Chapter 79 Georgina
GEORGINA
Itell Reed everything I know about Troy Eklund.
How I read his lawsuit and then tracked him down at Slingers and cleverly pumped him for information without him realizing it.
I tell him about Troy’s unmistakable hints and body language, and finally, those two little words—Francesca Laramie—that sent me straight to Google, which then led me to deducing Isabel’s secret, as well as causing me to assume that Reed must have hired Isabel to be his “blind date” on the night of CeeCee’s fiftieth birthday party.
And, last but not least, I tell Reed about my visit to Francesca’s restaurant downtown, although I don’t drop the bomb on Reed, just yet, about my firmly held belief that Howard Devlin is a sexual predator who’s been getting a free pass for decades because he happens to be a wildly successful billionaire movie producer.
I’m going to tell Reed about Howard during this conversation, of course.
But later. I feel like Reed and I have plenty to talk about, before we get to that.
I take Reed’s hand. “I want you to know Isabel’s secret is safe with me. And so is yours. Assuming I’m right about you hiring Isabel through Francesca.”
“Yes, you’re right about that.”
“I figured. Rented tux, rented limo, rented girl...”
He nods. “CeeCee’s party was actually the last time Isabel ever worked for Francesca. We spent the night together after the party. We hit it off. And I got to feeling a bit protective. Not to mention, possessive.”
“You? Shocker.”
He smiles. “I offered to pay Isabel’s rent for the next year, so she could quit her gig with Francesca and afford to live on nothing but modeling and waiting tables, while she went to auditions and tried to get her big break.”
My heart melts. Why doesn’t it surprise me to learn Reed forked over a year’s worth of rent for Isabel?
Or, that Isabel took the deal and quit working for Francesca for him.
I can only imagine how hard Isabel must have fallen for the dashing, young client she met the night of CeeCee’s party.
The smoking hot, scrappy dude who looked better in a rented tux than every millionaire or billionaire at that party with ten tuxes in their closets.
In fact, I’d bet anything it was love at first sight for Isabel, when Reed got out of that rented limo to pick her up in front of McDonald’s.
And, judging from that surveillance video, she never fell out of love with him, for the next ten years.
I can relate. Lying here naked with Reed, I’m certain I’ll never fall out of love with him, either. God help me.
“Isabel and I weren’t even an exclusive couple when I told her I wanted to pay her rent, so she could quit Francesca.
Our serious relationship came a couple years later.
But, right from the start, no matter what, or who, she was doing, I didn’t want her doing it for money.
I always knew she was going to be a star.
I wanted to free her up from taking shitty jobs just to pay the rent.
I wanted her to make smart decisions for her career. ”
Oh, Reed. Some things never change. He was a star-maker, right from the start. A man who took intense pleasure from helping others achieve their dreams and shoot for the stars. And he doesn’t think he was Isabel’s Prince Charming? Clearly, he was, right from night one.
Reed says, “It’s funny, at one point, I had a feeling you knew about Troy.
But I convinced myself I was being paranoid.
Remember that night I drove all over town, looking for your car outside of bars and clubs?
I drove to Slingers that night, looking for you, because I found Troy’s name on their performance schedule. ”
I gasp. “We must have just missed each other!”
“When I got there, the bartender said Troy had left with a blonde fifteen minutes before.”
“Holy hell. Thank God you didn’t run into him. Now that I know what I do, I never would have dropped that hint about what I was doing that night. I’d never want you and Troy to be in the same room. It wouldn’t have ended well. And rightly so. He’s such a douchebag.”
Reed glowers. “If I’d walked into that bar and found that fucker hitting on you, it’s fifty-fifty I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from wrapping my hands around his throat and squeezing the life out of him, right then and there.” His dark eyes flicker, and I know he’s dead serious.
“Is it wrong I get turned on when you look like you’re genuinely capable of committing murder?”
“Everyone is capable of murder, under the right circumstances.” His eyes flash. “And you’re my right circumstance.”
I bite my lip.
“As it is, I might have to settle this time for suing Troy’s punk-ass for breaching his confidentiality agreement. Tell me again everything he said to you that night. This time, word for word.”
I tell him everything Troy told me, and, when I’m done, we both conclude Reed probably wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on, thanks to the fact that it was mostly Troy’s facial expressions and body language, combined with my clever deductions, that led me to discover the most salacious and sensitive nuggets of information.
Plus, would Reed really want to reopen that particular wound, in a forum as public as a lawsuit, now that Reed’s fame is a hundred times what it was when Troy sued him six years ago?
The answer to that question, we both decide, is a resounding no.
“You were enraged Troy slept with Isabel, huh?”
“I was pissed he slept with Isabel. Yeah. Not gonna lie. But, more than that, I was enraged he betrayed me. When Troy slept with Isabel, I’d already broken up with her months before.
So, she wasn’t cheating on me. I didn’t care if she fucked other people.
I was doing the same. But Troy fucking her?
That was a dagger to my heart.” He shakes his head.
“I’d loved that asshole like a little brother.
I’d taken him into my home and under my wing.
I’d poured obscene amounts of money into his band and guided him every step of the way.
I’d believed in him and backed him with my name and reputation.
And then, Troy had to pick Isabel, of all the women in LA, to fuck?
And more than that, he had to do it a mere two weeks before his debut album was set to drop?
I couldn’t believe it. She’d come over lots of times while Troy and his band were staying at my house.
He knew all about our relationship. I’d even told him about her one night over tequila. Pfft. Talk about a backstabber.”
“Her plan worked, though. You got back together with her after that. Exclusively. For two years.”
“Yep. It worked like a charm.”
“So, as pissed as you were at Troy, I can’t imagine you would have gone that scorched-earth on him, if it weren’t for your love for Isabel.”
He looks at me like I’ve just said two plus two equals five. “That’s what you think? That I dropped Troy’s band, and tanked his release, and lost all that money, and all that time and effort because he fucked Isabel? Because you think I loved Isabel, that much?”
“Well... yeah.”
He scoffs. “I beat the shit out of Troy because he betrayed me with Isabel. And because I was jealous as fuck. But the reason I destroyed Troy’s career had nothing to do with Isabel.
I’m a businessman, Georgie. I ruined that motherfucker because I’d discovered, thanks to Isabel, he’d put my reputation—my entire label—everything I’d worked so hard to create—at risk.
More than anything, that’s the reason I’ll always be grateful to Isabel and have her back.
Because she had mine regarding Troy, big-time. ”
I furrow my brow. “But she slept with him.”
“To make me jealous. Yeah. But it’s what she did afterwards that’s the true measure of her heart.
Her loyalty. Apparently, when Isabel and Troy were spending some ‘alone time’ together in the sack, he played her his band’s upcoming debut album.
According to what Isabel told me, Troy started bragging about how he’d come up with each song on the album, what his ‘inspirations’ were, blah, blah.
And during that conversation, that little shit started bragging to her about how he’d basically ripped off some no-name band’s lyrics and melodies on three tracks! ”
I gasp.
“Thank God, Isabel had my back, despite everything. She came straight to me to tell me what he’d said to her. And I immediately went and listened to the songs that had ‘inspired’ Troy, and, holy fuck, he’d literally stolen them, practically note for note and word for word.”
“Oh my God.”
“I mean, all music is derivative in some way. All new songs have been influenced by whatever came before. But there was no question this was outright thievery. Textbook copyright infringement. And on three fucking songs.” Reed scoffs.
“That I knew of. God only knows how many more songs he’d ripped off.
So, anyway, right then and there, I knew I couldn’t release the album.
No way. If someone had figured out the link to those stolen songs after release, River Records never would’ve weathered the shit storm.
We were too new. Still building our reputation. It would have been fatal.”
I’m blown away. “This whole time I thought you destroyed Troy because of how much you loved Isabel.”
Reed scoffs. “No. I would have released that album, despite Troy sleeping with Isabel, if it hadn’t been for those stolen songs. Although, admittedly, I still would have beaten the shit out of him for fucking Isabel.”
I can’t help chuckling. “What happened with that? Did you head out, expressly planning to beat him up? Or was it a spur of the moment thing?”