Page 17 of Never Say Die
Dylan gave a halfhearted whoop. “Could be awesome, could be baby shit. Either way, we’re doin’ it. How’reyoufeelin’, bud? Last I checked you punched people in the face for defending our new—old?—old-new front-man.”
Aiden sucked at the joint. “I’m feelin’ like this is our shot. If we blow it, we’re done, and I think Shay’s the key tonotblowing it. He’s a gigantic asshole, but he signed the contract, gave a half-assed apology.”Lived.“He’s here, and he needs us as much as we need him.”
“He’s a means to an end,” Georgia said, nodding.
“Exactly,” Aiden said.
They parked in the designated garage for the Holiday Inn Express. Aiden clocked Shay’s car immediately, backed into a corner space with a parking ticket dangling from the rearview mirror. Georgia hadn’t offered to carpool, and Shay hadn’t asked,and personally, Aiden appreciated the pettiness. Regardless of Aiden’s ritualistic fuck-up and Shay’s mad fucking skills, he still needed to earn his place with Georgia and Dylan. Band pettiness didn’t extend to Jacob’s willingness to save even one single penny, though. So, of course, he’d bookedonehotel room for four people.
Aiden walked into their double-bed suite, greeted by Shay, shirtless and shoeless, rifling through his hard-shell suitcase. He brushed past Dylan and dropped his backpack on the bed Shay hadn’t already claimed. Dylan, bless his godforsakenI’m Switzerlandstance on life, set his things next to Shay’s suitcase, allowing Georgia and Aiden to share the other bed. Aiden snuck another glance at Shay, cataloguing his freshly dyed brunette hair and the silver bar punched through his eyebrow.
“Have you guys eaten?” Shay asked. He tugged a Trivium t-shirt over his head.
“Not yet,” Dylan said.
Shay nodded. “Well, Jacob left vouchers at check-in. House of Blues offered to feed us, I guess.”
“Damn, headliner treatment, huh?” Georgia applied another coat of matte red lipstick. “I’m down. Think they’ll throw in a margarita?”
“They better,” Aiden said, laughing. He checked his phone. A few fans had pinged his last selfie, asking about tour dates and set-list rumors, but he left them blank. Jacob had given strict orders: No hinting at Shay’s return until one hour before showtime. Shock factor sold future tickets, supposedly. He clicked Shay’s Instagram. Nothing out of the ordinary besides a selfie featuring his new look, fangs included, and the caption—call me Lestat.
Aiden Moore: thought you weren’t a vampire, Lestat
Shay grabbed his phone off the nightstand. He pinned Aiden with an exhausted glare.
Shay Bennett: stfu
Georgia shoved her makeup bag, contact lens case, and a few garments into her duffle, and slung it over her shoulder. “We’ve got three hours ‘til sound check. Let’s drop stage clothes at the dressing room then we’ll eat, yeah?”
“Sounds like a plan. Anybody heard from Jake?” Dylan asked.
“He’s checking on the opener and booking travel from Vegas onward,” Georgia said.
“Onward. . . ?” Shay quirked his head, glancing between everyone. “We’re not flying to Vegas?”
Aiden snickered. “Pretty sure Jacob would chew off his own foot before he paid for a forty-minute flight to anywhere. We’re taking the van.”
Shay nodded slowly. “All of us?” he asked. Aiden smothered another laugh. Georgia and Dylan shared a glance before steering back toward Shay. “As in all of usinthe van? Together?”
“No, we’re strapping you to the roof,” Georgia said, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, asshole. All of us. Come on, I’m starving.”
A table-marker labeledKnight’s Bloodsat in the middle of a circular booth in the busy House of Blues restaurant. Aiden skimmed a laminated menu, enduring an awkward stint of silence. When the server stopped by, he mimicked Georgia’s order—house margarita with extra salt—and busied himself with bland salsa and purple tortilla chips.
“Figured you’d ask for a pitcher,” Georgia said under her breath.
Aiden bristled. “What, why?”
“You’ve tried to pickle your liver for the past week.”
“C’mon, I’m fine. I’vebeenfine.”
“Total train wreck,” Dylan said, face tilted toward his menu. “Georgia’s right. What’s been up with you, man?”
“Can we not do this? Nothing’s up. I’mfine,” Aiden snapped.
“Apparently not,” Shay mumbled. “Got somethin’ on your mind?”
Aiden glanced at him, dunked another chip in the shitty salsa and bit. Shay knewexactlywhat’d been on his mind. Minus a few details—that kiss on the cliff, specifically. “None of your business,” he slurred, filling his mouth with two more chips. “I went a little hard for a couple days, all right? I get it, I hear you. Can we leave it alone?”
