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“Georgina Marie. You promised not to look at whatever’s in that box!”
I grimace. “Sorry. I wasn’t lying to you. I just... forgot.”
Dad points toward the hallway. “Get your butt into the kitchen and eat the meatball sandwich I’ve made for you. Dinner is served.”
“Sorry, Daddy. I need five minutes. There’s a text for work I need to send.”
“No.”
“It’s for work. I swear. I need to send it.”
Dad exhales. “You swear on Mommy it’s for work?”
Damn it. I hate it when he does that. He knows it’s the one thing I’ll never, ever fib on. But, luckily, the text I want to send is to Margot. Not about a work-related matter, actually. But, hey, since she works for Rock ‘n’ Roll, I still think a text to her should qualify as something “for work.” I say, “Yes. I swear. I just need five minutes.”
Satisfied, Dad leaves my doorway, and I pick up my phone, intending to send my text to Margot. But before I’ve started typing, my phone pings with yet another incoming text from Reed:
The hotel informs me you haven’t checked into your room or retrieved your car keys. I’m assuming that means you’re staying at your father’s condo. Please confirm. If I don’t hear from you by 8:00 tonight, then I’ll have no choice but to call your father to confirm your whereabouts. If you’re not at his place, and he hasn’t heard from you, then my next call will be to the police. Your choice, Miss Ricci.
“Bastard!” I whisper-shout. The clever man has found my Achilles’ heel. He knows I’d never want the CEO of River Records calling my father about me. How would I explain that to my dad, after the loan on his condo got magically paid off? After a fancy stationary bike showed up at his house? And, especially, now that my father knows I’ve been in bed, crying for two days because a stupid boy didn’t love me back? Damn that relentless man! Gnashing my teeth, I bang out an angry reply to Reed’s missive:
Hello, Mr. Rivers. Yes, I’m at my father’s condo. I’m planning to stay at the hotel starting tomorrow night. Thank you for the room and rental car. Thank you for having the Peloton delivered. Keep the Pilates machine, please. I missed today’s team meeting because I’ve determined I’ve got enough information from you, directly, for my article and will now begin gathering information from other sources. Going forward, please keep future communications on a professional basis. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and my father. We both appreciate it very much. However, as I hope you have discerned by now, my affection and trust do not have a price tag.
I press send on my message, and not ten seconds later, my phone rings with an incoming call from Reed—which I decline—and then breathlessly tap out a text to CeeCee’s personal assistant, Margot:
I know CeeCee will be slammed on Wednesday, since it’s her first day back, but I’m hoping to grab a few minutes of her time, one-on-one, before her scheduled meeting with Zasu and me at 2:00. I’m sorry to ask for this favor, but it’s an urgent personal matter. Thank you.
After pressing send, I toss my phone onto my bed and march into my father’s kitchen, my stomach growling and my head held high. Reed wants me to act like a “fucking professional”? Fine. Great. Then that’s exactly what I’ll do, stronzo.
Chapter 5
Georgina
Tuesday, 1:04 pm
I lean back in my chair, blown away. Heartsick. Devastated. How am I going to remain angry with Reed after reading all of this?
I’m sitting in a conference room at Rock ‘n’ Roll, having just read the documents comprising the twenty-year-old legal malpractice suit filed by Eleanor Rivers against her divorce attorney—which, in turn, set forth the basic facts of the underlying divorce and custody battle between Eleanor and Terrence Rivers. And I’m feeling like I’ve just been run over by a Mack truck. I can’t imagine what Reed had to do—the fortress he had to build around his heart—to overcome the chaos and abandonments of his childhood.
It’s taken me half a day to read everything in the three boxes sent from the courthouse, all of which can be summarized as follows:
Two years before Reed came along, Terrence and Eleanor Rivers had a son named Oliver. When little Oliver Rivers was born, Terrence and Eleanor hired a weekday, live-in housekeeper/nanny named Amalia Vaccaro. Two years later, when Reed joined the family, a weekend nanny named Celeste was added to the payroll. Why did Terrence and Eleanor feel they needed so much assistance with their two young children, when Eleanor didn’t work outside the home? Well, according to Eleanor, it was because Terrence wanted his young wife to be able to “dote on their children” while also having plenty of time to “paint and nap, and read poetry,” and, basically, not have to worry about pesky things like cleaning toilets or making the family dinner, or anything else that might cause Eleanor a moment of worry or stress.
