Chapter 2
Taylor
Ispot my siblings at a high-top table right away.
It means a lot to me that my oldest sister, Francesca, came out to celebrate tonight despite the strain on our relationship.
Although, hell, with a two-year-old at home, she probably needs the outing more than I do.
Our brother Ashton is sitting next to her, and our youngest sister Livvy has her back to me.
My siblings have always been close to my twin brother, Damon, and me, even though he and I are the closest… as one would expect.
But Damon hasn’t spoken to me in six months, and considering it’s our birthday, his absence tonight is not only extremely noticeable but terribly painful as well.
I didn’t think either of us would let it go on this long.
Our siblings celebrated with him last night, and it’s the first time in twenty-four years we haven’t celebrated together.
The whole situation makes me pissed all over again.
Francy sees me first and slides off her stool to swallow me in a hug.
“Happy birthday, Tay! God, I can’t believe you’re twenty-four.
” She does this every year. Like my age reminds her of hers.
She’s only twenty-nine, but you’d think she was eighty.
Grabbing me by the shoulders, she pulls back to look at me.
“Not even a swipe of glitter? Or a single rhinestone?” The sadness and disappointment in her voice make me feel like shit.
It’s just Taylor making the wrong choice again.
“Just didn’t have it in me tonight,” I explain, trying to force a light-hearted tone and smile, even though I’m not exactly sure why I’m worried about sparing her feelings when she sure as shit didn’t think of mine when shit hit the fan.
No one did.
They all believed Patrick and then immediately took Damon’s side, resulting in my entire family being furious with me without even hearing my side of the story.
But of course, they would take his side.
Damon is the reasonable one. The one who followed in our father’s footsteps in cybersecurity.
The one who’s following a traditional path in life.
The one who doesn’t like glitter, lingerie, and other boys.
Some part of me knows that’s not fair. My family has always been supportive of my choices, and they’ve never judged me. But I know if I were less…me…they would have at least given me a chance to explain.
Francy hugs me a second time. “But those things are you. How do you not have you in you?”
Despite being close with my family, they’ve always mistaken my sunshiny personality and ability to block out the bullshit as immaturity and naivety.
An unwillingness to process things like the adult I am.
It used to piss me off to no end when they would let Damon answer for both of us as if I can’t be trusted to make my own choices.
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when people assume that because I like glitter, lace, and bright colors, I am somehow weak, vulnerable, or lacking in intelligence.
Damon and I may have identical features, but we wear them so differently, I don’t think we look alike at all.
Our personalities couldn’t be more different, either.
But despite our differences, we used to be the perfect yin to each other’s yang, and now each of us is simply one half of a broken circle.
I give Francesca another tight smile. “Thanks for coming tonight,” I whisper, trying to change the subject. Francy climbs back on her stool, and I turn to slap Ashton on the back. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his side for a hug before smacking me lightly on the ass.
“Happy birthday, Tay.”
“Thanks, man.”
Livvy greets me last by flinging herself into my arms and planting a kiss on my cheek. I’m sure, to a lot of people, it probably looks like she and I are a couple, but I’ve never been good at caring what other people think—hence the rift currently dividing my family in half.
“Tay!” Livvy says, bouncing with excitement.
“Liv!” I mock her playfully and wait for…there it is. I let out the first genuine laugh I’ve had in months over the look she’s now wearing.
Suddenly, her finger is in my face. She’s too cute—even at twenty-two—for it to be menacing, but her assumed innocence is her greatest weapon.
As is mine.
Damon, Liv, and I took martial arts together for six years.
Our parents thought it’d be a good idea since Livvy is pretty, petite, and too fucking sweet for her own good, and I’ve always been a walking target for assholes.
Damon joined in because we always did everything together.
Being the more serious, more calculating one of the two of us, he often stood my ground for me when ignorant pricks would try to start shit at school, even if I could take care of them on my own.
I remember one night when he looked at me and said, ‘I love who you are, but I swear sometimes it’s like you’re trying to make life harder for yourself.’
Thankfully, I was able to keep my mouth shut, but that didn’t stop the thought from crossing my mind: Not all of us can be beautiful, smart, and straight.
Damon sometimes comes across as harsh or cold to people who don’t know him. But he just takes a while to warm up. He doesn’t trust easily and he holds his cards close to his chest.
Fuck, I miss him.
Studying me, Livvy frowns and touches my cheeks.
“Why aren’t you pretty tonight?”
“Ouch, Liv,” Ashton says from behind her.
She glares at him over her shoulder before turning back to me. “You know what I mean.”
She’s right. I do. She means the same thing Francesca meant. Where’s my glitter? Where are my rhinestones? My eyeliner?
I make my affinity for makeup, and other things people might label as feminine, no secret. I wear my confidence like a coat of armor, but not every day is a glitz ’n glam kind of day.
“Can’t a guy just get a cocktail without getting all dolled up, for crying out loud?” I laugh, but it sounds strained, even to my own ears. They’re trying, so I need to as well.
“I guess so, but later! Come on! We’re up next!
” Livvy says, practically dragging me toward the stage.
Tonight, I came to forget. I came to have fun and try to find myself again.
I’ve been doing the whole fake it ‘til you make it thing for a while, but I still haven’t made it anywhere other than farther down the rabbit hole of despair following that epic breakup.
Livvy and I sing the two songs she signed us up for, and our performance is well-received, per usual. I love to sing, and I adore how Livvy will make a fool of herself with me. This bar is our favorite place on karaoke nights, and despite the memories it holds, I’m working to reclaim it.
On our way back to the table after our performance, Liv taps my shoulder. “Here, Bird. These are for you,” she says, using my familial nickname, holding out what looks like a receipt, a folded napkin, and…
“Is that what I think it is?”
She laughs. “Yeah, but it hasn’t been opened. It must’ve been all she had.”
“I’m not touching a maxi pad, used or not,” I declare. “It’s one of the many perks of being a gay man.”
Livvy howls with laughter and throws it at me. “It’s not even open, you jerk! Give the girl some credit. At least she had the balls to give you her number. I would like to point out that none of these numbers belong to men.”
“And I would like to point out this isn’t a gay bar,” I argue with my hand on my chest.
Livvy laughs. “You have a point, but you’re the one who picked this place.”
Okay, so maybe a small, sick part of me was hoping Patrick would show up tonight.
It’s the same hope I have every time I come here.
The part of me that refuses to heal keeps thinking he’ll come listen to me sing, be reminded of what we had, and we’ll get our happily ever after, our families be damned.
It feels like a giant slap in the face that I lost both him and Damon, and I didn’t even do anything wrong.
Shaking the thought away, I see Ashton on his barstool with a wicked smile on his lips.
“Oh, God. What?” I ask, approaching the table. I regret wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt. The stage lights are brutal, and I’m drenched in sweat, my skin begging to breathe.
“You’ve had some requests from the audience,” he says. “The bartender wanted us to ask if you’d sing more. Said your drinks are free as long as your ass is on that stage.”
I only debate it for a second. I’ll probably pay for it in the morning, but fuck it, I’m here to drown my sorrows and get lit. If I can do it for free, even better.
“Sure. But no Taylor Swift,” I say. “And Liv has to come with me.”
Francesca smiles. “He already negotiated that into your contract.”
Don’t get me wrong, I have mad respect for the queen of the music industry, but her songs are a hard no for me on karaoke nights.
I down half my Cosmo before walking back toward the stage, my arm linked with my sister’s.
I feel like a celebrity when the patrons clap as we climb the two stairs of the platform.
Shelly, tonight’s bartender, has entered the songs that were requested into the app on the iPad onstage, and Liv and I start rolling through them.
By the third or fourth song, I’m sweating so profusely I can’t stand it anymore. I take my shirt off, and no shit, a ten-dollar bill lands on the stage.
Using it as encouragement to up the ante, I start moving my hips to the beat as I shove the money under the waistband of my underwear, which is now visible above the waistband of my jeans.
The band itself is an inch-wide strip of purple elastic…
but what the good people of this bar can’t see is the lace attached to it that’s currently hugging my cock and balls.
I may not have all my usual accoutrements in place tonight, but Francy was right, I’m still me.
People cheer wildly, and it fills my tank. My plan to get drunk and fake it is finally working. I’m starting to feel like myself again for the first time in a long time, basking in the praise and spotlight, using the energy of the room to fuel my own joy.
Until the next song rolls over and the first notes of Benson Boone’s Beautiful Things blare through the speakers.
I’m still far too raw for this song.
It hurts too much.
I briefly think about making a mad dash off the stage, but in an instant, Livvy is by my side, her mouth at my ear.
“I understand if you can’t, but maybe you could throw yourself into this song and leave it all on this stage so you can finally start healing.”
I look at my sister and draw from her strength. Livvy didn’t stick up for me six months ago, but she was the first in my family to start treating me normally again. She’s also stepped up to help fill the Damon-shaped hole in my life.
After an eternity, I nod and bring the mic to my lips right as the first line pours from me like I’m trying to bleed the poison left in my system.
Suddenly, I really wish I’d taken the time to put on all the rhinestones and glitter, because I’m about to break everyone’s heart with this performance…including my own.