This is not a problem.
Georgina is simply doing her job.
And doing it well.
After what she’s been through, I can’t blame her for wanting to know what kind of man she’s been sleeping with. Good for her for following the breadcrumbs. She might be young. And she might be smoking hot. But Georgina Ricci is nobody’s fool.
I grab the blanket from the foot of the bed and gently cover her with it. I bend down and kiss her cheek gently, and turn off the light. Goodnight, Intrepid Reporter.
I stare at her for a long moment, not wanting to leave her side. But, finally, I drag my ass to my room.Which is where I brush myteeth, shower, and, finally, blessedly, crawl into my bed with an exhausted groan. But before flipping off my light, I grab my phone and send a text to Henn:
I need another favor, brother. Find out where Georgie went to high school. It’s in the Valley somewhere. A guy named Gates is the football coach. They won two championships in four years. I need you to hack into his phone and computer and dig around. See if you find a vulnerability. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for. All I know is I want you to find something, anything, I can use to go Left Eye Lopes on the guy’s ass. I want to burn this motherfucker’s entire life to the ground, Henny. Just like Left Eye burned Andre’s house. No mercy.
49
GEORGINA
“Good afternoon,” I chirp to CeeCee’s personal assistant, Margot. She’s seated at a desk, holding down the fort while CeeCee is still on vacation in Bali.
“Georgie!” Margot replies warmly. She hops up and gives me a hug. “How are you?”
It’s a standard question, obviously. One I’ve been asked in polite conversation countless times in my life. One thatshouldbe answered with a simple, “I’m great! And you?” And yet, today, upon hearing that simple question, every fiber of my being wants to shout maniacally, “I think I’m falling for Reed Rivers!”
It’s the same maniacal reply I wanted to shout at Amalia this morning, when she kindly asked if I’d slept well. And the same thing I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs at the barista in Starbucks, who asked if I wanted my coffee drink hot or cold. Truly, I don’t know how many more times I can be asked how I’m doing or how I slept or how I want my coffee, and be expected tonotshout in reply, “I think I’m falling for Reed Rivers!”
Because... I think I am.
Hard.
Obviously, I don’t want to fall for Reed. Indeed, I’m trying very hardnotto do that supremely stupid thing. But it’s a hard thing to resist doing, after the amazing conversations we had last night, followed by the magic of this morning.
This morning, after Reed woke me up (and kindly gave me a couple ibuprofen for my slight hangover), he led me into his home gym for our morning workout... and then shocked the living hell out of me by giving me yet another piece of exercise equipment. This time, a top-of-the-line Pilates reformer! Which I happen to know costs around four grand. I protested, of course. Said I couldn’t possibly accept it. But he insisted and wore me down. Obviously, I’ll never collect it from him. As far as I’m concerned, that thing will stay in Reed’s home gym forevermore. But just the thought that he bought it for me?Swoon.
But the amazingness didn’t end here. After our workout, and after some delicious sex on my new machine, Reed and I headed to a recording studio in Hollywood. Which was where 2Real, aka Will Riley, was hard at work on his third album. Apparently, Will had asked Reed to swing by the studio today, saying he desperately wanted Reed’s input on a particular track that was giving him fits. So, of course, Reed dropped whatever he’d been planning to do today, and headed straight there, with his eager shadow in tow.
And, oh, God, it was mind-blowing to watch those two work together. After brief introductions, I sat quietly in a corner for three hours that felt like three minutes, and watched in awe as they played a portion of the track in question. Stopped it. Went back. Talked. Tried something else. Talked again.
I came away from the experience with even deeper respect for Reed. Clearly, he’s a meaningful partner to his artists. A genius at far more than business and marketing, or music scouting and strategizing. He’s a genius at pulling the best out of his artists, as well.
Granted, I didn’t understand most of what Reed said to Will during those three hours. For example, at one point, Reed said: “What if we were to saturate the vocals and make them extra dirty?” And I was like,Huh? Another time, Reed said, “We could turn up the flux on the Echo to around 300, playback level at zero. Let’s try that and see if it makes our balls vibrate.” It was anotherhuh? But even without understanding the conversation, I could plainly surmise, thanks to Will’s reactions toReed’s comments, Reed was making a powerful contribution to Will’s art.
But our amazing day together didn’t end after the studio. From there, Reed spoiled me by taking me to lunch at the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to—a hotspot frequented by the Hollywood elite. And when we ran into several movers and shakers, all of whom Reed knew and introduced me to, he said to each one of them, “This is Georgina Ricci, a brilliant new writer forRock ‘n’ Roll.CeeCee hand-picked her to write an in-depth feature on me, so she’s following me around to get the goods.” Of course, I swooned at that introduction, each and every time.
After lunch, Reed had a meeting with his business partners on a bunch of nightclubs. He said I could come, but I decided to use the time to head over toRock ‘n’ Roll’soffices for a few hours.
“I’ll drive you over there,” he said. “It’s not too far out of my way.”
And that’s when I said something awkward and embarrassing... that would have been mortifying to me if it hadn’t led to Reed saying something so swoony, it made an egg pop out of my ovary.
The thing I said to Reed was this: “Thanks for the ride over there. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, though, so I’ll plan to grab an Uber back home afterwards.”
Back home.
I called Reed’s house my home.
Of course, I was instantly mortified I’d let that word slip out. So, I quickly stammered, “I mean, back toyourhouse. I’ll take an Uber back toyourhouse afterwards.”
At first, Reed didn’t even acknowledge my slip. He simply opened the passenger door to his Bugatti and gestured for me to get in. Which I did, and then promptly covered my face in embarrassment as he walked around the back to his own door.
