Page 4 of Never Say Die
“I went home,” Aiden said. He reached for Thomas’s cigarette, took a drag, almost gagged, and handed it back. “Fuck, gross. Is anyone holding?”
“So, you don’t know where Shay is either?” Dylan asked.
Panic settled like a stone in his stomach. Aiden stared through the tinted window, watching cars on the 405 zip by. “Why would I know where he is?”
“No one can find him. We thought he might’ve been with you since you both went dark after rehearsal last night,” Georgia said.
“Well, I wasn’t. Why the fuck would I be with him anyway?” Aiden gritted his teeth.Keep it together, asshole. Focused on the acrid smoke snaking through the car and tried to calm hisrestless leg. He cracked the window. “Seriously, does anyone haveanything?I’m suffering, like, big time.”
“Yeah, yeah, Jesus. It’s all I’ve got, so don’t be greedy. Save some for the show,” Dylan said. He tugged a duct-taped wallet out of his pocket and reached into the billfold, unearthing a silver vial.
Aiden plucked it from his palm, thumbed open the lid, and tapped a bump of powder onto the back of his hand. He snorted, wincing as the familiar, chemical burn settled in his nasal cavity. He closed his eyes. His throat slowly numbed. Everything beneath his navel tightened. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit—headache muted, body on a tripwire, mind recalibrated. His stomach still insisted on being a dick, though. He almost gagged.Almost. But swallowed gasoline-flavored drip and snorted another bump.
“Seriously, Aiden,” Dylan warned.
Aiden licked white residue off his knuckles, capped the vial, and slapped it into Dylan’s hand. “Chill out, there’s plenty left.”
Commercials played on the local radio station. Georgia’s dark-rimmed eyes flicked toward him in the rearview mirror. Dylan propped one foot on the dash, sipping from a to-go coffee, and Thomas dropped his cigarette in an old Taco Bell cup glued to the cupholder. Now that Shay’s name had been uttered, he was a constant buzz in Aiden’s body, appearing and reappearing. Arms outstretched, eyes wide, lips still wet from Aiden’s mouth. Mid-laugh, head tossed back, sunglasses slipping down his nose. Saying Aiden’s name in four different ways: Aiden, likecome here.Aiden, likestop. Aiden, likelet’s go. Aiden, likeyou did this.
Aiden chewed the inside of his cheek.
Stay away from that, he thought. Stay away from him. Focus, focus, focus.
“I bet he’ll show at the last minute, like always,” Dylan said.
Georgia nodded.
Aiden thought,hoped, the rest of the band would’ve avoided flicking their shared bruise, but apparently not. He picked at his cuticles. “Yeah, bet you’re right. He’s a selfish prick, so.”
Thomas sat forward in his seat, glancing between Aiden, Georgia, and Dylan, and said, “You know, it might be good if we, as a band, stopped shit-talking the guy who actually got us a gig. I know you had a falling out, but?—”
“You don’t know shit, actually,” Aiden bit out.
“Look, I get it. You’ve built your entire personality around being an asshole, but I think?—”
“We didn’t hire you to think, we hired you to sing. When it comes to what happened between Knight’s Blood and Shay, keep your mouth shut. Honestly, keep your mouth shutunlessyou’re singing.”
Dylan huffed, flapping his lips. “Here we go.”
“Guys, stop,” Georgia whined.
“That’s how it’s gonna be, Aiden? I mean, I’m not surprised. If you don’t get your way, everyone else has to suffer, right? You decide to hate someone, so we all have to? This might be fucking shocking, butyouaren’t Knight’s Blood, and I’m sick of dealing with your tantrums,” Thomas said. He fished around in his pocket and lit another cigarette. “You might not like him, but Shay came through for us. All you’ve done is dose yourself to death?—”
“Three seconds,” Aiden hollered. “Three seconds before I break his face open.”
Dylan arched a brow, leaning away from the passenger’s seat to look over his shoulder. “C’mon, guys. Enough, all right? This is dumb, diva bullshit. Hug it out.”
Georgia groaned. “Boys, seriously.”
“Right, right, I forgot. . .” Thomas leaned closer, snarling at Aiden. “Bitches like to fight, too.”
Aiden punched him directly in the face.
“Boys!” Georgia crowed.
Dylan snorted out laughter. “Watch it, Aiden. He’s our front-man.”
Thomas wailed and cupped one hand over his nose, pinching his cigarette with the other. His edgy, goth-core haircut was still perfectly assembled. “Are youfuckingkidding me?”
