Chapter 37 Georgina
GEORGINA
Reed heads to his home office to make a few calls before it’s time to leave for his attorney’s office, so I hang back in the kitchen to help Amalia clean up from breakfast. In part, because I genuinely want to be helpful.
Reed and I made the mess, after all, and I’d be embarrassed to leave it for someone else to deal with.
But, also, because I’m dying to talk to Amalia about Reed.
What was Reed like as a little boy? What is he like as an adult boss?
And, also, what can Amalia tell me about Reed’s relationship with his mother?
I can’t yet envision all the themes of my eventual article, but Reed’s lovely relationship with his mother brings a whole new depth to him that people never see, and I’m thinking maybe I’ll use it as a touchstone in my article.
.. if, indeed, it’s everything Reed said it was.
I was probably imagining it, but I thought I noticed a strange tightness in Reed’s demeanor, just for a moment, when he was telling me about his mother’s happy life in Scarsdale last night.
And I’m curious to know if Amalia might be able to shed any light on the topic for me.
Amalia and I are standing side by side at the sink. She’s the washer in yellow rubber gloves. I’m the dryer, holding a towel.
“When we’re done here, how about we make your list?” Amalia says, her tone as warm and maternal as her body language.
“I’m sorry... My list?”
She hands me a cutting board to dry. “The list of whatever you’d like to have in the house during your stay. Your favorite foods and snacks and toiletries. Like Reed said.”
“Oh, that.” I wave at the air. “Thank you so much, but I don’t need anything.”
Amalia smiles like I’ve said something amusing. “Reed was very clear. He won’t accept ‘Georgina said she doesn’t need anything’ as an answer from me, I’m afraid.”
I protest. She insists. So, I say, “How about you do for me whatever stuff you normally do in situations like this?”
She looks at me blankly. “In situations like what?”
I take the pan Amalia hands me. “You know, whenever Reed has a house guest for an extended period. He mentioned he sometimes invites bands to stay here for weeks, even months, at a time, right?”
“Well, yes. But he’s never once asked me to roll out the red carpet for a band the way he did for you. Quite the opposite.” She chuckles. “When it comes to musicians staying here, Reed pretty much always says, ‘They’ll take what I give them and like it.’”
I chuckle with her. “That sounds like him.”
“Yes, it does. Which makes what he said about you all the more remarkable.” She stops scrubbing the plate in her hand and looks at me.
“Honestly, this is uncharted territory for me. Reed has never once asked a woman to stay here with him for an extended period. And he’s certainly never asked me to roll out the red carpet for one. ”
My lips part in surprise.
“Oh, goodness. I hope I’m not out of line telling you that,” Amalia says.
“No. Not at all.” My heart resumes beating again. “Thank you for telling me. It’s a wonderful thing to know.”
“You’ve obviously made quite an impression on him.” She flashes a sweet smile. “And I can certainly see why.”
Color rises in my cheeks. “Thank you. Reed has made quite an impression on me, too.”
Amalia clearly likes that answer. Smiling, she resumes her work at the sink. “What do you do, Georgina? Are you in the entertainment industry? An actress or model?”
“Oh, no. I’m journalist.” My soul swells with pride to be able to say that sentence. “I write for Rock ‘n’ Roll. The magazine about music?”
“Yes, I know it. How wonderful.”
“I’m working hard to get onto the writing staff of this other magazine owned by the same company, a publication devoted to in-depth interviews and investigative journalism.”
“Oh, how exciting. Good luck.”
Imposter syndrome suddenly hits me hard. “Actually, I should clarify: I’m only a summer intern at Rock ‘n’ Roll. I just graduated from UCLA, and this is my first real job. But I’m going to work very hard, and do everything in my power to nab a permanent writing position after the summer.”
Amalia hands me a plate to dry. “I have no doubt you’ll get whatever position you desire.”
Oh, God. Is Amalia putting two and two together right now—piecing together the facts that I’m a summer intern at Rock ‘n’ Roll, a music magazine, and, huh, what a coincidence, I’m also staying with Reed, the head of a music label, for the entire summer?
Crap. When I said I was going to do “everything” in my power to nab a permanent position, did Amalia secretly snicker to herself and think, Everything, including Reed.
“The magazine assigned me to do an in-depth interview of Reed,” I blurt, feeling the need to make it clear to Amalia I got my job because of my writing skills—and not because of any help from Reed.
“I’ll be following Reed around and writing about him for my article, so he invited me to stay here for the summer to make things more convenient. ”
She smiles kindly. “Well, that makes perfect sense.” She peels off her yellow rubber gloves. “I hope everything works out for you and your career, exactly as you’re hoping, Georgie. May I call you Georgie?”
“Yes, I love being called that.”
Shit. Now, I feel like I went overboard making Reed and me seem like nothing but interviewer and interviewee. Clearly, she knows there’s more to it than that, seeing as how Reed has invited me to stay here for the entire summer, and he’s never done that before. I don’t want her to think I’m a liar.
“But, you know, besides the interview, Reed and I have also clicked personally,” I say quickly. “He’s been so sweet.”
“I’m so glad,” she says. And there’s no judgment whatsoever in her tone.
She puts her sponge and gloves and dishwashing soap away, and moves to the refrigerator.
Which is where she begins pulling out ingredients and putting them onto the island.
“Don’t feel like you have to stay here with me, Georgie.
I love the company, but I’m sure you’re very busy. ”
“I’m not, actually. I’m just waiting for Reed to finish his calls. What’s all this for?” I motion to the items she’s placing on the island.
“I’m making a big pot of Reed’s favorite chicken tortilla soup for dinner tonight. He asked me to make ‘dinner for two.’”
I blush at the knowing look in her eye. She’s sweet and nonjudgmental, but she’s no fool. She knows exactly what’s going on between Reed and me. Of course.
“Would you like some help making the soup?” I ask, my pulse pounding. “I’m a terrible cook—the absolute worst—so don’t get too excited about my offer. But I can certainly help chop vegetables, if you don’t mind a random finger in with your chopped onions.”
She laughs. “No fingers, please. And, yes, I’d love your help.
” She grabs a cutting board and knife for me, and hands me an apron.
“Reed likes this particular recipe because my version is filled with super foods. He’s usually quite strict about what he eats.
Fitness and nutrition are passions for him. ”
“Yes, he’s mentioned that. Not that he needed to say it out loud.
His body makes it pretty clear he takes excellent care of himself.
” I press my lips together again. What the hell is wrong with me?
This is Reed’s second mother, and I’ve just implied I’ve seen him naked?
Seriously, I know I grew up without a mother, but this is ridiculous.
Thankfully, though, Amalia seems unfazed by my stumbling. In fact, she seems nothing but charmed—the same way CeeCee was when we had coffee together after the panel discussion.
Without missing a beat, she gives me some instruction, including showing me how to make a claw with my left hand while chopping so I don’t cut off my fingers, and then puts me to work.
And, in short order, I’m a regular sous chef, chopping away at vegetables while Amalia sautées onions at a burner across from me.
As we work at our stations, we chat easily, and Amalia’s maternal demeanor calms me, reassuring me with each passing minute she’s not judging me for having a fling with her much older, and powerful, boss.
Amalia asks me questions, and, soon, I’m telling her about my life—my schooling and family.
And I return the favor, drawing her out by asking her questions about her large family, which, it turns out, includes lots of beloved grandchildren.
Finally, about twenty minutes into our conversation, I feel comfortable enough to broach my primary topic of interest.
“So, Reed tells me you’ve known him his whole life?”
“Yes, I was there when they brought tiny little Reed Charlemagne Rivers home from the hospital, looking as sweet as can be.” She chuckles. “He’s not tiny anymore, obviously, but he’s still as sweet as can be.”
Yes, he is, I think. Followed immediately by, Wow, what a difference a day makes.
Because, as late as yesterday, I never would have believed anyone would describe Reed Rivers as “sweet.” But here I am, thinking that word describes him perfectly, after the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours.
Indeed, just this fast, I’m thinking there might be even more sweetness to Reed than I’ve seen. More than I ever thought possible.
But back to work.
I’ve got a job to do.
And I’m pretty sure Amalia, who’s known Reed his entire life, is the perfect person to give me insight into this fiercely private man.
I say, “It’s clear Reed feels exactly the same way about you, Amalia—that you’re sweet as can be. Just this morning, he was telling me about his family, and he explicitly said he considers you a member of his family.”
She stops what she’s doing and looks at me, floored. “Reed said that?”