“Aw, baby. Come here.” I hug her to me, and, when I hear sniffling, my heart physically palpitates with love for her.
“Thank you,” she ekes out.
“You don’t have to thank me. Don’t you get it?I love you. Your pain is mine. Your happiness mine.” I pull back and meet her teary eyes. “The only thing I want is for my beautiful, colorful butterfly to be set free, and to get to see her flying loop-de-loops against a brilliant blue sky, the way she was meant to do.”
“Loop-de-loops?” She chuckles through tears. “Whatever happened to you wanting to capture your beautiful butterfly and pin her to paper and enclose her in an airtight frame?”
I brush the tear streaking down her cheek with my thumb. “Well, I guess that right there is the difference between lust... andlove.”
89
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’mnot. 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’dmuch 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’sstilltrying her mighty best to getsomeoneto 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 myselfenvyinghim 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 wanta 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 mea lotlately—aton,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 whatCorinnewas 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 EthanCorinne 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.
