Chapter 59
GEORGINA
Where the heck is Reed? I’ve been looking for him for the past ten minutes, but I can’t find him anywhere.
And I can’t find Alessandra, either. I’m guessing she’s off in a quiet corner, chatting with Fish.
Or maybe even smooching Fish. Which, of course, would tickle me pink.
And would also provide a damned good reason not to be answering my texts.
But Reed is a different story. This is his party, so, why has he disappeared?
I’m bursting at the seams to talk to Reed—to tell him the news that I landed the interview of Isabel.
And, also, yes, to try to get to the bottom of the lies I think he and Isabel have both been telling me.
Does it matter to me how they met? No! But it sure as heck matters to me they both seem to be lying about it.
Thus far, I’ve done two laps around the ground floor areas, including the patio and pool, in my pursuit of Reed. And now I’m doing a lap of the entire upstairs, too—even though I can’t fathom Reed would have come up here while his party raged on below. But, again, I’m coming up empty. Crap.
I descend the staircase, feeling more and more frustrated with every step I take. At the bottom of the stairs, I run into Aloha Carmichael. She’s with Barry, Reed’s head of security. Getting a piggyback ride from him, actually. And when she sees me, she calls my name warmly.
“Reed told me to talk to you,” she says.
“Have you seen him recently?”
“Not recently. I saw him at the bar a while ago.”
“Which one?”
“The one by the French doors.” She points. “That one.”
I feel deflated. I passed that bar, not too long ago on one of my laps, and Reed was nowhere to be found. “Did Reed say where he was going, from there?”
Aloha purses her lips. “No, but while I was dancing after that, I saw him head out those French doors over there with Keane and Zander. Which can only mean one thing.”
She puts her index finger and thumb to her lips, like she’s smoking a joint. But I don’t think she’s right about that—because when I did a loop outside, not too long ago, I didn’t see Reed out there. Not with Keane and Zander or anyone else.
“So, about my interview,” Aloha says, laying her cheek on Barry’s broad shoulder from behind. “Daxy told me he and the Goats are going to give you a tour of Seattle. And Laila told me she’s going to make pottery with you. And Savage told me he’s taking you ATVing... “
I force myself to look into Aloha’s emerald green eyes, rather than looking around the party maniacally for Reed.
“Yeah, the idea is for the interviews to be fun and different and really personal. I’m hoping getting a glimpse of you guys doing something that’s meaningful to you, that’s outside of music, will inspire a different kind of conversation than the typical interview. ”
“I love that idea.” She pauses. “I go to children’s hospitals quite a bit, to cheer up sick kids. Would you maybe want to tag along on a day like that?”
“Sounds great. Let’s also make sure we talk about the success of your documentary. And I don’t mean the financial success. The impact it has had on mental health awareness.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Someone told me Reed helped get distribution for that film?”
“He sure did. Some people have said Reed only threw his weight behind the documentary for business reasons—you know, because a hit film would lead to more music sales, which, in turn, would line his pockets. And a few years ago, I probably would have believed that narrative. But the last few years, I’ve started to think there might be an actual beating heart inside Reed’s chest. I think he genuinely believed in the movie’s message and cause. ”
“Of course, he did,” Barry says.
“I know Reed comes off as all business sometimes,” Aloha says. “But, behind the scenes, he’s pretty generous with a bunch of charitable causes.”
Ping.
That cotton ball from earlier today turns into a stone.
Behind the scenes, Reed is pretty generous with a bunch of charitable causes.
“Do you know if Reed donates to a charity that helps families affected by cancer?” I ask, my heart racing.
“I’m not sure,” Aloha says. “But I wouldn’t be surprised. I know for sure Reed donates to several cancer charities. Of course, he’s extremely involved with The Superhero Project. And then there’s also...”
But I’ve stopped listening. Because, all of a sudden, that cotton ball that turned into a stone has now turned into a motherfucking brick.
Crash.
In rapid-fire succession, my brain connects the dots between several comments made by Kat, Aloha, and Reed himself.
Reed likes pulling strings.
Reed likes playing star-maker behind the scenes.
Reed secretly pulled strings to help Keane get the auditions he wanted.
Reed pulled strings to get Zander a job interview with Big Barry.
Reed pulled strings to help Hannah get a job interview at a movie studio.
Everybody’s got a price.
I clutch the banister on the staircase, feeling faint. Reed had something to do with that cancer charity paying for my salary! If there’s a cancer charity at all. Did he pull strings to get me my internship... because he wanted to fuck me?
But how could that be? CeeCee hired me, because she believes in me. She told me so herself, and she wouldn’t lie to me.
I’m so confused. Why would CeeCee hire me.
.. but Reed secretly pay my salary? Why the secrecy?
Am I crazy? Paranoid? Oh, fuck. Did Reed find CeeCee’s price?
Did Reed offer CeeCee unparalleled access to his entire roster for the special issue, plus, an in-depth interview of himself, if only she’d hire the fuck buddy of his choice?
No. I can’t believe CeeCee would have gone along with that! I simply won’t believe it. But my mind is reeling. My insecurity is raising its ugly head. Did I get this internship solely because some asshole—in this instance, Reed—wanted to get into my pants?
“Excuse me,” I say to Aloha, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to talk to Reed about something important.”
“No problemo. Just get my number from Reed or Owen.” She pinches Barry’s ear. “Come on, Big Barry! This cowgirl wants to dance!”
Practically hyperventilating, I sprint toward a set of French doors leading outside.
But when I get outside and race around like a chicken with my head cut off, I still don’t see Reed anywhere.
Not on the patio. Not by the pool. Not in the area just outside the garage where some of the members of Fugitive Summer and Watch Party are playing a rowdy game of corn hole.
Frustrated, I turn around, intending to march back toward the house. .. but freeze on a dime.
The garage.
It’s the only place I haven’t looked for Reed.
But what the hell would he be doing in there, with the party raging on out here? Oh! Maybe he’s showing someone his car collection! Yes, that must be it. Reed is giving some buddy or VIP a tour of his beloved cars.
My heart exploding, I turn around again and head down the path, telling myself the whole time I’m being paranoid—that there’s no way Reed had anything to do with my salary or CeeCee’s decision to hire me.
CeeCee would never betray me like that. And neither would Reed.
He’s a liar, for sure. But only about highly personal things.
Also, small things, sometimes, as well, for reasons that elude me.
But he would never lie to me about something so important.
But if he did, he certainly wouldn’t continue lying to me, after I told him about Mr.—
The side door to the garage opens, and to my shock—and heartbreak—Reed and Isabel step through the doorframe, exiting the garage.
I’m standing, frozen, about ten feet away from them.
And the minute Reed and Isabel see me, they freeze, too.
And, instantly, from Reed’s stiff body language and the guilty expression on his face, I know he’s just been caught red-handed.
Remorse washes over his guilty face. Followed immediately by barely contained panic.
I shift my gaze to Isabel, hoping whatever I see there will make everything okay.
But, no, Isabel’s face only makes matters worse.
Her lipstick is smeared. Her hair disheveled.
In short, she’s a hot mess—a woman who just got fucked.
She wipes her mouth—apparently trying to remove the evidence of Reed’s mouth on hers—and a cavalcade of emotions flood me.
Rage. Hurt. Rejection. Heartbreak. And then nothing but rage, rage, rage, rage, rage.
But, somehow, I manage to disassociate from my white-hot emotions, long enough to get through this mortifying moment.
“Hello, Isabel,” I say calmly, like a sniper looking through a scope. I shift my gaze to Reed, my eyes like lasers. “Reed.”
“Hello again!” Isabel says, sounding nervous. Is she worried I’ll run straight to her billionaire fiancé and tell him what I’ve just seen?
“Reed was just showing me his cars,” Isabel blurts.
“Oh, yeah?” I say. “I’ve heard about them, but haven’t seen them for myself. Are they pretty?”
“Very pretty.”
I return to Reed, my nostrils flaring. “Would you be willing to show me your pretty cars, Mr. Rivers? I’d love to see them. Maybe I could feature them in my article about you.”
Reed’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Sure.”
“I should probably find Howard,” Isabel says, walking briskly past me. “I’m sure he’s looking for me.”
When Isabel is gone, Reed steps toward me, his palms raised. He whispers, “Georgina, I know how this looks.”
I point toward the garage. “Turn your lying, cheating ass around and get into that fucking garage. I’m not going to do this out here.”