“Would an article like that torpedo C-Bomb’s career?”
“Of course not. An article like that would add to his mythos as a sex god.”
“That’s sexist.”
“Maybe so, but that’s life. He’s the drummer in a rock band, and you’re a brand-new baby journalist who needs to be taken seriously.”
She presses her lips together, conceding I’ve just scored a point in our game of table tennis. A point she’s awfully glad I’ve scored, if I had to guess.
“Plus,” I say, “is doing an end-run around me, the CEO of River Records, really in your best interests, long-term? Even if the other nighthad never happened between us, even if I had no designs on you for myself—which, to be clear, I do—do you honestly think it would be wise for a summer intern atRock ‘n’ Rollto defy a direct order from the founder and CEO of the very label she’s been assigned to write about? Tread carefully, Miss Ricci. Think about the full consequences of your actions. No more flying off the handle.”
Her chest heaves. And her nostrils flare. And I know she’s pretty much crapping her pants at her predicament—and the corner she’s painted herself into. “All right,” she says. “I’ll put my Penny Lane piece on the back burner...for now.But only if you offer me something that’s as good or better. Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to call my boss,who isn’tyou,by the way, and say the assignmentshegave me is off because, oh, gosh, the CEO of the label I’m assigned to write about wants to fuck me, and therefore doesn’t want me to be alone with Caleb Baumgarten.’”
And... she’s back. Guns blazing. Damn. I must admit, I’m proud of her for pulling that rabbit out of her hat at the eleventh hour. Deeply impressed, as a matter of fact. “That one-on-one interview of Dean?” I say. “It’ll be a full-day thing at his compound in Malibu. In fact, if I ask him to, I’m sure he’ll give you a tour of the place. Maybe even cook for you. Stir-fry, probably. That’s his specialty. Plus, Dean loves to surf, so we could do a photo shoot of him on the beach with his board, and he could talk about how much inspiration he derives from the ocean. Surely, a clever girl like you could parlay all that into something deep and meaningful that CeeCee would run inDig a Little Deeper.”
Georgina sniffs like my offer is shit. But it’s got to be tempting to her. Dean is a global rock star. A revered musician, songwriter, and heartthrob. And yet, he’s not a famewhore, which means he doesn’t do a whole lot of in-depth interviews—preferring, instead, to do a thousand and one superficial ones—only whatever publicity is minimally necessary to sell the band’s latest release.
“You’re not concerned I’m going to have sex with Dean if I spend the day with him at his compound in Malibu and eat his stir-fry and watch him surf?” she asks, her brow arched wickedly. “He’s not too shabby to look at, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m not worried.”
It’s the truth. Dean’s not a threat to me. For one thing, he’s a goodguy. Not an asshole, like Caleb. And if there’s one thing I know about my Georgie girl, she likes herself a good asshole. Also, Dean’s not on the prowl. He’s been in love with the same girl his entire life—the girl he wrote his band’s debut single about years ago—Shaynee—and she’s recently re-entered his life. And, finally, even if Dean’s heart weren’t otherwise engaged, he’s the kind of guy who’d respect an off-limits designation by the head of his fucking label, unlike Caleb. In short, the guy’s not a threat to me, any way you slice it.
Georgie doesn’t flinch. “Well, that’s a lovely offer, Mr. Rivers. Thank you. I’ll take you up on all that. But it’s still not enough to keep me from calling CeeCee and ratting you out. If you want me to call mybossand tell her I’m not going to fulfill the assignment she gave me, because Reed Rivers wants to fuck me so badly, then you’re going to have to give me more.” She gazes at her manicured fingernails, as if she’s suddenly bored as hell. “Frankly, Reed, if Dean is all you’ve got to ‘bribe’ me with, I’d just as soon throw my press pass into the trash and become C-Bomb’s personal Penny Lane. I’m sure CeeCee wouldn’t mind me starting my job one week later than originally discussed, to get a meaty article like that.”
Exasperated, I lean back into my armchair. “All right, Meryl Streep. Cut the crap and just tell me your price. You’ve obviously got one in mind. Put your cards on the table and tell me what it is.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
I lean forward sharply. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Ooooh. As in, ‘Everybody’s got a price’?”
“What’s yours?”
A smug smile spreads across her gorgeous face. She leans forward, giving me a lovely view of her tits in her low-cut blouse. “My price? Well, Mr. Rivers, it’syou, of course.”
“Well, damn. That’s an easy one, baby. Lock the door and bend over the back of that couch, and I’ll give you every fucking inch of me.”
Again, she doesn’t flinch. “No, I want towriteabout you, Mr. Rivers. I want you to give me an in-depth interview, suitable forDig a Little Deeper.”
I burst out laughing. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t CeeCee tell you? She’s already asked me to do that a hundred times, and... ” I trail off.
CeeCee.
Of course.
Why didn’t I figure this out sooner?
Georgina is CeeCee’s unwitting pawn. CeeCee sent Georgina to Caleb, as her top priority, because she knew it would turn out exactly this way. CeeCee knew I’d get jealous and possessive and nix the idea... and that Georgina, clever girl that she is, would be smart enough to exploit my reaction and use it as leverage. Fucking CeeCee. I have to admit, the woman is brilliant, even though I’m pissed at her right now.
“An interview with me is already part of the deal for the special issue.”
“Yes, I know, but I want you to give me something more in-depth—a wide-ranging interview that breaks new ground with you. Something covering both business and personal topics. Something on-brand forDig a Little Deeper.”
