The Man with the Midas Touch. But now, it’s abundantly clear: The Old Reed is dead. And The New Reed is totally, madly, irrevocably in love with the siren, the bombshell, the fireball known as Georgina Ricci.
It’s been a productive trip, from a business standpoint. In San Francisco, Seattle, Phoenix, and Boise, I’ve scouted bands, checked out potential real estate investments, and attended meetings. All stuff I really needed to do, after six weeks of ignoring far too much work to hunker down in my house with Georgina. I’ve survived it all, but just barely, knowing it was all stuff I legitimately had to do for work. But, tonight, I’m losing my mind, since this party isn’t work related and I’d much rather be home with Georgina. I’m hosting a birthday party for an old fraternity brother named Alonso in my nightclub tonight, and, I swear, if it weren’t for an important meeting tomorrow with some business partners here in Vegas, I’d already have hopped a plane back to Georgina.
I tried to get her to come with me on this trip, but she said she had too much work to do. Her final artist interviews to polish. Her Gates article to finalize. Also, the one about me to edit. Plus, on top of all that, Georgina said she’s still trying her mighty best to get someone to talk to her, on the record, about Howard Devlin. It’s looking pretty unlikely she’s going to be able to pull that particular rabbit out of her hat, despite how hard she’s tried over the past six weeks. But, still, she’s not ready to give up. Which doesn’t surprise me. Georgina Ricci is nothing if not persistent.
Someone jostles my shoulder on their way to the dance floor, and I’m jolted back to my present surroundings. I’m standing near the dance floor with three of my old fraternity brothers—Henn, Luke, and the birthday boy, Alonso—plus, Ethan, an old friend from UCLA who wasn’t in my fraternity, but is friendly with that whole group, thanks to regular poker parties at my house the past several years.
I tune into the conversation happening around me and discover Ethan, a successful producer of indie flicks, is telling the group a “behind the scenes” story from one of the films he’s produced. Luke and Alonso are listening intently and laughing. But not Henn. He’s glued to his phone, looking anxious.
As I watch Henn furiously tapping out a text, my drunken eyes fixate on the gleam of his metal wedding ring. And, much to my shock, I find myself envying him for that ring. For being a marked man. For getting to broadcast to the world, he’s got a wife somewhere in the world. A woman who pledged her eternal love to him in a legally binding ceremony.
I look down at my bare ring finger and think it must be cool to have a ring like Henn’s. I mean, assuming the woman wearing my ring, in return, was Georgina.
“Reed?”
I look up. It’s Alonso talking to me. The birthday boy. He’s pointing at my empty glass, asking me if I want a refill.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Henn?” Alonso asks.
Henn barely looks up from his phone. “No. Thanks.”
Alonso takes my empty and heads to the bar, at which point I lean into Henn.
“Everything all right, buddy?”
Henn sighs and looks up from his phone. “Hazel’s running a high fever. Hannah’s at Urgent Care with her now. I’m totally freaking out.” He rubs his forehead and, again, my drunken eyes notice the gleam of his wedding band. “Hazel’s never had a high fever. Only low-grade ones when she’s teething.”
“Reed!” a female voice says, drawing my attention away from Henn.
It’s Corinne. An ex-girlfriend of mine. An actress I dated exclusively for about three months a couple years ago, until boredom set in—at least, for me.
I hug Corinne hello. She kisses my cheek and links her arm in mine as I quickly introduce her to my friends. After introductions have been made, she pulls me aside and tells me she’s elated she ran into me tonight because she’s been thinking about me a lot lately—a ton, actually. In fact, she had a dream about me, just the other night! A really sexy one! Ha, ha! Which made her wonder if maybe we should—
I cut her off. Tell her I’ve got a girlfriend. And that’s when it hits me, like a Mack truck. Girlfriend isn’t enough. Even as I say the paltry word, I can plainly see Corinne’s lack of respect