which, in turn, would line his pockets. And a few years ago, I probably would have believed that narrative. But the last few years, I’ve started to think there might be an actual beating heart inside Reed’s chest. I think he genuinely believed in the movie’s message and cause.”
“Of course, he did,” Barry says.
“I know Reed comes off as all business sometimes,” Aloha says. “But, behind the scenes, he’s pretty generous with a bunch of charitable causes.”
Ping.
That cotton ball from earlier today turns into a stone.
Behind the scenes, Reed is pretty generous with a bunch of charitable causes.
“Do you know if Reed donates to a charity that helps families affected by cancer?” I ask, my heart racing.
“I’m not sure,” Aloha says. “But I wouldn’t be surprised. I know for sure Reed donates to several cancer charities. Of course, he’s extremely involved with The Superhero Project. And then there’s also...”
But I’ve stopped listening. Because, all of a sudden, that cotton ball that turned into a stone has now turned into a motherfucking brick.
Crash.
In rapid-fire succession, my brain connects the dots between several comments made by Kat, Aloha, and Reed himself.
Reed likes pulling strings.
Reed likes playing star-maker behind the scenes.
Reed secretly pulled strings to help Keane get the auditions he wanted.
Reed pulled strings to get Zander a job interview with Big Barry.
Reed pulled strings to help Hannah get a job interview at a movie studio.
Everybody’s got a price.
I clutch the banister on the staircase, feeling faint. Reed had something to do with that cancer charity paying for my salary! If there’s a cancer charity at all. Did he pull strings to get me my internship... because he wanted to fuck me?
But how could that be? CeeCee hired me, because she believes in me. She told me so herself, and she wouldn’t lie to me.
I’m so confused. Why would CeeCee hire me... but Reed secretly pay my salary? Why the secrecy? Am I crazy? Paranoid? Oh, fuck. Did Reed find CeeCee’s price? Did Reed offer CeeCee unparalleled access to his entire roster for the special issue, plus, an in-depth interview of himself, if only she’d hire the fuck buddy of his choice?
No. I can’t believe CeeCee would have gone along with that! I simply won’t believe it. But my mind is reeling. My insecurity is raising its ugly head. Did I get this internship solely because some asshole—in this instance, Reed—wanted to get into my pants?
“Excuse me,” I say to Aloha, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to talk to Reed about something important.”
“No problemo. Just get my number from Reed or Owen.” She pinches Barry’s ear. “Come on, Big Barry! This cowgirl wants to dance!”
Practically hyperventilating, I sprint toward a set of French doors leading outside. But when I get outside and race around like a chicken with my head cut off, I still don’t see Reed anywhere. Not on the patio. Not by the pool. Not in the area just outside the garage where some of the members of Fugitive Summer and Watch Party are playing a rowdy game of corn hole. Frustrated, I turn around, intending to march back toward the house... but freeze on a dime.
The garage.
It’s the only place I haven’t looked for Reed.
But what the hell would he be doing in there, with the party raging on out here? Oh! Maybe he’s showing someone his car collection! Yes, that must be it. Reed is giving some buddy or VIP a tour of his beloved cars.
My heart exploding, I turn around again and head down the path, telling myself the whole time I’m being paranoid—that there’s no way Reed had anything to do with my salary or CeeCee’s decision to hire me. CeeCee would never betray me like that. And neither would Reed. He’s a liar, for sure. But only about highly personal things. Also, small things, sometimes, as well, for reasons that elude me. But he would never lie to me about something so important. But if he did, he certainly wouldn’t continue lying to me, after I told him about Mr.—
The side door to the garage opens, and to my shock—and heartbreak—Reed and Isabel step through the doorframe, exiting the garage.
I’m standing, frozen, about ten feet away from them. And the minute Reed and Isabel see me, they freeze, too. And, instantly, from Reed’s stiff body language and the guilty expression on his face, I know he’s just been caught red-handed. Remorse washes over his guilty face. Followed immediately by barely