Page 39 of Guitars and Cages

“No, you didn’t, but I’m here anyway. He’s in the car at the end of the alley, waiting so we can take you to the hospital because one way or another, that’s where you’re going.”

“Why the fuck did you have to bring him?”

“I didn’t bring him; he brought me, and you should count yourself lucky that he did after the bullshit you said to him. As soon as Morgan told him it wasn’t true, his face turned white as the fuckin’ moon and he looked about ready to panic, told Morgan all about how you’d been beating your head against the goddamned wall and said he had to get back here. You know, for someone you claim not to get along with, he sure seemed awful goddamned concerned about you.”

“No one asked him for his fuckin’ concern; he can keep it.”

He snickered. “Man, you don’t get the way friendship works, do you? Friends worry about one another, like the night you came halfway across the city in a goddamned thunderstorm on your Harley, to help me outta that jam I got into over at the Crow’s Nest.”

“That was different.”

“Yeah? Why?”

I shrugged. “It just was. You needed help, and you couldn’t ask anyone else to show up there.”

“Yeah, and right now you need help, and you won’t ask anyone else, so here I am.”

“You’re a friend, he’s not. He don’t need to be here.”

“Well, he’s here anyway, so live with it and tell me what the fuck is goin’ on.”

“Why can’t you drop it?”

He nudged me and threw an arm over my shoulders, despite the blood that was dripping through my hair. I leaned against him ’cause Mark was safe; he was one of the few people in the world I trusted. “Because I see something in you that should be saved, Asher, even if you’re hell-bent on destroying it.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t think of anything hateful to say to that. “I really fucked things up, Mark.”

“Okay, how?”

“I... I just did. I need your help, please.”

“That’s why I’m here. Let’s get you to a hospital, and then back home to your apartment, though I’m pretty sure Morgan is determined to get you and your shit moved to one of the rooms over his bar.”

I jerked away from him, or tried, anyway; he was holding tight. “No!”

“Asher, seriously, dude, you’re confusing the hell outta me right now. You want my help, I’m trying to give it to you.”

“Not that kind of help,” I told him, heart hammering like a jackrabbit in my chest. I needed him to listen; I needed him to help me get the hell out of the city. I needed him to understand. “I need you to get Morgan out of my apartment so we can go back there. I’m gonna need you to help me tape up this hand, and maybe even tie it to the handlebars if I can’t hold on tight enough. I need to get out of town tonight, Mark, please.”

“Are you out of your mind? Where the hell do you plan on going?”

“I don’t know—somewhere, anywhere, I’ll drive until the money runs out; I’ve done it before. I just need a little help to get going.”

He shook his head at me, his arm over my shoulders like iron-clad steel. I tried to squirm, to see if I could break away, but he’s my match in strength on a good day, and this was so not a good day.

“I can’t let you do that, Asher. That hand needs more than tape, and you need more medical attention; you do not need to be out on the highway riding to God knows where in the shape you’re in. Jesus Christ, man, you wanna run from the one person who would stop at nothing to save you—are you insane?”

“Morgan isn’t gonna wanna save me anymore; he’s gonna wanna kill me.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Mark, it’s the truth, so please, please just get him out of my apartment so I can get the hell out of here.”

“And what about Rory?”

“He’s better off with Morgan; hell, he’s better off with anyone but me.”

“You tell me why, Asher. You tell me the truth of what the fuck is going on here and maybe, maybe I’ll think about doing what you ask, against my better judgment—but it better be good.”