My stomach physically revolts. “Oh my God. He needs to be stopped, Francesca. Maybe he’s still doing it.”
“Who would come forward to accuse him? They all know it’d be their word against his—and career suicide. Add to that, plenty of women are worried he’d out them for having worked for me. Or, possibly, saying yes to him to further their careers.”
Crap. I know CeeCee told me not to pursue an article about Howard, but I can’t imagine she’ll stand by that position, once she hears all of this.
“Francesca, if any of the women who used to work for you came forward to—”
“They won’t.”
“But, if they did, would you—”
“They won’t. Trust me on that.”
“Just hear me out. Please. In a fantasy, a fairytale, an alternate reality where they did speak up about Howard, would you be willing to back them up and reveal what you know?”
“It’s a pointless question. Nobody’s going to say a word.”
“Could you play along? If I could get some of the women who worked for you to speak up, maybe band together, would you come forward to support them with whatever you know?”
A puff of air escapes Francesca’s nose. “I’m a felon, remember? My word is shit, according to the world.”
I can barely stand still. This is it. The big story I’ve been waiting for! I feel it in my bones.
“I have a confession to make. My boss, the older woman I mentioned, is CeeCee Rafael—the owner of Rock ‘n’ Roll and another magazine called Dig a Little Deeper. I’m a summer intern at Rock ‘n’ Roll, assigned to write about music artists, but CeeCee’s given me the green light to find interesting stories for Dig a Little Deeper, too. And I think this story about Howard is the one I’ve been searching for.”
Francesca looks annoyed. But, thankfully, slightly amused by my exuberance, as well. “I don’t talk to reporters. I told you that, right from the start.”
“Yes, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. I really do know Isabel. And someone really did blackmail her about her connection to you. Which is what brought me here. Also, my boss really did tell me to stay away from Howard Devlin. But the full truth is that I’m trying to get hired onto the writing staff of CeeCee’s magazine that’s devoted to investigative journalism. I swear I have no desire to write about you, in particular. You’re entitled to your privacy. And your story’s already been written about quite a bit. I also promise I won’t write about any of the girls you employed or the men who hired them. Except for one client. Howard Devlin. Who needs to be exposed and taken down by someone.” I puff out my chest. “And that someone is me.”
Francesca looks outright amused now. She can’t hide it.
“Francesca, please. I’m a person who follows my gut. And it’s telling me this is my purpose. My calling. My destiny.”
Francesca presses her lips together. “Show me some proof you work for CeeCee Rafael.”
I scramble into my purse and breathlessly pull out my ID and press pass. Also, as further proof I am who I say I am, I also hand her my student ID and a “membership card” from my favorite frozen yogurt place on campus. It’s got eight stamps on it at the moment. One shy of getting my next yogurt free. Which proves, I think, I really did attend UCLA, just like my student ID would suggest.
Francesca looks over everything and hands it back to me, seemingly satisfied. “So, one minute you’re worried about some asshole blackmailing Isabel, and the next you want to take down her fiancé?”
“I’m not entirely sure how Isabel fits into all this. All I know is she’s engaged to a monster, and I’m going to take him down. I have no desire to hurt Isabel, but if she happens to get humiliated because she’s engaged to a sexual predator, then sorry not sorry. Was Isabel one of the women who told you about Howard?”
“Like I said, I don’t talk about my former girls or clients. Everything I’ve said in this room has been off the record, and totally confidential, and I’ll sue your fucking ass, and your boss’s, if you print a word of it.”
My stomach twists. “I won’t print a word of this conversation. I just want to do the right thing. This is highly personal for me. In high school, someone I trusted tried to rape me and I didn’t say anything because he was far more powerful than me and I thought nobody would believe me. Looking back, I realize he was counting on me feeling too powerless to report him. And that’s what Howard counts on, too. Well, fuck him. Ciao, stronzo. That’s Italian for—”
“Yes, I know. Bye, asshole.” For a long moment, Francesca stares at me, her face unreadable. Finally, she says, “As I’ve said, Georgina, I make it a firm rule to never name any of my clients.”
My heart falls. Dang it. For a second there, I thought I had her. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”
She puts her palm up. “But if you really think it will help your ‘destiny’ to be able to tell my former girls I’ll corroborate their stories, then, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll make an exception to my firm rule, just this once. Only for Howard.”
Chapter 13
Reed
Thursday 8:48 pm
After our waiter leaves our table, CeeCee leans back and says, “All right, my darling.” She pushes aside her empty plate with purpose. “Now that I’ve got you nice and loose on a fabulous bottle of red, and your belly nice and full on a fantastic meal, it’s time to talk about my magical unicorn of an intern. Georgina is obviously head over heels in love with you, Reed. And yet, you were stupid enough to do God knows what with Isabel in your garage?”
Damn. I’ve been waiting for CeeCee to bring up Georgina, ever since we sat down in this restaurant. Up until now, we’ve talked about Bali and the special issue. And, stupid me, when CeeCee hadn’t yet chastised me for being a dipshit by the time our entrees were served, I started thinking maybe Georgina hadn’t told her about The Garage Debacle, after all.
“What did Georgina say I did in that garage, exactly?” I ask calmly, even though my pulse is pounding.
“She doesn’t know for sure. So, tell me. What did you do?”
My stomach tightens. “I kissed Isabel. It was a goodbye kiss.”
“A little peck?”
I flash her a look that says, What do you think? And she smirks and flares her nostrils, nonverbally calling me a cad.
“She’s marrying Howard, and I gave her a whopper of a kiss goodbye, to prove my point that she shouldn’t marry Howard. Not to be with me, mind you. But I gave Isabel a kiss to remind her what it feels like to actually feel something. But, damn. The moment my lips touched Isabel’s, I knew I was in love with Georgina.”
CeeCee swoons. “Well, that’s actually kind of romantic, in a twisted sort of way.”
“It is, right? That’s what I thought!”
“Oh, simmer down. I’m not the one you need to convince. And I’m sixty, for goodness sake. I’ve been around the block enough times to make your head spin, little boy. To me, one drunken goodbye kiss with an ex would merit an eye roll. But to sweet little Georgina, something like that is the Apocalypse. And understandably so. You broke her trust, Reed. Shattered her little newbie heart. Shame on you.”