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My heart leaps, even though my brain knows it probably shouldn’t. “I’ll make sure to get there fifteen minutes early.”
The woman gives me the address for tomorrow’s meeting, plus some parking instructions, and then signs off by saying, “Don’t be nervous, okay? I think you’re going to be extremely happy with what CeeCee offers you.”
Chapter 17
Georgina
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
I can’t believe my ears.
I’m sitting across from CeeCee in her luxurious office. CeeCee is seated in a white leather chair at an expansive glass desk, looking like a baller in a black pant suit and badass earrings, while I’m sitting across from her in my only pencil skirt, trying not to shriek uncontrollably at what she just said. Holy fucking crap, CeeCee Rafael wants to hire me for a paid internship at Rock ‘n’ Roll!
“I know you had your heart set on Dig a Little Deeper,” CeeCee says, leaning back into her beautiful throne. “But if this internship goes well during the summer, who knows where it could lead.”
I babble stupidly for much too long about my euphoria and gratitude. About dreams coming true. I ask if there’s someone at the cancer charity I can thank for the grant CeeCee has unexpectedly arranged for me, and, holy fuck, for my father’s medication, too, and she tells me, nope, she’ll forward my effusive thanks to the powers that be.
Handing me a tissue for my tears, CeeCee says, “I hope you’re not upset at Gilda—Professor Schiff—for mentioning your father’s illness to me. She only told me so that I could think outside the box in terms of arranging payment for you.”
Again, I babble into my tissue, using far too many words to say, in essence, I’m so, so grateful, to CeeCee and Professor Schiff and the amazing cancer charity.
CeeCee clasps her manicured hands and places them on her glass desk. “So, do you want to hear about your assignment for the next three months, my dear?”
I wipe my eyes one last time and put the tissue into my lap. “Oh my gosh. Yes.”
CeeCee flashes me an excited smile. “For the next three months, Georgina, you’re going to be working exclusively on a singular, exciting project.” She pauses for effect. “A special issue of Rock ‘n’ Roll devoted solely to the artists and inner workings of one record label... River Records!”
My jaw drops along with my stomach. No. This can’t be happening. The best news of my life has just turned into the worst. CeeCee is hiring me to work exclusively on an issue devoted to Reed River’s label... for the next three months? It’s a catastrophe!
“Don’t worry, you won’t be the only one writing for this issue,” CeeCee says, apparently misreading the look of panic on my face. “I’m also assigning a couple of seasoned writers, too, who’ll contribute content and also mentor you. Plus, I’ll write a few pieces for the issue, too. But, make no mistake about it, Georgie, your job is to interview the shit out of as many River Records artists as you can personally manage throughout the summer and turn those interviews into fresh, fun, original content. I want you to think outside the box and really run with it.”
Holy fucking hell. My mind is racing with thoughts, all of them centering on Reed fucking Rivers. Does he know CeeCee has assigned me, the woman who double-flipped him off the last time he saw her, to this special issue? If he doesn’t already know, will he get me kicked off the project the minute he finds out?
For several minutes, CeeCee details her vision for the issue. And, slowly, despite my panic about Reed, I begin to feel swept away by the excitement of it all. We brainstorm ideas for a bit, our mutual enthusiasm mounting. And, finally, CeeCee says, “And, of course, what would a special issue about River Records be without an in-depth, featured interview of the man at the helm of it all, Reed Rivers?”
And there it is. The two little words I’ve been dreading since CeeCee first told me about this assignment: Reed Rivers. If Reed doesn’t know about me being assigned to the project, he’s going to find out soon enough. And when he does, will he pick up the phone and tell CeeCee to send someone else—someone who didn’t tell him to fuck off and die, and then peel out in an Uber while he stood in front of his house with a raging boner poking the front of his pants?
“Is something wrong, Georgina?” CeeCee asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’m just feeling a little woozy due to excitement. This is a doozy of an opportunity, CeeCee. A doozy with a capital ‘oozy.’”
CeeCee giggles. “Yes, it is.”
“Um. Out of curiosity,” I say, “how much of this idea has been cleared with Mr. Rivers?”
“All of it. Nothing happens at River Records without Reed clearing it. You’ll find that out soon enough. He’s extremely hands-on.”
