Page 25 of Guitars and Cages

Another car horn, louder now and more drawn out. Rory jumped, pulling back toward the sidewalk, with only my hand keeping him from reaching safety.

“Asher...” Alex, Alexia,whicheverbegan, and I immediately cut him off with a venomous glare.

I could feel the start of a migraine forming behind my eyes, and suddenly the very last conversation I wanted to have was one that was going to take place out on the street for the world to see. Not to mention where Rory might hear it.

“Inside, now!” I snapped, still holding tight to Rory’s hand as I stalked past my brother, pulling the kid behind me as I stormed up the steps, muttering curses all the way to my apartment.

“Go to my room and put the stereo on loud,” I told Rory as we stepped inside, “and no matter what you hear, don’t you come out until I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir,” Rory said, his face having paled at the fury he probably saw in my eyes.

Only when Rory had disappeared into the room and the music was blaring did I turn my attention back to my youngest brother. Alex, who had always been smaller than the rest of us, never even hitting five foot eleven, let alone the well-over-six-feet the rest of us had reached. A high-flying risk taker who’d painted himself up and streaked color after color through his hair... no, I didnotwant to think about the paint and the polish and the dye and the flashy clothes at the moment, not when thinking about it might lead to what was standing in front of me.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking, coming here to see me looking like this?” I thundered as Alex closed the door.

“You’re the one that’s been blowing up my goddamned phone, cussing out my voice mail and leaving profanity-filled texts.”

“Maybe ’cause I was hoping like hell one of the rest of you would wanna help out with our nephew since I’ve had him here since his mother dropped him on me to go search for housing in fucking Canada, but I sure as hell won’t be handing Rory over to you now—holy shit, I’ve been worrying about saying or doing something that might traumatize him; you, you’d fucking ruin the kid for life!”

“Why?” Alex asked, scowling. “’Cause I’ve decided to finally be honest with myself and admit that I feel more comfortable as a woman than as a man?”

“You cannot be serious!”

“Well, I am, okay? I am dead serious, and I figured that of the three of you, you’d be the easiest one to tell,” Alex said. “Guess I figured wrong.”

I looked at him, incredulous, and scrubbed a hand down my face.

“What the hell gave you the impression that I was the one you should come out of the closet to?”

“Maybe because we’re the closest in age, maybe ’cause we were the ones that always did everything together, maybe ’cause half your damned friends are crazies and freaks, and maybe ’cause I trust you more than I trust the other two,” Alex said, standing his ground despite the worry that was evident in his eyes. “Blaze... I needed to do this... and after Gage I figured you wouldn’t have a problem with—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say his name to me!” I snapped, fists clenching, ready to fight. “Why the hell would you do this to yourself?” I asked. “You…you mutilated yourself. You’re my little brother, Alex, not my little sister—what the hell?”

“Blaze—” Alex began, but I cut him off again.

“Don’t fucking call me that, not right now,” I raged. I’d always been Blaze to my brothers. I lived hot and wild, out of control, and played my music the same way. At that moment, though, I didn’t wanna be Blaze. In fact, the only thing I wanted was to be anywhere but there.

“Asher, please...” Alex tried again, fear replacing the worry in his eyes.

“Please what? What exactly do you want me to do, Alex? You’re asking me to what, look at you standing here in a fucking dress and call you my brother? How am I supposed to do that? Tell me that, Alex! How?”

“The clothes don’t mean I’m not your family anymore, Asher. Though I’d prefer it if you referred to me as your sister instead of your brother from here on out. I’m still the person who’s seen you through a ton of crap. I’m sorry I haven’t answered the phone in a while; I’ve been dealing with all this, healing from the surgery and trying to find a way to tell you, show you who I am and I... I need you to see that I’m still me,” Alex pleaded.

“Yeah, well, I need a busload of Tijuana whores and a truckload of fucking tequila, so I guess we’re both shit outta luck right now, ain’t we? Now get the fuck outta here and don’t come around again,” I demanded, ushering my brother toward the door. Alex tried to protest, but I was larger, stronger, and furious.

“Blaze... Asher... please...”

“Get out!” I shouted, shoving my brother out of my apartment. The last image I saw was his eyes brimming over with tears and the door across the hallway opening as Conner’s concerned face peered out. Fucking dick needed to mind his own goddamned business.

“No,” Alex pleaded from the other side of the door. “Please, Asher, don’t do this!”

Silence. Crickets. I didn’t say another goddamned word, just placed my hand against the door, standing there, trying to find some measure of calm. For a split second I’d seen the disappointment, horror, and sympathy in Conner’s eyes as he’d looked over Alex’s head at me. Well, let him stare; he didn’t know shit anyway. Not about me and not about my fucked-up goddamned family.

“Don’t throw me away, dammit,” Alex pleaded, beating on the door. “I’m still your family, dammit. I’m still your fucking family!”

Silence, and my hands curled into fists, nails scratching at the surface of the door as I tried to control my own ragged breathing and the memories that assailed me, reminding me of the last time we’d all been together and the brother we’d lost and the pain it had caused and how much I missed the three I’d left behind when I’d run here. Only a door separated me from one now, a door and a dress and changes I wasn’t certain I would ever understand, but were those choices enough to cost me another person I loved? Were those choices enough to make me toss aside the brother who’d once been bandmate and confidant—who’d helped me up when I’d been too hurt and broken to move myself, helped me hide the cuts and scars, sat beside me when I’d failed detox twice before managing to kick the shit I’d gotten myself hooked on?

I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the rough wood of the door. On the other side, I heard Alex do the same, one hand pressed to the wood, and no doubt his tears melting the mascara in black streaks down his cheeks.

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