Beloved Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 3)

Georgina pauses. “Yeah... about that. That part of our meeting was... disappointing, Reed. To say the least.”

My stomach clenches. Fuck. “How so?”

There’s another long pause, during which I feel like my stomach is turning inside out.

“Ha! I’m just screwing with you, dude. CeeCee said ‘ditto’ to everything you said in your texts.”

I groan loudly with relief. “Oh my God, you evil woman. Are you trying to make me stroke out? So, CeeCee backed up everything I told you?”

“All of it. Although she did make a few clarifying comments.”

My stomach somersaults. “What clarifying comments?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I not only forgive you for paying my salary and for all my father’s expensive medication, I thank you profusely for doing both. Thank you, Mr. Rivers. Sincerely. You’re an incredibly generous man, and I’m grateful.”

My eyes widen in shock. I look around like a cartoon character for a moment, even though nobody is here with me in my office to see the gesture.

“Hello?” she says.

“Yeah... I was waiting for you to say you’re kidding again.”

“I’m not kidding. Thank you.”

“Wow. That’s way more than I was expecting. Thank you.”

“No, no, no. Thank you.” She laughs again. “Look, I know you donated to that cancer charity because you wanted to get laid. But guess what? I wanted to get laid, too. I understand how a person can have concurrent motivations, as we’ve discussed. The bottom line is CeeCee would have hired me, no matter what. And that’s the most important thing.”

I feel dizzy with relief. “Let’s celebrate my complete vindication. Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night.”

“I can’t. Sorry. I’m flying to Seattle tomorrow, so I can interview 22 Goats on Friday.”

Sorry, she said. Was that a figure of speech, or is she really sorry to miss the chance to have dinner with me? “When will you be back from Seattle? We’ll do it then.” I’ve managed to keep my tone casual, I think. But, inside, my body is a riot of excitement and hopeful anticipation.

“I’ll be back from Seattle on Saturday,” she replies, her tone as breezy and casual as mine.

“Great. I’ll take you to dinner on Saturday night, and then to New York on Sunday morning.”

“Excuse me?”

My heart is racing. But there’s no turning back now. I’m taking my shot. “I promised to take you to an RCR concert this summer, remember? Well, RCR is playing at Madison Square Garden on Sunday night. Your birthday is at the end of this coming week, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, we’ll call the trip a birthday present. I’ll get tickets to some Broadway shows, too. How about Hamilton? You should see that one, if you haven’t.” I hold my breath, awaiting Georgie’s reply. For the first time since I dropped an atomic bomb onto my own happiness, I feel hopeful. I feel optimistic.

But then I hear Georgina’s voice, and I know I’m sunk.

“Reed,” she whispers on an exhale. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not? You said yourself, we’re friends now. Well, let me take my friend to New York City as a birthday present.”

“If I go on this trip with you, and let you try to ‘seduce’ me again, then what? It won’t end well. We’re doomed. So, what’s the point?”

We’re not doomed, I think. We’re destiny. “Please, Georgie. I won’t hurt you again. I promise.” She’s silent. And I’m desperate. “All right, then. This trip isn’t a birthday present. It’s a work obligation. I’ve got full discretion as to when and where I make my artists available for interviews. And I’m only making RCR available to you backstage before their concert at Madison Square Garden. Take it or leave it.”

She scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Wow, great plan, Mr. Rivers. Bully me into falling in love with you again.”

My heart stops. It’s the first time Georgina’s used the “L” word. And it only makes me want to come at her that much harder. “Take it or leave it, Miss Ricci,” I say sternly. “You can still interview Dean, individually, in Malibu, like we discussed. But this is the only way I’ll serve up RCR to you, as a full band.”

I can practically hear her eye roll over the phone line. “Fine, ya big dickhead. I’ll take it. But I won’t have dinner with you on Saturday night. And I won’t fly to New York with you. I’ll meet you backstage at the concert on Sunday, with my press pass around my neck.”

“God, you’re even more stubborn than me. I want to take you to my favorite restaurant in Manhattan.”

“And I want to punch you in the face. Sometimes, we can’t have everything we want in life.”

I chuckle, despite my misery. “Georgina, this is stupid. Every time we talk, the chemistry between us is through the roof, and you know it.”

“So what? Chemistry is a shortsighted thing to chase. If I can’t trust you with my heart, there’s no point in moving forward. Honestly, I wish I could trust you with my heart again, because, apparently, it still belongs to you, whether I like it or not. Along with my body. But I have to get over you, Reed. For my own good. You’re nobody’s Prince Charming. And yet, that’s how I started thinking about you when I was following you around like a smitten puppy for a week. Is that really what you want? For some pie-eyed smitten puppy to start imagining you’re her Prince Charming?”