Page 82 of The Price of Scandal

“Riveting. Life-altering,” I muttered. “Where did our curvy friend go?”

“I babysat her until she said, and I quote, ‘Hashtag do you even ’gram?’” Derek said, in a spot-on impression of the breathy Theolonia. “And then I had to leave before I slapped the phone out of her hand and taught her how to make eye contact with people.”

We laughed until I had to grip his arm to stay upright.

“God, that felt good,” I said, swiping at the corners of my eyes.

“Allow me.” He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed around my eye makeup. We were close again. Surrounded by people yet somehow all alone in the center of everything.

I felt light. Esther’s text. Meeting a jelly-swilling kindred spirit. Sticking to my guns against my brother. And now watching Derek Price laugh.

The orchestra played a little trill announcing the beginning of the dinner service, and—with a hint of reluctance—we returned to the family table. My mother was swooning over Trey’s surprise appearance. My father was having trouble looking away from Theolonia’s chest. Fortunately, she had yet to raise her eyes from her phone and hadn’t noticed.

“You’re so terrible! Surprising your mother like this,” Mom crooned. Two more chairs were produced. Because of course Trey had neglected to RSVP. I wondered who would cough up the $40,000 for his and his date’s dinners. We all squeezed in together. It would have been cozy had it been any other family than our own. We were seated with the hospital dean of medicine and her wife as well as Bethenny and her boyfriend, Ed, a country music producer who wore cowboy boots with his tux.

My mother wiggled a finger at a passing waiter and pointed at her empty glass.

My knee was pressed up against Derek’s under the table, and damn if it didn’t feel like an anchor.

“You would not believe what those ridiculous society blogs are saying now,” Mom announced breathily. “Our Emily is quite the news item,” she explained in an aside to the dean.

“Yeah, so popular with her most recent arrest,” Trey said. He tapped his shot glass to Theolonia’s. “Cheers, babe.”

“Wait! Let me boomerang it,” Theolonia whined.

Derek leaned back in his chair and caught the arm of one of the waitstaff. “We’re going to need a very large bottle of tequila and several glasses,” he whispered. “It’s an emergency.”

The waiter glanced over Derek in the direction of where Trey and his date were making out while taking selfies. “Right away,” he promised.

“We’re not getting shit-faced,” I hissed at Derek.

“It’s not for us,” he said. “It’s for the rest of the table.”

“As I was saying, it seems the reporters think our Emily and Derek are scandalously dating,” my mother piped up, disappointed that attention had waned. “Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?”

Derek’s hand moved from the table to the back of my chair. Possessively, as if a challenge had been issued.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” still-pissed Trey asked. “She had to pay off the cops to get out of a drug bust. You think nailing the help is beneath her?”

“Dean Winters,” Derek said, addressing the dean of medicine. “What will the funds raised tonight be used for?”

Dean Winters, a statuesque woman in a glittery blue pantsuit, looked relieved. Her wife twisted in the seat to block out the rest of the table.

The waiter returned with a bottle of tequila on a silver platter and a ring of glasses.

While the polite conversation was taken care of, I leaned in. “Both of your opinions are unwelcome and entirely unnecessary,” I said. My tone was so cold I swore the flowers in the centerpiece wilted at the edges.

“Oh, darling. Don’t be so dramatic,” my mother said, waving her hand dismissively. “I was only saying that these tabloids are just desperate to link you toanyoneat all.”

That wasnotat all what she’d been saying.

“Why you refuse to find a respectable man and settle down is simply beyond me.” My mother was airing dirty family laundry in front of Bethenny while what was definitelynother second vodka tonic arrived.

Oh, she would have many, many regrets tomorrow.

“Venice, she’s running an empire. You can’t be serious that you want Emily to just shift her focus to finding a man,” Bethenny scoffed.

I could always count on my father’s ex-wife to get me in a way that my own mother couldn’t.