It was all over the news, all anyone could talk about. Obsessive fans swarmed outside the hospital, desperate to know the salacious details. Nurses and orderlies whispered behind their hands and cast them furtive looks. It was an endless barrage of speculation and rubbernecking.
How did he die?
Was he drinking?
I heard there was a hooker in the car.
The body was burned so bad it had to be identified by dental records.
Melody sat in a stark, sterile waiting room, staring blankly into space. Jesper and Tank were with her. It had only been a couple of hours since Jesper had led her to his car and driven her to the hospital, but to her, it felt like days.
There was only one other person in the waiting room aside from the members of the band, a young woman with poorly-dyed blonde hair. She was glued to the television, and she turned up the volume as a news anchor began delivering a special report. Melody felt perversely amused as her gaze flickered to the screen and she saw the story. What do you know? Band's big enough to get a spot in regular programming. Dad will be thrilled.
"We have official confirmation coming in from multiple sources that Snake McCreedy, the bass player of Dust and Bones, has died today. This tragedy occurred less than two weeks after he was released from a rehab facility in Texas. Dylan Bennett, the band's lead singer, was also involved in the accident. The men were driving down a private road in Topanga Canyon when the car allegedly went over an embankment. Mr. Bennett was immediately taken to Cedars Sinai hospital and is now in the operating room in critical condition. We'll have more on this story as it-"
"Could you turn that off?" Melody asked, leaning towards the woman. She couldn't stand watching the images of Snake and Dylan flashing across the screen. Snake looked so young. He had been young. He'd had so much time ahead of him, but it had all been cut short. Now he was leaving behind four brothers who would mourn and miss him for the rest of their lives, four men who didn't deserve to see the media snatching up the tragedy and heartlessly feeding it to the masses for their benefit.
The woman shot her an offended glare. "Are you kidding? This is major. Dust and Bones is probably going to break up. Bands always break up when someone dies. And if Dylan-"
"Turn off the goddamn TV," Melody spat at her, starting to rise from her seat even as she felt bile rising in her throat at the mention of Dylan's name.
"Hey, calm down." Jesper leaned over and put a restraining hand on her arm, encouraging her to sit. He offered an apologetic glance to the woman across from them. "Sorry, it's just been a very long day. We'd appreciate it if you could turn the TV down."
"Look, I was just sitting here trying to watch … " The woman trailed off as she got a good look at Jesper. Her eyes slid over to Tank, then back to Melody, and they went wide with recognition. She picked up the remote from where it lay on the seat next to her and switched the channel. An old game show rerun flickered up on the flat screen.
"Sorry," Melody whispered, slouching down lower in the uncomfortable waiting room chair.
"At least you're talking again," Jesper said.
Melody frowned. "I haven't been talking?"
"It was starting to freak us out," Tank said from where he sat on her other side.
He said something else, but Melody was no longer listening. In fact, she hadn't heard much of anything since she had gotten into Jesper's car, and he had said those three magical words: Dylan's still alive. Alive, but in surgery, his prognosis undetermined.
Through her muddled haze of relief and agony, she had managed to pick up other small snippets of important information: Snake had died on impact, and-contrary to the gossip-dental records had not been required to identify his body. The car had flipped multiple times, but Dylan had been flung from the vehicle relatively early in its descent.
She closed her eyes, trying not to think about anything-about the crash, about what sort of terrible shape Dylan must be in, about the horrid hospital. She'd never been fond of hospitals before, but between Emma and this, Melody had grown to loathe them. The smells, the sounds, the lingering promise of death...it was all too much to bear.
"Is there any word from the doctor?" she asked Jesper, who had spoken to one of the orderlies at the nurse's station about ten minutes ago.
He shook his head, his shoulders slumped with worry. "He's still in surgery. They don't know how long it will be, but they said we should prepare for an all-nighter."
Melody nodded and gazed around morosely, resigning herself to the longest night of her life. It was then, and only then, that she realized one of their members was missing. "Where's Rip?"
Tank sighed. "He lost it when he heard the news. He said he couldn't take being cooped up here, so we decided he should be the one to clean up Snake's place and collect all his stuff. So his parents don't see … you know."
She didn't know, but she could imagine. "That's good," she said quietly. She shuddered to think about what those two self-destructive fools had done to Snake's house. Plus, Snake undoubtedly had questionable items lying around, both drug-related and … other. No one's mother deserved to find their son's porn collection.
"The doctor says … " Jesper's voice caught, and he cleared his throat. His eyes began welling up again, and he blinked rapidly. "Mel, he says we should prepare ourselves, just in case-"
"He's not going to die," she said with fierce determination. "Dylan is going to be fine. Do you understand me?" It was this, this certainty that he had to be okay, that was keeping her sane. She hadn't cried once, not on the ride to the hospital, and not in the waiting room. Because … he was going to be fine.
Melody thought back to something Grace had told her-she said that she'd refused to cry when Emma was sick because it felt too much like admitting there was something to cry about. Well, Grace had kept Emma alive years longer than any medical professional had predicted was possible. When she'd heard what had happened to Dylan, she hadn't cried; instead, she had calmly stated that she was on her way to the hospital. If Grace could manage to be strong for Dylan, then Melody was going to have to be strong, too.
Jesper and Tank exchanged a quick glance, one which was not lost on Melody. "I saw that. Don't you dare prepare yourself for the worst, Sweden," she said, glaring at Jesper. "He is going to be fine. End of discussion."
The corner of Jesper's mouth curved. "Sweden? What kind of a nickname is that?"
"The only one I'm capable of at the moment," she admitted. "Thinking is kind of hard right now."
"I know," he said quietly. "You're holding up real well, though."
"Only thanks to you two."
Tank stared at her sadly. "You really love his dumb ass, don't you?"
"I really do," she whispered. "Is it...do you think it's strange that I'm not crying?"
Jesper frowned. "Why would it be strange?"
"I was a slobbering mess the entire time he was missing," she explained. "But the second I learned he was in real, quantifiable trouble, it all dried up. I mean, am I broken somehow?"
"No. You're being pragmatic," Tank said. "I feel like crying like a little girl, but I know that won't help anything. Now is the time for us to be strong."
Jesper glanced at his phone. "Grace will be landing soon. I gotta head out to pick her up." He glanced at Tank. "Can you stay with Mel?"
"Wouldn't dream of going anywhere else," Tank said, slinging a bracing arm around Melody's shoulders. Jesper nodded, tried-and failed-to conjure up a smile for them, then left.
Melody leaned her head against Tank's solid frame, grateful for his support. She was glad that she didn't have to go through this alone, that she had friends like Tank to help her. Grace hadn't had that luxury-she'd mostly been alone since Emma's death. Melody was positive that if she lost Dylan now, it would finally break her.
She shied away from the thought of losing Dylan. Grace wasn't the only one who wouldn't survive if that happened.
Now that she had been roused from her semi-catatonic state, Melody found she needed to talk, to distract herself.
"What actually happened?" she asked Tank.
"Snake was driving," he answered in a voice that implied he'd known this interrogation was coming. "They haven't gotten the autopsy results back yet, obviously, but they're expecting his toxicology report to be off-the-charts."
"What the hell was he thinking, driving like that?" she muttered. "What was Dylan thinking, getting into a car with someone that inebriated?"
"Honestly, Mel, it wasn't the first time," Tank admitted. "I can think of at least a dozen times the two of them have done shit like this in the past."