But it’s still shitty of them to make assumptions about people they don’t know.
Since my dad represents all the guys in Manic at Midnight, I know each of them at least a little. They’re all decent human beings. And sure, a few of them are a bit promiscuous, but so are a lot of people.
Does it make a difference just because they are famous?
“A lot of those photos were old,” I say to my utter surprise. “His publicist leaked them.”
I don’t usually let LuAnn get to me, but for some reason, I find myself rising to defend Asher. We’ve only met a few times, and the first encounter was a complete disaster.
I would never tell any of these women this, but for years, I had a huge crush on the Scottish rock star. It was equal parts lust for his musical talent, his good looks, and yeah, the accent helped too.
When I came home one Sunday evening for family dinner and found him standing in my parents’ living room, I nearly expired right there on my mother’s wool rug.
The photos and videos I’d seen of him over the years didn’t do the man justice. There’s a reason he’s been on the cover of every major magazine in the world. With his height, leanmuscles, and chiseled jawline, he’s like an emo rock star version of Harry Styles.
And the day I met him, I froze—like a fucking statue. It’s not like it was my first time meeting a celebrity, either. I’ve been to the Grammys before, dammit. But all of a sudden, I lost the ability to speak—that’s how starstruck I was at the sight of him.
I felt like a child—like an immature child—and it was embarrassing.
When my dad mentioned my job at the studio, Asher asked me about one of the bands I worked with, and suddenly I snapped out of whatever boy coma I’d fallen into. For the rest of the evening, we bonded over our shared love of music.
It was…nice.
LuAnn shrugs. “The gossip sites are saying she did it ’cause she thought his career was going stagnant and thought a scandal would give him a boost. Personally…” She makes an overexaggerated gesture and points to herself. “I think she’s just another scorned lover and released those photos to get revenge.”
She’s wrong, of course, but LuAnn isn’t one to rely heavily on facts. Not the best trait to have, especially considering her chosen profession, if you ask me.
I don’t get a chance to tell her this, though, because my phone starts vibrating, alerting me to a call. I grab it from its spot next to my half-eaten plate of chicken marsala.
I’ve never been happier to see my dad’s name pop up on my screen.
“Sorry.” I fake an apology. “I have to take this.”
I really don’t. I doubt it’s an emergency, but I get up from the table anyway, grateful for any chance to get away. When I’m a decent distance away from the group, I hit the answer button and greet him. “Hi, Daddy. What’s up?”
“Hey, kiddo. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“No,” I answer, darting into the hallway where the restrooms are. It’s quiet here. Hopefully, he can’t hear the noise from the dining room. “Perfect, actually.”
“Good.” He sounds nervous, and I instantly start to panic. Maybe there is an emergency? Are my siblings okay? My niece? Mom?
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
“Nothing,” he answers. But it doesn’t sound like nothing. “I just have a favor to ask, and I think it would be best if I asked it in person. Do you mind stopping by the house tonight?”
I check my watch. It’s already eight o’clock. I’m in downtown LA, and my parents live in Malibu. If he’s asking me to drive there tonight instead of waiting until the morning, it must be important.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Good.” He breathes out a relieved breath. “Oh, and Merc?”
“Yeah?”
“You can say no, okay?”
My brows furrow as I stand in the empty hallway. “Say no to what, Dad?”
“I just want you to know that. Before you get here. You’re allowed to say no.”
