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And I never will, I think.
“Come on, Reed. You never let anyone peel back the layers of your onion. Let me be the first.”
“I’m quite content being an unpeeled onion. But, thanks.”
“I’m envisioning a cover story, honey. An up-close headshot on the cover with those gorgeous eyes of yours, front and center, staring into the reader’s soul... It’d be an interview bursting with my admiration and love for you. I’d show you as the inspiration you are.”
“I’m not an inspiration.”
“Yes, you are. And yet, nobody knows it because you always seem so polished. Let down your guard a little bit, and I promise it’ll be the best interview of your life.”
“CeeCee, nobody needs to know the nuts and bolts of me. How hard I’ve worked to get here. What I’ve overcome. Let them think I walk on water and bathe in Evian and shit diamonds and fuck supermodels every second of my golden life. That’s my brand—which, by the way, I’ve meticulously cultivated in order to sell a shit-ton of music over the years.”
CeeCee sighs with disappointment. “I think an in-depth interview would be even better for your ‘brand.’ I truly do. It’d be a win-win.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It pains me to say no to you about anything, love. In some ways, you’ve been more of a mother to me than my own. But—”
“Now, see! That’s exactly the kind of thing I want to talk to you about in an interview! You’ve never said anything like that to me before. And now I’m dying to know what you mean.”
I look out the car window at the bustling streets of Manhattan. “I’d be happy to tell you over drinks some time. Off the record.”
“I’ll hold you to that. So, what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Nothing.”
“You called me, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah. I just called to tell you how much I enjoyed doing the panel, despite all the griping and bitching I did this past week about having to do it.”
“Aw, I’m so glad.”
“Icing on the cake, I wound up chatting with your friend, Angela, about being an expert witness on this stupid copyright infringement lawsuit I’ve got to defend, and she just now emailed Leonard and said she’s reviewed the case in detail and she’s happy to do it.”
“Fantastic! You’ll love Angela. Your jury is going to adore her.”
“The case won’t get to a jury. Some moron-band nobody has ever heard of is claiming Red Card Riot stole a chord progression that can be found in everything from Mozart to Bruno Mars.”
CeeCee scoffs. “God, I hate people.”
“I would have told you all about it yesterday, but you took off without so much as a quick goodbye.”
“Sorry. You were being mobbed by kiddies, and I only had a short window to grab a coffee with an old friend.”
Bingo. Finally, we get to the good stuff. “Oh yeah? Who?”
“Gilda Schiff. An old friend from college. She’s a journalism professor at UCLA.”
My heart is suddenly thrumming. “Hmm. The woman I saw you leaving with looked a bit younger than an ‘old college friend.’”
“Oh, your eagle eye noticed that gorgeous creature who left with Gilda and me, did it, all the way from across that huge lecture hall?” She chuckles. “The college kiddie with us was one of Gilda’s journalism students. Apparently, she had the bright idea to attend a music school event to meet me and try to land herself a writing job.”
“With Rock ‘n’ Roll?”
“No. Georgina has her sights set on Dig a Little Deeper, though she said she’d take any opportunity.”
My heart rate increases, yet again, just hearing Georgina’s name. In a torrent, I’m suddenly remembering Georgina’s “greatest hits” from last night. Our amazing kisses. The way her tits peeked out of her tank. The way her hazel eyes flashed with homicidal rage when she told me off in front of my house, making me hard as a rock. And, finally, the way she hurled herself into that Uber, and then flipped me off with both hands as her car peeled away. And all of it, despite the fact that anyone else would have stayed and kissed my ass—not to mention, come inside and sucked my dick—to advance her stepsister’s cause.
I clear my throat, my breathing shallow. “So, are you going to hire her?” I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I gotta think her worming her way into meeting you at a music school event is a point in her favor. It shows she’s capable of thinking outside the box, don’t you think?”
“Oh, absolutely. And being able to think outside the box wasn’t the only point in this young woman’s favor.”
You can say that again.
“She’s a treasure, Reed. An absolute gem. Funny and engaging. Charismatic and confident. An excellent writer, too. I just finished reading her writing samples, and I was duly impressed.”
