Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy #1) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,27

student, graduating next week. She said she went to that event today to meet CeeCee.”

“She claims? She said?”

“I just think there’s probably more to the story than that.”

“Careful, Reed. Your paranoia is showing.”

“I dunno, man. My gut keeps telling me she’s got an agenda. Maybe she’s a model on the side, and she’s got her sights set on starring in RCR’s next video. Or she’s a dancer who’d ditch her big journalistic dreams in a heartbeat to back up Aloha on her next tour. I have no idea. All I know is, when I saw her at that event today, she zeroed in on me awfully fast, and came on like gangbusters. She’s way too confident, and way too flirtatious with me, not to have an angle.”

Josh shakes his head. “She zeroed in on you? Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around, player?”

I shrug. “No, I’m not sure. That’s my point. I’m usually sure when I’m the hunter, versus the hunted. With this girl, I don’t know which way is up—who’s got the upper hand. Who’s got the bow and arrow. She’s giving me whiplash in the best possible way.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “Then enjoy it. No need to analyze it.”

I sip my drink. “Oh, I’m enjoying it. Tremendously. But, still, my gut feels like she’s got something up her sleeve.”

Josh shrugs. “Maybe she thinks you could put in a good word for her with CeeCee.”

I sip my drink. “Yeah, that could be it.”

“If it’s anything at all. Maybe, just maybe, she’s a twenty-one-year-old journalism major who went to an event to meet CeeCee and unwittingly hooked a huge marlin on her line, when she hadn’t even gone there to go marlin fishing. Maybe she’s elated to catch the eye of a rich baller, who’s not half-bad looking, who can take her backstage to meet Red Card Riot or Aloha Carmichael or 2Real or 22 Goats, any time he wants. Not to mention, take her to the best parties in town. And the best restaurants. Or to Paris on a whim. You’re an exciting guy, Reed. To any woman. But especially to a kid like her.” He claps my shoulder. “Stop being so fucking cynical. Not every woman in Los Angeles is looking to exploit you for professional gain. Some of them want to exploit you for your money, hot body, access to parties and private aircraft, and backstage passes.”

I laugh. “You’ve gone soft on me, Faraday. Before Kat, you were even more paranoid than me about women’s ulterior motives. You were a gold medal athlete in the sport of sniffing out gold diggers. We were brothers in paranoid arms, remember?”

“Yeah, before Kat, I was a paranoid asshat who didn’t know the true meaning of happiness and wouldn’t have known unconditional love if it bit me in the ass. So don’t make my paranoia sound more glamorous than it was.”

“Oh, for the love of fuck. Not this again. You swore at Henny’s wedding you’d never again torture me with another speech about Kat ‘saving you from—’”

“Thanks again for the generous tip, Mr. Rivers.”

It’s Georgina, standing before us with my credit card and receipt.

I smile and take my card. “You earned it.” I motion to Josh. “Georgina, this is my best friend, Josh Faraday. Josh, this is Georgina Ricci. Bartendress extraordinaire. Aspiring journalist. Fellow UCLA alum, as of next week. Hustler. Chess enthusiast. Full-grown adult.”

Josh laughs. “Hi, Georgina.”

“Hi, Josh. Nice to meet you. And, for the record, I have no idea how to play chess.”

Josh indicates the mess of drinks in front of us. “Looks like you know how to make drinks, though.”

“I fake it pretty well. Reed figured out a clever way for us to hang out during a busy Thursday-night shift.”

“That’s Reed for you,” Josh says. “The Man with the Plan.”

“Oh? Wikipedia says he’s The Man with the Midas Touch. Gasp. Is Wiki wrong?”

Josh chuckles. “No, he’s that, too.” He bats my shoulder. “Come shoot pool with us whenever you’re done chatting up the bartender, brother. Take your time.”

I open my mouth to tell Josh I’ll follow him in two seconds, just as soon as I say a proper goodbye to the lovely bartender, when a female voice shrieking my name behind me splits my eardrums. It’s a voice I don’t recognize. Not at all. But I know, instinctually, it’s attached to someone I’m going to loathe, whoever the fuck she is.

Chapter 11

Reed

The woman shrieking my name is, indeed, a stranger to me. A young, blonde, high-strung