I can’t believe my ears. “You still think you’re interviewing C-Bomb?” I say, barely containing my disdainful chuckle. “Sweetheart, no. That’s off, too.Obviously.”
“What? No!”
“You can interview the full band, if you like,afterthey return from tour in a month. I’ll set that up for you. But the mini-tourandthe one-on-one with C-Bomb are both off.”
Georgina balls her hands into fists of frustration and bangs her thighs, morphing from a grounded teenager into a toddler being denied an ice cream cone. “But CeeCee specifically assigned me to interview C-Bomb, as my top priority. She said everyone always interviews the frontmen of bands, like Dean, and never the drummers. She said C-Bomb, with his bad-boy persona and muscles and beard and crazy hair, will make an eye-catching cover boy and sell a shit-ton of magazines. She said you’dlovethe idea!”
I’m floored. None of what she just said makes any sense. CeeCee knows I loathe C-Bomb with the force of a thousand suns. And yet, shetold Georgina I’d “love” the idea of him being a featured interview in the issue—and our fuckingcoverboy? Ha! I can’t fathom a more ludicrous statement. So, why the fuck did CeeCee say any of it? Why did she send Georgina straight to C-Bomb, on day one, as her “top priority,” when she had to know I’d nix the idea from jump street? I blink rapidly, trying to reboot the faltering computer in my brain. “CeeCee said I’d ‘love’ the idea of you interviewing C-Bomb?” I ask slowly, simply because it’s so preposterous, I’m not sure I heard her correctly.
Georgina nods furiously. “And, don’t forget, you agreed to give CeeCee full editorial control, so really, it’s up to CeeCee whether I interview C-Bomb, not you. And CeeCee saysyes.”
I scoff at the ridiculous notion. “CeeCee has full editorial control regarding the artists I make available to her. But, see, since I own every band and artist on my label,Idecide who’s made available. And I’m not making RCR available to you until they get back from tour—and, even then, not as individuals, only as a full band.”
Oh, she’s livid now. “But, why?” she booms, her eyes bulging. “Why, why,whyare you doing this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything toyou.I’m protecting my brand. The tour idea isn’t original or fresh enough. And C-Bomb isn’t a good interview subject or representative of his band or my label, as an individual. My job is to sell RCR’s upcoming album. And to do that, I want Dean’s blue eyes front and center, becauseDeanis the one who sells records and tickets and posters for walls.”
“So does C-Bomb! He wasliterallyon my wall when I was a teenager, Reed! And he hasn’t been interviewed a fraction as much as Dean.”
My heart is galloping. Georgina’s confession that she had Caleb on her teenage wall is driving me fucking crazy—and most definitely having the exact opposite effect she’s intending. But somehow, I manage to keep my voice calm and professional as I say, “I don’t want an interview of C-Bomb for sound business reasons. Conversation over.”
Georgina grunts in frustration. “Lies, lies, lies! Stop bullshitting me, Reed. You don’t want me going on tour with RCR, or talking to C-Bomb, because you think he’ll make a move on me!”
“No.” I lean forward, my eyes blazing every bit as much as hers. “Idon’t want you going on tour with RCR, and talking to C-Bomb, because Iknowhe’ll make a move on you.”
Fuck.
Why’d I say that?
At my confession, Georgina leaps up and points at me in the armchair. “I knew it. Ha!” She crosses her arms. “Well, so what if he does? You and I aren’t dating. In fact, you’ve made it clear you’ve got no intention ofeverdating me. Which means you get no say on who, besides you, gets to try toseduceme. I’m an adult, Reed. And so is Caleb. You might own Caleb’sband. But you don’t own Caleb, theman. And you sure as hell don’t ownme.”
My body feels like it’s short-circuiting. I’m feeling so jealous, so possessive, so turned on by the fire in her eyes, I can’t think straight. Did Georgina have sexual fantasies about Caleb as a teenager? Did she practice kissing her pillow, while pretending it was Caleb? “Caleb can’t have you,” I say evenly, my heart raging in my ears. “Nobody on my roster can have you. In fact, nobody on planet Earth can have you, until this thing between us has run its course.”
She stares for a long beat, flabbergasted. And then throws her head back and bursts out laughing. “The ramblings of a madman. Nobody onEarthcan have me until you’ve grown tired of me and thrown me away? Gosh, what a lovely offer, Mr. Rivers. But, no, thanks. You don’t get to have me. You don’t get to plant your flag in me vis-à-vis the entire fuckingworld.And you most certainly don’t get to screw with my job, just because you want to fuck me and I’ve turned you down. That’s illegal, you know. I’ve got rights. Or haven’t you been following the news lately? That kind of shit isn’t allowed anymore, Reed.’”
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. “Georgina, I have no intention of screwing with your job. On the contrary, I only want to help you do it. I want this special issue to be a grand slam, every bit as much as you do. But don’t, even for a minute, forget yourjobis to write aboutmyartists. You’re inmyhouse now, Georgina, which means you’re going to play bymyrules, whether I want to fuck you or not. Which, to be clear, I do. Very much. I don’t deny that. But that fact doesn’t change the fact that you’ll toe the line when it comes to my artists. And not just you. Anyone who wants to interview my artists, whether they’re fromRock ‘n’ Rollor any otherpublication, whether I want to fuck them or not, always,alwaysplays by my rules in my house. No exceptions, not even for you.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “God, you’re so full of shit. There’s no ‘sound’ business reason for you to put the kibosh on the C-Bomb interview. You’re feeling jealous and territorial. Plain and simple. You might as well have pissed on my leg when you walked in here and found me with him, you looked so freaking jealous.”
She’s absolutely right. But there’s no way in hell I’d ever admit that. “Find something else to write about this week,” I say. “I’m done talking about this.”
Georgina lets out an exasperated sigh and sits back down on the couch. “Reed, listen to me. I need this tour. CeeCee said she’ll consider everything I write this summer as an audition for me to write forDig a Little Deeper.” Emotion threatens at the mere thought of it, but she swallows it. “I know I could get anincredibleinterview of Caleb, if only I had the chance to hang out with him for a full week.”
“I have faith you’ll find some other amazing person or topic to write about, if you put your mind to it.”
She takes several deep, calming breaths. And then drags her palm down her face. “I didn’t want to have to play the sympathy card here, but you leave me no choice. I wasreallycounting on those free hotel rooms this week. Please don’t mess that up for me because of petty jealousy. Please.”
“What are you talking about?”
She tilts her head back and sinks into the sofa, her body melting in adorable surrender. “I had to vacate student housing on graduation day. My student loans are all used up, and I’m told I won’t get my first paycheck for this job for about three weeks... ” She sighs. “I’ve got, like, seven dollars to my name right now, so I was counting on a week with no expenses to get back on my feet. Before I got this job, I was going to move back home with my dad in the Valley, so I could help him with his expenses. But now that I’m going to be spending so much time in Hollywood, commuting like that won’t work. I was hoping to take this week, with no expenses, to figure out a cheap living situation for the summer. Maybe a friend’s couch. A room to rent.”
My heart twists. It’s so rare for Georgina to drop her tough-girl routine. But whenever she does, I find her all the more alluring. “I’ll book you a hotel room for the summer—on me,” I say simply. “Something within walking distance of my office.”
She sits up. “Seriously?”
“Sure. I wish all life’s problems were this easy to solve.”
She’s absolutely elated. She hops up like she wants to hug me, but abruptly sits back down, her cheeks flushing. “Thank you so much, Reed.” She fans her blushing face. “Thank you.”
