Damage Control

CHAPTER 1

"Okay, so let me get this straight."

I look at my best friend, Mischa Collins, the erratic, scatter-brained but brilliant painter, and groan. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Mischa sips her iced latte loudly, drawing the attention of the customers near our table. I fake a smile and apologize on her behalf since she's clearly not fit for any social interaction. This is what you get when you stay cooped up in your room, meditating on some
Buddhist shit because you're having a mental block on your final painting project. Calling out to her muses, she says.

"But it's just so, what you call it?" she scrunches up her face in deep thought and grins, "dreamy."

I make a gagging face at her. "Ugh."

"So now what? Are you like a thing or something?"

"No. We barely even know each other," I sigh. "And I told you what happened at the gala."

"But he called you his girlfriend in public, Aria," Mischa smirks. "That video made it to the tabloids, not to mention on the local news."

I slumped down the table, my bangs flopping on my eyes. I blow them away to the side. "Please don't remind me. My dad has been on my ass since it happened. He's trying his best to put the video down."

"What about Brooklyn?" she asks. "How is he playing this out? I bet his father was very angry with him. It was the summer gala for god sake."

"I don't know," I huff, "and I don't care. He's probably used to causing scandal. Remember last year when he streaked butt-naked on the football field because he lost a bet? Mayor Cotterill aged terribly because of that."

"How lucky to be the son of such a powerful man," Mischa pouts. "I wish daddy can solve my problems away like Mayor Cotterill."

I laugh and look up at her, still slumped on the table like a potato. "Ha! What the fuck ever, bitch. Your father would give you the moon if you ask."

"Well that, I can't disagree. What can I say? I'm just that loveable," she winks.

"How does Ryker put up with your shit?"

"He's obliged to. He's my brother."

I straighten up just as my phone starts ringing. An unknown number flashes on the screen.

Mischa sees the screen and chuckles, "Aww poor baby, another one of those tabloids asking for an interview again?"

I cancel the call. "Why do they even have my number? I swear I've been getting non-stop calls since last week. It's like I'm public property now."

"Does your father know?"

"He does. He told me not to answer any of them. He says since I've already caused enough trouble, the only thing that would help my case will be keeping my mouth shut."

"Ooooh, daddy is angry at little princess Aria."

"No shit sherlock," I deadpan.

My phone starts ringing again. I look at the screen and Isla's name comes into view. I swipe to answer.

"Hey Isla," I greet, "what's up?"

"Aria," she breathes, "where are you?"

"I'm with Mischa at the university café. Why?"

"Okay, cool, umm ... well ... don't go anywhere, okay? I'm coming," she drops the call.

"That's weird," Mischa states. "Isla's never the one to come, she's always the one inviting."