Page 30 of House of Bass

Father, sister, best friend’s boyfriend. My own personal Cerberus.

There are so many cheers and jeers from everyone in here. They give me the attention I crave, but the only thing I can focus on is how Arden has my best friend on his lap as he caresses me with those dark eyes. No one else the wiser.

I’d looked into those eyes in the past and thought he could fix me. That he’d be one to make everything alright, but I couldn’t blame him for that. I was the one who pushed him away. I am in a place where it feels as though my heart is physically shattering, held together by a glue stick. Not even the good kind, the ones we used in primary school that barely functioned.

There are frown lines etched onto his skin as he watches me dance on the tabletops, his hands bunched in frustration to match. It is too dark in here to notice, but I do. I always do.

“Get down from there before I push you off myself,” one of the bartenders spits at me, a clear distaste for my choice of entertainment colouring her tone. If it had been anyone else in here, they would have let my antics slide. But not her.

Scarlett Argent.

Hatred gleams in her eyes, which should have annoyed me because people like me. It is something I pride myself on, the ability to have a person enjoy my company upon first meeting. There is a reason even when I was being disruptive, all the faces in here were a show of teeth and laughter. However, her hatred? That one is all my fault.

I finally hop down onto the bar end, drowning out the cheers for an encore and watch everyone disperse when they don't get one. After the last of the perverted men pull themselves away, I come face to face to my savior (sort of) with a radiant very drunk smile in tow.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say first.

“Wonder why,” she replies, serving drinks to a customer. She helps out here once in a while since this is her cousin’s bar.

“I saw Luke the other day.”

Her brows furrowed, and my alcohol-riddled brain remembers that nobody knows about us, “Just in passing, on my way out of Harrods. I said hi.”

“Stop harassing my family members,” she says. Which is when I sway a little, and she catches me then drops her hand.

“Do you still hate me?” I blurt out. Once again, my sluggish body rests on the rows of alcohol and shakes them a little. A little fear that the whole thing will come crumbling down plagues me for a second but they right themselves immediately.

Scarlett’s eyes widens a little at my question, probably not expecting me to ask her that. She recovers quickly, and returns to glaring at me.“Yes, because you’re obnoxious and your thirst for attention is as obvious as it is pathetic.”

Her observation is so blindly astute, I can’t do anything but walk away from her. From how suffocating the air suddenly felt. So she can’t notice how glassy my eyes are and how much the comment stings. Being able to give and never take, my father always said it was one of my greatest weaknesses.

“I’ll see you around, Scar.”

Over the course of the next hour, my mood has only soured, but I am not any less sober. I lay flat on the couch in the room we had bought out. By we , I mean Arden.

It is situated two floors below the main bar. No one else was allowed here besides me and my friends. How Arden managed to get this is lost on me, no doubt he used that disgusting charm of his to get his way, as he so often did.

The room has a minibar of its own that is often restocked, and unless we want someone down here to help make us drinks, we often do it ourselves. Well, Dan does. He takes offence if we don't ask him.

I know my makeup is smudged and every part of me itches to fix it the same way every part of me is itching to pour myself a gin and tonic. A sigh leaves me as I drag myself to do the latter, at the rate I am going, they are going to have to pump my stomach. My self pity exhausts me but wallowing alone has always been my poison.

Unfortunately for me, the universe is determined to let the exact opposite happen. The door opens to reveal the blurry faces of three people.

“Chérie, tu resembles à rien.” MJ says as she comes closer to me. Honey, you look a mess. Her hands pick my face up. I do indeed feel a mess.

“Nothing new, then.” Another voice, female, mutters from somewhere in the room. Looking to the left I see Devon lounging on the couch, her legs crossed and gaze pinned on me. Disgust mars her face as continues to stare at me. When did she get here?

My hand subconsciously moves to touch my face and by the small smile on her face, she knows she’s succeeded in getting in my head.

I narrow my eyes, she is likely still pissed about what happened at the auditions. Surely, she’d be over it. She beat me. “I’m letting loose and having fun, something I’m sure you’d like to try one of these days.”

She scoffs at the weak retort and picks up her phone.

MJ pivots the conversation from whatever was brewing, “You know when I said we should go out and have fun, I didn’t mean to the point of…” she trails off, not having the words or the heart to finish her statement.

“What she means is you look like a joke,” Arden drawls out from somewhere in the room, inherently parroting what Devon said a couple seconds ago.

“Fuck off,” I reply coldly to his commentary. I hope it came out as harsh as I intended but I can’t be too certain. Likely as weak as I feel.