.

I leave her door open a crack and make quick work of flushing the cocaine down the toilet in my guest en-suite. I watch as the white powder mixes with the water and disappears down the toilet, with it Brody Drake’s feigned happiness.

Chapter 7

Brody

You know when yousleep but it’s all shitty and you don’t feel rested or relaxed in any way, shape, or form the next morning? That’s how I feel right now. All sorts of fucked up and not only is it because I snorted enough blow to tranquilize a baby elephant yesterday, but because my douchebag babysitter is banging on my door demanding I wake up.

“Brody, I will break this new door down and make sure you don’t get a replacement if you don’t wake upnow.” Harvey growls from outside my door.

Maybe if I ignore him he’ll go away, I think to myself as I close my eyes and turn my head away from the door. I have a crippling headache and it’s too early for me to be functioning. I peek at the clock on my nightstand. It’s eight in the morning. My business hours start at noon so Harvey can either wait till then or go fuck himself altogether. I pull the sheet over my head and sigh into my pillow as a brief moment of silence passes.

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