Her cheeks warmed and she glanced up to find Beat watching her with a bemused smile. “This has been swan talk with Melody Gallard,” he said.
Her chest loosened. Not quite enough to laugh, not with every eye in the joint trained on her, but something inside of her relaxed. “Um.” With an effort, she stopped staring into Beat’s sparkling blue eyes and shifted her focus to Octavia once more. “Like I said, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan, like everyone else. Could we . . .”
Talk privately. That’s what she was going to say. But . . .
Oh no.
A terrible idea occurred to her. Or perhaps, a glorious one.
Saying it out loud was probably going to be a huge mistake.
But it was one of those moments where the impossible seemed possible. This idea was the one chance to save humanity in the Avengers: End Game, as predicted by Doctor Strange. It might be their only hope of actually making this reunion happen and for some reason, maybe because she was currently looking a legendary rock star in the eye, Melody suddenly wanted very much to make the Steel Birds reunion a reality. She wanted to have this success with Beat. She wanted it for everyone on the planet. Maybe she’d been laughing at the idea for so long she’d never stopped to consider how happy it would make billions of people.
And wow, the fact that they had the responsibility in their hands was a rush of power.
Since when did she enjoy rushes of power?
Just say it. Before this little squiggle of time passed them by.
“I’m here because my mother, Trina Gallard, wants to reunite the band.”
She sensed Beat’s jaw dropping.
Octavia jolted.
Had Melody just rattled the unshakable lead singer?
“Rotisserie chickens have nothing on me,” she murmured.
Beat made a choked sound. “I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“Me either.”
“I’m sorry,” Octavia said, coming closer. “Did you say that Trina wants to reunite?”
Camera phone flashes were going off at the speed of light. Melody thought of her mother, holed up in her New Hampshire hippie compound, shunning the outside world, including television and the internet. She no longer had a manager or an agent to relay news to her. The chances were extremely high that Trina knew nothing about Wreck the Halls and wouldn’t see this moment unfolding. Thank goodness.
“Yes, that is what I said.”
“What have you done?” Beat whispered to her out of the side of his mouth.
“This is improv,” she whispered back. “At least, I think it’s improv. I was too afraid to take the classes. Or ask for a refund.”
His sides started to shake.
Octavia regarded their interaction like a scientist peering through a microscope. “How much time have you two been spending together exactly?” She sounded fascinated, speaking almost to herself. “I’ll admit, I’ve always wondered if you two would . . . click.”
Beat cleared his throat. “Maybe we could continue this conversation privately?”
“No need.” Octavia’s laugh carried across the stone silent ballroom. “There isn’t enough Botox in New York to erase the kind of wrinkles Trina’s presence would give me.” She waved an elegant hand at Melody. “No offense, darling.”
“None taken. She could overwrinkle a shar-pei.”
A guffaw burst out of Octavia. “Oh God, you just had to be adorable, didn’t you? I’m going to hate telling you no.”
“So don’t,” Beat said. “Hear us out.”
Applause and whistles broke out around the ballroom. When the sound continued to escalate, Beat pulled Melody into his side and partially blocked her from view, ignoring the cameraman’s signal to bring her back into the shot. Melody was so caught off guard by the protective gesture that she almost missed Octavia’s interested head tilt.
“Oh dear . . .” muttered the former rock princess, sauntering back down the stairs and indicating a doorway into the adjoining coatroom. “Fine. I suppose I will hear you out, before I decline. But only because it’s Christmas.”
“That’s the spirit,” Melody said, starting to follow Octavia. But she was brought up short by Beat circling an arm around her shoulder, keeping her glued to his side.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead in what seemed like an unconscious gesture. “Wait for the security team, okay?”
“We were just down there. It was fine.”
“You had your mask on. And Melody, I don’t think you realize you’re charming the pants off everybody.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated, his gaze busy scanning the crowd. “You haven’t been in the public eye for a while, so maybe you don’t remember how it is. Sometimes people feel like they already know you, so they act . . . overfamiliar. Just stay close to me, okay?”
Melody thought maybe Beat was being a little paranoid but agreeing to stay close didn’t cost her anything. In fact, being near him was a huge reassurance in the midst of this unusual situation, so she nodded. “Sure.”
The security team arrived at the bottom of the stairs and they formed sort of a pathway for Beat and Melody that allowed them to follow Octavia out of the noisy gala, into a coatroom that was large enough to qualify as a studio apartment in Manhattan. The red-jacketed attendant stared wide-eyed at the sudden intrusion of the guest of honor—and it wasn’t lost on Melody that the coat check employee was watching the live stream on her phone. Melody could literally see herself on the screen and closed her gaping mouth as a result.
The attendant bolted from the room, leaving Octavia, Beat, Mel, Joseph, and Danielle, who managed to sneak in just before the security team closed the door.
“Well,” Octavia began, turning on a heel and sending everyone a smile that Melody could only define as pleasantly murderous. “My annual, famous holiday charity bash has been hijacked. I hope you’re all happy.”
Beat started to speak, but Danielle launched in quickly, holding up a finger with her clipboard hand. “I don’t mind taking point on this.”
“And just who the fuck are you?” Octavia asked, without dimming her smile.
“Wow,” Melody breathed.
Beat squeezed her hand.
“Executive producer of Wreck the Halls, among other shows on Applause Network. Danielle Doolin.” She seemed to weigh the pros and cons of attempting to shake Octavia’s hand and visibly decided against it. “It’s a true pleasure to meet you.”
Octavia blinked. “I’m sorry I can’t say the same.”
“That’s fair enough.”
“The badassery of the women in this room is unparalleled,” Melody whispered to Beat. “I bet neither of them have ever been knocked down by a spotlight.”
“That’s not true, dear,” Octavia said, her gaze cutting away from Danielle to land on Melody. “At the first stadium show for Steel Birds—Dallas, I believe—I was so startled by the spotlight that I tripped backward and nearly concussed myself on the drums. Those motherfuckers pack a punch.” She tilted her head, her eyes tracing Beat’s arm where it wrapped around Melody’s waist like the harness on a roller coaster. “Son, why are you trying to squeeze the girl to death?”