“Yeah, I admit that’s pretty damned good,” Josh says. “So, do you still want Jonas’ number?”
“No, I think I’ve got what I need.”
“What does that mean?” Henn says. “Is the word ‘girlfriend’ not nearly enough?”
I look down at Georgina sleeping next to me. “No, it’s enough. At least, for now. Like I said, I was just curious. Gathering information. Don’t read too much into it, boys.”
My eyes meet Tony’s in the rearview mirror. He looks away quickly, but not before broadcasting his sincerely held belief that I’m full of shit.
“Of course, we won’t read into it,” Henn says sarcastically. “Why would we think there’s any correlation between you introducing Georgina to your mother, and her introducing you to her father, and you wondering how you’ll know if it’s time to put a ring on it?”
“I gotta go, guys,” I say, my cheeks flashing with heat. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Let us know the minute ‘girlfriend’ isn’t enough!” Henn says.
But I don’t reply. In fact, I disconnect the call, without saying goodbye. And when I see Tony’s eyes in the rearview mirror again, I quickly look out the window at a car in the adjacent lane of the expressway.
What the hell am I doing? Georgina is way too young to want the fairytale. I’m sure she wouldn’t even want an engagement ring, if I offered her one. Not at her age. I kiss the top of Georgina’s head and pull her into me. For fuck’s sake, I admitted this woman is the “great love of my life” today. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know what is.
Chapter 24
Georgina
When Reed and I enter the packed coffee house, Alessandra is getting herself situated on a tiny stage. When she sees us, she waves enthusiastically, and Reed and I return the gesture, before joining the back of the line for the counter. Normally, upon seeing my stepsister, I’d rush to her and hug her. But since the three of us spent hours together today, enjoying my magnificent birthday lunch and walking The Freedom Trail, an enthusiastic wave from afar seems natural and appropriate.
After several minutes of waiting, Reed and I finally reach the counter, and when our cashier lays eyes on Reed, her face ignites. “You’re Reed Rivers!”
“Last time I checked. Hello”—he looks at her nametag—”Reena. How are you? We’ll have a mocha and a cappuccino, please.”
But the girl is too frazzled to take Reed’s order. “I’m such a huge fan of all your artists. Your label is amazing. You’re amazing.”
“You attend Berklee?”
She nods profusely. “I’m a singer-songwriter. Oh my God. Can I send you my demo? Or will you check out my Instagram?”
She scrambles for her phone, but Reed puts up his palm, making me brace myself for whatever harsh and/or rude thing he’s about to say to her. Surely, it will be something along the lines of what he said to the blonde at Bernie’s Place.
“Sorry, Reena,” Reed says. “If I check out your Instagram, I’m going to be bombarded with similar requests all night. And that would make me cranky for two reasons. One, I’m here to scout tonight’s performer, Alessandra, and I want to give her my undivided attention.”
The cashier and I exchange a look of excitement for Alessandra.
“And, two...” Reed continues. He puts his arm around me. “I’m on a date, with my girlfriend, Georgina, here—the great love of my life—and I’d like to relax with her tonight without being interrupted.”
Predictably, the cashier looks disappointed she won’t be able to capitalize on this potentially life-changing chance meeting. But she manages to say, “I understand. Enjoy your night, Mr. Rivers.”
“Thanks.”
I’m thinking that’s that. Which, I must admit, is a bummer, simply because this girl is so darling and charismatic.
But when Reed’s gaze meets mine, whatever he sees on my face makes him exhale and return to the cashier. He leans over the counter. “Okay, kid, it’s your lucky day. Georgina here likes you and wants me to give you a shot, so...” He pulls out his phone. “Tell me your Instagram handle, and I’ll send it along to my music scout to take a look. If she likes you, and tells me to take a look at you, then I promise I will.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you, Reed! That’s amazing.”
The girl tells Reed her Instagram handle and he taps out a text onto his phone. And two seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand with a text from Reed.
Look at this girl’s IG for me, Music Scout. Thanks.
“Okay, I just sent a text to my music scout,” Reed says to the girl, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“Thank you!”
“As a return favor, would you make an announcement that I don’t want to be bothered tonight?”
“Sure thing.”
“Aw, Reed,” I say. “I’m sure your music scout wouldn’t mind checking out a bunch of Instagram profiles for you. In fact, I’m sure she’d be happy to do it.”
“Whatever floats her boat.”
I address the cashier. “Why don’t you make an announcement you’ll be collecting Instagram handles and YouTube links for Reed’s music scout, to ensure Reed himself won’t be bombarded tonight.” I turn to Reed. “And in exchange for Reena being a doll and gathering all those links for your scout, maybe you could do something you hardly ever do and check out her Instagram account, personally, without using your scout as a middlewoman?”
“I can do that.”
“Oh my gosh! Thank you!”
“Maybe you’ll even give Reena some brief feedback and guidance about her music, one way or the other?” I look at Reena. “Would that be helpful to you?”
“That would be a dream come true. Good or bad. Please. Just give me brutal honesty.”
“That happens to be my specialty, Reena. I’ll look it over in the next few days and be in touch.”
“Thank you so much! Oh my gosh.”
“Reed, as long as you’re feeling benevolent tonight, why don’t you grab the mic and talk to everyone for a couple minutes about the music industry, before Alessandra starts her performance? When Reena introduces you, that’s when she can make the announcement about her collecting handles and links for your music scout.”
Reed says no. “It’s Alessandra’s night to shine,” he insists. Blah, blah. But I know he’s only being cranky, so I insist he’d be doing a huge kindness for every person in the coffee house. And Reena backs me up.
“Fine. Just a few words, though. This is Alessandra’s night.”
As I pop over to Alessandra to tell her the plan, Reena heads to the small stage. She introduces Reed and tells everyone they should give any demos and Instagram handles to her, to be forwarded to Reed’s music scout. “So, without further ado,” Reena says. “I give you... Reed Rivers!”
Enthusiastic applause erupts, during which Reed traipses onstage. He takes a stool and grabs the mic, and begins talking to the crowd about what he believes they all need to focus on as aspiring musicians, if they hope to make an actual career in music. And, just like at the panel discussion, every person in the room is riveted to him. Mesmerized. In awe. After about ten minutes of speaking, Reed opens it up for questions, and, instantly, he’s deluged with a roomful of raised hands.