Wreck the Halls: A Novel

Melody pressed her fingers to her lips as Beat walked away.

The crowd continued to go wild and her heart did the same. It vacillated between hurt and elation and conflict, going haywire.

She should go after him.

She had to go after him.

She’d needed time to regain her trust in him, but she’d never wanted a breach between them and it seemed to be widening by the second.

“Beat!”

The volume of the cheers was too loud—he couldn’t hear her. She could barely hear herself. Although her legs were still wobbly from the kiss, she turned to follow him, but Steel Birds took the stage at that moment—and the ground started to pulse. Fletcher emerged first and took a quick seat at the drums, picking up his sticks, followed by Trina and Octavia walking out into the open side by side, continuing until they were at the very edge of the raised platform. They basked in the white spotlights for a full minute while the audience screamed. Octavia flipped her hair and Trina flexed her biceps, ratcheting up the noise another degree.

And then they joined hands, raising their tightly clasped fists to the sky and the spotlight turned an electric shade of blue. The crowd’s enthusiastic response had Melody slapping her hands over her ears to muffle the noise. She could almost see the high decibels rippling the air around her, the hair raising on her arms.

They were riveting.

Melody couldn’t take her eyes off them. Especially when Trina picked up her guitar, strummed a single note, and shot Melody a wink. As badly as she needed to go after Beat, she couldn’t miss this moment for her mother. For them. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do and her relationship with Trina would never be the same. It would be better.

Melody’s eyes watered, blurring the last remaining sight of Beat’s back. He’d been swallowed up by the chaotic backstage crowd. She could almost feel it in her stomach the moment he left the building. Where was he going?

Melody was distracted when Octavia picked up her guitar, lifted it over her head, and approached the microphone. “It might be Christmas Eve, but that’s not going to stop us from causing some trouble, is it, Trina?”

“Nothing has ever stopped us before,” purred Trina.

Fletcher laughed into his microphone, as if he was in on the joke, slowly turning the heads of both women. They looked at Fletcher, before returning their attention to each other. Nodding. “For thirty years, people have been asking us the question, ‘What broke up the band?’” Octavia tipped her head toward the drummer. “Well, you’re looking at him.”

Some of the smugness fled from Fletcher’s face.

He leaned forward to speak into the microphone, but he only got out one word before the sound miraculously cut off. The cheers died down, the crowd sensing the gravity of what was taking place.

“When Trina and I started Steel Birds, we vowed we’d never fall victim to the jealousy and inflated egos that break up nearly every great band, but that promise got lost somewhere along the way. I guess we got a little lost ourselves.”

“It took our kids to come along and pull our heads out of our asses.” Trina punctuated that statement with a low chord on her guitar, the audience whistling and clapping at the mention of Melody and Beat. “Can I say ass on television?”

“We’re fifty-three. We can say whatever the hell we want.”

Trina smiled. “I like that.”

Octavia hummed into the mic while the laughter rose and faded. “Bottom line is . . . we let a man come between us. And we’re never going to do that again.”

“Especially not this one,” Trina added, calling, “Security?”

Melody watched with her jaw on the floor as two security guards wrestled Fletcher backward out of his seat, whisking him off the stage in Melody’s direction while he sputtered. Before he could disappear into the backstage area entirely, Octavia stepped into his path, her expression a combination of cold and righteous.

“My family knows the secret of Beat’s paternity now. And I’ll quite happily tell the whole world before you see another dime that you didn’t earn. Your power is gone, do you hear me?” She flicked him a disgusted look, as if he was nothing more than a piece of lint. “Now go fade into obscurity where you belong.”

A sound that could only be described as a victory screech rent the air and Melody realized it had come from her own mouth. She’d also thrown her arms up like a referee announcing a touchdown. The only thing missing was Beat. And the lack of him was like a giant hole in the atmosphere.

Swiping at her dampening eyes, Melody took out her phone and started tapping out a text to him, but she couldn’t see the screen. Too blurry.

“Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Hank Turin to the stage,” Trina said into the microphone, gesturing to a small man with a ponytail who was making his way to the drum kit, the spotlight following his progress.

“He was with us on that final, disastrous tour and he was a gentleman the entire time,” said Octavia. “Even when we were fighting like a couple of alley cats.”

“Well.” Trina winked at the new drummer. “He wasn’t a gentleman the entire time.”

Octavia belted a laugh. “You could never leave those drummers alone.”

Trina gave the lead singer a pointed look. “Neither could you.”

The women were sharing a laugh with the audience when Danielle came up beside Melody. “They are absolutely killing and they haven’t even played a song yet.”

“They’re really special, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” Danielle agreed, putting an arm around Melody’s shoulders. “Look what you pulled off.”

“I didn’t do it alone.”

Before Danielle could respond, Octavia spoke again, her voice carrying through the plaza, backstage and beyond. “We’d like to open the show with a tribute to Beat and Melody.” Once again, the cheers rose to a deafening level. “Somehow, we don’t think you’ll mind.”

The stage went dark.

Danielle squeezed Melody’s shoulder, then stepped away, leaving her standing alone to watch the screen behind the stage light up. A movie began to play. No . . . not a movie. It was Melody and Beat. They were sitting at a table. Was it the day of the initial meeting with Danielle? Yes. There were beignets between them. Coffee.

But they weren’t supposed to be filmed. The conversation had been private.

Or so they’d thought.

Obviously Danielle had pulled a fast one.

My God, the way they looked at each other. The way he stared at her, not breathing, like she was operating on his heart. The way she gazed back at him, like she couldn’t believe the honor. Witnessing that visible connection from this point of view, from the outside, was like jumper cables clamping around her heart, electrifying it in her chest.

“Do you need me to do this show with you, Beat?” murmured on-screen Melody.

Beat shook his head. “I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you.”

“Do you need me?” she asked again.

He hesitated. “There isn’t a single other person in the world I would ask.”

Color bloomed madly in her cheeks. “Then, okay.”

Scenes played one after the other, their initial on-screen interview about Steel Birds, dancing at the Christmas party, Melody falling on her butt, Beat all but carrying Melody out of jail, him arriving shirtless at bocce with a giant “M” on his chest, the snowball fight, the morning after. She blinked back tears, trying desperately to take in every second, all the ways they quietly communicated with each other. Through touches and looks, a language only they recognized.

The final clip that played on the screen made the world spin slower, Melody’s mind struggling to play catch-up with what she was seeing.

It was them—at age sixteen.

There was footage of them meeting at the Behind the Music interview, Beat’s hands closed around her arms, his expression earnest, hers magnetized. Totally dumbstruck. Even though there was no sound to accompany the video, she could still remember what he’d said to her, word for word. That conversation, those fleeting moments, were etched on her soul.

On the screen, they were hustled in different directions. And then she was watching Beat walk into his interview room, the assistant clipping a microphone to his collar while he sat there looking dazed. A sixteen-year-old boy staring off into the distance.

“Is everything okay?” asked the interviewer, getting no response. “Mr. Dawkins?”

“Sorry, I . . .” He looked back at the door through which he’d entered. “I finally got to meet Melody Gallard.”

“Was she everything you expected?”

“No.” His chest rose and fell. “She was better.”

The screen faded to black, spotlights blasting the stage.

Melody shook all the way down to her toes, her heart detonating like a bomb inside of her chest. She couldn’t swallow, could barely see through the wall of moisture in her eyes.

She knew she had to run . . . to find him.

She’d put distance in between her and Beat, because he’d hurt her, not trusting her enough to be honest about Fletcher’s threat against her. But while he might have made a mistake in an effort to protect her, the trust had been there since the beginning.

Do you need me?

There isn’t a single other person in this world I would ask.

After everything she’d learned about Beat during this process, she couldn’t even fathom how difficult it had been for him to ask the favor. To trust her with it. To admit his vulnerability in front of her. And he’d done it on day one. He’d had faith in her at the start. He still did. She’d just been too hurt to recognize it.

“Danielle,” Melody called, turning in a frantic circle, locking eyes with several people in headsets, but no producer. “Did you see where Danielle went?”

A young man pointed backstage and Melody jogged in that direction, calling the producer’s name. Danielle would know where Beat had gone. Maybe a camera had followed him? Was that too much to hope for? Unfortunately, Danielle was nowhere to be found. Melody was beginning to give up hope when she heard a thump and turned around to find a supply closet door shaking on its hinges.

Melody opened the door to find Danielle and Joseph locked in a passionate embrace on the other side, his mouth moving over hers from above. “Oh! My God.” Melody covered her eyes. “I’m sorry. I knew it. But I’m sorry.”

“Can I . . .” Breathless, Danielle hurriedly smoothed her hair, obviously unaware of the lipstick smeared down her chin. “What’s wrong? Do you need something?”

“I need something,” the cameraman muttered, eyeing the producer’s neck.

“I’ll leave you alone to get that . . . something . . . but I’m wondering if you know where Beat went?” Urgency rose like a bubble in Melody’s throat. “Please, I need to find him.”

Danielle’s shoulders slumped. “He asked us not to follow him, Mel. And I didn’t think it was necessary, considering, well . . . mission accomplished.”

“Right.” Oh God, her entire chest was caving in. “I’ll find him.”

The producer laid a consoling hand on Melody’s arm, but she ignored it. And she ran.

She wove through the crew in the atrium and out the side door of the network building—straight into a throng of waiting fans. The ones closest to her did a double take, before starting to scream.

“It’s her! It’s Magnificent Melody!”

Her eardrums protested the blast of noise, throbbing. But the cheers cut out immediately when she held up a peace sign, something her third-grade teacher used to do. And miracle of miracles, it worked. Everyone else held up a peace sign, too, mouths snapping shut.

“I need you guys to help me find him.”

They knew exactly who she meant without having to say his name.

The peace signs dropped and everyone sprang into action at once. In other words, they started swiping on their phones. “Someone on the message board said he walked past them on the east side,” shouted a man.

“He went east!” another girl shrieked from the back.

“Okay, thank you!” East didn’t begin to narrow down Beat’s location. East constituted an entire half of the island of Manhattan, but at least she had a starting point. She jogged for a block before realizing two things. One, it was snowing and she’d forgotten her coat and two, the crowd was following her. Like, an entire mob of people were moving as one giant unit less than ten yards behind her, their footsteps shuffling on the snowy sidewalk.

“We’ve got another sighting,” yelled the same man as before. “Fifty-First Street. Just crossed Park Avenue, moving at a fast clip. Some witnesses are claiming he appears deep in thought. Others say he is morose and taciturn.”

“Is that Mad4Mel99? She is a total wordsmith.”

“Too flowery! I hate her.”

“I love her. I trust her updates more than anyone.”From NôvelDrama.Org.

Melody was marveling over the fact that an entire community had created itself around Wreck the Halls while she’d been busy falling in love, but a woman approached from the opposite direction and blocked her progress on the sidewalk. “I’m Mad4Mel99,” said an expressionless woman wearing a shirt with Melody’s face on it. “Follow me if you want to live.”

“Oh. Uh . . .”

“Just kidding. He’s this way.” Mad4Mel99 changed directions and maybe she wasn’t operating with an eye toward safety, but Melody trusted her gut and went. And so did everyone else. As they jogged east, people recognized her and joined the group until they were spilling out into intersections and blocking the progress of traffic, much to the delight of Yellow Cab drivers who were already being hindered by the falling snow. There had to be over a hundred people. More. And Melody couldn’t help but be comforted by the support—with her heart bleeding in her chest, she needed as much as she could get.

“This is where I saw him last,” shouted Mad4Mel99. “He was crossing Park and going east. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

Melody kept going, only vaguely aware of her shivers, because they were nothing compared to the ache everywhere else. She’d be fine once she was in his arms. She’d be able to breathe normally again and the world wouldn’t feel upside down. Beat, please. Let me find you. I’m ready. They blew past Lexington, then Third, her hope starting to dwindle.

“Maybe he went into a bar? Or a coffee shop?” Melody chattered.

“Fan out!” Mad4Mel99 shouted, like a drill sergeant. “No one goes home until they’re back together where they belong.”

“We do belong together,” Melody sniffed, beginning to feel delirious.

The crowd behind her ahhhh’d.

A little farther. She could go a little farther. Maybe it was the sixth sense she had when it came to Beat? Something told her she was almost there. Almost with him.

The white cloud of breath in front of her face almost obscured the park on her right. It was small, just a little sliver of concrete, snow-covered tables and trees.

A figure sat at the far end of the park, hands clasped between his knees. Head bowed.

“Beat,” she whispered. Then louder, “Beat!”

The man shot to his feet so quickly, he upset the chair, sending it crashing up against the brick wall. He took a step in Melody’s direction, the moonlight bathing his handsome, yet haggard, face. “Mel?” His brows slashed together as he ripped off his coat, marching toward her at a brisk pace and wrapping it around her. His arms turned to steel bands next, surrounding her in warmth, as his lips dropped hard kisses on her hairline. “Oh God, Peach, you’re freezing.”

She’d been right. As soon as his arms were around her, everything was better. “I had to come find you.”

“Without your coat?” he asked, sounding tortured.

“It was urgent.” When the warmth finally allowed her teeth to unclench, she looked up at him. “You’re so much better than I was expecting, too.”

His features softened, his eyes exploring hers intently. “What?”

“That’s what you said. When we were sixteen, right after we met. You said I was better than you expected.”

“You were, Melody,” he said gruffly. “You are.”

“We become better when we’re together. Every second, every minute, makes both of us better. You feel that, too, don’t you?”

“Do I feel it?” He choked out a sound. “How could I feel anything else when I’ve got you believing in me?”

“And you believe in me, too,” she said, going up on her toes to brush their lips together. “You believed in me enough to bring me on this journey with you. Brought me along to fight the monsters. You might have made choices to keep me out of the battles. And I understand why. I understand that protecting me is how you show your love, but we fought the war together. We won, because we get to love each other. We won because there is no one you trust more than me and no one I trust more than you. I believe in that. You showed me that by finding me again in the first place.” She kissed him, long and sweet, his forearm lifting her off the ground, up against his chest as the kiss accelerated. “We get to be together, Beat. It’s such a gift.”

He opened his mouth and closed it, seemingly at a loss for words, a sheen forming in his eyes. “You’re forgiving me, Mel?”

“I’m understanding you. That’s what we do.”

She could sense the relief crashing through him, knocking him back a step. “We understand each other. Better than anyone,” he rasped. Their lips stroked, slicked sideways and back, reveling in the friction. “We love each other.”

“Like nobody else,” she whispered.

His uneven exhale bathed her face. “Forever, Mel? Are you going to give me forever?”

She looked into the eyes that could see clear through to her soul. “I’d give us ten forevers if I could.”

Relief rolled off him in palpable waves. “I wouldn’t bet against us. We’re pretty good at accomplishing the impossible.”

“You’re right. We better get on the case.”

“I’ve got your first forever right here,” Beat said, setting her down and taking a ring box out of his pocket. Getting down on one knee, right there in the falling snow. “Please take it?”

Melody laughed through her tears. “Consider it taken.”

“I’m going to love you every day for the rest of our lives like I’m making up for fourteen years away from you.”

Her heart rejoiced in colliding with his, two becoming one. “I’ll love you back the same way.”

Beat slipped on the diamond ring with unsteady hands, lunged to his feet, and folded Melody in his arms, their laughter ringing up to the sky as he turned her in circles to the tune of applause and whistles. People cheered from the windows of apartment buildings above. Christmas magic spun around the pair and would continue to weave miracles and happiness throughout the decades that were yet to unfold.