“Sit down, Georgie,” I say sternly, my jaw clenched. “We need to have ourselves a little chat.”
21
REED
As I cross the room toward Georgina, muted music from a distant part of the stadium begins wafting through the walls of the small room—the sound of the opening band, kicking off their short set.
I unbutton my suit jacket and take the armchair across from Georgina. The one formerly occupied by Caleb. I place my ankle on my knee. And exhale. “Congratulations,” I say calmly.
“On what?” Her gorgeous features are etched with anxiety. Obviously, she’s wondering where things stand between us, given her fiery, early-morning exit from the front of my house a week ago.
“On the new job,” I say. “And your graduation. I presume you graduated last week, as planned?”
She nods. “I’m officially a UCLA alum. Go, Bruins. I’m actually the first college grad in my family. My dad couldn’t stop crying.” She presses her lips together, like she’s forcibly keeping herself from rambling further.
I can’t help but smile at her adorableness. “That’s awesome,” I say. “I’m sure your parents are insanely proud of you.”
Something flickers across her pretty face that makes me question my words. Have I just unwittingly highlighted the age gap between us—come off like a friend of her father’s? Or could it be her parentsaren’tproud of her, for some reason? I can’t imagine that’s the case, but I suppose it’s possible they wanted her to study something other than journalism?
When I don’t speak for a long moment, but instead opt to stare her down and revel in her obvious anxiety, Georgina puts her hands into her lap, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She bites her lower lip. Fidgets. And then, “How was New York?”
“Busy, productive, fun, exhausting, and highly lucrative.”
“Oh. That sounds good.”
“It was. Very good.”
I fall silent again, enjoying the way my silence turns her breathing shallow. The way it brings a flush to her cheeks and cleavage. Yeah, I’m being a bastard. Making her sweat, simply to amuse myself. Well, and also to punish her a tiny bit for the way she double-flipped me off. For fuck’s sake, Georgina was the one with a music demo in her pocket. Not me. She was the one with a hidden agenda. And yet, she had the audacity to flipmeoff and screech away in an Uber, leaving me standing there, after I’d stooped tobeggingher to come inside? When was the last time I begged anyone for anything? And yet, Georgina made me do it, just that fucking fast. Well, never again. That’s for fucking sure.
“So you wanted to have a little chat... ?” she prompts, her voice tight.
I pick at a piece of lint on my suit jacket. “Yes.” I pause again, for dramatic effect. “This plan for you to join RCR on tour this coming week?”
She nods.
“It’s the first I’m hearing about it, and I don’t approve. You’ll have to find something else to do this week. Tagging along on RCR’s tour is off.”
“What?” she blurts. For a moment, she gapes like a fish on a line, before shouting, “You can’t do that, Reed!”
“I just did.”
“CeeCee cleared the whole thing with Owen! Owen helped arrange it!”
“And Owen works forme. Well, he used to. If he arranged that shit show of an idea, then he’s fired.”
She turns pale.
“I’m joking. Owen is bulletproof. Ask anyone.”
“Reed, you can’t call everything off. CeeCee is excitedabout the idea, and so am I. And so is the band. Just now, when I was talking to all four of them about it in the greenroom, they said?—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what the band said. The plan wasn’t cleared through me. And I don’t like it. I think it’s an unoriginal, tired idea that’s already been done a thousand times. Ever seenAlmost Famous?”
She’s flabbergasted. “Well, granted, we might not be inventing the wheel here, but who cares? Readers will eat it up. What fan wouldn’t want to tag along with RCR on tour, through me? It’s every music lover’s fantasy. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to peek behind the?—”
“Stop trying to sell me. It’s dead. Move on.”
She consciously shuts her gaping mouth. “But... Reed, I’ve got hotel rooms booked for the entire week!”
