Page 14 of Scandal
This is—what the fuck?
I have to be hallucinating.
Because in the distance, walking on the side of the road is Mercury Creed.
I don’t know how long I sit there on the side of the road, just staring at her, convinced she’s some kind of mirage.
She’s dressed more casually than I ever remember, in tight leggings, trainers, and a long plaid coat. Even in running shoes, she manages to make it look elegant. Regal, even.
Then she trips on a rock.
A slew of curses follows.
I guess this proves she’s not a mirage. It’s probably for the best. Conjuring images of my bandmate’s little sister out of the blue doesn’t seem wise.
Since she seems largely unaware of her surroundings, I decide to make my presence known before a car passes or she trips over another rock.
I pull onto the road and drive at a snail’s pace until I reach her.
She doesn’t look up.
I ease my foot off the gas and let the car crawl along beside her. I roll down the window. Still, she doesn’t look up.
“Did I ask for a tour of Edinburgh? No, I did not. But did I get one? Yes. Yes, I did. All three fucking hours. And the cab fare to match it.” At first, I think she’s speaking to me, but the way she’s waving her hands and staring at the ground gives me the impression that she’s actually talking to herself. “You should have demanded he drop you off, Mercury,my dad would have said,” she continues. “Like, I didn’t think of that. But what are you supposed to do when the sweet old man won’t shut up for half a second because he’s so damn excited to drive the lonely little American around? Ugh!” She stomps her foot in the dirt.
Christ. She’s been through it, hasn’t she?
I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do, but it has to be done. There’s really no way around it.
I clear my throat.
She jumps nearly a mile off the ground, squealing like a banshee. Her purse goes flying. Her luggage tumbles to the ground.
Okay, I could have probably done that differently.
I put the car in park as her eyes finally meet mine. “Asher?”
I lean over the passenger seat and give a half wave. “Hello, Mercury.”
She bends down to pick up her purse and the few things that fell out. I try not to notice how good her legs look, so I keep my attention on her face, which is unfortunately also rather attractive.
God, I hope this is just some random coincidence.
I really hope she isn’t here for?—
“What are you doing here?” she asks, straightening to her full height once more.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is my country, Merc. I think the better question is what you are doing here.”
Her cheeks instantly redden. “I came here for you.”
Well, fuck.
After I help her load her bags into the car, she begins updating me on how she ended up alone on the road between Blackstone and Iverloch.
“When I landed in Edinburgh, I?—”
“Can we back up for a second?” I ask, interrupting her. My parents would be appalled by my lack of manners, but they’re both convinced my time in America has completely ruined me anyway. “I’m still hung up on the first part of your story. You got on a plane and flew to Scotland because my bandmates asked you to?”
