Page 21 of Never Say Die
“Perfect, awesome, great. If she gets a whiff of cannibalistic murder, we’ll let her in on the ritualistic sacrifice. Good plan, Shay.”
“This isyourfault,” he said, baring his teeth.
Aiden had never seen a person drink orange juice angrily until that morning. He tipped his head, watching Shay lick pulp from the rim of his glass, and said, “Sure, fine. My fault. Still doesn’t change the fact that this is—I cannot stress this enough—a fuckin’ scam. We need to do more research, like, literally,anyresearch before booking appointments withreikicertifiedinternet psychics.”
“She’sRamírezcertified, actually,” Shay said, and flipped his phone around, displaying the Ramírez Botanica website. “Don’t freak out. I didn’t call Camila—I just browsed. This psychic lady’s advertisements are all over the place. Look, Camiendorsedher.”
Aiden snatched his phone. The Ramírez Botanica had been his mother’s pride and joy for twenty-something years, passed onto Camila—the better child, the daughter who embraced brujería, the responsible one—yet always used against him. Passive aggressive landmineswell, you could be helping out with the businessandwhy don’t you ever come byandour blood is a blessingdetonated whenever humanly possible. He swiped through the website, wrinkling his nose at the clean, black lettering on the bottom of the AFFILIATIONS page:Famous folk healer, Camila Valentina Ramírez, has partnered with world-renowned Reiki Specialist, Kelly Angelica Crawford, to bring ethical, comforting, and affordable spiritual services to Southern California.
“Cami, you damn sellout,” Aiden whispered, sighing. “Fine—fine!Whatever. But do not contact Cami, Shay. You know my sister—she’s weirdly intuitive, okay? She’ll know and?—”
“I know,” Shay said through a groan. “But I can’t avoid your family forever. You’re stuck with me for next three years, minimum.”
“You have nothing to do with my family, and my family has nothing to do with the band,” he said, but he saw Shay flinch, and the lie burned like a brand on his chest. Shay had been an everyday habit in high school. A constant, cherished presence in Aiden’s life. Being tossed aside, aftereverything, had festered in Aiden’s heart for long enough to make murder a feasible equalizer.They loved you, he wanted to say.And it was true. His sister, his mother, everyone.Sometimes I think they wanted to trade me inand keep you.He braved another glance at Shay, drumming his fork on his plate, and changed the subject before he punched Shay in the mouth. Or kissed him. Or apologized. “You seemed right at home last night. On stage, I mean.”
“You did, too. Any negative feedback on your Instagram yet?”
“Just the obvious.Knight’s Blood isn’t Chain Reactionand a few comments about you jumping ship whenever you get the chance.”
Shay hummed and stuck his fork in one of Aiden’s pancakes, dragging half of a cake onto his plate. “You gonna eat this?”
Aiden blinked. “Apparently not. Notice anything weird besides the teeth?”
“Nightmares,” he said, simply.
Aiden was well-acquainted with guilt, but that didn’t make shame any easier to swallow. He let the conversation die. Drank the rest of Shay’s coffee while Shay ate the rest of his pancakes. Flicked through his phone, liking comments on Instagram, and then typed a text to his almost-estranged sister.
Aiden Moore: you employ gringa “reiki masters” at the botanica now?
Camila Ramírez: What are you talking about?
Aiden Moore: kelly? the scam-artist you ~endorsed~ on the website. does mom know?
Camila Ramírez: She’s not a scam, you huge manchild. Why does it matter? You can’t afford her anyway.
Aiden Moore: it doesn’t
Camila Ramírez: If you helped out once in a while, you’d know about this shit. She’s responsible for 40% of our online sales. I send people her way, she sends people our way. Win win.
Aiden Moore: oh so you’re just using her for her for the $$$$$. i see.
Camila Ramírez: At least I’m getting paid. One of us should.
Aiden sent a clown emoji and a middle-finger emoji.
Aiden Moore: we’re goin on tour
Camila Ramírez: Don’t die and don’t miss Mama’s birthday.
Aiden sent a thumbs-up emoji.
They split the bill down the middle and hopped into Shay’s car. Aiden kicked his boots on the dash and lowered his sunglasses over his eyes. Sea-spray cooled the fishy air and summer weighed heavy on the beach-side city, but despite their similarities, San Diego felt different than Los Angeles. Gentler, easier, closer to home. The last time he’d been this far south, Shay had driven him across the border for cheap beers and abuelita’s pozole. They’d been eighteen, booking mid-day festival gigs, smoking cheap cigarettes with the wind in their hair, and Aiden had been happy. So,sohappy. Two months pre-top surgery, madly in love with the future, stealing glances at his beautiful best friend as they sang along to the radio. Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga or My Chemical Romance or?—
“What’s wrong?” Shay asked.
Aiden stared out the passenger window. “Nothing, why?”
“I’ve known you for ten years. I can tell.”
