Chapter Ten: The Glass House
The walk to Leo's house was a blur of cold adrenaline. When Alex reached the driveway, the usual sounds of sloppy guitar scales and Greg's heavy-handed drumming were absent. Instead, a heavy, suffocating silence hung over the property.
He didn't knock. He pushed the front door open and stepped into a living room that looked like a disaster zone. Empty beer cans, overflowing ashtrays, and takeout containers littered every surface. In the center of the chaos sat Leo, slumped on the sofa, staring blankly at a television that wasn't turned on.
"The fuck happened here?" Alex asked, acting as if he was unaware why the house was a mess.
Leo looked up, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red. "Oh hey Alex. Didn't hear you come in. If you're here for practice, forget it. It's cancelled. Stella… she's gone, Alex. She packed her shit and left. Tires screaming and everything."
"I know," Alex said, his voice flat. He didn't sit down. "And I'm not here for practice. I figured I should be different from Cam and Connie and say it to your face like a man. I'm leaving the band, Leo. I'm done with this shit."
Leo let out a short, hollow laugh. "Right. Good one. You're just stressed about the Oval. Go home, sleep it off. See you Monday."
"I'm serious," Alex snapped, his voice echoing in the messy room. "I am done being your punching bag. I am done being the ghost in the machine."
Leo stood up, his face contorting into a sneer. "You're leaving? After everything my dad and I did for you? You're being ungrateful, Alex."
"Ungrateful?" Alex stepped forward, the rage he'd been suppressing for years finally boiling over. "Let's talk about appreciation. The times when I made dozens of sacrifices for this band, just to go unnoticed, and overlooked, as if I never even existed. Remember when we had no drums before Connie's accident? Marcus suggested we just play to a backing track like a bunch of hacks. I was the one who called Connie. I begged her to fill in. I got us a drummer, and your dad acted like I'd brought him a disease. I wanted to go off on him then, but I held back because I was a 'team player.'"
"That was months ago," Leo muttered.
"And then Cam left," Alex continued, his voice rising. "Marcus was too lazy to hold auditions for a new bassist, so I practically gave up my goddamn guitar. I never wanted to play bass, Leo! But the band needed it, so I switched because I cared. And how did you repay me? You re-recorded my bass parts behind my back to make them sound 'less busy.' You bribed the video editor for the news segment to mute my parts. There are rumors all over school that I'm giving up the guitar because I 'can't cut it' anymore. You let that happen!"
Leo tried to interrupt, but Alex surged on.
"I could've forgiven the insults. I could've forgiven Marcus's mouth, and the times you didn't stand up for me. I could've ignored the Purple Rain incident. I even ignored your mother's pathetic comment about my girlfriend breaking up with me because I was a virgin. But the Indiana Oval? That was the last straw."
Alex's voice trembled. "That is my home venue. I had a moment to shine—one song—and you took it from me. You stepped in front of me and butchered a Jeff Beck song I've practiced for a thousand hours."
"It was Sarah's idea!" Leo shouted. "She said you were nervous!"
"Liar!" Alex roared. "Stop using her name to cover your ego. Nobody in this house treated me like a human being. Sarah is the only one who ever acted like she gave a damn about me."
Leo slumped back against the wall, a smug, dark look returning to his face. "So what? You're quitting. Big deal. You can't do anything to retaliate, Alex. You're a nobody without us."
"It's not that I can't retaliate," Alex said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. "It's that I don't need to. Maybe I've already found a way to get under your skin, and you haven't even realized it yet."
Leo's brow furrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Take a wild guess, Leo," Alex said, tilting his head toward the door where Stella had vanished.
The silence in the room became heavy. Leo's eyes went wide as the pieces clicked together—the timing of the phone call, the specific details Stella had screamed about his cheating. He looked at Alex, his face turning a deep, bruised purple.
"You," Leo whispered. Then, in a frighteningly calm tone: "I will fucking kill you."
Leo lunged across the coffee table. The two collided, crashing into a stack of gear. Alex felt a fist graze his ear, and he shoved Leo back into the TV stand with a sickening thud. They scrambled on the floor, a mess of limbs and broken beer cans, until a booming voice shattered the fight.
"STAY APART!"
Marcus stood in the doorway, his face twisted in fury. He grabbed Leo by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up.
"He did it, Dad!" Leo pointed a shaking finger at Alex. "He's the reason Stella broke up with me! He told her everything!"
Marcus turned his gaze on Alex. It wasn't just anger; it was pure, unadulterated venom. "I gave you everything, Alex. I gave you special opportunities, I gave you a stage, and you stone me in return? You do this to my son? To my family?"
"You didn't give me anything but a headache, Marcus," Alex spat, wiping blood from his lip.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Marcus screamed, his veins bulging in his neck. "GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!"
Alex grabbed his bag from the floor. He walked to the door and paused, looking back at the two men standing amidst the wreckage of their own making.
"You know, Leo," Alex said, his voice echoing in the silent house. "Take away your dad, take away your gear and your expensive equipment… and you are absolutely nothing."
Alex stepped outside and slammed the front door with every ounce of strength he had left. The impact was deafening. The large glass pane in the center of the door shattered, rain-like shards of glass spraying across the porch and into the foyer behind him.
He didn't look back.