Chapter 89 Reed
REED
Music is blaring. Bright lights flashing.
And I’m a little bit drunk. Not because I’m having fun at this stupid birthday party at my Las Vegas nightclub.
But because I’m not. Because after the past six weeks of bliss with Georgina, I can’t stand being away from her.
Because I’d rather be shitfaced than have to stand here, completely sober, wishing I were home with my baby.
Because, as this five-day business trip has taught me, I’m now hopelessly incapable of being away from Georgina for even one night—let alone, five.
The Old Reed traipsed around the world for weeks at a time, without a care in the world.
Not missing anyone. Fucking whoever. Never truly letting anyone get to know the man behind The Man with the Midas Touch.
But now, it’s abundantly clear: The Old Reed is dead.
And The New Reed is totally, madly, irrevocably in love with the siren, the bombshell, the fireball known as Georgina Ricci.
It’s been a productive trip, from a business standpoint.
In San Francisco, Seattle, Phoenix, and Boise, I’ve scouted bands, checked out potential real estate investments, and attended meetings.
All stuff I really needed to do, after six weeks of ignoring far too much work to hunker down in my house with Georgina.
I’ve survived it all, but just barely, knowing it was all stuff I legitimately had to do for work.
But, tonight, I’m losing my mind, since this party isn’t work related and I’d much rather be home with Georgina.
I’m hosting a birthday party for an old fraternity brother named Alonso in my nightclub tonight, and, I swear, if it weren’t for an important meeting tomorrow with some business partners here in Vegas, I’d already have hopped a plane back to Georgina.
I tried to get her to come with me on this trip, but she said she had too much work to do.
Her final artist interviews to polish. Her Gates article to finalize.
Also, the one about me to edit. Plus, on top of all that, Georgina said she’s still trying her mighty best to get someone to talk to her, on the record, about Howard Devlin.
It’s looking pretty unlikely she’s going to be able to pull that particular rabbit out of her hat, despite how hard she’s tried over the past six weeks.
But, still, she’s not ready to give up. Which doesn’t surprise me.
Georgina Ricci is nothing if not persistent.
Someone jostles my shoulder on their way to the dance floor, and I’m jolted back to my present surroundings.
I’m standing near the dance floor with three of my old fraternity brothers—Henn, Luke, and the birthday boy, Alonso—plus, Ethan, an old friend from UCLA who wasn’t in my fraternity, but is friendly with that whole group, thanks to regular poker parties at my house the past several years.
I tune into the conversation happening around me and discover Ethan, a successful producer of indie flicks, is telling the group a “behind the scenes” story from one of the films he’s produced.
Luke and Alonso are listening intently and laughing.
But not Henn. He’s glued to his phone, looking anxious.
As I watch Henn furiously tapping out a text, my drunken eyes fixate on the gleam of his metal wedding ring.
And, much to my shock, I find myself envying him for that ring.
For being a marked man. For getting to broadcast to the world, he’s got a wife somewhere in the world.
A woman who pledged her eternal love to him in a legally binding ceremony.
I look down at my bare ring finger and think it must be cool to have a ring like Henn’s. I mean, assuming the woman wearing my ring, in return, was Georgina.
“Reed?”
I look up. It’s Alonso talking to me. The birthday boy. He’s pointing at my empty glass, asking me if I want a refill.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Henn?” Alonso asks.
Henn barely looks up from his phone. “No. Thanks.”
Alonso takes my empty and heads to the bar, at which point I lean into Henn.
“Everything all right, buddy?”
Henn sighs and looks up from his phone. “Hazel’s running a high fever. Hannah’s at Urgent Care with her now. I’m totally freaking out.” He rubs his forehead and, again, my drunken eyes notice the gleam of his wedding band. “Hazel’s never had a high fever. Only low-grade ones when she’s teething.”
“Reed!” a female voice says, drawing my attention away from Henn.
It’s Corinne. An ex-girlfriend of mine. An actress I dated exclusively for about three months a couple years ago, until boredom set in—at least, for me.
I hug Corinne hello. She kisses my cheek and links her arm in mine as I quickly introduce her to my friends.
After introductions have been made, she pulls me aside and tells me she’s elated she ran into me tonight because she’s been thinking about me a lot lately—a ton, actually.
In fact, she had a dream about me, just the other night!
A really sexy one! Ha, ha! Which made her wonder if maybe we should—
I cut her off. Tell her I’ve got a girlfriend.
And that’s when it hits me, like a Mack truck.
Girlfriend isn’t enough. Even as I say the paltry word, I can plainly see Corinne’s lack of respect for it.
And why not? It’s what Corinne was to me, once, not that long ago.
And she wasn’t anything special to me, though I liked her well enough.
She was nothing but a brief distraction.
Not even in the same universe as Georgina.
Suddenly, I can’t stand the hideous word.
Girlfriend. How can I use that word to describe Georgina, when I’ve already used it on someone like Corinne?
And so many others before her? Georgina is the sun.
And every woman who came before her, an LED lightbulb.
And yet, here I am, slapping Georgina with the same label used for Corinne and everyone else? Shame on me.
In a flash, I’m desperate to get away from Corinne.
So, I tell her there’s someone she has to meet.
I tell her it’s “serendipity” she ran into me tonight, so she could meet this particular friend of mine.
Without waiting for her reply, I lead her to Ethan at the bar.
I tell Ethan Corinne is an actress. “A talented one.” Which is true.
I tell Corinne Ethan is a “hot-shot producer” of some of the “best independent films I’ve ever seen.
Some of which have made me a shit-ton of money.
” Also, true. And then I bid them adieu.
And why not? Besides the obvious business connection, Ethan is rich and powerful and young and good-looking.
And Corinne is talented and magnetic and gorgeous.
I hope they fall madly in love and make a minivan full of babies together. Peace out.
I turn to go, but before I do, Ethan catches my eye and flashes me a look that plainly asks if she’s fair game.
I nod and flash him a resounding, Godspeed, in reply. And then I’m gone, heading back to Henn to find out the latest on Hazel.
But Alonso finds me before I’ve reached Henn and hands me my refilled drink.
“Thanks.”
“No need to thank me,” Alonso says. “You’re the one who bought it.” He motions to Ethan and Corinne at the bar. “What the hell, man? I’m the birthday boy. If you didn’t want her, why not introduce her to me as a birthday present?”
“Because she’s an actress, and you sell life insurance.”
“All the more reason to help a brother out.”
“She’s out of your league, Alonso. Actresses don’t date insurance salesmen, any more than squirrels date bumblebees.”
As I gulp my drink, Alonso babbles a bunch of shit I don’t care about. So, when my drink is done, I ditch Alonso and stride over to Henn. Not surprisingly, he’s still tapping furiously on his phone, looking worried and frazzled.
“Any update?”
“Yeah. Thankfully, the doctor isn’t too worried. She told Hannah exactly what to do. So, she’s heading home with Hazel now.”
“Keep me posted.”
Henn runs a hand over his face, looking distraught. “I’ve got to go, man. I’ll say a quick goodbye to Alonso. Do me a favor and say my goodbyes to everyone else.”
“You bet.”
We head over to Alonso. Henn says, “Hey, man, I’m sorry, but my baby has a fever and I need to go home.”
“The last flight to LA has already left,” Alonso says. “Why don’t you go back first thing in the morning?”
Without hesitation, as Henn and Alonso continue talking, I grab my phone and start making arrangements.
“I’m gonna rent a car and drive,” Henn says. “This time of night should be smooth sailing. I’ll make it home in four and a half hours. Perfect timing for my wife to crash and for me to take over for her with Hazel.”
Henn turns to me, clearly intending to hug me goodbye. But I put up an index finger, asking him to hold on for a second. Quickly, I finalize what I’m doing on my phone, and then look up.
“No rental car required,” I say. “I just booked you a car and driver, so you can sleep on the way home. It’ll be at the front of the club in exactly fifteen minutes.”
“Oh my God, Reed. It didn’t even occur to me to do that! I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t be stupid. Go get your suitcase from upstairs and meet me out front. I’ll wait outside for the car, in case it gets here before you’re out front.”
“You’re the best. Thanks, brother.”
With that, Henn heads toward the front exit of the club, looking like a man on a mission.
Alonso shakes his head as he watches Henn’s departing frame.
“What the fuck has happened to all of us? Faraday couldn’t come to Vegas because his wife is in her third trimester and he won’t leave her, even for one night.
Henn is running off to hold his sick baby, even though his wife is already there.
Cory stayed home because his wife’s sister is about to have twins.
Jake is standing over there, showing everyone a video of his baby’s first fucking steps.
And you just now turned down a smoking hot actress with the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen because you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home?
Seriously now, am I the only one whose balls are still attached to his body? ”
“Fuck you,” I mutter. “You were always trash in college, and now you’ve grown up to be a Peter Pan asshole motherfucker. I never liked you, Alonso. Not even in college. Not even when I was high on blow. So, why am I here? Why am I hosting this birthday party for you?”
Alonso laughs heartily, apparently thinking I’m joking. But I’m not. Why am I wasting my precious time on this planet doing anything I don’t want to do? More to the point, why am I doing anything that takes me away from Georgina?
“I’m going outside to wait for Henn’s limo,” I toss out, and then stride toward the front door without waiting for Alonso’s reply.
Outside in the warm Las Vegas night, I bum a cigarette off the security guy out front, even though I don’t smoke.
Just as I’m stubbing the cigarette out, Henn’s limo comes.
Two minutes after that, Henn appears with his suitcase, looking frayed.
I give my sweet best friend a bear hug and tell him to keep me posted.
And then, I send Henn off into the night, on his white horse.
Deciding I’d rather have FaceTime sex with Georgina in my room than return to the excruciating birthday party, I begin crossing the street toward my hotel. But just as I’m heading into the lobby, my phone buzzes with a text from CeeCee that stops me dead in my tracks.
CeeCee: I saw on Instagram you’re in Vegas. Francois and I are here, too, for his friend’s birthday dinner tomorrow night. Let me know if you have time for a drink.
Me: I have time right now, as a matter of fact.
CeeCee: Perfect timing! We just got back to our room. Bellagio. Penthouse 8. See you soon, darling!