going to throw you a bone, kid. I promised CeeCee I’d let you unpeel one layer of my onion during this interview. So, let’s unpeel it now, and get it out of the way—like ripping off a Band-Aid. That way, we can relax the rest of the week with no stress.”
“Sounds great,” I say, even though I’m thinking, Oh, honey, if you think I’m stopping at one layer unpeeled, then you don’t know me at all.
For a moment, Reed runs his fingertips over the gleaming head of a golf club, looking lost in thought. Finally, he says, “When I was growing up, my father was obsessed with golf. So, of course, since I idolized my father, I wanted to be obsessed with golf, too.”
Holy crap. I didn’t see that coming at all. I can’t believe Reed is talking about his father, without any coaxing.
Reed says, “My father used to golf every weekend. And, of course, during the week, he was busy with work and his mistresses. Although I didn’t know about that second thing until much later. All I knew was, if I wanted to spend time with my father, which I did, then I had to pick up golf and tag along with him on the weekends.”
My pulse is thumping in my ears. My fingers feel like they’re physically itching with the urge to take notes. But I stand still, holding my breath, afraid to do or say anything that might break this unexpected spell. I don’t know what’s prompted Reed to give me this scoop, and I don’t want to do anything to make him change his mind.
“Finally, around age twelve, about a year before my father got arrested, I could finally hit from the back tees, where he teed off. And, man, he was so proud of that. In the clubhouse, my father would tell anyone who’d listen, ‘My boy, Reed, is only twelve, and he’s already hitting off the back tees!’” Reed looks wistful for a beat, before his face darkens. “And then, out of nowhere, the FBI raided our house at dawn one morning and dragged him away. Suddenly, his face was all over the news. The press was saying he was some kind of monster. But since I knew he was innocent, I kept playing golf every weekend by myself, so I’d continue making progress, and continue making him proud once the trial was over and he came home.”
Oh, Reed. The look on his face is making my heart squeeze.
With a deep sigh, he frowns at his golf clubs like they’re flipping him off. “Obviously, nothing worked out the way twelve-year-old Reed thought it would. The jury convicted my father on all counts. He got sentenced to one hundred sixty-seven years in federal prison. And, for the first time, I devoured all the articles about him. I learned about the mountain of evidence against him. And I realized the jury had gotten it right. My father had done all of it. He’d lied and cheated and stolen, over and over again, while pretending to be a pillar of the community.” He sighs. “And, all of a sudden, I felt ashamed to be me. Ashamed of my name. I worried people would think I’m just like him. A liar and a thief.” His dark eyes find mine. “And I sure as fuck didn’t want to play fucking golf anymore.”
My stomach clenches at the hardness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through in your childhood, Reed.”
“Everybody’s got shit from their childhood. Terrence Rivers just happens to be mine.” His Adam’s apple bobs. He manages a thin smile. “All right, Intrepid Reporter. My onion has now officially been peeled, in accordance with my promise to CeeCee. How about I show you some memorabilia in my home office now?” He gestures to a side door. “From there, I’ll show you the gym upstairs, your room... and, finally, mine.”
Chapter 3
Reed
“This is so cool!” Georgie says, shoving her nose into a framed gold record on the wall. For the past ten minutes, I’ve been showing her various items of memorabilia in my home office, figuring it’ll go into her article. And, as expected, she’s been geeking out over all of it.
“That one was for RCR’s debut,” I explain, chuckling at Georgina’s enthusiasm. “It was my first gold record, so I keep it here, rather than with the others at the office. When I got that first one, I didn’t even have a full-time staff yet. River