by Lauren Rowe
“Kat Faraday,” I murmur. “I think we’re going to be two peas in a pod.”
Ten minutes later, I’m flying through the names on the list, until I reach one that stops me in my tracks.
Isabel Randolph.
Gah. On the one hand, I’m dying to interview her. She’s been one of my favorite actresses since before she became a massive movie star. On the other hand, though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull off an interview of her, to the best of my abilities, when I have these feelings for Reed. Will I be distracted the entire interview, with feelings of jealousy and insecurity? Will I imagine Reed doing all the things he does to me... to Isabel? I don’t want to wonder these things, but I can’t help it. Did Reed tie Isabel up, the way he did to me? Did he fuck her in a sex swing? Did Reed give Isabel whatever might have been her equivalents of a Peloton, a Pilates reformer... and the most perfect, breathtaking ruby necklace the world has ever seen?
My heart pangs.
Why am I torturing myself? She’s engaged now, for God’s sake! And Reed explicitly told me he and Isabel have become more like siblings than ex-lovers. But, see, that’s the thing. The idea of them being like siblings simply doesn’t ring true to me. How could Isabel get fucked by Reed the way I’ve gotten fucked, and then, somehow, magically, desire nothing more from his hot body than a brotherly peck on the cheek? I don’t care how badly Isabel might have gotten hurt by Reed at some point in their relationship—how big an asshole Reed might have been to her in the end. I can’t imagine she’d turn down the chance to fuck Reed senseless again, regardless, if the opportunity presented itself...
If Reed cheated on Isabel, then, yes, maybe I could imagine her never wanting him to lay another pinky on her. That’s how I feel about Shawn. Physically ill at the thought of him touching me. But that’s not what happened between those two, or they sure as hell wouldn’t be “like siblings” now. And, anyway, Reed says he’s not a cheater, and I believe him. But if things between them really did simply peter out, if things really did just “run their course,” as Reed said, then I can’t imagine Isabel being completely over Reed. Unless, of course, she’s now so madly in love with her new fiancé, she can’t imagine wanting anyone else, ever again, even someone as swoon-worthy and smoking hot as Reed.
Which brings me to the next name on the list. Howard Devlin. The guy Reed told me is Isabel’s fiancé. As I recall, Reed said Howard Devlin is a big shot billionaire movie producer and studio owner. Which made me retort, “Oh, then he’s the Reed Rivers of the movie industry?”
I input Howard’s name into Google, excited to see how this guy matches up to Reed, and when I see his photo, I gasp. Howard Devlin looks like Isabel’s pervy grandpa! Gaping like a fish on a river bank, I read the guy’s Wikipedia page and quickly learn he’s sixty-five years old—thirty-four years older than Isabel!
Holy hell. I know I’m the one who always says “age is just a number.” But, damn. I’m having a hard time believing a woman as young and vibrant and successful as Isabel said yes to spending the rest of her life boning that guy. Although, I suppose Isabel only said yes to spending the rest of Howard’s life boning him. Which, when you’re talking about your pervy grandpa, maybe isn’t all that big a commitment.
Okay, I’m being a total bitch right now, and I need to stop. Looks aren’t everything. And age really is a number. For all I know, Howard Devlin is a lovely, kind, generous man who’s a tiger in bed. A guy who treats Isabel like his queen. Plus, who the hell do I think I am to judge any woman for being in a relationship with a wealthy, powerful, older man? Come on, Georgie. A girl who lives in a glass house—or, in my case, a house with a whole lot of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hollywood Hills—shouldn’t throw stones.
I read a bit more on Howard Devlin and suddenly realize I’ve seen his face before. But where? I pause. Stare at the wall. And, then... Oh, yes! In that photo spread from CeeCee’s fiftieth birthday party!
I pull out my color copy of the article and scan the photos... and sure enough, Howard is standing in a group shot with a slew of music and movie stars. Wow. How crazy is that? Isabel and Howard were both at that party ten years ago. Is that where they first met? Or is this a case of future spouses crossing within inches of each other, never realizing it? Isabel wasn’t a successful actress back then. Not even close. Plus, Reed was at that party, too. So, it wouldn’t surprise me if Isabel and Howard never said two words to each other that night.
On the other hand though, Isabel had to have had acting ambitions back then. Did she spot Howard, a famous movie producer, and try to charm him, or was she too young and inexperienced to recognize him at a party attended by far more recognizable faces?
And what about Howard? Did he spot Isabel that night, from afar, perhaps when she was talking to a young, gorgeous stud in an Armani tux, and think to himself, One day, that woman will be my wife?
Okay, my imagination is running wild now. But, regardless, I make a mental note to ask Isabel about that party. I doubt there’s any sort of “written in the stars” or “love at first sight” angle there in regards to Isabel and Howard, but, still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least poke around to find out.
Peter Hennessy. That’s the next name on the list. And one I don’t recognize. But when I google the guy, and see his photo, I palm my forehead. He’s Henn! Reed’s nerdy-looking best friend from college. When I met him at the bar, he instantly put me at ease with his authenticity and sweetness.
Hannah Hennessy. Henn’s wife, I assume. I google and find out she is, indeed, Henn’s wife—an adorable brunette with glasses who works in the publicity department of a movie studio... the same studio owned by Howard Devlin, as a matter of fact. Huh. What a small world! Or is it? Did Reed have something to do with Hannah getting that job? Did Reed pick up the phone and use his connections to help Hannah get an interview? Because that’s exactly the kind of thing I could see Reed doing: pulling strings behind the scenes to help his best friend’s woman get her dream job . . .
Ping.
A murky thought raps gently at the back of my brain. Ping. The thought is like a soft cotton ball lobbed at me from ten feet away...
It’s only a blurry idea at the moment, tugging at the outer fringes of my consciousness. But before the cotton ball hardens into an actual pebble, my phone buzzes with an incoming text that makes me squeal and forget all about the fuzzy thought gently pinging in the back of my head. It’s a message from Alessandra that reads:
I’m at Reed’s front gate, baby! LET ME IN! It’s time to pre-party like ROCKSTARS before we party with ACTUAL ROCKSTARS! (But first, a sandwich. Please. For the love of all things holy, I’m starving.)
Chapter 27
Georgina
“Oh my God,” Alessandra says, gaping at the seven gleaming cars lined up before us in Reed’s massive garage. We’re at the last stop of the house tour I’ve been giving Alessandra for the last thirty minutes. And Alessandra is clearly as blown away by the spectacle of Reed’s glittering car collection as she was the rest of the house.
I lead her down the row of vehicles, expertly rattling off whatever I know about each make and model—all the same factoids Reed told me during my house tour, plus some stuff I think I might have made up—and Alessandra “oohs” and “aahs” and makes snarky comments about Reed’s over-the-top “bougie-ness” the whole time.
When we come to a standstill in front of Reed’s yellow Ferrari, the second-to-last entry in the collection, I say, “Reed finally got this beauty back from the body shop yesterday. A few weeks ago, he was driving it too fast around a curve and, according to him, a tree ‘leaped out into the middle of the road,’ right in front of him.”
“Oh my gosh. Was Reed hurt?”
“No, thankfully. But the right front of the car wasn’t as lucky. Apparently, it was really smashed up... right through there.”
I crouch down and peer closely at the area in question, and Alessandra bends down and joins me in scrutinizing the
body shop’s handiwork.
“You can’t even tell it was ever busted,” Alessandra marvels.
“Yeah, it looks as good as new. Wow.”
We straighten up and walk a few steps to our left.
“And last but not least... this is Reed’s favorite, by far.” I motion to Reed’s beloved Bugatti. “It’s a Bugatti Chiron. Which, believe me, is far superior to the Bugatti Veyron. The Bugatti folks really upped their ‘pickup’ game with the Chiron.”
Alessandra scoffs and rolls her eyes along with me. “Like I always say, the Veyron is a straight-up piece of shit.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what I said!”
We laugh and laugh.
“Wow, Georgie,” Alessandra says. She pauses to look around the expansive space. “Reed really did make you his Cinderella, didn’t he? Just like he said that night at the bar.”
I inhale sharply. Holy crap. Alessandra is right. He did. Indeed, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling this entire week with him. Like Cinderella at the ball.
Alessandra walks a few steps away to inspect Reed’s sporting equipment on the far wall, but I stand frozen and flabbergasted by my epiphany. Have I been a fool to let myself get swept into a fairytale with a man like Reed Rivers—a man who’s made it quite clear he’s got no desire to be anyone’s Prince Charming? There can’t possibly be a happily ever after at the end of this fairytale I’ve been play-acting with Reed. I really need to remind myself of that fact, and prepare myself for the alternate ending. I need to pull back. Stuff these feelings down. Guard my heart so it won’t get hurt. I glance at Reed’s sparkling yellow Ferrari, and think, If I give my heart to Reed and he smashes it, I can’t imagine I’d come out the other side looking as good as new, the way this Ferrari did.
“Earth to Georgie,” Alessandra says.
I look at her blankly.
“I asked if you’re ready to go to the pool now, Cinderella?”
“Oh.” I take a deep breath. “Yeah, great. But, please, don’t make Cinderella my nickname. It only makes me think I’m one midnight away from everything around me turning into a pumpkin.”
***
After changing into our swimsuits, Alessandra and I arrive at the pool to find Reed’s sister and her friend enjoying the sunny day, joined by Josh and his pregnant wife, Kat, who’s rocking a white string bikini with her baby bump, and Henn, who’s here with his adorable, bespectacled wife, Hannah.
Introductions are made, and easy conversation ensues. After some preliminaries, Kat asks me about the special issue and how I got my cool gig, so I tell the group the story of how I ambushed CeeCee at an on-campus event for music students.
“Sounds like she’s your spirit animal, Kat,” Josh says to his wife. “A woman who knows how to get shit done.”
“He’s complimenting you,” Kat assures me. “Josh loves my devious side.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Josh says, laughing. “The way Kat cleverly gets what she wants is one of my all-time favorite things about her. Kat’s family calls itself the Morgan Mafia. And she’s definitely ‘The Godmother’ in that clan.”
“Oh, you’re a Morgan?” I say to Kat, putting two and two together. “Are you related to Keane and Dax?”
“They’re my brothers. My two little brothers. I’ve also got two big brothers. I like to say I’m the meat in a Morgan brothers sandwich.” She giggles at her own joke.
“Are your two older brothers coming to the party tonight, too?”
I don’t recall seeing any other Morgans on the guest list. But, then again, I didn’t make it through the entire list before Alessandra showed up.
“No. My oldest brother, Colby, isn’t a big partier. And my second-oldest brother, Ryan, loves to party, but not with Reed.”
My stomach clenches. “Oh.”
Kat looks embarrassed. “Oh, no, it’s nothing big. Reed flirted with Ryan’s wife, a million years ago, and Ryan’s never forgotten about it.”
“Oh,” I say again, at a loss for words. Reed hit on a married woman? And not just any married woman, but his best friend’s sister-in-law? I’m well aware Reed’s always liked the ladies, but, come on, there’s an entire planet of women who’d fall at his feet. There was no need for him to hit on Josh’s sister-in-law.
“Oh, Georgie, no, no,” Kat says, apparently reacting to the look on my face. “Tessa wasn’t even Ryan’s wife back when Reed flirted with her! She wasn’t even Ryan’s girlfriend!” Kat cackles with laughter. “My brother, Ryan, is a lunatic when it comes to his wife. A crazy-man with a grudge. Reed did nothing wrong. Tessa was single and fair game when he flirted with her. It was at our destination wedding in Maui, and everybody was hitting on everybody.” She laughs uproariously, and I exhale with relief.
More conversation ensues, drink orders are taken by some dude, and more people arrive. First, the three guys of 22 Goats—Dax, Fish, and Colin—waltz in, nearly making both Alessandra and me pee in the pool. Shortly after that, the actor Keane Morgan and his cute documentarian wife, Maddy, arrive, along with their two best friends... who, get this, are none other than former Disney-star-turned-pop-star, Aloha Carmichael, the woman Alessandra and I both watched on It’s Aloha! throughout our childhoods, plus, Aloha’s bodyguard-husband, Zander.
More drink orders are taken. Music begins blaring out of hidden speakers. And, suddenly, we’ve got ourselves a legit pool party.
At first, I’m nervous and stiff around so much star power. And Alessandra is a mute. But soon, it’s impossible not to loosen up in this easygoing group. We find out Keane’s wife, Maddy, is the younger sister of Henn’s wife, Hannah. We find out Kat is the one who introduced Henn to Hannah—that Kat used to work with Hannah in Seattle. “The minute I met Henny,” Kat declares, “I knew he’d fall ass over tea kettle for Hannah!”
With the group looking on and laughing their asses off, Keane tells Alessandra and me a long, twisted, bizarre story about the day he first met Zander when they got stuck together in an elevator at a porn convention... before finally bursting out laughing at our expressions and telling us, no, actually the pair met in math class in eighth grade.
And on and on it goes, with music blaring and cocktails flowing all the while. And through it all, I find myself feeling more and more relaxed and like myself, despite all the glamour and star power around me. Even Alessandra begins to find her groove after a while. Mostly, thanks to Fish, the lanky, shaggy bass player of 22 Goats, with whom she’s now chatting in a corner of the pool.
“So, do you mind if we talk about my interview of 22 Goats for a second?” I ask Dax.
I’m standing in the shallow end of the pool with him and his sweet wife, plus, Colin and his adorable girlfriend. Also, Josh and Kat, and Henn and Hannah. Behind us, Zander, Aloha, Keane, and Maddy are playing an enthusiastic game of chicken.
“Sure,” Dax says. “Reed mentioned you’re trying to come up with unique angles for all your interviews?”
“That’s the idea,” I say. “For instance, with Dean Masterson, I’m going to hang out with him at his house in Malibu. I’ll watch him surf. He’ll make me some stir-fry and show me some personal photos. I’m hoping to be able to write something really different about him than the world has seen before.”
“That sounds cool,” Dax says.
“You guys could show Georgina around Seattle,” Kat suggests. “It could be an ‘origin story’ type thing. You could show her where you guys used to rehearse in Mom and Dad’s garage. And where you used to skateboard. I have a thousand photos I could show you, Georgie.”
Dax says he’s in favor of the idea, and his drummer, Colin, agrees.
“Should we ask Fish if he’s okay with it?” I ask, glancing across the pool at Fish and Alessandra.
“Nah,” Dax says. “Fish is always cool with whatever.”
And, just that fast, it’s settled: In the near future, I’m going to spend the day in Seattle with 22 Goats!
“You should stay with Josh and me whe
n you come,” Kat says. “That way, we can hang out and relax while I show you all my photos and tell you all the stories the Goats would never want you to hear.”
I laugh with her. “That sounds amazing, Kat. Thank you.”
“Let’s exchange numbers, so you can use me as your point of contact to schedule everything,” Kat says. “It’d take you five times as long to get anything done if you had to go through official channels.”
And off we go to the ledge of the pool to grab our phones and exchange information.
“So, hey,” Kat says, after she’s input my number. “I think I might have put my foot in my mouth earlier, when I said that thing about my brother, Ryan, not liking Reed. Josh overheard that and got pissed at me. He doesn’t want you thinking badly of Reed, and neither do I. Reed is actually a good guy, Georgie. A sweetheart, once you get past all that swagger.”
I open my mouth to reply, but quickly close it again. Kat knows about Reed and me? Or is she simply concerned she’s said the wrong thing about her husband’s best friend to the woman assigned to write an article about him?
Kat continues, “Honestly, Georgie, I can’t even count all the times I’ve seen Reed being a fantastic friend or brother. Did you know he paid for all his sister’s schooling? He also hosted Henn and Hannah’s wedding here at his house. Also...” She looks behind her, apparently making sure nobody is within earshot. “This is off the record, okay? Not for your article.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell my brother, Keane, but Reed really helped his career behind the scenes.” She looks behind her again. “When Keane first moved to LA to try his hand at modeling and acting, his agent wouldn’t send him out to audition for anything serious. Every role he auditioned for was a dumb jock or stripper or frat boy. Keane was grateful for the work, and excited at first, but after a while, he really wanted to throw his hat in the ring for more serious roles. So, he took acting classes, and really worked hard, but, still, his agent wouldn’t take him seriously. So, Maddy told me about Keane’s predicament. She said Keane was getting discouraged. So, I mentioned it to Josh, just, you know, to catch my husband up on my life. I didn’t expect Josh to do anything with the information. But Josh, being Josh, he immediately took action and called Reed. Who then called the head of Keane’s talent agency—because Reed knows everybody in this town—and Reed told the guy it would be a personal favor to him if Keane’s particular agent would start taking a chance on him and send him out to a few serious auditions. And guess what happened? Keane got hired for the first serious role he tried out for! And that led to the next role, and the next. And now he’s starring in a hit show!”
