Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy Book 1)

by Lauren Rowe

  My traitorous clit pulses again. This time, thanks to the look of molten lust on Reed’s face. There’s no way I’d say yes to him, obviously—let alone yes, yes, yes. But I can’t deny my body wants to, even in the midst of my mind’s rage and disgust.

  But before I’ve said a word, I’m saved by the bell. Or, rather, by the blinding headlights of my Uber shining onto Reed’s chiseled face.

  “Perfect timing,” I say smugly, turning away from Reed. “Ciao, stronzo.”

  I wave to the driver on the other side of the gate to let him know I’m coming, but Reed grabs my shoulder.

  “Tell him to leave,” Reed commands, his voice brimming with intensity. “Come inside with me and play me the demo. Let me show you what your body can do, Georgie.”

  I whirl back around. “I already know what my body can do. You wanna see?” Glowering at him, I flip him the bird with both hands. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Reed leans against the gatepost and chuckles. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel about me, baby.”

  “There aren’t enough middle fingers in the world to tell you how I really feel about you, baby.”

  He grimaces playfully. “So heartless.”

  “It was never my ‘heart’ that felt attracted to you, so it’s not a big loss.”

  “Tsk. So rude. You’ll catch more flies with honey. Didn’t your momma ever teach you that?”

  No, she didn’t, asshole, because my mother is fucking dead. But if she were here, there’s no doubt in my mind my fiery, fabulous badass of a mother would be applauding me for flipping you off, ya big dick. In fact, she’d be flipping you off, right along with me. I don’t say any of that to Reed, of course, but it’s sure as hell what I’m thinking.

  Wordlessly, I turn around and inspect the metal gate, my anger at an all-time high. First, this arrogant piece of shit tells me I’m “play-acting confidence in my mother’s heels,” and then he tells me my momma should have taught me to play nice in the face of flaming assholery? Well, fuck that. And fuck him. “How do I get through?” I yell, pounding on the iron gate with my palm. “Help me out of here or I’m gonna climb over this gate and fall on my ass, and then sue your ass for negligence and false imprisonment!”

  Calmly, Reed slides a key into a lock on a pedestrian side gate, and I stomp through the opening without so much as a thank you. But when I reach the other side, I realize I can’t actually storm off without trying one last-gasp attempt at helping Alessandra. Even though, obviously, anything I say to Reed at this point will fall on deaf ears.

  I turn around. “My stepsister’s name is Alessandra Tennison. Her Instagram handle is TheRealAllyT. She barely has any followers and no brother destined for the NFL. She’s just a shy, sweet, incredibly talented nineteen-year-old who’s finishing her sophomore year at The Berklee College of Music in Boston. Her father died a week after her eighth birthday, after going out for an early-morning jog and getting mowed down by a texting driver. And her happiness, her dreams, mean everything to me. A shit-ton more than any one-night stand with a manipulative, arrogant asshole.” With that, I whirl around, march to my Uber, and throw myself into the backseat.

  “Georgina?” the driver says, per safety protocol.

  “Yes. Please, go.”

  As the car takes off, I steal one last look at Reed. He’s standing on the other side of his slatted gate, one of his forearms laid flush against it, and his forehead resting on his arm. His eyes are two hot coals, smoldering in the dim light of the nearby streetlamp. His dick is plainly bulging behind his pants. As hard as a rock, like he said earlier. And for a fleeting moment, I’m a bit pissed at my values, not to mention my Italian temper, for making me miss out on what was almost certainly going to be the hottest hate-sex of my life. He was planning to tie me to his bed posts? Holy hell.

  As I stare at Reed from the backseat of the departing Uber, seriously questioning my life choices, my temper, and my penchant for sometimes missing the forest for the trees, Reed shoots me a clipped wave in farewell, his cocky body language shouting, It’s your loss, baby! And that pisses me off, all over again. Without a thought in my head, I raise both middle fingers into the air out the back window before turning around and taking several deep, shaky breaths... before, finally, letting the anger and embarrassment I’ve been holding back seep out of me in the form of big, soggy tears.

  Chapter 15

  Reed

  “Reed!” CeeCee says brightly, picking up my call. “How’s my favorite music mogul?”

  “Fantastic, thanks. I just landed in New York, and I’m on my way to meet up with the Goats at their hotel.”

  “Oh, how I love the adorable Goats! Tell them I said hello.”

  “I will. They’re kicking off Good Morning America’s summer concert series on Monday.”

  “How wonderful.”

  “What about you, CeeCee? What’s my favorite media mogul-ess up to this week?”

  “Well, sadly, I’m not in New York escorting 22 Goats to Good Morning America. You’ve got me beat there. But I’ve got a few exciting things lined up before I’m scheduled to jet off to meet my darling Francois in Bali.”

  “Oh, God, I love Bali. Where are you staying?”

  She tells me about her trip’s itinerary for a bit and then says, “Thank you again for yesterday. Angela was thrilled with the lineup of the panel—particularly, that she was able to snag a superstar like you as the event headliner.”

  “I wasn’t the headliner. You were. I was just another panelist.”

  “Ha! Don’t attempt false modesty with me. I didn’t have a line out the door afterwards. Did all those students want to ask you questions about the music industry, or did they just want to flirt with you?”

  “Actually, most of them wanted to give me their music demos.”

  “Of course, they did. And... ? Did you discover anyone particularly intriguing?”

  My stomach clenches. Did CeeCee notice me losing my shit over Georgina? Is she fucking with me by asking me that? “No, not really,” I say, my heart pounding. “I don’t accept unsolicited demos, as you know.”

  “Yes, and I think that’s wise. If word got out you did, you’d need bodyguards twenty-four-seven, not just at music festivals. All the more reason I’m grateful you were willing to subject yourself to the onslaught yesterday.”

  “It was my pleasure. Anything for you.”

  “Aw, thank you. That’s wonderful to hear because, actually, there’s something else I’d like you to do for me: give me an in-depth interview for Dig a Little Deeper.”

  I chuckle. “Not this again. Anything but that.”

  “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  “Why are you? Surely, you’ve got A-listers lined up around the block, wanting to get featured in your new magazine. Why do you keep coming after me?”

  “Because everyone else has already been profiled a thousand times. You, on the other hand, are a glamorous man of mystery. You’re enigmatic, Reed. Inscrutable. We can all see you’re living an enviable life, or so it seems, but what’s behind the curtain? What does it take to keep all those plates spinning? And how much has your past influenced your current success? The world knows, generally speaking, you’ve had to overcome a lot to get where you are, and yet, you’ve never once been interviewed about any of it.”

  And I never will, I think.

  “Come on, Reed. You never let anyone peel back the layers of your onion. Let me be the first.”

  “I’m quite content being an unpeeled onion. But, thanks.”

  “I’m envisioning a cover story, honey. An up-close headshot on the cover with those gorgeous eyes of yours, front and center, staring into the reader’s soul... It’d be an interview bursting with my admiration and love for you. I’d show you as the inspiration you are.”

  “I’m not an inspiration.”

  “Yes, you are. And yet, nobody knows it because you always seem so polished. Let down your guard a little bit, and I promise it’ll be the
best interview of your life.”

  “CeeCee, nobody needs to know the nuts and bolts of me. How hard I’ve worked to get here. What I’ve overcome. Let them think I walk on water and bathe in Evian and shit diamonds and fuck supermodels every second of my golden life. That’s my brand—which, by the way, I’ve meticulously cultivated in order to sell a shit-ton of music over the years.”

  CeeCee sighs with disappointment. “I think an in-depth interview would be even better for your ‘brand.’ I truly do. It’d be a win-win.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It pains me to say no to you about anything, love. In some ways, you’ve been more of a mother to me than my own. But—”

  “Now, see! That’s exactly the kind of thing I want to talk to you about in an interview! You’ve never said anything like that to me before. And now I’m dying to know what you mean.”

  I look out the car window at the bustling streets of Manhattan. “I’d be happy to tell you over drinks some time. Off the record.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. So, what can I do for you, my dear?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You called me, remember?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I just called to tell you how much I enjoyed doing the panel, despite all the griping and bitching I did this past week about having to do it.”

  “Aw, I’m so glad.”

  “Icing on the cake, I wound up chatting with your friend, Angela, about being an expert witness on this stupid copyright infringement lawsuit I’ve got to defend, and she just now emailed Leonard and said she’s reviewed the case in detail and she’s happy to do it.”

  “Fantastic! You’ll love Angela. Your jury is going to adore her.”

  “The case won’t get to a jury. Some moron-band nobody has ever heard of is claiming Red Card Riot stole a chord progression that can be found in everything from Mozart to Bruno Mars.”

  CeeCee scoffs. “God, I hate people.”

  “I would have told you all about it yesterday, but you took off without so much as a quick goodbye.”

  “Sorry. You were being mobbed by kiddies, and I only had a short window to grab a coffee with an old friend.”

  Bingo. Finally, we get to the good stuff. “Oh yeah? Who?”

  “Gilda Schiff. An old friend from college. She’s a journalism professor at UCLA.”

  My heart is suddenly thrumming. “Hmm. The woman I saw you leaving with looked a bit younger than an ‘old college friend.’”

  “Oh, your eagle eye noticed that gorgeous creature who left with Gilda and me, did it, all the way from across that huge lecture hall?” She chuckles. “The college kiddie with us was one of Gilda’s journalism students. Apparently, she had the bright idea to attend a music school event to meet me and try to land herself a writing job.”

  “With Rock ‘n’ Roll?”

  “No. Georgina has her sights set on Dig a Little Deeper, though she said she’d take any opportunity.”

  My heart rate increases, yet again, just hearing Georgina’s name. In a torrent, I’m suddenly remembering Georgina’s “greatest hits” from last night. Our amazing kisses. The way her tits peeked out of her tank. The way her hazel eyes flashed with homicidal rage when she told me off in front of my house, making me hard as a rock. And, finally, the way she hurled herself into that Uber, and then flipped me off with both hands as her car peeled away. And all of it, despite the fact that anyone else would have stayed and kissed my ass—not to mention, come inside and sucked my dick—to advance her stepsister’s cause.

  I clear my throat, my breathing shallow. “So, are you going to hire her?” I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I gotta think her worming her way into meeting you at a music school event is a point in her favor. It shows she’s capable of thinking outside the box, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, absolutely. And being able to think outside the box wasn’t the only point in this young woman’s favor.”

  You can say that again.

  “She’s a treasure, Reed. An absolute gem. Funny and engaging. Charismatic and confident. An excellent writer, too. I just finished reading her writing samples, and I was duly impressed.”

  My eyebrows rise. I didn’t see that one coming, I’m ashamed to admit. Gorgeous, witty, magnetic, sexy, curvaceous Georgina is also an excellent writer? Well, I’ll be damned.

  CeeCee continues. “She’s still a bit green, of course. Definitely needs some real-world experience. But with some guidance, I think she’s got potential to become a top-notch journalist.”

  My heart is crashing in my ears. Holy fuck, I want this for Georgina. “It sounds like the event was a win for us both, then. I found myself an expert witness for a frivolous lawsuit, and you found yourself a newbie journalist to hire.”

  “Actually, no, I don’t think it’s going to work out for me to hire her, I’m sad to say.”

  My heart stops. No. “Why not? From the way you’ve been talking about this girl, it seems like hiring her is a no-brainer.”

  “It would be, if only I had the right position for her. But, unfortunately, I don’t.”

  I take a deep breath to make sure my voice doesn’t sound over-eager. “Surely, you could move things around to make a spot for her. Good talent is hard to find.”

  “The problem is we don’t hire kids straight out of college for Dig a Little Deeper. Only seasoned professionals. And at Rock ‘n’ Roll, which she said wasn’t her first choice, anyway, writers with no experience are required to funnel through an unpaid, three-month internship as a proving ground before we even think of offering them a paid position on the writing staff.”

  Another deep breath. “Okay, so, offer her an unpaid internship at Rock ‘n’ Roll. Let her hone her chops and earn her way to a paid gig.”

  “Why are you fighting so hard for this girl? In fact, why are you even wasting your time talking to me about her at all? Normally, you’d have brushed this topic aside faster than a sneeze.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “You absolutely would. Is it because she’s so beautiful? Or didn’t you happen to notice that with your eagle eye from across the lecture hall?”

  Shit. “I didn’t notice that, actually. I only saw her from the back.” Fuck. “Maybe yesterday’s panel inspired me to want to give back.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I audibly shrug, hoping it sounds authentic. “Maybe yesterday’s event made me remember what it was like when I was first starting out, and every bit of mentorship meant so much to me. Especially yours.”

  “Mmm hmm. What aren’t you telling me, Reed?”

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to help a young woman with a dream, out of the goodness of my heart—thereby helping my dear friend. You said she’s got something special, and I want you to have the best people on your staff because I love you so much.”

  She laughs. “Wait. There’s goodness in your heart?”

  “That’s what you took from everything I just said to you?”

  She laughs again.

  “Hell yeah, there’s goodness in my heart,” I mutter defensively. “It’s just hard to notice because it’s hidden underneath so many mysterious, enigmatic ‘layers’ of my onion.”

  She hoots with laughter.

  “Seriously, Ceece, you should hear the way you’ve been talking about this girl. You’re obviously smitten with her.”

  “Oh, I am. She was exceptional, Reed. The brightest, most charming and charismatic newbie I’ve met in a long time. Maybe, ever. I sat across the table from her in that coffee place and thought, ‘Anyone this girl interviews wouldn’t stand a chance. She’d get them to spill all their secrets in the first five minutes.’”

  I smile to myself. Truer words were never spoken. “Well, there you go,” I say breezily. “Don’t let someone like that get away.”

  CeeCee sighs. “The thing is, I’d feel like an asshole offering Georgina an unpaid internship. After Georgina left the coffee place, my friend, Gilda, told me Georgina’s father recently battled ca
ncer, and Georgina needs a paid position after graduation to help him afford some expensive medication he still needs to take.”

  My stomach drops into my toes at this unexpected revelation.

  “Under the circumstances,” CeeCee continues, “I’d feel terrible offering Georgina an unpaid internship. Actually, I was thinking of picking up the phone and trying to help her get a paid position somewhere else.”

  “What? You can’t do that. Break your rules and hire this girl for pay, CeeCee.”

  “I can’t. My hands are tied. If I make an exception for Georgina and let her bypass the internship program, my staff would flood me with résumés, insisting their best friends and nephews should get the same treatment.”

  “It’s your company. Surely, you can make an exception, just this once.”

  I hear a slapping noise. Like CeeCee’s just slammed her palms onto her desk. “Okay, Reed. That’s it. What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

  My heart stops. “Nothing. You just seem particularly moved by this girl, and I don’t want you regretting your decision later. To be honest, I’m moved by her, too—by this thing with her father. I know what it’s like to want to do whatever it takes to help a parent in need.”

  CeeCee is quiet for a moment in the face of my unexpected comment. I never talk about my mother. And now, in this one conversation, I’ve referred to her twice. Surely, CeeCee thinks the sky is falling.

  “I really was moved by Georgina,” CeeCee says wistfully. “Even before I found out about how she helps her father. She was truly lovely, Reed. A diamond in the rough. Plus—and I probably shouldn’t admit this, but—the fact that she’s so gorgeous and sexy would make her hugely effective if I were to assign her to interview musicians for Rock ‘n’ Roll. I know it sounds sexist, and maybe a little underhanded of me, but the fact remains that interview subjects, especially male musicians, tend to open up like steamed clams with really stunning interviewers, as I’m sure you’ve noticed yourself over the years.”

  I chuckle. “Why do you think I’ve always opened up the most with you?”