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But I’m not the least bit impressed, and I’m sure my face shows it. “That’s it?” I say.
“What do you mean, ‘That’s it’? Reed, I gave his beloved car four flat tires! Do you know how expensive tires are? And I made it so he’d have to replace the entire set, all at once!”
I can’t help laughing uproariously at her beautiful innocence in this moment. Her stunning beauty. I kiss her cheek, still laughing. “Oh my God, Georgie girl. I thought you were going to say you keyed the fucker’s car. Maybe scratched ‘liar’ onto his car doors.”
She looks utterly shocked at the suggestion. “Well, first of all, his Jeep didn’t really have doors. But, second of all, why would I do that? I could have gone to jail for a very long time if I did something as serious as that. I think that would be a felony!”
I laugh again. “And here I thought you were such a badass.”
“I am.” She pouts. “I gave him four flat tires and burned three jerseys. I was proud of myself for that.”
I laugh. “Well, yeah. I’m glad you did something to the guy. He cheated on you with four women. I’m just saying that was your chance to go full-on ‘Left Eye’ Lopes on the guy, and be perfectly justified. I’m just saying you didn’t really seize the opportunity as fully as you could have. That’s all.”
She looks up from her pouting. “Full-on ‘Left Eye’ Lopes? I’m sure it won’t shock you to learn I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I throw my head back. “No!”
She giggles. “Sorry.”
I return to her. “Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes. She was in TLC—the female R&B trio from the ‘90s.”
She grimaces. “Nope. Sorry.”
I drag my palm over my face. “Please, at least tell me you’ve heard of TLC?”
She shakes her head, so I sing the chorus of “Scrubs.” And when that elicits nothing, I switch to the chorus of “Waterfalls,” which, thankfully, she instantly recognizes.
“I love that song,” she declares.
“Okay, well, the rap in the middle of that one was performed by Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes.”
“Ooooh. Quick question. What’s the point of that song? When they say you shouldn’t chase waterfalls, are they saying you shouldn’t follow your dreams?”
“No, they’re saying you shouldn’t engage in self-destructive behaviors.”
“Aaaaah. Okay.”
“So, Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes. You need to learn this.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopes had a boyfriend named Andre Rison. He was a pro football player. And one night, after they’d had a huge fight, Left Eye burned Andre’s very large house in Atlanta completely to the ground.”
Georgina gasps.
“She claimed she’d only intended to burn a pair of sneakers in a bathtub, but that the fire had spread and burned out of control.”
“Holy crap.”
“Guess how long she went to prison for felony arson?” I raise my eyebrow. “Not a single day.”
“What?”
“Andre knew he deserved it, apparently. He supported her in court.”
“What the hell did Andre do to her?”
“She said he’d beaten her. He denied it.”
Georgina’s jaw sets. “Well, if he did, he got off easy, if you ask me.”
In a flash, I’m thinking about that fucker Mr. Gates again. “I couldn’t agree more,” I say, my jaw tightening. I set Georgina down onto her feet, and put my fingertip underneath her chin. “Listen to me, Georgie girl. Listen close. Nobody is allowed to hurt you, ever again. You got that? If any man ever dares lay so much as a pinky on you, that you don’t want on you, or if someone you trusted hurts you in any way, then I want you to go full-on ‘Left Eye’ Lopes on his fucking ass. Or, if you’re too scared to do that. If you just want to get away, then you do that. But then, I want you to promise me, no matter how far in the future this scenario might come to pass, you’ll come to me. Straight to me. No matter where I am in the world. And you’ll tell me what happened, so I can go full-on Reed Rivers on the motherfucker’s ass.”
She’s shaking against my fingertip. She nods, her hazel eyes flashing.
“Nobody—nobody—is allowed to hurt you, Georgina Ricci. Never, ever again. Do you understand me? Never.”
She nods again, just before lunging at me and crushing her gorgeous lips to mine.
Chapter 20
Georgina
My head is swimming. And not just from all the booze I’ve had tonight. The conversations I’ve had with Reed... our incredible make-out session in the pool, after I told him about Shawn... All of it has been electrifying. Intimate. Like a fairytale. And the night isn’t even over yet.
We’re out of the swimming pool now, sitting in the hot tub, gazing at the sparkling view of Los Angeles. And I swear I don’t remember the last time I felt this alive—this safe and protected and adored—in my entire life.
