“Not yet,” the doctor said as he continued to ignore my presence. “He’s still unconscious and I want to run a few more tests, so sit tight.”
Fear trickled down my spine as I maneuvered through the rows of plastic tables in the cafeteria. Dante was leaning against the register chatting with the cashier. He had his smug face on.
Unbelievable.
I walked over and tugged the side of his shirt.
“Oh, hey, short stuff.” He spun around and his gaze darted between me and the girl in the bleak hospital visor. “This is Leticia. She’s making us fresh coffee.”
“Really? Since when does it take thirty minutes to brew a new pot?” I said in a low voice and pulled him away from the register. “Frank is out of surgery.”
The cafeteria was empty, not counting the cashier and the security guard at the door who’d been following me all night. Probably because Brooklyn had told him to. He did keep his distance, which I appreciated.
“Any news?” Dante sniffed and palmed his head. His eyes, blood red and wide, stared me down for a long moment.
It hit me then. I almost didn’t want to believe my discovery, but the signs were all there. Come to think of it, he’d been like a cat on a hot tin roof all night. Especially in the car with his diarrhea of secrets. “Are you high?”
Ignoring my question, Dante turned to the cashier and yelled, “Make it six, darlin’! And throw in a couple of breakfast sandwiches too.”
Talk about acting weird. I’d never seen the man lift a finger to do anything except for playing his guitar.
“Hey!” I called. “Did you hear me?”
He returned his scattered attention to me. We shared a glance for only a second.
“Answer me,” I gritted out. “Are you high?”
“Are you my therapist now?”
“Oh my fucking God.” My voice was a hiss. Wrath pulled at my chest. “You are high, aren’t you?”
The cashier was packing our breakfast. The rustle of Styrofoam filled the cafeteria.
Dante’s lack of response angered me. I slapped his arm to get him to say something. “Was he high too? Did you give him something?”
“Keep your fucking hands off me.” He jerked his shoulder in a particularly childish manner.
Rage blinded me. Horrified, I hit him in the chest with my purse. “Is that how you look out for him, you asshole?”
The corner of the blanket fell to the floor and my heel tangled in it as I tried to stumble my way out of the cafeteria. Tears pricked my eyes for the second time tonight. I held them in, but I hated all these emotions fighting for room within me. There was a reason why I’d never gotten so involved with a man. Men were trouble. Men ruined the balance. Frank was the worst. He’d destroyed my perfectly normal life.
I didn’t know where to go to be alone except the restroom. While I understood why the floor was packed with security, the fact that someone was shadowing me at all times felt a lot like an invasion of privacy. I didn’t want some stranger to watch me having a meltdown.
Hours went by. The doctor let Janet and Billy see Frank at around four in the morning. I waited patiently and watched more people trickle in. Some wore suits, some wore casual attire. Dressed sharply but looking tired, Linda showed up at dawn.
“Have you seen him yet?” she asked as we settled in the corner, away from the eyes and ears of others.
“They’re not letting me. Only immediate family for now.”
“Then you should go home and get some sleep, hon.”
“I will. After I make sure he’s okay.” He wasn’t okay, though. I knew it.
Linda reached to pat my knee. “It’s best if you leave now, Cassy. Trust me.”
“Are there a lot of people outside?”
She nodded.
“What’s next?”
“I need to see what the doctors say before I can assess the damage.”
Damage. It was a word I’d come to hate lately. I breathed in hard and stretched my stiff neck.
“If someone sees you here looking like this, you’ll be all over the internet,” Linda urged.
“What, you don’t like my poncho?” I joked.
She gave me a small smile. “How about I call you if I hear something?”
“Thank you, but I’ll be careful.”
Truth was, I couldn’t leave the hospital without seeing Frank. I just wanted a glimpse.
Linda patted my arm, then rose to her feet and walked off. Reclining my head against the wall, I closed my eyes and waited.
It was nearly nine and I was chugging my third cup of coffee, trying to stay awake and alert, when Roman finally came to grab me.
My anxiety rushed back in as I stepped into the room. The lights were bright and sterile, and the monitors were obnoxiously loud. It made me wonder how someone could even sleep through this noise. Then I remembered Valium.
At first, I couldn’t tell if Frank was awake. His head, limp against the raised top of the bed, was turned away and his eyes weren’t in my line of view. The door behind me swung shut and I stood in my spot, hugging the blanket and staring at his sandy hair splayed across the pillow, until his cheek pulled and a hint of a smile stretched his lips. He turned his head slightly to see me better.
I held his gaze and tried not to look at the cast and the tubes prodding his veins.
“Why are you still here, doll?” Frank’s voice was soft around the edges from medications and anesthesia.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I walked over and grabbed a chair.
He didn’t move, but his eyes ran over my body, curious. I heard the swallow followed by a loud, shallow attempt at taking a breath. “Love the new cape.” The corners of his lips curled up slightly.
Not sure who he was trying to fool, me or himself, I returned the smile. Mine was just as weak. “It’s been a little chilly here.” I settled in a chair and stared at his hand for a while, hesitant to touch him. Suspicion was driving me mad. The confrontation with Dante was like a fungus, growing bigger with every second. I’d never seen Frank do drugs, but the more I thought about it, the more his sudden boost of confidence before the show made sense, and the words danced on the tip of my tongue.
“Cassy,” Frank spoke. “You should go home.”
I felt the fear creeping through. It was everywhere. In the dullness of his gaze, in the tremor of his voice, in the shortness of his breath, in the dark shadows beneath his eyes. His cheeks were the color of diluted white paint. He looked…shattered.
Emotions consumed me. Biting back all my questions, I slipped my fingers between his and brushed our hands together. “I don’t want to go, Frank. I want to stay here. With you.”
“The next couple of days are going to be difficult with the press. Why don’t you and Ashton get out of town until all this blows over? Brooklyn will arrange your tickets.” His speech slurred. “Pick a place. How about Hawaii?”
“You want to send me away?”
“It’s safer.”
“Frank. I’m not a little girl who needs saving. Ashton is getting ready to retake his SATs. He has school. We can’t just leave. It doesn’t work like that.”
He got quiet.
“You’re going to need some help anyway.” I motioned at his arm. The knot in my stomach tightened. My brain was still processing the consequences of the accident. I didn't know any details yet, but I’d overheard Janet speaking to a doctor. There were multiple fractures in the clavicle area and the fragments of his broken plate in his shoulder. Frank was going to need another surgery, which meant there would be no shows. At least, not for a while.