Page 27 of Never Say Die
Shay shot a deadly look over his shoulder.
Shay Bennett: I’m FINE.
Aiden Moore: we need to get you fed
Shay Bennett: Have you forgotten what that means?
Aiden Moore: omfg obviously not but maybe we skip the ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET at the FUCKING NIGHTCLUB
Aiden Moore: i’m serious shay
Aiden Moore: you look haggard. you look sick. we! need! to! feed! you!
Shay frowned at his phone.
Shay Bennett: I LOOK FINE THANKS
“Are you two texting each other?” Georgia asked.
Aiden dropped his phone. “No,” he said. At the same time, Shay scoffed, “C’mon,what?”
“Fuck-weasels, sit down,” Jacob said. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, mussing his hair, and slid a pair of reading glasses onto his nose. “Florida cancelled. New Orleans came on board. Everywhere else is booked.”
“New York?” Shay asked.
“Oh, right. New York is a green light, too.” Jacob lifted his face, did a double-take, and leaned closer. “Look at me, Bennett. Hey, look at me! You doin’ hard shit? I’ve got rules. You know my fuckin’ rules. No heroin, no PCP, no Vicodin?—”
Shay jerked his head back as if he’d been struck. “Easy, man. Jesus. I haven’t done anything.”
“You look like Nikki Sixx circa ’87. You sick? You’re not allowed to be sick. Drink some orange juice, take some vitamins. Dosomething.”
Blue eyes shifted briefly to Aiden. Shay said, “I’ll grab some cold medicine and sleep it off.”
“You are kinda pale,” Dylan said, cringing. “I’ve got Airborne in my bag. Usually helps with hangovers. Might give you a boost.”
“We lived through the food-poisoning-apocalypse at Shred Fest three years ago, we’ll handle this,” Georgia said.
Ninety-two degrees in Palm Springs combined with a fried chicken food truck betrayal equaled Aiden puking on stage and Georgia almost fainting in a porta-potty. He wrinkled his nose at the memory, and whacked Shay’s shin with the toe of his boot beneath the table. Shay kicked him back harder.
“I’m just a little worn out, guys. I’ll be stage-ready tomorrow,” Shay said. His smile wasn’t quite steady, but he nodded and offered a laugh. “Yeah, seriously. If Shred Fest couldn’t take us out, a cold can’t.”
Georgia clanked her glass against his. “Cheers to that. Let’s keep it low-key tonight. Hit the club for an hour or two. Turn in around midnight, yeah?”
Aiden pinched pieces of sushi with his chopsticks and dunked them in red chili paste. “You sure you’re up for it?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Shay. “Sleep’ll do you better than a dancefloor.”
“We’ll keep it casual,” Shay said, snaring him in a purposeful glare.Enough.
Aiden knew what tonight meant. What they were planning, secretly, silently, and who they were inevitably involving. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Kelly’s choked-off voice.Dead energy forced to occupy a living vessel, forced to consume vitality.He drained the rest of his drink.
Jacob propped his elbows on the table. “You’ve got a VIP signing tomorrow after the show, so keep your shit together until it’s finished. I don’t want any—I meanany—bullshit. Understood? I’m talkin’ to you, Moore. Get out of hand and I’ll hit you with a cattle prod, I swear to God.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”
“Andyou.” He pointed at Shay. “You live, eat, breathe, and make sweet, candlelit love to Knight’s Blood. It’s your life. It’salwaysbeen your life. If you mention Chain Reaction, I’ll?—”
“Put me through a wood-chipper. Yeah, I got it, Jacob,” Shay said, sighing.
“Feet first,” Jacob added. He slapped four plastic badges on the table, snared one with his fingers, and slid it toward Shay. “Can’t believe Treasure Island wasn’t good enough for you, Justin fuckin’ Bieber, but I managed to switch things around, so security will beherean hour before sound check. Meet ‘em in the lobby at 4 p.m. and they’ll escort you to the speedway, all right?”
