by Lauren Rowe
“Play it. I want to get this over with already.”
My hand trembling, I cue the video, and two seconds later, the sounds of simple piano chords fill Reed’s car, followed by... a beautiful voice. A breathtaking, soulful one that instantly sends shivers racing across my flesh. Oh, God. This girl is amazing!
“Okay, turn it off,” Reed says, even before the girl has reached her first chorus. “I’ve heard enough.”
My heart is galloping. “Enough to know you want to sign her?”
“Enough to know I don’t. Turn it off, please. I’d prefer silence, so we can talk.”
My lips smashed tightly together, I comply with his request, and the car becomes silent, except for the sounds made by Reed’s fancy car.
“You barely listened to her,” I finally say.
“I listened twice as long as I normally would, to give my new music scout plenty of time to make her assessment.”
“Well, my assessment is she’s amazing and you should have listened some more.”
“She’s got talent. No doubt about that. But she’s not a fit for River Records. Best of luck to her. Next.”
I can’t believe it. Is he crazy? Deaf? She was soulful and moving. Lovely. Granted, the song she was singing might not be the stuff of global smashdom, but, surely, Reed heard enough to want to listen to another song.
“You thought she was lightning in a bottle?” Reed asks.
“I thought she was possibly lightning in a bottle. Enough to keep listening, to find out for sure.”
He shifts his car. “And that’s why you’re a journalism major, and I’m me.”
I repress the urge to flip him off and look out the passenger side window. Crap. If he didn’t give this girl the time of day, then how long will he listen to my sweet Alessandra pouring her heart out?
“Georgina, she’s a second-rate Laila Fitzgerald,” Reed says. “And I’ve already got the original.”
I bite my tongue, too pissed and flabbergasted to respond. I know it’s irrational, but I’m feeling vicariously crushed for this girl—which, in turn, makes me feel crushed for Alessandra.
“Are you familiar with Laila Fitzgerald?” Reed prompts.
I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
“And you didn’t hear the similarity? The way she copied Laila’s inflection? Georgina, she was literally copying Laila. She doesn’t have a sound of her own. Doesn’t know who she is. That makes her a hard pass for me. Next.”
And the hits just keep on coming. Alessandra doesn’t try to sound like Adele or Laila! She’s been singing the same way since she was little! Is Reed saying Alessandra wouldn’t be a legitimate prospect for him simply because she sounds like a combination of two fabulously successful artists?
“What’s wrong?” Reed says. And when I look at him, he’s doing that thing again. Staring at me like he can read my mind.
“Nothing,” I say, but even as I say it, I know my tone is less than convincing.
Reed sighs. “Look, I’m sorry if you feel sorry for this girl. But move on. She won the lottery that I listened to her at all. I have a team of people I pay a lot of money to scout bands and artists for me, and then present their findings to me at weekly meetings. And you know why? Because I’m too busy and impatient to get eyeballs deep in this shit myself. I’m sorry if the reality of the music business seems harsh and heartless to you, but I know my business. And not only that, I have only one life to live, and finite hours in each day, and I can’t waste valuable minutes on anything, let alone aspiring singer-songwriters who I know within seconds aren’t going to be a fit. I know within the first ten seconds of a song if someone has a glimmer of a chance to make it onto my roster. The minute I know they don’t, then I move on. Life is too fucking short to do otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say softly, feeling like I’m being physically crushed by the weight of the music demo sitting in my purse. Why, oh why, did I have to have that damned thing in my purse tonight? This night would have been so much more fun, so carefree and sexy and glorious, if I had nothing on my mind but Reed’s smoking hot body right now.
Reed pulls onto a side street, where we twist and turn in silence for a bit, until finally coming to a stop in front of a large metal gate. Reed pushes a button and the gate begins sliding slowly open. Silently, he drives through the gate and down a driveway, until parking at the top of a circular drive in front of an extremely large house nestled into the slope of a hill.
Reed turns off his fancy car’s engine and turns to me, his brown eyes blazing. “For the love of fuck, just ask me already, Georgina. Let’s get it out of the way, whatever it is, so we can move past it and have a great time together.”
My heart stops. “Ask you what?”
“Whatever the fuck it is you’ve been scheming and plotting to ask me this entire car ride. Probably from the second you winked at me in the lecture hall, if I were a betting man.” His eyes harden. “Which I am.”
Words won’t form. I’m a deer in headlights. A thief caught with her hand on a combination lock. Shit.
“You want me to listen to a song, I assume?” he says, letting his hand drop from his steering wheel with exasperation. “‘Someone’ who doesn’t have a big social media following?”
He’s taken the air out of my lungs. Sent my heart rate galloping. I nod slowly, my cheeks burning. “I’m sorry.”
“Is this ‘someone’ you, Georgina?”
“No.”
He looks unconvinced.
“It’s my stepsister, Alessandra. Well, my former stepsister. Her mom married my dad when I was eleven and she was nine, but they divorced a year later.” I take a deep breath. “She’s so talented, Reed. A true artist. I’d be thrilled and grateful if you’d, please...” I swallow hard. Shit. “Take a quick listen to her music and tell me what you think.”
A small puff of air escapes Reed’s nose. He shakes his head and looks out his driver’s side window. “I knew it,” he mutters. “It never fails.”
I’m horrified. “Wait. No. You think Alessandra is the reason I came here with you tonight? She’s not.”
Reed swivels his head to look at me, his face nonverbally communicating he thinks I’m a fucking liar.
“Reed, I’m here because I’m genuinely attracted to you.”
He bites back a scoff. “Do you just so happen to have Alessandra’s music demo with you right now, Georgie, or do you want me to check out her Instagram page?”
Oh, fuck. “I... I have her music demo.”
His chest heaves. “Wow. What a coincidence. Do you carry it around with you, everywhere you go?”
I feel tears threaten, but I stuff them down.
“Did you have it earlier today, when you went to the event to ‘meet CeeCee,’ and our eyes met, and you winked at me? Did you have your stepsister’s music demo then, Georgina?”
I can’t move. Or breathe. I’ve never felt so cornered in my life. So misunderstood... and, yet, so guilty.
Reed leans toward me, overwhelming me with his intensity. “Did you walk into that lecture hall today, hoping to give me that flash drive, Georgina? Tell me the fucking truth.”
I open and close my mouth. And then slowly nod. “But it’s not what you think. I genuinely went there to meet CeeCee, like I said, but since I knew you were going to be there, I also—”
He waves me off. “It’s fine. I get it. You were multi-tasking. Killing two birds with one stone, right?”
My breathing is labored. I’m physically squirming in my seat. “Exactly. I didn’t lie to you, Reed. I flirted with you only because I’m attracted to you. Not because of the demo.”
He looks out the window again. “It doesn’t matter, either way. Don’t worry about it. I knew you were gaming me this whole time, so it’s not like this changes anything. Frankly, it’s par for the course for me, and a huge relief to finally have my hunch confirmed.”
“Reed, listen to me. I haven’t been ‘gaming’ you—”
&n
bsp; He returns to me and his face is calm. Like he’s wearing a Reed Rivers mask now. “It’s okay, Georgina. I strongly prefer knowing someone wants something from me, rather than having to suffer through the exhaustion of them pretending they don’t. God, I hate having to play along when they pretend they’ve never heard of me or any of my artists. To be honest, I don’t have a problem with you letting me do filthy things to your body for four hours in exchange for me listening to your stepsister’s demo. In fact, I think that’s a fair trade-off. If you want to know the truth, one of my kinks is that I sometimes like to treat myself to a bargained-for exchange, just for the simplicity of it. The thing is, though, if I’m gonna pay for sex, whether with money or some other form of currency, I like knowing that’s what I’m doing, rather than having a woman lie to my fucking face about it.”
I’m livid. Beyond offended. In a flash, rage surges inside me, supplanting the arousal I’ve been feeling up to this horrifying moment. “You’re calling me a whore,” I say through gritted teeth, and to my shock, he doesn’t correct me. He simply raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, as if to say, If the shoe fits...
And that makes me even angrier. “You asshole!” I seethe. “I wasn’t going to sleep with you in exchange for you listening to Alessandra’s music! They were two separate things!”
Reed flashes me yet another nasty look, conveying his disbelief.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, the Italian in my blood taking over. “How dare you imply I’m willing to whore myself out to get something for Alessandra. How dare you!”
He chuckles. “How dare I? Save your indignation for your next performance, Georgina. The jig is up. You want something from me. I want something from you. There’s no need to scream and act outraged about any of it. Let’s talk like rational adults about the terms of this exchange and put this deal... to bed.” He winks.
My jaw thuds to the floor of the car, even as my heart explodes with rage. “Asshole!” I unfasten my seatbelt with frantic fingers, swing open my door, and stomp away from Reed’s fancy car, pulling up the Uber app on my phone as I go.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Reed says, marching after me.
“Home. Call me crazy, but my lady-boner sags to my knees when an arrogant, self-entitled prick-asshole calls me a fucking whore.”
“Sweetheart, trust me, if I fuck you hard enough while calling you that, you’re gonna come harder than you ever have.”
I whirl around, intending to slap him, but he grabs my arm and laughs. The bastard laughs.
“Fuck. You,” I spit out, wrenching my arm from his grasp. “I wouldn’t sleep with you now if you were the last man on earth!”
We’re just inside the metal entrance gate of his driveway now, standing in the foggy darkness near a streetlamp. And, in this moment, I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate Reed fucking Rivers.
“Stop being so dramatic,” he says. “Nothing’s changed. I admit I was thrown for a loop for a split-second, but I still want to fuck you. The only difference now is I’m aware I’ve been your mark all along. Well, bravo, Georgina. Well played. But like I said, that’s not a deal-breaker for me. I just like knowing the price list in advance, that’s all.” He looks me up and down. “The menu of options, shall we say, of what I’m getting in exchange for giving this stepsister’s music a listen.”
I ball my fists, forcing myself not to punch his smug face. “I’m not being dramatic,” I shout. “I’m disgusted and enraged at you because you’re a pig and a jerk who’s treating me like a whore. Because I’ve suddenly realized: I hate you.”
He laughs. “You hate me? And you’re not being dramatic? Okay.” He leans his broad shoulder against the post of the iron fence, and then puts a languid hand in his pocket. “Let me remind you: you’re the one who’s had an ulterior motive this whole time, as you’ve been winking at me, and kissing me, and pushing your tits at me at all the right angles, and—”
“Fuck off, Reed!” I shout. “Fuck off and die, you arrogant, rude, self-entitled piece of shit.”
“Oh, my, my, my. And I’m the asshole here? Nice language, Georgina. Tsk, tsk.”
I palm my cheek in mock horror. “Oh, no, did I hurt your sensitive ears with my filthy mouth, Mr. Rivers? Or does this cut even deeper than that?” I add my other palm to my face. “Oh, no. Did I hurt your actual feelings? This whole time, were you thinking I might actually be your Cinderella, and you might actually be my Prince Charming? Do you, like Bryce, believe in love at first sight?” I put my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “Or is it simply that this is the first time you can’t have what you want, and it’s killing you? That’s what’s got you so worked up, isn’t it—knowing you’re never, ever gonna fuck this epicness?” I motion to my body. “Too bad, sweetheart, because I promise I would have been the best you’ve ever had.”
His nostrils flare. His chest heaves. And thanks to the massive boner straining inside his pants, there’s no question my punch has landed. “Okay, enough,” he says. “Stop acting like a petulant child and come inside. It’s cold out here and you’re pissing me off.”
“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’ve already called an Uber.”
“Cancel it. We’re going inside now. I’m gonna listen to one of your stepsister’s songs—one—but only if you promise not to have a fucking tantrum if I tell you she’s not a fit. And then, in exchange for me listening to that one song, we’re going straight to my bedroom, where I’m gonna rip off those clothes, tie you to my bed posts, and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. So hard, you’ll be seeing stars. So well, you’ll be crying for mercy and coming harder than you knew was possible.”
He’s going to tie me to his bed posts? My traitorous clit pulses sharply at the imagery. But, still, in my white-hot rage, I stay the course. “You’re not gonna do any of that,” I spit out. “And you wanna know why? Because I don’t fuck assholes.”
Reed’s eyes are on fire, his indignation from a moment ago now replaced by white-hot lust. “Come inside and play me the goddamned fucking song, Georgie, so I can fuck your brains out, for both our benefits. We don’t have all night and I’m losing my fucking mind over you. Not to mention my fucking patience, too.”
I scoff. “I’m not going inside with you. And I’m not going to play my stepsister’s music for you, either, because you don’t deserve to hear it.”
He sighs and looks at his watch. “Can we fast-forward this part, please? Unfortunately, I’m flying commercial and can’t delay my flight.”
I look down at my phone. “My Uber is one minute away. The longest minute of my life.”
“Cancel it,” he commands. “For the love of fuck, you’ve come this far. Use your head, Georgina. The chess game is over. I said yes to listening to a song.” He sighs. “Fine. If you cancel the Uber and come inside right now, I’ll listen to two songs.”
“Oh, you’re begging me now? Negotiating against yourself? How delicious. Well, beg all you want, Mr. Big Shit. The answer is still no. Because no matter how great Alessandra is—and trust me, she is great—you’re going to say she sucks, just to push my buttons. That’s clear to me now. You’re a Defcon one level button-pusher, Reed Rivers. I realize that now. And I’m not willing to play your stupid game of chess.”
He drags a palm over his stubbled face, looking tormented. “Sweetheart, stop acting like a bratty little child. You’re out of control. I’ll listen and give my honest opinion, good or bad. I promise, I’m fully capable of separating business and pleasure. Because I’m an adult.”
Rage rises inside me again at his obvious implication: that I’m not.
“If your stepsister is a fit, then I’ll say so. Of course, I will. Because that would benefit me.” He smirks. “Although, in the interest of transparency, I should probably admit pushing your buttons is rapidly becoming my new favorite game.”
I let out a primal shriek of rage that makes Reed laugh, which only pisses me off more. “Stop being so goddamned condescen
ding!” I shout. “This isn’t a joke. This is my stepsister’s life. Her dream. And you’re making a mockery of it. Plus, you’ve repeatedly impugned my character!”
Reed’s eyebrows shoot up at my dramatic last comment, and, I must admit, I think maybe my word choice and intonation were both a little over-the-top. But, whatever. I’m so fucking angry, I press on, letting myself feel whatever I feel and say whatever angry, babbling, bizarre thing pops into my head. “You’re not the only ‘adult’ who can separate business and pleasure, Reed. Yes, I went to that event with Alessandra’s demo in my pocket. That was the business side of things for me. And, yes, I planned to give it to you, if the opportunity fell into my lap. And, yes, maybe I flirted with you a little more aggressively than I normally would have, at first, simply because I was so shocked and excited when I realized I’d caught your eye. But guess what is also the truth? The pleasure part of this equation for me. Namely that, by the time I served you that tenth drink, I wanted you, Reed. I wanted to come home with you, and let you do literally anything you wanted to me, for no other reason than I wanted to experience the pleasure of it.”
“Liar,” Reed says. But before I can smack him, he adds, “You knew you wanted to fuck me by the third drink.”
I know he’s trying to calm me down with humor. But it’s too late for that. The man basically called me a whore. There’s no coming back from that. “Maybe even the first,” I say. “But now? Congratulations. I wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
I grit my teeth. “It was a figure of speech. I meant I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth. Is that clear enough for you?”
He sighs. “Okay, it’s time for you to stop acting like the hotheaded, impetuous twenty-one-year-old you are, and come inside. It’s cold out here, and I’m hard as a rock for you. Let me bribe you, sexy Georgina. I promise you’ll like giving me your end of the bargain.”