Wreck the Halls(11)
“Thanks for coming,” he said into her hair. She smelled of gingerbread and wind.
“You’re welcome.” Her amused reply was muffled by his shoulder. “Someone has to try and talk you out of this.”
His smile turned lighter. He squeezed her. Just a little more.
“Miss Gallard,” said Danielle gently from behind her desk. “I’m so glad you could make it. I hope the subway commute wasn’t too much of a hassle on a Monday morning.”
“Um . . . it was fine, all mystery substances considered.” Slowly, Beat and Melody disconnected from each other, and she seemed to realize for the first time that she’d dropped her purse, the skin of her cheeks pinkening slightly as she stooped down to retrieve it. “It wouldn’t be a New York commute without at least one unidentified substance congealing on the seat beside me.”
Danielle laughed, gesturing to the side-by-side chairs facing her desk. “Very true. Please. Have a seat.”
Beat held out Melody’s chair and did his best not to inhale her scent as she sat. He forced himself to park his ass a good foot away from her, as well. To give himself time to come down from their hug and prevent the strange impulse to continue touching her in some way.
When they were both seated, they went right on looking at each other for several moments, like they were the only two people in the room and Beat started to wonder if seeing her again was an even worse idea than he’d originally thought. Why did he have to like her so much? What was it about her that made him feel normal almost instantaneously?
He forced himself to break their stare. It took him effort to focus on Danielle, but once he did, he couldn’t miss the producer’s keen speculation. And she was pleased as punch over whatever she’d witnessed. Why? Did she think his distant-but-potent relationship with Melody would be an entertaining angle for the show? Because Melody wasn’t going to be involved. Not directly. No way would he let that happen, especially since he had an ulterior motive.
To make enough money to pay off his blackmailer.
“Okay. First of all, wow. I did it. I got you two in a room together and that’s a victory in itself,” Danielle started, clapping her hands. “But I digress. You both have busy lives and I won’t waste your time. In fact, we have no time. Applause wants to reunite Steel Birds and bring the public along for the ride. If we’re going to move on this, it needs to be fast.” She gestured at Beat. “During our phone conversation, Beat made it clear that he is volunteering as tribute. He will be the only one participating in the project.” She transferred her focus to Melody. “However, because of your proximity to the band, Melody, he won’t do it without your consent.” She folded her hands together on the desk. “Unfortunately, due to the time crunch, if you’re going to give your approval, it needs to be today.”
Beat’s pulse started to thrum faster. “We’re going to need more details first.”
Danielle nodded. “Essentially, we need to strike while the iron is hot,” the producer continued, splitting her focus between them. “‘Rattle the Cage’ is number one again on Billboard. Thirty years postrelease. The hashtag #BringBackSteelBirds has been trending on and off for weeks on various social media platforms. A new generation is demanding a reunion of this band that wasn’t even around when they were born. I’ve never seen anything like it. If there was ever a time to consider bringing Octavia and Trina back together, it’s now, when there is a shit ton of money on the table and enough demand for a possible tour.”
Silence fell heavily in the room. Beat’s heart pounded in his ears.
“I was promised beignets,” Melody said.
He laughed. It shot out of him like cannon fire, unexpected and . . . real. When was the last time he’d laughed for real? And not because it was expected?
Melody grinned over at him. “Well, I was.”
“So you were,” Danielle said, visibly amused. She picked up her phone and punched a button, speaking briefly to the assistant on the other end, before hanging up. “Forgive me.”
“I’ll think about it,” Melody teased while crossing her ankles, Beat doing his honest best to ignore the way her calves flexed. How palm-sized they were. Quit looking, man. “So . . . you are asking Beat to meet with our mothers on camera to try and convince them to reunite? You want to film the process on the off chance it works out? That’s all?”
Danielle tilted her head. “If it were that simple, it wouldn’t make for good television.”
“Gulp,” Melody said.
Beat got trapped between the urge to laugh again and the need to end the meeting, because the more information Danielle revealed, the more intrusive the whole idea sounded.
Could he simply walk away from this chance to pocket a million dollars, though? If he didn’t come up with the blackmail money, his parents would become internet fodder. Laughingstocks. If he had a way to prevent that outcome, he should do everything in his power. Shouldn’t he? They’d given him a life of privilege, everything handed to him. This was the fucking least he could do. “Mel.” He turned in his chair to face her, once again tamping down the urge to hold her hand. “Did you read the email from Danielle?”
She shook her head, looking between them. “I’m pretty sure I deleted it.”
Beat hummed. “Applause offered each of us seven figures to do this.”