Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing. If you were in my situation, you would have reacted the exact same way.
“She died last night,” Kylie whimpers into my chest, her voice a painful whisper.
The dam in my eyes nearly spills over when I snap them shut. Now Iamthe biggest asshole in the world.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Chapter Forty
Slater
Melanie’s funeral is being held today in her hometown of San Jose. The band canceled the last two shows so I could support Kylie through her grief. She’s truly devastated over losing her friend. I know the process of grief, and most of the guys in our band do as well, so we’re all supporting her the best we can.
The first day, she spent the entire day in bed. I held her and wiped away her tears while offering her silent support. The second day, she was angry. Not just at the disease that stole her friend from her, but she was also angry at Melanie for not giving her the chance to say goodbye. I tried to force her to read Melanie’s letter again. When she refused, I read it to her, and I’ll continue reading it to her until she understands why Melanie did what she did.
She loved Kylie, so she sacrificed her happiness for her, just like Kylie did for me. Kylie can’t be mad at her for that. Melanie loved her enough to save her from months of pain.
“Are you two ready to go?” Marcus asks.
I peer over at Kylie, who’s standing at the hotel window looking outside. She’s wearing a mid-length black dress with red pumps, and her long hair has been pulled back in a braid.
“Yeah, just give me five minutes.”
Marcus nods before moving into the hallway of our hotel. The whole band is in San Jose to attend Melanie’s funeral. With the exception of Marcus, the rest of the band didn’t really know her, but they’re here supporting Kylie and me. They’re my brothers, and they’ll support me while I support Kylie.
Kylie’s eyes lift to mine when I stand next to her. They’re the clearest I’ve seen them the past three days. It’s the first time I’ve seen them without tears. After roaming her eyes over my black suit, a faint grin etches on her face.
“Are you ready to go?”
When she nods, I clasp her hand in mine, then guide her to the town cars idling downstairs. When we exit our room, Jenni and Emily’s eyes lift to Kylie, where they relay their sympathies without words.
Kylie remains quiet in the elevator, and she doesn’t make a sound the entire trip to the funeral home. The only noise that escapes her lips is a giggle when we enter the funeral home. It’s so quiet, I barely hear it, but it forces the first smile on my face in days.
When I raise my eyes, I discover what Kylie is laughing at. The funeral parlor is decked out like one of Melanie’s extravagant parties. Streamers and helium balloons are on every available surface, large poster-sized photos of Melanie in various poses cover the walls, and several of the guests are decked out in bright fluorescent colors. Anyone would swear we’ve turned up to a nightclub instead of a funeral.
“She always loved to party,” Kylie whispers, smiling.
While we head to the front pew, my bandmates slip into the back row. Kylie greets people I assume are Melanie’s parents. Melanie got her platinum blonde hair from her mom and her blue eyes from her dad. She was a mixture of them both.
When Kylie takes a seat next to Melanie’s mom, I sit next to her before gripping her hand in mine. Her pulse is still thrumming through her body, but it doesn’t have the pause that freaked me out so much the past three days.
Halfway through the service, Kylie makes her way to the podium. Her strength surprises me when she completes her eulogy without a single tear escaping her eyes. “You better make my margarita a double.” When she presses two fingers to her mouth then raises them to the sky, several of the attendees copy her.
As Kylie retakes her seat, a projection screen lowers from the ceiling. A handful of tears slip down her cheeks when Melanie’s grinning face lights up the screen. She’s sitting crossed-legged on a bed that appears to be in her childhood bedroom. Her message must have been recorded within the last week because she’s sporting the same pixie-style haircut she had at the gala, and Marcus’s signed bass guitar she won in the auction is sitting behind her.
“Hi guys!” The speakers are up so loud, Kylie jumps in fright. “I know you're supposed to be grieving, but where is the fun in that?” Melanie rolls her eyes in an unsophisticated but cute way. “If there’s one thing I did right in my life, it was partying. I was the queen! So my final gift to all you people down there…” She points her fingers in all directions like she’s pointing out her little minions. “…is an invitation to one of the most elaborate, elegant, invigorating—hold on, that starts with an ‘I,’whatever—all-expenses-paid party of your life. No crying is allowed, so get those tears out now.”
When she gives the crowd at her funeral a death stare, my eyes shift to Kylie. She’s smiling while peering up at Melanie in awe. Her eyes have a slight sheen glossing them, but she’s fighting to keep her tears at bay.
“Raise your glasses and have a drink for me. I love you all, especially you.” Melanie squashes two fingers to her lips and holds them into the air like Kylie did earlier. Half of the room copies her movement.
Melanie leaps up from her bed and pads toward the screen like she’s about to turn off her video recorder, but just before she does, her head pops back into the picture. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I can’t leave without telling someone. This is toohugenot to be shared.”
While Melanie squats down in front of the camera so only her face is visible, Kylie giggles again.
“Marcus…..oh, Marcus,” When Melanie’s moan vibrates through the speakers, my eyes snap back to Marcus, who’s seated in the last pew. He smiles before gently shaking his head. “That kiss—my goodness… That kiss was...” She goes quiet, her expression the most serious I’ve seen. “… It was perfect. Everything I’d ever dreamt of.Youare perfect, a true gift from God, so don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
She brushes a tear off her cheek before peering at something in the distance. “Please remember the promise you made last week, and I’ll be sure to remember mine.” In less than a second, her expression switches back to her normal cheeky demeanor. “Now let’s get out of this boring funeral home, and go party!”
