Page 60 of Never Say Die
Never Say Die debuted while they were three hours outside of Austin. The radio host called it thehottest single of the summer. Said Knight’s Blood wasgiving metalheads everything they’ve ever wanted. Pru veered into a truck stop. Dylan cranked the volume and opened the passenger door, and the band bounced around outside the motorhome, singing along to their future. Georgia smiled—reallysmiled—and pushed a bottle against Aiden’s lips, laughing as beer spilled over his chin. Shay snuck a kiss to his mouth. Pru noticed, he thought. She smirked but stayed quiet. Dylan danced with Sherlock.
Pot-bellied truck drivers watched from elevated big rigs. One of them waved as the song ended. He rolled down his window and hollered, “You like that band, huh? They’re pretty damn good.”
Aiden shouted, “We are that band!”
They snapped a selfie with him, signed his mustard-stained t-shirt, and hit the road.
Austin treated them well.
They stayed at a boutique hotel downtown, overlooking the Colorado River. The city glowed and shook, energized by eclectic shops, trippy street performers, and graffiti murals. Aiden stood at the window in their cozy, nautical-themed room, listening to sirens wail in the distance, and thought he might like to live there—new city, new life, new future. The floor wheezed beneath bare feet. Shay appeared in the reflection on the glass, face lowered to his neck, inspecting the stitches beneath his jaw.
“Internet says three more days before we can take these out,” Shay said.
“Does it look better, at least?”
“Yeah, it does.” Shay kissed his shoulder.
Aiden and Shay were supposed to meet Pru, Georgia, and Dylan at a steakhouse for dinner. They’d already rehearsed their set at The Moody Theater and pre-signed merchandise for VIP ticketholders. All they had left to do was fill their bellies, get enough sleep, and arrive on time for a photoshoot with Nylon Magazine in the morning. Their lives had ruptured in New Mexico. Hitting Texas with a new single had smoothed the rough patch, scrubbed out the blood, made it easy to leave Laura and Cit and their cultish coven across state lines.
“We’ll be late,” Aiden mumbled.
Shay unbuttoned Aiden’s nicest jeans. “God forbid.”
They dedicated any moment alone to making up for lost time. At rehearsal, Aiden followed him into the bathroom andwent to his knees. He played the rest of the set with Shay slicked behind his teeth. Before that, Shay had sealed his hand over Aiden’s mouth in the RV bedroom and worked three fingers between his legs. Dylan tuned his bass, Georgia chatted with Pru, and Shay hushed Aiden while he whined through an orgasm. Sometimes they fucked like teenagers, groping and kissing in secret. Sometimes they stirred awake, halfway to a dream, and crawled to each other in the witching hours.
Sometimes Aiden wanted to be bitten.
Sometimes Aiden knew with animalistic certainty that Shay wanted to bite him.
They arrived late and flushed, and Pru saddled them with a knowing glare. Aiden ignored her, paid Dylan for the eightball he’d scored from a roadie at the venue, sighed at Georgia’s lecture about punctuality, and ordered a ribeye, bone-in.
Being in Austin made them forget. Or maybe they chose to forget. Either way, Aiden knew it wouldn’t last. He leaned into the bite-sized normalcy, anyway. Chewed, swallowed, wanted more.
After the Nylon shoot, they were scheduled to meet at the venue for sound check, but Aiden insisted on snorting a line off Shay’s smooth chest, and Shay licked white residue from the crease of Aiden’s hip. They left the blinds open and fucked in the sunlight, starved and insatiable and lovesick. When Georgia called, Aiden answered, poised atop Shay, breathless and close.
“Our Lyft driver had a blow out,” Aiden said. “Yeah, I’m helping her change the tire—” He smashed his hand over Shay’s mouth, muting bombastic laughter. “—we’ll be there soon. Ay dios mio, stop yelling! We’re on our way!”
They arrived late and flushed again.
Jacob called after sound check. Detailed offers from potential labels. Offers. Multiple. Mentioned paychecks—individual wire transfers delivering in the next few days. “It’s a fuckin’doozy,” he said, chuckling. “You shit-stains are in the big leagues now.”
Knight’s Blood kicked off the show with Never Say Die. Played a raunchy set in an intimate theater. Listened to the audience shout their lyrics, sing their songs, rage joyfully to their music, and walked away from another sold out concert wanted by fans across the country.
The gig payment delivered the morning after their show. Aiden set his phone on Shay’s back and huffed, peeling both eyes open for the facial recognition software. His bank app filled the screen. Credit card, maxed. Savings, close to nothing. Checking…Zeros. More zeros than his account had ever seen. The number knocked the wind from him.
Aiden pushed at the body beneath him, bouncing excitedly. “Jesus fucking Christ, Shay. Look at this—look!”
Shay made an unhappy noise but cracked his eyes open. “Uh huh… That’s nice—oh, damn. Look at you, rich guy,” he murmured, smiling sheepishly. “Guess you can afford the good shit now.”
“I’ve always bought the good shit, babe. That’s why I’m broke.”
Shay laughed, hard and sudden, and kissed Aiden on the mouth.
Aiden sent money to his mom, then his sister, then his landlord.
Te quiero, Mama. Get yourself something nice.
See? Told you we’d make it. Fix your fucking car.
