Two seconds ticked by. “I don’t know.”
“I see.” Octavia blew out a breath. “Oh Lord. Let’s get on with this.”
Beat cleared his throat. “As we spoke about earlier, the goal of the show is—”
The door of the coatroom flew open and in walked a man smoking a cigar in a an abominable snowman sweater with glowing LED eyes and Louis Vuitton slippers. Rudy, Beat’s father. “Oh, I see, this is where the party is.” He sauntered over to Octavia’s side, observing everyone through mirthful blue eyes. “Why does everyone look like Santa Claus just crossed the rainbow bridge?”
“Allow me to bring you up to speed, my love.” Octavia sighed, tapping her cheek and waiting for the robed man to lean over and kiss the spot noisily. “Our son is filming a reality show with Trina’s daughter—wave at the camera—” He saluted it, instead, cigar ash fluttering downward. “They are on a crusade to reunite Steel Birds.”
“On Christmas Eve,” Danielle added. “Onstage at Rockefeller Center.”
Instead of being shocked by that explanation, Rudy merely looked impressed. “Really, son. How industrious of you. Where do you find the time?”
Melody watched fondness soften the lines around Beat’s mouth. “Hello, Dad.”
“Looking forward to the spring when we can get back out on the green. A reality show? Really?” He puffed his cigar. “Shame your mother would rather swim in shark-infested waters than get back onstage with Trina.” He directed his next question at Melody. “How is the mistress of mayhem doing these days?”
“Still mayheming and mistressing, as far as I know,” Melody answered. “I see her every February, so it has been a while.”
Octavia pounced on that. “But you said she requested the reunion.”
“Over the phone. Zoom, actually. We Zoom,” Melody blurted. She knew she was doing that thing people did when they lie—adding too many details—and she couldn’t help it. “She had a lovely cat eye going on last time we spoke. Yes. It was two and a half days ago when she said, ‘You’re right, Mel. It’s time. It’s time to get the band back together. It’s time to shred once more.’ And she cried. Right there on Zoom.”
No one said anything.
Melody elbowed Beat subtly in the ribs.
“Right there on Zoom,” he corroborated. “She wept. Openly.”
Octavia narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t sound like Trina.”
“She has changed a lot over the years. Matured like a fine wine.” Now that was the biggest lie Melody had told tonight. If anything, Trina had regressed since the days of yore. “Mrs. Dawkins—”
“Oh, you might as well call me Octavia, dear.” She crossed her arms delicately. “It’s only fair since my son is trying his best to stuff you into his pocket.”
Heat bloomed in Melody’s cheeks. Beat wasn’t trying to stuff her into his pocket. That was an exaggeration. Though he’d hauled her so close that only one of her feet was fully balanced on the ground. Was he simply nervous about the whole ordeal?
“Are they dating?” Beat’s father asked, followed by a hearty laugh that filled the coat check closet. “Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass?”
“We’re not,” Melody said as quickly as possible. Mainly, because she didn’t want to hear a vehement denial from Beat. She wiggled and ducked until she’d extricated herself from his hold, noticing that Beat only looked perplexed over the way he’d been hanging on to her in the first place. “We’re not dating, but we are on a mutual mission.”
Speaking in front of such an intimidating group made her feel as though she could break out in a million hives at any second, but Melody forged ahead. After all, she’d been the one to spout the lie about Trina requesting the reunion. She’d steered the adventure in a whole new direction, she couldn’t very well let go of the wheel now, could she?
“There are thousands of people watching, Octavia,” Melody started.
“Millions,” Danielle corrected in a whisper.
“Millions.” Melody breathed through a wave of dizziness. “They’ve waited—we’ve waited—thirty years for a Steel Birds reunion. Sure, there are recordings, songs that can be downloaded. But there is nothing like hearing your favorite songs live. You and Trina have the power to make it happen. To give fans that moment they’ve been dreaming about since ninety-three.”
Beat settled a hand on the small of Melody’s back. “You miss it sometimes. Don’t you, Mom? The crowd belting ‘Rattle the Cage’ at the top of their lungs. Feeling it. You miss that long, drawn-out break before the key change. That final, blood-pumping solo.”
“The rotisserie chickens,” Melody murmured, pressing a hand to her heart.
“Never forget,” Beat deadpanned.
A tiny, bemused laugh bubbled out of Octavia’s mouth. “You know . . . when Trina and I were pregnant with you two, Stevie Nicks blessed our bellies backstage at a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Sly and Family Stone was being instated, right? Yes. And Stevie, she recited an old proverb and waved a bundle of burning sage, which she was literally carrying in the pocket of her dress, and she said the two of you would always be . . . was it protected or connected? I can’t recall.” She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Steel Birds broke up six days later. I’ve always wondered if she cursed us, instead.”
“We could call her and find out,” Danielle suggested, discreetly steering Joseph’s elbow. “On camera.”
Octavia scoffed. “Stevie Nicks doesn’t have a phone.”
“Wow,” Melody whispered.
“Look.” Octavia waved her hands. “It’s almost time for my champagne toast and I am going to sing ‘Santa motherfucking Baby’ tonight, whether or not anyone wished for it . . .” She sent a sniff in Beat’s direction. “Let’s wrap this up. If you two manage to bring Trina to New York, I will perform one song with her onstage. But there will be no communication between us beforehand or afterward. This isn’t going to be some big, emotional reunion where we lament the three decades we’ve lost being enemies and plan an international tour. If that’s the ultimate goal here, you will all be sorely disappointed.”
“Understood, Mom,” Beat said with a nod. “One night. One song. No chitchat.”
“Send it to my manager in writing, please,” Octavia added, sailing for the door with a cigar-puffing Rudy in tow. “Son, I love you dearly, despite this total nonsense.” She stopped midway through the exit to the ballroom where guests were already beginning to cheer over her reentry to the gala. “And Melody . . .”
“Yes?”
“Next time the spotlight lands on you, sucker-punch it back.”
Chapter Thirteen
For the last hour, a lead weight had been sitting in Beat’s gut.
It was a cross between dread and urgency.
Something about the way everyone at the bottom of the staircase had looked at Melody troubled him. They got it. They saw what he did. And part of Beat really enjoyed the fact that people seemed to be recognizing Melody’s uniqueness. Celebrating those special quirks that made her so . . . Mel. Because it was about damn time.