never do. I was careful to use a calm and soothing tone of voice. Also, not my typical MO. But will Georgina understand any of that, or will she hear some disjointed, emotional version of the story from her stepsister and immediately assume I’m the devil incarnate?
My heart pounding, I rise from the bench, intending to head back into the party to find Georgina. But I’ve no sooner taken two steps than Isabel appears from around a corner.
“There you are!” she says.
“Not now, Isabel.”
“Yes, now. It’s important. A matter of life or death.”
“I’ve got something important I’ve got to do,” I say.
“It’s an emergency,” she says. “I need five minutes.”
I exhale in frustration. “Five minutes. Not a second more.”
The sound of people laughing nearby wafts toward us, emanating from the other side of a hedge.
“Not here,” Isabel says. She grabs my hand. “Come on, love. Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.”
Chapter 32
Georgina
Where the heck is Reed? I’ve been looking for him for the past ten minutes, but I can’t find him anywhere. And I can’t find Alessandra, either. I’m guessing she’s off in a quiet corner, chatting with Fish. Or maybe even smooching Fish. Which, of course, would tickle me pink. And would also provide a damned good reason not to be answering my texts. But Reed is a different story. This is his party, so, why has he disappeared?
I’m bursting at the seams to talk to Reed—to tell him the news that I landed the interview of Isabel. And, also, yes, to try to get to the bottom of the lies I think he and Isabel have both been telling me. Does it matter to me how they met? No! But it sure as heck matters to me they both seem to be lying about it.
Thus far, I’ve done two laps around the ground floor areas, including the patio and pool, in my pursuit of Reed. And now I’m doing a lap of the entire upstairs, too—even though I can’t fathom Reed would have come up here while his party raged on below. But, again, I’m coming up empty. Crap.
I descend the staircase, feeling more and more frustrated with every step I take. At the bottom of the stairs, I run into Aloha Carmichael. She’s with Barry, Reed’s head of security. Getting a piggyback ride from him, actually. And when she sees me, she calls my name warmly.
“Reed told me to talk to you,” she says.
“Have you seen him recently?”
“Not recently. I saw him at the bar a while ago.”
“Which one?”
“The one by the French doors.” She points. “That one.”
I feel deflated. I passed that bar, not too long ago on one of my laps, and Reed was nowhere to be found. “Did Reed say where he was going, from there?”
Aloha purses her lips. “No, but while I was dancing after that, I saw him head out those French doors over there with Keane and Zander. Which can only mean one thing.”
She puts her index finger and thumb to her lips, like she’s smoking a joint. But I don’t think she’s right about that—because when I did a loop outside, not too long ago, I didn’t see Reed out there. Not with Keane and Zander or anyone else.
“So, about my interview,” Aloha says, laying her cheek on Barry’s broad shoulder from behind. “Daxy told me he and the Goats are going to give you a tour of Seattle. And Laila told me she’s going to make pottery with you. And Savage told me he’s taking you ATVing... “
I force myself to look into Aloha’s emerald green eyes, rather than looking around the party maniacally for Reed. “Yeah, the idea is for the interviews to be fun and different and really personal. I’m hoping getting a glimpse of you guys doing something that’s meaningful to you, that’s outside of music, will inspire a different kind of conversation than the typical interview.”
“I love that idea.” She pauses. “I go to children’s hospitals quite a bit, to cheer up sick kids. Would you maybe want to tag along on a day like that?”
“Sounds great. Let’s also make sure we talk about the success of your documentary. And I don’t mean the financial success. The impact it has had on mental health awareness.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Someone told me Reed helped get distribution for that film?”
“He sure did. Some people have said Reed only threw his weight behind the documentary for business reasons—you know, because a hit film would lead to more music sales,