Page 59 of The Masks We Wear

Selene goes silent on the other end and for a second I think she’s gonna tell me to fuck off or hang up but then she laughs, “Finally, you’ll admit your feelings.”

My eyes go wide. I expected her to be angry about my admission. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She asks, doubt in her voice.

“Because I had a contract and I participated in inappropriate conduct with my client behind your back,” I admit. There’s nopoint in keeping secrets anymore.

She laughs a throaty laugh, “You seriously thought I didn’t know?”

“Brody told you?”

Her laughter dies out. “Of course not. How you seriously think anyone can keep anything from me is baffling. I’m Selene fucking Stone, I knoweverything.”

My face twists into a confused knot, “You knew this whole time and you didn’t fire me?”

She sighs into the phone, “Why would I do that when Brody was thriving with you? She was clean, sober, and happy. Heavy emphasis on the past tense there because I haven’t been able to get her out of her room for the show.”

I’ll be there soon, baby.I silently send off to Brody. “I’m getting on the next plane to New York. Does this mean I can have that VIP ticket?”

She hesitates, “I’ll give you whatever you want if you can make her as happy as she was before you left. I’ve never seen her that way before and I want to see her like that again.”

A gentle smile rises on my lips, “Deal.”

Selene’s tone shifts, the dutiful business woman returning, “Great. Now get your ass here,nowbecause the show is in eight hours.”

“I’ll be there,” I say before hanging up and speeding down the highway.

Chapter 24

Brody

Rock, meet motherfucking bottom,I think to myself as I tug the hotel sheets over my head. Someone’s been knocking on my door for about five minutes and my ignoring them hasn’t caused them to give up yet which only pisses me off more. Seriously, who the fuck does that?

I love New York, but I’m a little preoccupied mentally. The memory of Harvey leaving me, telling me all I ever was to him was sex, just plays on a loop. It’s like my own personal groundhogs day, neverending, and just as pitiful everytime. To make matters worse, I’m solely responsible for the fact that the label wants to drop us. We were one single song short and we had a week to finish it, but I failed to show up to the studio. The girls arelividwith me right now because I’m the reason we’re getting sued and will most likely be blackballed from ever signing with another record label again. I know I royally fucked up and that my actions affected the people I care about, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care when I was skipping studio time in favor of wallowing in my unfamiliar hotel sheets, in the unfamiliar bed, and with these stiff ass pillows that feel like cinderblocks.

Even if I did show up, I wouldn’t have been very useful. My creativity seems to have left me along with my heart. The idea of making music makes me want to throw up the food I forced down my throat earlier. I don’t want to be one of those girls that sulks and gets depressed when the guy she falls for breaks her heart, but it feels nearly impossible to muster strength to get upright now.

The incessant knocking on my door continues and I groan. It’s probably the girls, coming to flip out on me for standing them up at the studio today. I let it continue until the person on the other side yells, “I know you’re in there, Brody. Open the door before I break it down. I was gonna surprise you if you opened up but you ruined the surprise.”

My head shoots up. I know that voice. I leap out of the bed, in complete shock and disbelief. I twist the knob and pull it open and gasp when I see her. Ivy Villin, one of my closest friends. Even though I feel empty inside, I smile from ear to ear when I see her. She raises a playful brow, “Surprise.”

I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug and she laughs as she returns it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her what with her being busy running two companies and a mafia family alongside her fiance and his brothers and all. I nearly forgot how small she was. I’m an average size but she’s slim and petite in my arms. I pull away to look at her, taking in her perfectly styled platinum hair and her ice blue eyes. She wears a bold, dark red lip, the color of blood and it all pairs perfectly with the navy pantsuit she wears, a white teddy underneath, revealing her cleavage. Her outfit is so killer, it reminds me of Selene. No wonder Selene is so fond of Ivy. “What are you doing here?”

She pushes her hip out as she crosses her arms over her chest and accuses, “You’re in my hometown, babe. Did you forget? You knew you were coming here and you never reached out. I’m insulted, honestly,” she complains as she enters my hotel room, walking right past me. I close the door behind her and watch her circle the suite. She has a confused look on her face as if she’s searching for something and can’t find it. “Where’s the bourbon? Or whiskey, I’ll take whatever.”

I give her a weak smile, “I don’t have any. I’m clean and sober now.”

She raises a brow, “Completely?”

I nod.

She inhales sharply, “Wow. I’m impressed,” she saunters around the couch, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She seats herself and lounges comfortably, making herself right at home. Ivy’s ability to always be the biggest person in the room when in fact, she’salwaysthe smallest is admirable. She just has this way about her that radiates danger and intimidation to anyone who gets too close. Seriously, I don’t know how Jason handles it, her confidence and strength are enough to send a normal guy running.

“Where’s Jason?” I ask. Usually they don’t go anywhere without each other. They’re relationship is cute, but given my current situation, I want to gag at the thought of them being lovey dovey.

She softens when her fiance’s name is brought up, “He’s in a meeting. When Selene called me this morning to let me know you were here, I had my assistant block me off so I could come see you. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on because I’m no fool. I know you and I know something is wrong. You don’t sulk,” she takes in my appearance, my baggy sweats and my ratty hair along with the bare face and dark circles under my eyes. She grimaces at the sight of me, “Nor do you ever look like…that.”

Oh, Ivy and her brutal honesty. “Thanks,” I say bitterly.

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