“It sounds like you watched the live stream,” Beat said, dryly, nodding his thanks to the housekeeper who breezed in and refilled his glass of scotch. “Thoughts?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“That makes two of us.”
When he fully expected his mother to express her anger over the fact that Trina very obviously hadn’t requested the reunion, as they’d led her to believe, she surprised him by leaning across the table and stabbing a finger into the gleaming surface. “I demand to know what happened in that attic last night.”
Beat’s hand froze in the act of reaching for his glass, then dropped. “What?”
“Oh, don’t you dare feign shock with me. The entire world is speculating. You should see the message boards—they’ve lit up like a Christmas tree.” She sniffed. “The way I see it, I should be privy to the truth as compensation for being totally betrayed.”
“You’re being a little dramatic, Mom.”
“Me? A woman carried in on the backs of swan-men, dramatic? You don’t say.”
Beat bared his teeth in a smile. “There isn’t a chance in hell I’m telling you what happened in the attic.”
Octavia stuck out her bottom lip. “Magnificent Mel didn’t seem herself afterward.”
Beat’s insides did their best to cram their way into his mouth. Didn’t seem herself afterward. He’d done that. He’d driven her away. “You met Melody for all of ten minutes,” he rasped, his hand unsteady as it closed around his tumbler, dragging the drink in front of him, but suddenly lacking the strength to pick it up.
“Yes,” his mother said slowly. “Although isn’t it odd? I feel as if I’ve known her much longer.” If she only knew how much Beat could relate. “And if you must know, I’ve become something of a Melody-head since the gala, even though she told me a minor fib.” She frowned over that statement while throwing herself back into her chair. “Liking her so much is very disconcerting, considering she sprung forth from the womb of a trifling banshee.” She gestured to the camera with her drink. “Trina, if you’re watching, where did you find your housemates, darling? Backstage at an Everclear concert?” Octavia’s laughter was smug. “She’ll know what that means.”
“Maybe we should change the subject,” Beat muttered, opening the file folder in front of him. “I’ve narrowed the field down to five applicants—”
“No, no. You’re not getting off the hook that easy.” She pursed her lips, obviously trying to appear casual. “When might you be bringing Melody over for dinner? I’m told she likes beignets. If French cuisine is her thing, I’m going to hire out the chef from La Bernadin.”
Beat’s chest was currently held together by a zipper and with each mention of Melody, it was lowered a little more, everything on the verge of spilling out. “Is there any way we could avoid talking about this in front of millions of people?”
“Are you serious?” Octavia seemed genuinely perplexed. “Are you aware of how much you’ve been saying on camera, whether or not you actually say a single word?”
His pulse picked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean”—she wiggled her fingers at the camera—“you haven’t exactly been . . . subtle about your feelings. Or don’t you remember threatening to drive a tractor into the side of that Podunk jail to get Melody out? And honestly, no one blames you. What man could be subtle with Magnificent Melody on the line?”
Beat had no earthly idea how to answer that. So many times over the last week, he’d tried to pump the brakes around Melody, make his infatuation less obvious. Apparently he hadn’t been remotely successful. Why was he bothering to try and deny it now? At this stage, he was probably only making himself look like a fool. “You’ve been watching the live stream all day?” Beat asked, gruffly, waiting for his mother’s nod. “How is she? Is she okay?”
“She’s restoring an old copy of Animal Farm. Lord help me, it shouldn’t be so riveting, but she keeps up this delightful commentary. I simply couldn’t turn it off.”
He would have sold his soul in that moment to see Melody, head bent over a book in her magnifying glass hat, explaining the restoration procedure in her unique tone of voice, so full of humor and grace.
Octavia’s expression turned triumphant. “See? Look at you. One mention of her and your eyes melt like candle wax. You look like Woody from Toy Story when Andy didn’t take him to college.” Octavia gestured impatiently at the cameraman. “Are you getting this?”
Beat pinched the bridge of his nose and held on to his patience while Ernie circled to the other side of the table to get a better angle of his face. “What do you want from me, Mom? You want me to admit I have feelings for Melody?”
“At this stage, it’s merely a formality. But yes.” She waved at the cameraman. “Get me in the background. They’re sure to use this clip as promo and I look fucking hot.”
A smile couldn’t help but tug at Beat’s lips. “I have every single feeling for her.”
His mother yelped at that statement. “Then where is she?”
“Getting a well-deserved break from me.” He tried to swallow and couldn’t. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think she’ll be coming over for dinner anytime soon. Not as my date, anyway. As my friend? Maybe.” His mouth tasted bitter. “If I have to accept that, so do you.”
Octavia thought about it. “No. And you can’t make me.”
The housekeeper rushed into the room and whispered something in Octavia’s ear, making her eyes widen with interest. “Wait until you hear this. Melody is ordering room service.” She listened to the housekeeper some more. “Spaghetti and a Diet Coke? Damn. Now I don’t know if I should hire a French or Italian chef for our dinner.”
Beat wanted to roll his eyes, except he’d been holding his breath to find out her order, too. “I came here thinking you were going to read me the riot act over Melody’s claim that Trina wanted the reunion. Instead, you’re starting a Melody fan club.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you be a member?”
He looked down at the paperwork without really seeing it. “I’d be the president.”
When he thought Octavia might say I told you so, she tilted her head at him instead. “What’s the problem, Beat?”
“That’s between me and her.”
“And the attic.” She hesitated. “Just blink twice if there was nudity.”
“Really, Mom.”
“I’m a rock star! Nothing shocks me!”
If he didn’t turn the tables, this conversation was going to venture further into the place he didn’t want it to go—definitely not publicly. “Are you still in for the reunion?”
Octavia’s smile froze over. She reached for her glass. “Moot point, isn’t it? Trina said no, didn’t she?” Adding in a mutter, “Petty old witch.”
Beat couldn’t help but remember the look on Trina’s face last night when Melody was singing. Even before that, when Melody stood up to her, she’d been almost . . . transfixed. Thoughtful. Like she’d been trapped in a time capsule and someone had finally opened the hatch. “I don’t know. Danielle has us booked on the Today show Tuesday morning and apparently has a ‘trick up her sleeve.’ Although something tells me Trina is still considering the reunion, despite her unequivocal no.”