Dylan casually let his hand rest over Melody's jean-clad knee and squeezed gently, as if he could sense the nature of her thoughts. It was ninety degrees outside, and somehow his touch still managed to burn a little. Melody noted that Snake's gaze flicked down to observe the gesture before focusing on Rip again.
"I need a drink so fucking bad," he complained. "Or something. Some kind of pick-me-up. One of the guys got some coke, but they busted him before he could share." Snake made a sound of disgust. "Couldn't even handle a line without freaking out."
"That's probably why he ended up in rehab," Melody pointed out. With you, she wanted to add, though she refrained from doing so.
"Then it's good he's here," Snake agreed. Clearly, he thought addicts should be in rehab; he just didn't think he should be in rehab.
"So, who the fuck goes to rehab in Texas?" Tank asked, staring around.
Snake laughed. "It was part of the deal with Mayor Douchebag," he explained.
"Who?" Melody asked.
"The honorable politician whose home Snake crashed into during his finest hour," Rip chuckled.
"No shit? You picked a Texas politician who has strings to pull when you flamed out? Worst luck ever."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Snake muttered, lighting a cigarette.
"Well, even if you haven't been able to drink, it looks like you've still got lung cancer to look forward to," Jesper teased.
"Shit, I'd lose my mind without these things," Snake said, taking a deep drag.
"The e-cigs aren't bad," Melody said. She held up a hand to forestall Snake's protests. "I know, they're not completely the same, and I won't pretend they are. But they're a better, healthier alternative. Doesn't hurt to try, right?"
Dylan eyed her. "Speaking from experience, Big Red?"
Melody rolled her eyes. "Yes, you're not the only one with a somewhat misspent youth. I kicked the habit when I started coughing up black junk. So not attractive," she confided. She offered Snake a friendly smile. "If you want, I'll smuggle one in here for you to try."
Snake nodded slowly. "Yeah, why not? I mean, I like trying new things, right?" He waggled his eyebrows and almost looked friendly.
"That's an understatement," Rip muttered. He jerked his thumb in Snake's direction. "He got me into tons of trouble with that YOLO bullshit before it was popular."
"YOLO ?" Dylan asked.
They all looked at him with various expressions of shock on their faces. "Have you really been that out of it?" Melody demanded.
"Dude," Snake said. "And I thought I'd been high for most of the last two years."
"YO-LO," Tank said, enunciating each syllable carefully.
"Slowing it down doesn't explain anything, asshole," Dylan said.
"It's an acronym that stands for the saying, ‘You Only Live Once'," Jesper explained, grinning.
Dylan slumped down in his chair. "That's fucking stupid," he grumbled, pretending to be disgruntled. Melody wasn't buying the act; he was happy to be around his brothers. No amount of their teasing would change that.
"Maybe you should write a song about it," she suggested wryly.
"Ho-ho," Snake said, sitting up straighter in genuine interest. "This motherfucker is writing songs again?"
"I wrote one," Dylan said, glaring at her playfully.
"It's solid, man," Rip said. "You're gonna love it."
"Could use a little Snake magic," Tank added.
"Well, bust me out of here and let's make magic, boys," Snake said, cracking his knuckles, the cigarette dangling between his lips.
Jesper smiled sadly. "You know we can't, bro. It's for your own good."
"I'd rather be in jail," Snake grumbled. He jerked his head in the direction of the main building. "They make us share our feelings. They keep asking me shit about my dad. I'd rather get shanked."
"But do you really wanna be the bottom bun for some guy named Big Mac in cell block C?" Tank asked.
All the guys shuddered, Melody noted with amusement.
"Thank God for rehab," Snake declared, holding his cigarette up in an ironic toast.
**
Melody shut the door to the restroom, double checking that she hadn't dropped anything. She'd nearly spilled her entire purse when one of the female patients had startled her by asking if Melody was "holding" anything.
"Somebody probably watched you piss, you know. They have cameras everywhere."
She gasped and spun around, finding herself facing Snake's amused gaze.
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't blame them if they did. They clearly can't trust any of you people," Melody joked.
He chuckled. "True enough, true enough." His voice sounded like someone had passed a cheese grater over his vocal chords. She remembered listening to the Dust and Bones tracks he sang on, and wondering if that sound was electronically enhanced in some way. Now she knew-it was just Snake.
"I'm sorry we can't stay longer," she said. The other guys had really enjoyed the day with him, and it had been equally nice for her, getting to know the guy she'd been filling in for. He wasn't nearly as scary as he seemed on stage.
Snake waved off the apology. "You've got a gig. The show must go on." He considered her carefully. "So, you and Dylan, huh?"
That was a question she hadn't been prepared for. They weren't hiding it-whatever it was, because for all the declarations he'd made, they hadn't really defined it yet-but she was still a little surprised it was so obvious. Dylan touched a lot of women that he didn't have sex with...didn't he? Huh. I guess he probably didn't. Well, there you go, Hopkins.
"Me and Dylan," she agreed.
"I get it," Snake said. "It's hard being a chick on the road with a bunch of guys, especially in your particular case. Dylan's a good choice, if you're going for that angle. I would've suggested Jesper, but he's got his nuts in a vice already."
Melody frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." Except she was pretty sure she did.
"You're just watching out for yourself," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Making sure you've got a story to keep you relevant after I get out of here and get my life back."
"I'm not with Dylan for my career," she said, angry that he would dare to imply such a thing.
Snake laughed. "Whatever you say, darlin'. I've seen it before. Like I said, it's a good play. Just remember: you're only temporary. I am coming back to the band."
He walked away before she could formulate a response. Part of Melody wanted to chase him down and force him to take it back-but she knew it would do no good, because it wasn't Snake's opinion of her that was worrying her...it was the worry that Dylan might be harboring similar thoughts.
Get a grip, Hopkins. Dylan knows you better than that. If Snake thought she was a conniving creature who was using a rock star to further her own career, let him. She shouldn't let that upset her. But she found herself shaking as she turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction.
If she were honest with herself, she was a little afraid of Snake. Not because she thought he would hurt her; she was afraid of that spark inside him, that chaos that made him such a good musician. If he lost control over that, she worried about the fallout.
**
Snake ambled back to where the other guys were sitting in the courtyard. He passed an orderly in the hall; the older woman gave him a friendly nod which he did not return. Goddamn quacks, the lot of them. He hated this fucking center and everyone in it. He was going stir-crazy here, all alone with only his dark thoughts to keep him company.
"Hey man."
He turned at the unexpected sound of a voice from down a side corridor. There, standing in front of a vending machine which offered only the shittiest of granola bars, was Rip.
"Not much of a selection, is it?" Snake asked, indicating the machine with a nod of his head. He walked over and leaned against the wall next to Rip. "This place is the worst, man. I'm dying in here."
"Do they grant parole for good behavior?" Rip joked.
"I fucking wish." Not that he'd get out for good behavior, anyway.
"I fucking wish, too," Rip muttered. "You need to come back, bro. I don't like the way things are heading."
"What do you mean?" Snake asked, frowning.
"It's Melody," Rip explained bitterly.
"Don't you worry about little Miss Thing," Snake assured him, crossing his arms and allowing a dark smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. "I just had a chat with her. Told her not to get too comfortable."
"Yeah, but did you talk to the other guys?" Rip persisted, jabbing his thumb towards the courtyard, where Dylan, Jesper and Tank were relaxing on some of the center's shitty lounge chairs. "They like her. A lot."