“Beat,” his father said again.
“Yes?”
Rudy tapped an unlit cigar on his thigh, turning it over end by end. “I just wanted to say . . . you’re my boy, you know. I was there the day you were born.” He ceased his nervous movements. “You’re still my son. Right?”
Physically, Beat could not handle this moment, but he tried; he dug deep and found the strength because he sensed how important the answer was to his father. “I’m your son,” he said firmly. “You’re the only father I need or want. In this case, a bond is stronger than blood.”
Rudy ducked his head swiftly. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you for being so understanding about this. I’m sorry I kept the truth from you. From Octavia. I didn’t give either of you enough credit.”
“You were protecting your mother. I’ll never find any fault in that.”
Beat took a deep breath to compose himself and let it out fast, his father mirroring the move in the exact same manner, at the exact same time. And they laughed.
“Into the fray once more, young man,” said his father, lighting his cigar and heaving himself out of the limousine. Beat listened to shouts of his father’s name, the increasing demands for Beat to make an appearance. Through the window, he read the signs being held aloft and his stomach flipped over.
Beat + Melody = Couple Goals
Put a ring on it, Beat
If they only knew he was burning alive with the need to propose. Christ, at this point, he would be happy with a text message from her. A smile. Anything.
A security guard stuck his head in through the open door of the limousine. “Mr. Dawkins, we can’t control the crowd indefinitely. You’re needed inside.”
“Right. Sorry.” He crouch-walked to the other side of the vehicle and forced himself out into the cold, buttoning his suit jacket as he straightened, the blast of cheers nearly knocking him back a step. The metal barriers holding the crowd at bay scraped forward on the concrete, more signs popping up, pictures of him and Melody taped to them. One had Melody lying on top of him in the snowbank and he slowed his step to look at it, his lungs burning on a harsh intake of breath. Take him back to that night. God, he would give anything.
“Mr. Dawkins,” said the security guard, more impatiently this time, and they moved in tandem through the open side door of the building. They traveled through an ornate lobby, to an elevator that took him to the second floor. “We’re using the atrium as the backstage area. It exits into the plaza where the band will be performing.”
“I see.”
The elevator doors opened, the guard gesturing for Beat to precede him down another hallway, until finally he was ushered into the atrium, a large, enclosed dome of glass that was lit up like the inside of a snow globe. In the near distance, he could see the row of international flags that lined Rockefeller Center. They were steps away. As one of the opening bands was finishing, the crowd was already demanding the Steel Birds make their appearance next, but he could barely register his surroundings, because he was looking for Melody—
And there she was.
Looking at him across the atrium with her fucking heart in her eyes.
God, kill him now.
Men weren’t built to withstand this kind of pain. She needed him, he was in love with her to the point of madness, yet she didn’t run into his arms. She couldn’t, because of the ditch he’d dug in between them. Despite the searing pain in his chest, Beat strode forward to join the group, nodding at Danielle and Joseph—who for once was without his camera—in greeting. Beat exchanged a measuring glance with Trina. Then he went right back to staring at the love of his life, while she stared back, utterly gorgeous in her white turtleneck dress and kelly green coat. Black boots that circled her ankles, the way his hands were dying to do.
“All right, folks. We’re just waiting on one more and then I’ll go over—”
“I’m here,” called a familiar voice.
They all turned at once to watch the original Steel Birds drummer saunter into the atrium in ripped jeans and a Steel Birds 1991 tour shirt. Trina’s quiet intake of breath was the only reaction among the group to the man’s arrival. Octavia’s smile was bland. Melody’s was bright and welcoming, as if she knew nothing, although Beat knew her well enough to tell it was costing her serious effort to smile. Rudy pretended to take a call and moseyed over to the other side of the space.
“They say a man’s wardrobe pauses on the best years of his life and never changes,” Trina said, crossing her arms. “Guess we know when you peaked, huh, Fletcher?”
Octavia hummed. “While riding our coattails.”
“Lovely to see you again, too, ladies. I’d love to make a joke about riding a lot more than your coattails, but I have more class than that.”
Red filtered into Beat’s vision and he bristled, ready to bury his fist in the center of the drummer’s face, but Melody subtly shook her head at him, anchoring him with her eyes. He could practically read her mind and it was saying You’ve been fighting the battle long enough, it’s their turn. And she was right. Tonight was for the band.
“Do you hear that, Oc?” Trina mused. “The guy who once left a puke trail from the tour bus to the stage has suddenly decided he’s classy.”
“Imagine that. People really do change.”
“Okay,” Danielle said, waving to get everyone’s attention. “As much as I would love to prolong this part of the reunion, we have a very large, very demanding crowd waiting to see the greatest female rock duo in history live onstage.”
“Notice she said ‘duo,’” Trina remarked, winking at Fletcher.
“Beat,” Danielle continued with determination. “You will go on first and introduce the band—”
“Shouldn’t Mel be with me?” he interrupted, unplanned.
That brought the producer up short. All five sets of gazes swung to him, then to Melody.
Meanwhile Melody’s heart was back to being in her perfect goddamn eyes again, her affection for him so pure and clear, it was carving him wide open. Who could survive this?
Danielle coughed. “I . . . just assumed, since Melody isn’t all that comfortable with the spotlight that she might want to stay backstage, but if I’m wrong, Melody you are more than welcome to join Beat for the introduction.”
His jaw ached from grinding his teeth. “You’re too beautiful to hide backstage.”
“Beat,” she whispered, flattening a hand over her middle. “Please.”
“Seems like a real relationship to me,” singsonged his biological father near his ear.
“That’s because it is.” He looked the man in the eye. “Always has been.”
Danielle made an uncomfortable sound. “Sorry, guys. There will be more time for conversation after the show, but right now, I’m going to need Beat to begin the introduction. And Melody, too, if she so chooses.”
Melody nodded, still staring at him. What was she thinking? He’d have crawled over ten miles of broken glass to find out.
“Beat and Melody, exit the left side of the stage. Trina, Octavia, and Fletcher, you will enter stage right and take a bow while the crowd gives you some much deserved accolades. I assume you’ve discussed the set list?”