by Lauren Rowe
“Oh, Reed.”
“She comes into my office and closes the door. She wants to give me a blowjob to celebrate 2Real’s number one. But by then, I was sick to death of her. Sick of messing around. Sick of the distraction. Sick of myself. I wasn’t even physically attracted to her anymore. Just disgusted. So I told her it was over. That we had to go back to being completely professional. And, to my shock, she said, ‘You think you can get rid of me that easily? Guess what, asshole? I own your fucking ass now.’ So, I said, ‘I’m not getting rid of you, Stephanie. You’re good at your job. I just mean I’m done fucking you. I’ve been an idiot to mess around with an employee, a coked-out idiot, and I’ve decided to clean up my act and never do it again.’” He shakes his head. “It turned out, she was recording that conversation, and a whole lot of others. Plus, every sex act. Every bit of dirty talk.”
I grimace with him. “No wonder you settled the case.”
“No, the recordings weren’t the reason I settled, actually. I knew they were illegal. Both parties have to consent to recording in California, thank God. But what they made me realize was she’d totally set me up. From day one, I’d been her mark. She came into my office to give me that BJ, knowing she was ultimately going to come after me. And that freaked me out. I knew it was going to be her word against mine, if she accused me of something. And normally, I’d take on that challenge. But what would someone like that be willing to say about me?”
“Why didn’t you turn her in for making those illegal recordings? That’s a crime, right?”
“And let the police hear all that shit? Ha! No, thanks. Plus, I knew I was guilty as shit. I was her boss, and I’d fucked her. No getting around that.”
“So what happened? Did she demand hush money?”
“Not at first. Instead, she decided her job duties had become ‘optional.’ For a couple months, she came and went as she pleased. Never made deadlines. Took days off, without calling in. I knew she was daring me to fire her, so she could sue me. Obviously, I didn’t want a lawsuit. I just wanted to move past the sex thing and have her do her job, as required. But then she went MIA for a week, without a word, so I fired her, and she sued my ass a day later, making me sound like a monster. But guess what? Under California law, I was a monster, and I fully acknowledge that. When you’re the boss, you can’t fuck your employees. Period. There’s no gray area. It’s a strict liability state, meaning there’s no defense. No saying, ‘Hey, it was consensual.’ No saying, ‘Hey, she came onto me.’ If you’re the boss, and you’ve fucked an employee, then you’ve committed sexual harassment.”
“Oh, Reed.”
“It’s actually a fair system, ninety-nine percent of the time. Sociopaths like Stephanie are rare. I’ve thought about this quite a bit.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“And I’ve realized something big. As the boss, I can never know, for sure, if an employee genuinely wants to sleep with me, or if she’s only saying yes because she’s afraid of losing her job if she says no. She could say yes. She could even come on to me. But I’ve realized there’s no way to separate the fact that I hold all the power, when it comes to my employees. So, in the end, I’ve got no quarrel with the way the laws are written. The rules are clear and there for a reason. Just because I’m an idiot who let myself get played by a con artist, doesn’t mean the laws aren’t fair. Which is exactly what Stephanie was, by the way: a con artist. Leonard’s investigator did some digging and found out she’d done the exact same thing twice before.”
“No way.”
“Yep. She’d slept with her boss, made secret recordings, and then threatened a sexual harassment lawsuit to get herself paid. I was the only one who didn’t pay her off right away, so she’d never filed anything before. But, still, it was the same MO.”
“Why the heck did you settle when you realized she’s a con artist? Surely, the jury would have believed you, when they found out she’d done it before!”
“That’s exactly what I said to Leonard. But he and his team convinced me those other instances wouldn’t get into evidence, and I’d get reamed at trial. He said, even without the recordings being admissible against me, any jury would hate my guts for fucking around with an employee. Leonard said my cocaine use would come out. And that would make them believe Stephanie’s version of events. He said I could get hit for ten million or more in punitive damages, given how my company had just skyrocketed. So, I caved.” He rubs his forehead, looking distraught. “I paid her off in a confidential settlement that required her to destroy all the illegal recordings she’d made of me, got my ass to rehab, and tried not to think about Stephanie fucking Moreland, ever again.”
My heart is physically aching at the expression on Reed’s face. “You haven’t done coke since then?”
“No. Never.”
“How much did you wind up paying her?”
Reed pauses. “It was a confidential settlement, so I’m technically not allowed to talk about it, any more than she is. I’ll tell you the number, but only if you swear you’re just Georgie right now. Not the Intrepid Reporter. Not playing me, in any way. Look me in the eye, and promise this will stay between you and me, forever, and I’ll tell you.”
My heart is thumping. “I promise, Reed. I’ll never tell a soul.”
“You’re not recording this conversation?”
Oh, my heart. This poor man. “I’m not. I’ll never record anything you say without your knowledge and express permission. I promise.”
He looks down at his hands on the kitchen table. “I paid that bitch a cool million.”
“Wow. An expensive life lesson.”
“Yeah. Honestly, the whole thing screwed with my head. Before Stephanie, I’d already had a hard time trusting people. Women, especially. I was always positive they were out to get something from me. But after Stephanie, my paranoia with women went to a whole new level. Ever since then, I’m just super careful. Always on guard.”
Oh, my heart. I rise from my chair and go to him. I slide into his lap and touch his cheek. “I’m sorry she messed with your head.”
“I’ve never told anyone about her,” he whispers. “Well, other than my lawyers.”
I press my forehead against his. “Not even Josh and Henn?”
“No. I was too embarrassed to tell them. I fucked up. Royally. In the end, it was my fault for being so stupid and reckless.”
My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. I feel so close to him right now, so connected. So much so, I feel the need to reciprocate. To tell him something I’ve never told anyone, as well. “I’ve got my own Stephanie Moreland,” I whisper, my heartbeat increasing. “I’ve never told anyone this story. But it’s something that’s made it really hard for me to trust. Something I can’t stand thinking about. Something I want to forget.” I swallow hard. “But I want to tell you about it. I want to tell you, because I feel really close to you right now.”
He strokes my hair and looks deeply into my eyes. “You can tell me anything, Georgie.”
I open my mouth... determined to tell him the thing I’ve never told anyone. Ever. But I close my mouth, too nervous to begin my story. “I think I’m gonna need some liquid courage to do this.” I motion to my beer. “Something a bit stronger than that.”
Chapter 18
Reed
We’re sitting on barstools at the bar in my game room. Holding our second shots of Patrón.
“On the count of three,” Georgina says. And when she counts us off, we both throw the tequila back.
“Beer chaser?” I ask.
“Hell yeah.”
I grab bottles for both of us from a mini-fridge behind the bar, and she takes a long swig as I resume my stool.
“Okay. I’m ready to tell you my story now,” she says, shaking out her hands. “I can’t feel my face or toes.”
I laugh. “You don’t have to tell me this story, you know.”
“I know, but I want to.” She takes another long s
wig of her beer. Laces her fingers together on top of the bar. And exhales. “In high school, I wrote for the school newspaper the first three years. And I absolutely loved it. At the end of my third year, Mr. Gates, the teacher who supervised the paper, selected me to be editor-in-chief for the next year, over this total brainiac guy who’d also wanted the position. I was so freaking excited and proud to be selected, I could barely keep it together. I’d worked my ass off for three years, unlike the brainiac guy. He was way smarter than me, but he’d just phoned it in.”
“Hustle beats talent, when talent doesn’t hustle,” I say. I grab her hand. “Although you’ve got both talent and hustle, so never mind.”
She squeezes my hand. “Thank you.” She pauses. “As it turned out, some of the kids at the newspaper—particularly, this group of mean girls—didn’t think I deserved the editor position. So, they started a rumor that Mr. Gates had only selected me because he wanted to sleep with me.”
“Oh, Georgie. Those girls were bitches.”
She looks down at her beer, and it’s immediately clear those mean girls aren’t, collectively, her Stephanie Moreland, like I was just thinking. No, apparently, there’s more to this story. I wait, my pulse thumping.
“I just tried to ignore the rumors and gossip and put my head down and work harder than anyone else, you know? I was so embarrassed they’d say that. I just wanted to work extra hard to prove them all wrong about me. To show them I had deserved the promotion.” She looks up from her hands. “And then, one day, in the middle of my senior year, when I was working after school in the newspaper room, all by myself... Mr. Gates came in... and he...” She takes a shallow breath. “He cornered me, and he... pinned my arms behind my back, and he... he kissed me.”
I’m flooded with rage. Disgust. A fierce urge to protect. I need to fix this. Protect Georgie. Kill that motherfucker.
Georgina wells up. “He said all this crazy stuff about me teasing him and flirting with him. He said I wore sexy clothes to turn him on. But I swear I didn’t!”
I get up and hug her and she collapses into me. “Of course, you didn’t. No matter what you wore, no matter what you did or said, ever, he had no right to touch you. Georgie, he was a fucking monster and you did absolutely nothing wrong.”
“I was so shocked and scared... So ashamed.”
“Ashamed? You had nothing to be ashamed about. He assaulted you.”
“Yeah, but those girls were right about me the whole time. He picked me over the brainiac only because he wanted to sleep with me!”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“You want to hear the craziest part? That’s what I was thinking when he did it. ‘Those mean girls were right.’”
“Did you report him?”
“No. I knew nobody would ever believe me. Plus, I was embarrassed. The same as you with those illegal recordings. “
“You had nothing to be embarrassed about. He assaulted you, Georgie. You should have reported him.”
“You don’t understand. Mr. Gates also coached football, and the team had won two championships in four years. Everybody loved Mr. Gates. If I thought those mean girls were on my ass before, I couldn’t even imagine what would happen to me if I told anyone about what Mr. Gates did. Plus, there was no way I wanted those girls to find out they’d been right. It was the most humiliating, embarrassing, horrifying thing I could imagine.”
I’m losing my fucking mind. A hair’s breadth away from jumping in one of my cars and driving in a blind rage to the Valley to find this Mr. Gates and wrap my bare hands around his throat and squeeze the fucking life out of him.
“I quit the paper the very next day,” she says flatly. “I knew I couldn’t tell anyone what he’d done. And I didn’t want to be in the same room with him, ever again. Thank God, I’d already gotten into UCLA, and my second-semester grades didn’t matter. Because the entire rest of the school year, I couldn’t concentrate. I was always on edge. If I saw Mr. Gates across campus, I ran the other direction and hid in a bathroom. At first, my father thought my grades plummeted because I was having boy problems. Then, he figured it was because I’d gotten into college and had senioritis. But the truth was, I was a wreck the entire rest of the school year because of Mr. Gates and this horrible secret I was keeping.”
“You poor, poor baby.” I wipe her tears. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” I stroke her cheek. “You’ve never told anyone any of this before?”
She shakes her head. “Not even Alessandra. You’re the only person I’ve ever told.”
I pull her to me and hold her tight. My heart is thundering. Aching. Breaking. Bleeding. My blood is boiling. I’m out of my head. “Does Gates still work at the school?”
“Yes. But please don’t try to get me to report him. I just can’t do it, Reed. No one would ever believe me. You need to trust me on this. He’s a god at that school.” She breaks free from our embrace and wipes her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve moved on. Honestly, getting this internship has worked wonders for me. Getting to work for CeeCee. A kickass woman. Knowing, for a fact, she offered me this internship based on my talent and nothing else... because she loved my writing, and my personality, not because she wanted to get into my pants. Having that kind of validation has meant everything to me and my confidence and helped me move on so much. But Mr. Gates is part of the reason why I’ve been so adamant about not wanting your artists to know about us while I’m working on the special issue. I just want everyone I’m interviewing to respect me. I don’t want them thinking I got assigned to the special issue, specifically, because you requested me for personal reasons.”
Oh, fuck.
I feel physically sick.
On the outside, I might be stroking Georgina’s back calmly, kissing her cheek, holding her close... but, on the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.
Prior to this moment, I didn’t want Georgie to find out I’m the one who funded her grant and made it so that her internship is a paid one. But now, all I can think, on a running loop, is: Georgie can never, ever find out. Never, never, never.
“You knocked CeeCee out when she met you, baby,” I say soothingly. “When CeeCee and I first talked about the special issue, she specifically said she loved your writing samples. And she also said you’re the most charismatic and charming newbie she’s met in a long time. Maybe, ever.”
She squeezes me tight. So tight, in fact, I suddenly feel overcome with emotion.
“CeeCee really said all that about me, Reed? You swear?”
“She really did, baby. I swear. In those exact words.”
Holy fuck. I’ve never been more relieved to be able to honestly quote anybody’s exact words in my entire life.
“That’s so amazingly wonderful to know. Ever since Mr. Gates, I’ve been so paranoid and filled with self-doubt. Not only that, I’ve had such a hard time trusting anyone. The same way you’ve felt after Stephanie Moreland. I think Mr. Gates is part of the reason why I went so batshit psycho on my boyfriend, Shawn, when I discovered he’d cheated on me. Because I’d let down my guard with him and trusted him. And it’s so, so hard for me to do that.”
I pause. And disengage from our embrace. “Um. So... how ‘batshit psycho’ are we talking here?”
She smiles through her tears. “Pretty fucking psycho.”
I wait, but she says nothing further. All she does is giggle.
“You’re not planning to elaborate?” I say.
“Not really,” she says. And then she laughs again, still wiping tears.
I kiss her cheek. “Come on, Ricci. If I’ve invited a psycho into my home, I think I should know about it.”
She twists her mouth adorably. Takes my hand, and kisses the top of it. “Okay, Mr. Rivers. I’ll tell you this story, too. Why not? But let’s talk about this next thing in the pool. I’m suddenly feeling the urge to float.”
Chapter 19
Reed
Georgie, the most beautiful girl in the world, is naked and floating silently in
my moonlit swimming pool, while I stand next to her, looking down on her. Feeling like I’m staring at an angel sent straight from heaven. A batshit psycho angel, apparently. She hasn’t told me the story yet. We had some champagne while sitting on the pool ledge together. And then peeled off our clothes. Made out a bit. And now, she’s floating and in some sort of meditation, while I stand next to her, lightly supporting her naked, horizontal frame, thinking two things on repeat. One, I’ll never let anybody hurt you again. And, two, I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful in my life.
Finally, Georgie opens her eyes and stands. Without saying a word, she wraps her arms and legs around my neck and torso, like a monkey clinging to a tree, and nuzzles her nose into mine. “I feel better now.”
“Good. That’s all I want for you. I want you to feel good and nothing else.”
“Thank you. I feel good when I’m with you.”
My heart skips a beat. “I feel good when I’m with you.”
“Good. Now, walk me around the pool, while I lay my cheek on your shoulder and tell you about the time I went batshit psycho on my cheating ex.”
“I can’t wait to hear the story.”
I begin walking a loop around the shallow end of my pool, as Georgina tells me about the time she awakened one fateful morning and discovered a string of texts and photos on her then-boyfriend’s phone that confirmed her long-simmering suspicions: he was cheating on her like she didn’t exist.
“Actually,” she says, “confirming Shawn was cheating on me was a huge relief. Twice before that morning, I’d told Shawn he was acting really weird and suspicious and secretive, but both times he said I was crazy and paranoid. So, I was kind of thrilled in a weird way to finally know I wasn’t insane—that he was cheating on me. And not just cheating on me. The dude had four side chicks.”
“Four? Oh my God. No wonder you went batshit psycho on him.”
“Right? Who could blame me!”
“So, what’d you do to the guy?”
She laughs. “I’m scared to tell you. I don’t want you to be scared of me and send me packing.”
