Beautiful Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 2)

After about fifteen minutes, in the midst of my conversation with Amalia, the kitchen door swings opens and two young women bound into the room. A woman with long, strawberry blonde hair, and another one with a dark bob with bangs and bright blue eyes.

“Amalia!” the brunette says.

“Hello, sweetie!” Amalia says warmly, leaping up from the table to administer hugs. Amalia introduces the women, and I learn the brunette is Reed’s sister and the blonde her best friend.

“And this is Georgina,” Amalia says to the women. She opens her mouth, like she wants to elaborate, but closes it. And I don’t blame her. In this context, it would be weird to introduce me in relation to Rock ‘n’ Roll. But who am I to Reed? And what am I doing here? It’s obviously not for Amalia to put a name to it.

“I’m writing about Reed for Rock ‘n’ Roll,” I say, trying to sound casual. “And also staying here with Reed.” Ugh. That was awkward.

“Reed mentioned the article,” Reed’s sister says. “And also that you’re staying here. He seemed excited about both.”

My heart leaps. “I’m excited about both, as well.”

“That’s good.” She flashes me a warm smile. “We’re going out to the pool. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, thank you for the invitation. But I’ve got to finish some work before my stepsister, Alessandra, arrives.”

“Maybe when Alessandra gets here, then.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Back in my room, I text Alessandra and ask her to pack bathing suits for both of us, so we can join Reed’s sister and her friend at the pool later today. And, luckily, my timing is good—I’ve caught her before she’s left her mother’s place.

Swimsuits handled, I sit on my bed with my laptop, open the guest list, and pick up where I left off earlier. The next name on the list? Laila Fitzgerald. Well, there’s no need to look her up. Laila is a superstar, thanks to a sophomore album that’s spun off hit after hit this past year.

Aloha Carmichael. No need to look her up, either. After years of watching her Disney show It’s Aloha! as a kid, and nowadays seeing Aloha’s ubiquitous face on viral music videos and shampoo commercials, I’d know that pop star’s gorgeous face and famous green eyes anywhere.

Keane Morgan. Okay, that’s a name I don’t know. But after a search, I quickly realize he’s an actor from a show I binge-watched last year. In that show, he was in a small, but pivotal role. But, now, it seems he’s moved on to a co-starring role on a hugely popular show I’ve never seen. Well, good for him. I’m glad to see he’s doing so well.

Madelyn Morgan. I’m assuming from the name she’s Keane’s wife. I google her, and find out I’m right about that. But I also find out she’s a kickass woman—a documentary filmmaker who was nominated for an Oscar last year. I’m a bit surprised, actually. In the show I saw, Keane came off like a total “bro.” But, obviously, if he’s married to a woman like Madelyn Morgan, there must be more to him than meets the eye.

Dax Morgan. Well, that’s another easy one. 22 Goats has been one of my favorite bands for the past few years, ever since they broke onto the scene with a music video that went viral. With his gorgeous face and long, blond hair, Dax Morgan, their frontman, is instantly recognizable to me and half the world. But even so, I look him up, just to see if he’s related to the actor, Keane Morgan. And, yup. Wikipedia tells me Dax and Keane are the two youngest brothers of five siblings in the Morgan clan.

Colin Beretta. Another easy one. He’s the drummer of 22 Goats.

Matthew Fishberger. Hmm. I don’t recognize the name, so I google it, and, instantly feel like an idiot. That’s Fish! The bassist for 22 Goats who’s come across as easygoing and likeable in every interview of the band I’ve read this past week.

Josh Faraday. Another easy one. Reed’s “male model” best friend from college, whom I met at the bar.

Kat Faraday. I google her and find out Josh’s wife is a gorgeous blonde bombshell who recently published her first romance novel—a romantic comedy entitled Suck It.

Well, this I’ve got to see. I find Kat’s book online, and when I behold the smoking hot cover, and read the sassy synopsis, I buy that sucker on the spot.

“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?