Page 43 of Never Say Die
“I could eat,” Georgia said.
Westley nodded. “Well, I threw in for a lakeside lodge with some friends. A few of our roadies are celebrating Cassandra. I didn’t know her well, but the loss. . . It left us all a little shaken.” He shrugged, smile thinning. “I’m sure you know how it is. Thanks for the flowers, by the way. I guess her mother—well, they call her mother—Cit, she really appreciated the gesture,” he said, and bumped his knuckles against Shay’s fist. “There’s food, booze, party favors, music. Totally private. If you’re looking for something to top off your night, we’d be happy to host.”
“I’m down,” Aiden said. “It’s been a while since we crashed an afterparty.”
Westley squeezed his shoulder, setting fingertips to sweat-sheened skin. Aiden clocked Shay’s arched eyebrow and clenched jaw. How his bright, white contact lenses settled on Westley’s hand. “Hell yeah, man. It’ll be a nice send-off after traveling together,” Westley said, and fished his phone out of his pocket. “I already follow you on Insta, Aiden. I’ll DM you the address?”
“Sure, yeah, that’s fine,” Aiden said. He glanced at Georgia, who looked skeptical, then Dylan, who mouthed the wordstarvingagain. “Yes? No?”
Shay cleared his throat, shifting his weight, heel to toe. “Not to be a dick about it, but our manager will slaughter us if we get photographed at a house party.”
“Nah, man, I hear you. We’re local, you know. Denver based. These are friends of ours, friends of friends, groupies, other musicians and such. Nobody’ll be snapping pictures withoutasking first, especially considering the circumstances. You’ve got my word,” Westley said.
Aiden fixed Shay with a playful glare, and said, “C’mon, Bennett. Live a little.”
The night deepened, strangling the dry, mountain heat. Above them, the moon curved like a scythe.
Shay sighed. “All right,” he said, laughing in his throat. “Let’s party, I guess.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Shadows crossed rectangular windows and dubstep growled behind weatherproof wood. The lodge stood alone, dwarfed by evergreens and blue firs, crowded with cars, swaying silhouettes, and lit cigarettes. Moonlight skated the lake, and far off, beyond the water, bonfires flickered between trees. Everywhere else, darkness spanned.
“Okay, so, no needles,” Georgia said. She straightened the straps on her pentagram-shaped bralette, tucked neatly beneath a low-cut dress. “No hospitals, don’t get anyone pregnant, and—” She pointed at Aiden’s nose. “—andwe’re back in the RV by six a.m. I’m not kidding. Do not make me hunt you down, Aiden Moore. Seriously. I’ll tell Jacob to buy you a shock collar, I swear to god?—”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Aiden dragged his gaze from the lake to the lodge. “Give it a rest, Georgia. We’ve done this a thousand times. I’m a pro.”
“Aiden,” she warned, and narrowed her eyes. “Seriously. Please. For me.”
“RV, six a.m., don’t overdose, don’t get pregnant. Got it.” Hewalked backward, thumbs pushed through his beltloops, and shot her a wolfish grin. “Think there’s pizza?”
“There better be,” Dylan said, and sped past him, disappearing through the front door.
“They’re officiallynotour opener anymore,” Georgia teased, batting her long, feathered falsies. She bounced off Aiden’s shoulder. “Have fun fucking Westley.” She dodged his halfhearted swat and chased after Dylan.
Aiden kept his eyes ahead, ignoring the awkward jealousy wafting off of Shay as he fell into stride beside him.
“Is that the plan? Sleep with the voice behind Hail the Haunted?” Shay asked. He wrung his hands. Picked at his nailbeds. Snagged his lip with a fang.
“Maybe,” Aiden said, just to watch Shay flinch. “I’m kidding, Shay. Take a Xanax.”
“Can we talk, maybe? Like, actuallytalk.”
“About what?” Aiden flashed a smile and bumped his knuckles against an outstretched fist.
Great show tonight, someone said.You guys did phenomenal. Rock on, Knight’s Blood!Voices clashed. Music shook the antler-chandelier above a crowded table adjacent the giant, open kitchen. People came and went, dressed in spiked chokers, laced corsets, and torn denim. The guitarist for Hail the Haunted leaned against a stone wall next to the fireplace, and Aiden spotted Westley standing on the deck with a bottle tipped against his mouth.
“About. . . Fuck, Aiden.Everything,” Shay said. He followed Aiden into the kitchen. Fumbled with the ice tray when Aiden pushed it into his hands, then the whiskey, soda liter, lime slices. “Shouldn’t we be anywhere else but here?”
“Think of the optics. Why the hell would the murderer come to the wake?” Aiden said, matter-of-factly, and knocked their cups together.
Shay hushed him. “You’re fucking horrible?—”
“Yeah, I know. Look, we’re here, there’s booze, I bet we can find some top-tier powder if we sniff around, and every single person in this house either wants to be you or fuck you. Use it. Enjoy it if you can. I plan to.”
Shay scanned the room. “Here comes your conquest,” he mumbled, and sipped his drink.
Aiden greeted Westley with a small smile, and said, “Don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t a million-dollar cabin. You worried about this place gettin’ busted?”
