Page 73 of Scandal
“What do you mean by this?” Theodora asks, before turning to her son. “What does she mean by this?”
“We used to date,” Lana says, and at the same time, Asher replies, “We’ve met.”
I feel myself start to pull away, but Asher’s hand squeezes mine. “Well, which one is it?” Theodora asks, not showing an ounce of emotion.
“We did not date,” Asher says. “We met once.”
“Twice,” Lana clarifies.
The tension between them suggests that they didn’t just meet. They fucked, and they did so an interminable number of times.
Asher’s brows furrow. “I—are you sure?”
Genuine hurt crosses Lana’s face. “Yes, I’m sure. I guess some of us are more forgettable than others.”
A moment passes, then another, until Asher’s authoritative voice fills the small sitting room. “Everyone out,” he announces. “It seems I need to have a word with our reporter.”
Evie and Mac quickly file out, but Theodora and her secretary are slow to leave. “Asher, I don’t think—” she starts to argue.
“Yes, even you, Mother,” he demands.
She bows her head. “Very well.”
When she stands from her chair, I do the same. But Asher’s hand stops me. “Where are you going?”
“You said everyone.”
“Not you,” he says. “Never you.”
“What if I don’t want her here?” Lana sneers, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“It’s not up to you,” he simply says. “And besides, I know her well enough that what I have to say, she needs to hear.”
She glares at him and then turns it on me. “What’s so special about her?” The way she looks at me is how I imagine every spurned ex looks at the woman after her. Like she’s comparing every curve of my body, every feature, trying to figure out the one thing I have that she didn’t.
“Everything,” he simply says.
It makes my breath catch, and I have to remind myself who we’re talking to. A reporter. A woman who could easily ruin this interview and our public image—Asher’s public image before he even inherits his father’s title.
None of this is real, I remind myself for the hundredth time.
“I owe you an apology, Lana,” Asher continues. “The man I was when we met all those years ago was a very different person. I was young and full of myself, and although it doesn’t excuse my behavior, I want you to know I didn’t intend to cause you harm.”
She seems to consider his words, nodding before she replies. “When we hooked up the first time, I was working for a small indie rock magazine. Manic was just starting to break out, and I remember you telling me not to turn our night into something it wasn’t because you didn’t date. But then I saw you again at a party six months later, and you went straight for me. I thought maybe I was an exception.”
I’ve always known he has a sordid sexual past. Hell, there are pictures of it online—not that I’ve ever looked at them—but hearing about it from a woman sitting directly across from me is another matter entirely.
I want to hate her.
I also kind of want to give her a hug.
“I was probably drunk,” he admits. “Or high. Maybe both. There were a few years back then when I let it all go to my head.”
Those years leading up to Mitch’s downfall. That’s why he’s been so strict with the band and crew ever since. My brother says there are now regular drug tests, curfews, and the backstage area is more like a Zen paradise than a party zone, especially since Zander started bringing his family on tour.
“Rationally, I know that, but?—”
“You see me, and every rational thought goes out the window?” I chime in.
