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She stands, her excitement palpable. “So, can I grab my computer now?”
I take a deep breath. “Of course.”
Hooting with glee, Georgina bounds out of the kitchen like a gazelle. And a moment later, she returns and places her opened laptop before me on the table. “Promise you’ll read it with an open mind, okay? Fair warning, parts of it are almost certainly going to freak you out, at first. But if you give it a fair chance, and read it with an open mind, I’m sure—”
“Enough,” I say, more harshly than intended. “We’ll let the article speak for itself.”
As Georgina resumes her chair, wringing her hands, I exhale a long, slow breath, place my elbows onto the table, on either side of the laptop, and let my eyes settle on the title of the article that’s surely going to hurtle me into a massive existential crisis. It reads, “Reed Rivers: The Man with the Midas Touch Unexpectedly Has a Heart of Gold.”
I look up, frowning sharply. “What the hell is this?”
“The article I wrote about you.”
“I thought you said you want your article to have journalistic integrity, and not be a sappy love letter to your boyfriend.”
She winks. “How about we let the article speak for itself? Read to the end before providing commentary, please. Thank you.”
Exhaling with annoyance, I return to the screen, and, after reading only a few paragraphs, easily surmise this article is a fucking travesty. A fluff piece. Shameless propaganda. Georgina describes how “brilliant” and “hands-on” I am, in every aspect of running my “empire.” She says I’m “gifted,” not only at holistic marketing, scouting, and negotiations, but also, at assisting my artists with “honing, maximizing, and developing their unique talents.”
She writes, “But Reed’s greatest talent lies in something that’s hard to encapsulate in words. Something that’s awfully hard to perceive about him, unless you’ve spent days observing him in his natural habitat. As crazy as it might sound to a casual observer, Reed Rivers is genuinely inspirational. Through more than his words—though his example, his persistence, his drive—he inspires the people around him to reach for their best selves and conquer the world.”
Georgina goes on to admit I’m not perfect. I can be “shockingly harsh” and “grouchy.” “At the office, annoyance and impatience are Reed’s default modes. But all of that’s okay with his team,” Georgina writes, “because Reed’s artists, and everyone who works for him, understand and respect his mission.” Which, she goes on to explain, is fundamentally built on an “uncompromising commitment to greatness.” Georgina further writes, “Everyone who works with Reed is well aware he only commands from others what he commands of himself. Excellence. And that makes them respect the hell out of him, both personally and professionally.”
I look up from the computer, scowling. “CeeCee will never publish this tripe in Dig a Little Deeper, and you know it.”
“Which is why I’m submitting this for Rock ‘n’ Roll. For the special issue.”
I pull a face like that’s the most moronic thing I’ve ever heard. “CeeCee explicitly assigned you to covertly try to unpeel my onion and bring her something on-brand for Dig a Little Deeper. Come on, Georgina. You’re still vying for a spot at Dig a Little Deeper. Don’t dim your light for anyone. Not even me. You know very well an article about me in Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t an A-plus result for you.”
Georgina shrugs. “A’s are overrated. C’s get degrees, dude.”
I stare at her blankly, incredulous. I’ve told this shark of a woman every fucking thing about me, every embarrassing, sensitive, excruciating, torturous thing... and this piece of shit is what she decided to write about me? I’m flabbergasted. Shocked. Annoyed. “You’re sincerely proud of this... article? And, yes, I’m using that term loosely.”
She laughs. “Yes, I’m very proud of it. Keep reading, please. No further commentary until you’re finished. Thank you.”
My pulse thumping in my ears, I return to Georgina’s screen and continue reading at the point where I left off. It’s the turning point of the article, it turns out. The place where Georgina gets to her true thesis: “But Reed isn’t merely a wildly successful and brilliant mogul-innovator-influencer-genius, he’s also, surprisingly, a truly good, generous, and kind human being, as well.” According to Georgina, I’m a “devoted son” who plays Scrabble and does yoga with his “beloved mother.” A loyal big brother who put his little sister through school and adores his nephew. “Reed is loyal as the day is long,” Georgina writes. “A man who’s had the same best friends since college and who grew up to hire his childhood nanny as his housekeeper, as soon as he could scrape together the funds to do so.”
To drive her thesis home, Georgina quotes several of my employees, including Owen, all of whom babble about whatever exceedingly nice thing I’ve done for them, or their family members, over the years, without fanfare or taking credit for it. Owen, in particular, goes on and on about my over-the-top generosity. “He’s a dream boss,” Owen is quoted as saying. “There’s never a dull moment with that guy. I learn something new every day by watching him.”
