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My pulse is thumping in my ears. My fingers feel like they’re physically itching with the urge to take notes. But I stand still, holding my breath, afraid to do or say anything that might break this unexpected spell. I don’t know what’s prompted Reed to give me this scoop, and I don’t want to do anything to make him change his mind.
“Finally, around age twelve, about a year before my father got arrested, I could finally hit from the back tees, where he teed off. And, man, he was so proud of that. In the clubhouse, my father would tell anyone who’d listen, ‘My boy, Reed, is only twelve, and he’s already hitting off the back tees!’” Reed looks wistful for a beat, before his face darkens. “And then, out of nowhere, the FBI raided our house at dawn one morning and dragged him away. Suddenly, his face was all over the news. The press was saying he was some kind of monster. But since I knew he was innocent, I kept playing golf every weekend by myself, so I’d continue making progress, and continue making him proud once the trial was over and he came home.”
Oh, Reed. The look on his face is making my heart squeeze.
With a deep sigh, he frowns at his golf clubs like they’re flipping him off. “Obviously, nothing worked out the way twelve-year-old Reed thought it would. The jury convicted my father on all counts. He got sentenced to one hundred sixty-seven years in federal prison. And, for the first time, I devoured all the articles about him. I learned about the mountain of evidence against him. And I realized the jury had gotten it right. My father had done all of it. He’d lied and cheated and stolen, over and over again, while pretending to be a pillar of the community.” He sighs. “And, all of a sudden, I felt ashamed to be me. Ashamed of my name. I worried people would think I’m just like him. A liar and a thief.” His dark eyes find mine. “And I sure as fuck didn’t want to play fucking golf anymore.”
My stomach clenches at the hardness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through in your childhood, Reed.”
“Everybody’s got shit from their childhood. Terrence Rivers just happens to be mine.” His Adam’s apple bobs. He manages a thin smile. “All right, Intrepid Reporter. My onion has now officially been peeled, in accordance with my promise to CeeCee. How about I show you some memorabilia in my home office now?” He gestures to a side door. “From there, I’ll show you the gym upstairs, your room... and, finally, mine.”
Chapter 3
Reed
“This is so cool!” Georgie says, shoving her nose into a framed gold record on the wall. For the past ten minutes, I’ve been showing her various items of memorabilia in my home office, figuring it’ll go into her article. And, as expected, she’s been geeking out over all of it.
“That one was for RCR’s debut,” I explain, chuckling at Georgina’s enthusiasm. “It was my first gold record, so I keep it here, rather than with the others at the office. When I got that first one, I didn’t even have a full-time staff yet. River Records was just me, hustling my ass off. So I feel like it belongs here.”
“You must be so damned proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Hell, I’m so damned proud of you.”
I try not to smirk like an asshole at how adorable she is right now. So fresh-faced and excited. But, truly, in this moment, Georgie being “proud” of me is like a cute little house kitten congratulating the king of the jungle on a kill.
“Have I said something that amuses you?” she asks, resting her hand on her hip.
I pause. Shit. Apparently, this girl can read me like a book. “Only in the sense that I find your enthusiasm and adorableness slightly amusing.”
“See, the thing is, though, when you look at me like I’m a silly little girl when I’m simply talking, it comes off as condescending—like you think I’m stupid or you’re somehow better than me. I mean, yes, I realize you’re wildly successful. But that doesn’t make you an inherently better or smarter person than me.”
Oh, for the love of fuck. “Georgie, I don’t think you’re silly or stupid whatsoever. On the contrary, I think you’re wickedly smart. And I don’t think I’m better than you, or anyone else. I mean, yes, of course, I think I’m better than ninety-nine percent of the world’s population in terms of my business acumen, at least in my industry. And, yes, I know I’m better in bed than any man you’ll ever sleep with in your entire life. But, other than those two areas, I’m fully aware I’m just a humble, ordinary guy making his way through life, as best he can.”
