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“Here we go,” the waiter says, arriving with our martinis, and we lean back from the table to let him put them down.
“Bring me another one,” Isabel says, picking up her glass.
“Make that three,” I say.
“Of course,” the waiter says. “Would we like to order some appetizers?”
“No, we won’t be ordering food,” Isabel snaps. “Bring the next round of drinks and then leave us alone.”
“Yes, Miss Randolph.”
As he scurries away, Isabel trains her ice-blue eyes on mine. “Doing this in front of her is cruel.”
“Nobody is trying to hurt you,” Georgina pipes in. “We thought it would be more respectful to tell you this, in person, before we started posting ‘happy couple’ photos on Instagram. And, by the way, I don’t see how Reed telling you he’s in love and happy could possibly be considered ‘cruel’ to you, when you’re the one who’s engaged to be married, and you and Reed haven’t even been together in years.”
I bite back a smile. That’s my girl.
“It’s not like you and I are besties,” Georgina continues. “So, I don’t feel like either one of us owes you an apology for falling head over heels in love with each other and then giving you the courtesy of an in-person heads-up about it.”
I take Georgina’s hand underneath the table, letting her know I’ve got her back. “I understand you’re feeling blindsided,” I say. “But Georgina is right. You’ve got no reason to be upset with me or throw shade at Georgina. You’ve moved on with Howard. I’ve moved on with Georgina. Congratulations to us both.” I raise my martini. “Cheers.”
Georgina clinks with me, but Isabel doesn’t.
“You told me your girlfriend wasn’t at the party,” Isabel says, her nostrils flaring.
“I didn’t want you heading straight to Georgina to confront her. I also wanted Georgina to have a shot at getting a good interview out of you.”
Isabel scoffs. “Why? Why did you care about that?”
“Because I thought it would be a win-win.”
Isabel looks at Georgina. “I hope you know you can forget about that interview now, sweetie.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered that, sweetie. Although I do have a couple questions for you. Not for an article about you. For something I’m writing about your fiancé.”
“Ha! Howard’s not going to let you interview him! Not after I tell him—”
“No, no,” Georgina says calmly. “My article about Howard isn’t going to be an interview. It’s going to be an exposé.”
Isabel pauses, clearly taken aback. “About what?”
“I’m glad you asked. But first, a little background, so you understand how this idea was born. I was researching an article about Reed, actually. So I went to the courthouse and got copies of some lawsuits he’d settled. One of which, was this one.” She reaches into her computer bag, pulls out Troy Eklund’s lawsuit, and slides it across the table in front of Isabel. And the moment Isabel sees the name at the top, she gasps and looks at me, hurtling into full panic mode.
“I want to be clear, I found this lawsuit, all by myself. Without Reed or anyone else saying a word about it. And when I read it, I found it so interesting and mysterious, I decided to track down this Troy Eklund dude and hear his side of it. I went to a bar in West Hollywood, where he was playing on a Tuesday night. Troy and I chatted after his set. Man, he’s a chatty motherfucker. Also, a douchebag. But, anyway, based on that conversation, I then headed downtown to a restaurant owned by a woman I think you know. Francesca Laramie.”
Isabel looks ashen. She looks at me and whispers, “You told her?”
“Reed didn’t say a word to me about any of this,” Georgie says. “He didn’t even know I was sniffing around about any of this. I figured everything out for myself.”
“Oh my God,” Isabel says, burying her face in her hands.
“There’s no need for you to worry,” Georgina says reassuringly. “I swear on my mother, and that’s my most sacred promise, that I’ll never tell anyone your secret. No matter what. The only reason I’m telling you about all this is because—”
“Here we go,” the waiter says, bringing us the second round of drinks. “Are we sure we don’t want to order—”
“We’re sure!” Isabel shrieks. “Now go, and don’t come back unless you’ve been expressly summoned!”
“Yes, miss.” He scurries away.
“This isn’t a shakedown,” Georgina says. “I wasn’t going to mention this next thing, but I suddenly feel like it would be for the best if I do. I already know that you and Reed kissed in his garage at the party, Isabel. And I want you to know this isn’t about that. I want to assure you I’m not going to find out about that kiss later, and snap, and then go back on my word not to divulge your secret. My promise is ironclad. I come in peace. I’m not here to hurt you and I’ll never tell anyone what I figured out. I love Reed. And whether he realizes it or not, he loves you. And that means, no matter what, I’m not going to hurt or humiliate you. Not directly, anyway. Which brings me to Howard and the reason I’m telling you all this.” She takes a deep breath. “When I was talking to Francesca at her restaurant, Howard’s name came up. Francesca said she never talks about her girls, or her former clients. But she did say there was one client who used to assault her girls. And when I mentioned Howard’s name, she confirmed that’s who she meant.”
