Page 61 of Never Say Die
Last month, this month, next month. With interest. Sorry for the delay.
Camila Ramírez: Thanks for the cash but I don’t need it
Aiden Moore: just take it cami. it’s fine.
Camila Ramírez: Whatever. You okay?
Aiden Moore: i’m fine just a little run down.
Camila Ramírez: How was Colorado?
Aiden Moore: totally fine. your psychic needs a tune up.
Camila Ramírez: You’re a moron. Can you hook me up with a ticket to your show in New Orleans?
Aiden Moore: maybe
Camila Ramírez: Pinche cabrón
Aiden Moore: c’mon chill out!! you know i’m kidding. i’ll have jacob handle it
Aiden Moore: just one?
Camila Ramírez: Just one
CamilaRamírez: Te quiero
Aiden Moore: love you too
BREAKING:ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO
INVESTIGATION UPDATE—MASS MURDER-SUICIDE
Police revealed a shocking piece of information today: the body of nineteen-year-old Orange County native, Laura Noble, made famous by the recent New Mexico massacre, has gone missing. Authorities believe members of a cult-like organization led by Catherine (Cit) Emerson, also connected to the brutal murder of Cassandra Rey in Las Vegas, could be responsible for the disappearance. Noble’s family is accepting donations to cover funeral arrangements and an investigation is currently underway.
Aiden got sick as quietly as possible, heaving into the compostable toilet in the RV’s bathroom.No, he thought.No, no, no.But he was well-acquainted with that dreadful fucking knowing, that primal unease. Prey instinct.
You fucking black-eyed bitch.
He doubled over again, emptying the rest of his stomach.
You didn’t stay dead, did you?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Aiden leaned against the check-in counter, glancing around the newly renovated Sheraton hotel. Reclaimed wood and gray tile softened Bourbon Street’s black-iron terraces and eternally damp sidewalks, providing a well-needed cushion between shouty bars and blaring trumpets. New Orleans was fnflinching, heady, and completely, unapologetically aware of itself, and Aiden thought he might like to live there, too. Beside him, Shay handed the clerk his driver’s license.
The clerk gasped. “You’re. . . Shay Bennet, like, like from?—”
“Yeah,” Shay said, nodding tightly. “That’s me.”
They turned their attention to Aiden. “And you’re. . . ?”
“Aiden Moore,” Aiden rasped, and winked. “There’s a pool here, right?”
“I follow you on Instagram,” the clerk blurted. Their blush worsened. “Sorry—yes, yeah, there’s a pool in the courtyard. Room service is available night and day. Feel free to explore the hotel, but please be mindful of meeting spaces and convention attendees. We’re hosting the annual Metaphysical Assembly this year, so you’ll notice a few signature cocktails on the bar menuand… There was something else, oh! We’re offering two specialty services in the spa: reiki massages and crystal sound baths.”
No fucking way.A small laugh crackled in Aiden’s throat. He lifted his brows at Shay. “You’re kidding,” he said. “We can’t escape this shit, can we?”
