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“I told her the truth, without sugarcoating it. I told her I listened to her demo and, basically, that she’s got to get past the bullshit if she wants any shot—”
“Goddammit, Reed!” Fish booms, shocking the hell out of me. “Why are you always such a prick, man? Before you came out here, Alessandra and I were having the most amazing conversation! She was telling me how she got into music after her dad died when she was a kid. She was telling me about her stage fright. Asking me for tricks to overcome it. And then you had to come out here and tell her she sucks and her music is bullshit? Goddammit, Reed! Fuck you, you fucking prick.”
With an angry wave of his hand, he turns on his heel and sprints away, presumably to find Alessandra, his lanky body moving faster than I’ve ever seen it move it before.
“Well, that was unexpected,” I mutter to myself.
Shaking my head, I gaze at the sparkling view for a long moment. Fuck. That sucked. I must say, though, I’m thoroughly impressed with the way Fish just told me off. Not because he’s right, of course. I wasn’t a prick to Alessandra. I was actually being kind to her. Cruel to be kind, as they say. But kind, nonetheless. I’d swear to that under oath.
But, still, it was cool to see Fish climb aboard his white horse. That dude hasn’t raised his voice to me once in the entire time I’ve known him, let alone called me a prick. Well, not to my face, anyway. I think it’s now obvious he’s called me that, and worse, plenty of times behind my back. But that’s fine. He’s not the first person to think I’m a prick. He won’t be the last. If, somehow, me being the bad guy lets him be the good guy with this girl, then I’m happy to oblige.
Although... Shit. I suddenly realize... Georgina.
When she hears Alessandra’s version of this story, will she assume I treated Alessandra the way I treated that blonde at the bar? Because I didn’t. Yes, I was honest with Alessandra, but I took special care to be gentle with her. I flashed her several reassuring smiles, which is something I never do. I was careful to use a calm and soothing tone of voice. Also, not my typical MO. But will Georgina understand any of that, or will she hear some disjointed, emotional version of the story from her stepsister and immediately assume I’m the devil incarnate?
My heart pounding, I rise from the bench, intending to head back into the party to find Georgina. But I’ve no sooner taken two steps than Isabel appears from around a corner.
“There you are!” she says.
“Not now, Isabel.”
“Yes, now. It’s important. A matter of life or death.”
“I’ve got something important I’ve got to do,” I say.
“It’s an emergency,” she says. “I need five minutes.”
I exhale in frustration. “Five minutes. Not a second more.”
The sound of people laughing nearby wafts toward us, emanating from the other side of a hedge.
“Not here,” Isabel says. She grabs my hand. “Come on, love. Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.”
Chapter 32
Georgina
Where the heck is Reed? I’ve been looking for him for the past ten minutes, but I can’t find him anywhere. And I can’t find Alessandra, either. I’m guessing she’s off in a quiet corner, chatting with Fish. Or maybe even smooching Fish. Which, of course, would tickle me pink. And would also provide a damned good reason not to be answering my texts. But Reed is a different story. This is his party, so, why has he disappeared?
I’m bursting at the seams to talk to Reed—to tell him the news that I landed the interview of Isabel. And, also, yes, to try to get to the bottom of the lies I think he and Isabel have both been telling me. Does it matter to me how they met? No! But it sure as heck matters to me they both seem to be lying about it.
Thus far, I’ve done two laps around the ground floor areas, including the patio and pool, in my pursuit of Reed. And now I’m doing a lap of the entire upstairs, too—even though I can’t fathom Reed would have come up here while his party raged on below. But, again, I’m coming up empty. Crap.
I descend the staircase, feeling more and more frustrated with every step I take. At the bottom of the stairs, I run into Aloha Carmichael. She’s with Barry, Reed’s head of security. Getting a piggyback ride from him, actually. And when she sees me, she calls my name warmly.
“Reed told me to talk to you,” she says.
“Have you seen him recently?”
“Not recently. I saw him at the bar a while ago.”
“Which one?”
“The one by the French doors.” She points. “That one.”
