Chapter 21 Reed
REED
As I cross the room toward Georgina, muted music from a distant part of the stadium begins wafting through the walls of the small room—the sound of the opening band, kicking off their short set.
I unbutton my suit jacket and take the armchair across from Georgina. The one formerly occupied by Caleb. I place my ankle on my knee. And exhale. “Congratulations,” I say calmly.
“On what?” Her gorgeous features are etched with anxiety. Obviously, she’s wondering where things stand between us, given her fiery, early-morning exit from the front of my house a week ago.
“On the new job,” I say. “And your graduation. I presume you graduated last week, as planned?”
She nods. “I’m officially a UCLA alum. Go, Bruins. I’m actually the first college grad in my family. My dad couldn’t stop crying.” She presses her lips together, like she’s forcibly keeping herself from rambling further.
I can’t help but smile at her adorableness. “That’s awesome,” I say. “I’m sure your parents are insanely proud of you.”
Something flickers across her pretty face that makes me question my words.
Have I just unwittingly highlighted the age gap between us—come off like a friend of her father’s?
Or could it be her parents aren’t proud of her, for some reason?
I can’t imagine that’s the case, but I suppose it’s possible they wanted her to study something other than journalism?
When I don’t speak for a long moment, but instead opt to stare her down and revel in her obvious anxiety, Georgina puts her hands into her lap, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She bites her lower lip. Fidgets. And then, “How was New York?”
“Busy, productive, fun, exhausting, and highly lucrative.”
“Oh. That sounds good.”
“It was. Very good.”
I fall silent again, enjoying the way my silence turns her breathing shallow.
The way it brings a flush to her cheeks and cleavage.
Yeah, I’m being a bastard. Making her sweat, simply to amuse myself.
Well, and also to punish her a tiny bit for the way she double-flipped me off.
For fuck’s sake, Georgina was the one with a music demo in her pocket.
Not me. She was the one with a hidden agenda.
And yet, she had the audacity to flip me off and screech away in an Uber, leaving me standing there, after I’d stooped to begging her to come inside?
When was the last time I begged anyone for anything?
And yet, Georgina made me do it, just that fucking fast. Well, never again. That’s for fucking sure.
“So you wanted to have a little chat... ?” she prompts, her voice tight.
I pick at a piece of lint on my suit jacket. “Yes.” I pause again, for dramatic effect. “This plan for you to join RCR on tour this coming week?”
She nods.
“It’s the first I’m hearing about it, and I don’t approve. You’ll have to find something else to do this week. Tagging along on RCR’s tour is off.”
“What?” she blurts. For a moment, she gapes like a fish on a line, before shouting, “You can’t do that, Reed!”
“I just did.”
“CeeCee cleared the whole thing with Owen! Owen helped arrange it!”
“And Owen works for me. Well, he used to. If he arranged that shit show of an idea, then he’s fired.”
She turns pale.
“I’m joking. Owen is bulletproof. Ask anyone.”
“Reed, you can’t call everything off. CeeCee is excited about the idea, and so am I. And so is the band. Just now, when I was talking to all four of them about it in the greenroom, they said—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what the band said. The plan wasn’t cleared through me. And I don’t like it. I think it’s an unoriginal, tired idea that’s already been done a thousand times. Ever seen Almost Famous?”
She’s flabbergasted. “Well, granted, we might not be inventing the wheel here, but who cares? Readers will eat it up. What fan wouldn’t want to tag along with RCR on tour, through me? It’s every music lover’s fantasy. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to peek behind the—”
“Stop trying to sell me. It’s dead. Move on.”
She consciously shuts her gaping mouth. “But... Reed, I’ve got hotel rooms booked for the entire week!”
Oh, Georgina. I resist the urge to chuckle at her indignation.
Her naiveté. As if the tragedy of a few unused hotel rooms would stop the world spinning on its axis.
If I’d forgotten Georgina is only twenty-one, I was just now reminded of it.
“Hotel room reservations are almost always refundable,” I say calmly to my little kitten, trying not to smile at her lack of real-world experience.
“And if not, then I’ll reimburse Rock ‘n’ Roll for any expense, seeing as how the rooms were booked after coordination with Owen.
Who, to be clear, will be out of a job after this, I promise you that. ”
Again, she looks pained.
“Kidding again. Get used to it. It’s a running joke.”
Georgina rubs her face, distraught. And, for a moment, I feel kind of sorry for the poor little thing.
She looks like a possum caught in an iron trap.
Like a little lamb being carted off to slaughter.
But, to my surprise, after a few deep breaths, she visibly gathers her strength and straps on her warrior’s armor.
Suddenly, the simpering twenty-one-year-old vanishes, supplanted by the same fierce superhero I witnessed in front of my house the other night.
Georgina’s eyes are sharp now. Her nostrils flaring.
After one more deep breath, she puffs out her spectacular chest and lets me have it.
“I won’t let you do this,” she says, her eyes ablaze.
“CeeCee made it very clear to me she’s my boss, not you.
She also said you explicitly agreed we’re not churning out propaganda for River Records here—we’re independent journalists.
You’ve expressly agreed CeeCee’s got full editorial control, and CeeCee, my boss, has decided I’m touring with RCR this entire week. ”
A faint smile lifts the corners of Georgina’s indignant mouth, like she thinks she’s dealt me a death blow with her little speech.
And, once again, I find myself fighting not to smile.
Holy shit, she’s fucking adorable. Irresistible.
Feisty. Glorious. Oh, how I wish she could sing, even a little bit.
Because the girl’s got star power in spades, in a way truckloads of wannabe actresses and models and pop stars would kill for.
“Everything you’ve said is exactly right,” I reply.
“Especially the part about you being CeeCee’s employee, not mine.
In fact, I wouldn’t have agreed to this arrangement if it created any kind of employer-employee relationship between you and me.
” I lean forward, my eyes on fire. “And do you know why I didn’t want you as my employee, little Georgina? ”
Her chest rises sharply. Her nostrils flare again. She shakes her head.
I smile. “Because I never fuck my own employees.”
Georgina’s lips part with surprise at my obvious implication, left unsaid: but I have no problem fucking one of CeeCee’s.
“Well, news flash,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re not going to fuck me, either, no matter whose employee I am.
” She leans forward, cutting the distance between us in half.
“And do you know why you’re not going to fuck me, Mr. Rivers?
” She’s close enough for me to see the caramel flecks in her hazel eyes.
To smell her shampoo and moisturizer and toothpaste. “Because. I. Don’t. Fuck. Assholes.”
I can’t help smirking at her bald-faced lie. “Well, so much for you fucking C-Bomb, then. That’s a relief.”
She clenches her jaw, clearly annoyed, but says nothing.
I cock my head. “So, that’s your clever way of telling me, yet again, that I’m an asshole?”
“Seems like a logical deduction to make from what I just said.”
“Well, that’s an interesting interpretation. Between the two of us, I think any reasonable person would say you acted like a far bigger asshole the other night than me.”
Her eyebrows furrow sharply. “Are you high? You were a colossal dick to me, Reed.”
“Oh, really? Huh. I didn’t tell anyone to fuck off and die. And I’m certainly not the one who had a demo in my pocket the entire time we were flirting. Just a boner, which certainly doesn’t qualify as a hidden agenda.”
“Ha! You want to talk about hidden agendas?” she booms, her glorious temper rising and reddening her cheeks.
“Every word out of your mouth that night was a lie, designed to get you into my panties. You think it’s not a hidden agenda to pretend to give a rat’s ass about what a woman says, to pretend to care about having a conversation with her, for the sole purpose of ‘seducing’ her?
I know you’re a hundred-and-five and all, but we kids these days call men like you ‘fuckboys,’ Reed. And it’s not a compliment.”
“Getting you into my bed wasn’t my hidden agenda, Georgina.
It was my expressly stated goal. I explicitly told you, straight-up, I wasn’t interested in dating you.
Only seducing you. Maybe you ‘kids’ today aren’t familiar with the art of seduction, so let me translate for you.
The entire purpose of it is getting to the fucking part.
So, please, enlighten me. Tell me, what was I hiding from you that night? Name one fucking thing.”
She opens and closes her mouth, at a loss for words.
“I thought so,” I say, leaning back in victory.