Leave her out of this, Beat’s voice returned. Or I will kill you.
Right there in front of him, Melody’s eyes developed a sheen.
Your own father?
It’s all for the cameras. Haven’t you heard of a scripted reality show? As soon as it’s over, I’ll probably never see her again.
“I was lying, Mel,” he said through his teeth.
“I know,” she whispered, nodding. “I know.”
Thank God. Thank God she knew. Why wasn’t she back in his arms yet?
Sorry if you thought this was some magical love story, but it’s not. You’re welcome to try and pump her for cash, but she’ll tell you to go to hell. And then she’ll be able to leverage that secret. It’ll lose its power and become her bargaining chip if she wants to sell the story. And you know offers are going to roll in. This thing is huge.
“He’s really selling that lie,” Trina remarked. “Like son, like mother, I guess.”
“Zip it, you smelly old relic,” Octavia fired back.
“That’s right, I have sweat glands, like a normal human. Did your Botox guy remove those for you, along with your sense of humor?”
I know what I saw. You two are the real deal, interrupted Fletcher’s voice on the recording, followed by footsteps in the background. Melody’s. Beat’s gut seized up. He couldn’t bear to look at her for this part, so he moved to the window and braced his hands on either side of the sill, staring out at the avenue but seeing nothing.
She wants me to teach her how to play bocce, too! We’re going to have a lady date after the holidays. That was where he’d refused the hand she’d offered. The memory was like a torpedo to the center of his stomach. Sorry. Did I interrupt?
Nah, honey. We’re just shooting the shit. You must have another big day of filming ahead. Where are you two jetting off to next?
We don’t really have any plans—
“Turn it off,” Beat demanded, pushing away from the window. “You’ve heard the part you needed to hear. Please, God, turn it off.”
Octavia tapped a key and the office went silent, except for Melody’s long, winded intake of breath. She wouldn’t look at him, though. What was she thinking?
Finally, Trina broke the silence. “I’m no mathematician, but what it sounds like, old pal, is you had yourself a little indiscretion in between tours.”
Not a single muscle shifted in the lead singer’s face. “Was there a paternity test, Beat?”
“Yes.” His voice was like gravel. “I wouldn’t give him a dime until I knew for sure. He’s my father. My biological one, anyway.”
Octavia’s head fell forward.
“Just to recap.” Trina raised a handful of fingers and started ticking them off. “He dated you. Lied to me, saying you were the one who broke it off with him. I started dating him—a move that, let’s face it, was the beginning of the end. The end of Steel Birds. Our creation. And then, after we booted him for another drummer, he still managed to wiggle back in and sleep with you one more time. Even after everything.”
“I was just . . . it was vanity and jealousy and . . . being twenty-three, goddammit. I wanted to hurt you back. We were already fighting constantly, ditching recording sessions, and blowing off label meetings. What would it matter if I screwed everything up a little more? And damn, I wanted to prove he still wanted me the most. It was stupid and it didn’t fix anything. If you want to hate me for it, fine, but I’m pretty sure I’m paying a steep enough price without adding your ridicule, Trina.” Octavia slammed a closed fist down on the desk. The only one who didn’t flinch was Trina. “He’s been blackmailing my son for five years!”
Trina reached out and knocked over a porcelain glass full of white pens. “There you are! I thought the woman who sang ‘Bitch on Wheels’ at the top of her lungs was dead and gone.”
“I want to fillet this motherfucker’s balls, grill them until they’re well-done, and dine on them with a bottle of wine,” Octavia growled.
Beat’s jaw dropped.
He’d seen countless hours of Steel Birds concert footage. He’d seen his mother unleash hell into a microphone. But in real life, she was his polished, routine-oriented mother. That was still true, but apparently the take-no-prisoners rock vocalist had been lurking inside of her this whole time.
He traded a look of bemused disbelief with Melody.
She was almost smiling at Beat when she caught herself and broke eye contact.
Trina stabbed the desk with her index finger. “Here is what I have to say. If you disagree with me, Oc, I’ll leave, and another thirty years might go by until we cross paths again.” She paused, shifting in her seat. “But the way I see it, Fletcher has had too much business in my life. He’s had too much of an effect for such a worthless piece of garbage—and I just can’t stand to see him have any more.”
“He came for our kids,” Octavia breathed.
Trina nodded. “Came between our kids.”
“He’s breaking up the band. Twice.”
“Only if we let him.”
Octavia’s eyes took on sharp focus, catching Trina’s gaze and holding—and it was an incredible thing to witness. Beat would tell the story a thousand times over the course of his life and never be able to do justice to the magic that wove the two women back together right there in front of their very eyes. It was almost a visible stitching of the disrupted air between them, a magnetic force that lifted them out of their chairs at the very same time, like two monoliths rising from the earth.
Trina raised an eyebrow. “Is this gig happening, or what?”
“Oh, it’s happening. Right after we tell Fletcher Carr to keep his poison away from our families.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Trina smiled and scooped up Octavia’s phone from its resting position on the desk, handing it to her former—er, current?—bandmate. “Accept his offer to join the reunion.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Melody watched, incredulous, as the former enemies huddled together to discuss their plan, leaning into each other’s sides, uproarious laughter erupting between them, as if thirty years of vitriol and anger had never happened.
She and Beat had done the impossible.
They’d reunited Steel Birds.
They’d gained everything in the process—friendship and love and personal growth. But they’d lost it all, too. For one brief, shining moment as she watched the two legends re-form their once-in-a-lifetime bond, she wondered if her pain might have been worth the outcome. Maybe. Yes? But when Beat moved to stand in front of her, her confidence in that answer slipped and scattered.
Nothing was worth this.
Loving him so deeply and having to live without him.
“Melody, can we talk?”
There was nothing more enticing than the idea of being alone with Beat somewhere. Retreating to their own little world where they were the only inhabitants and the rest of the planet was inconsequential. But pretending the hurt he’d caused wasn’t a sharp, lingering thing would only make it worse. He’d promised her that night in her apartment to be truthful with her, always, no exceptions. They’d come so far where his trust was concerned. But at the first opportunity, he’d gone back on his word. He might have done it for noble reasons, to protect her, but she didn’t want to be protected when they could be a team, instead. She was stronger than that now. “I think it might be better if I go.”