The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

I curse and start crying all at the same time. Izzy calls my name but I turn my back to her, blinking away tears as I reach for the broom and dustpan that’s propped against the wall.

“I’ll do that for you,” Izzy says, reaching for the broom.

I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”

She watches me sweep up the mess, her hands on her hips. “I’m really sorry,” I say, dumping the glass in the trash can. “I’ll pay for it.”

She waves a hand. “No need. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? I could help.”

With a heavy breath, I reach for another vase and look over at her, wishing she wouldn’t waste all of her kindness on me. “It’s nothing. I’m just … I miss Sasha.” And I made the mistake of liking someone who doesn’t like me back. And now I might have ruined my best friend’s dying wish.

“Would you like to go home early?” Izzy pulls a hair tie off her wrist and wrangles her long curly hair into a low ponytail. “You could take home some flowers to cheer you up.”

“I’d rather stay, if that’s okay.” I’m just grateful that no customers are in here. “I don’t want to be home right now.”

“Fine with me,” Izzy says. “You’re always nice to have around. And I’m always here if you need to talk.”

I almost tell her everything right there. It would be so easy to bleed my heart out in front of all of these beautiful flowers. I wonder if she has an essential oil for someone as screwed up as I am.

But I can’t break my promise to Sasha, no matter how much I might want to, so I just get back to work.

At midnight, I stare at my computer screen, the glow the only light in my bedroom. My inbox has zero new messages.

I start a new email to Elijah, leave the subject blank and stare at the blinking cursor for half an hour. I should tell him I’m sorry if I made him feel weird, tell him I’m totally not into him, so he shouldn’t let worries of my stupid and nonexistent crush stop him from seeing Zombie Radio in Sasha’s honor.

In the end, I send him one final email that doesn’t say any of that. I’m not sure if it matters. All I do know is that I won’t break my promise to Sasha, even if Elijah does.

Elijah,

I have Sasha’s shirt for you if you do end up going to the show. I’ll print out both tickets in case you don’t have access to a printer. If you want the shirt or the ticket, you can come find me. There’s usually a long line before a show at The Engine Room. Hope you’re okay.

Raquel

Chapter Eighteen

A burst of chilly air hits me in the face, sending a tingle down the back of my shirt. It probably wasn’t a good idea to wear the Zombie Radio shirt that has a holey skeleton back, courtesy of Sasha’s scissors. I have other, non-sliced-up shirts, but this one makes me look older, sexier and unafraid.

Which is another reason I shouldn’t have worn it. What am I trying to do? Will Elijah appear because of some magical cleavage and off-the-shoulder skin action? He doesn’t even like me.

All of my efforts will no doubt be for nothing, since I don’t see his black motorcycle anywhere. Zombie Radio fans walk through the streets of downtown, toward The Engine Room, grouped in twos or threes or more. Everyone has someone, except for me. I keep my head down, my bag weighing heavily on my shoulder as I make my way toward the growing line outside the entrance. Sasha’s T-shirt doesn’t weigh that much, but to me, it’s like a ton of bricks.

I search the crowd, hoping for a familiar face. But the Mohawks, tattoos and brightly dyed hair all belong to people who aren’t my friends. I wish Sasha was here.

I move forward in line, checking the time on my phone. Doors opened three minutes ago, so we’r

e all steadily trickling into the darkened club. Once we’re inside, it will be nearly impossible to find anyone. I stare at a black splotch of old gum on the dirty concrete as I slowly move forward in line. I’m sorry, Sasha. I should have stuck to your plan.

“ID?” I look up to find a portly hipster guy staring at me, eyebrow raised. He’s holding a permanent marker with the cap off.

“Oh,” I say, realizing I’m now just a few feet away from the doors. “No, sorry.” I hold up my hands and he crosses a big black X over the tops of them. As much as I love Zombie Radio, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this show. I should turn around, go home and forget this day ever happened.

“Hey.” The sound is coming from behind me. Footsteps thump to a stop right next to me, and Elijah drops his hands to his knees, panting for a few seconds. “Damn, I haven’t run that far in a long time.”

“Where’d you come from?” Elation pours into every cell of my body, and I step out of line, walking with Elijah over to the club’s brick wall. I try to act cool.

“That Exxon three blocks north,” he says, his chest rising and falling with heavy breathing. “I saw people walking inside so I ran to find you before I missed you.” Those crystal-blue eyes slice into me, reaching into my soul and touching all the parts of me I try to keep hidden from the world.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I blink a few times and focus on a red Volkswagen Bug in the distance. “Sasha … she’d be glad.”