Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Trina scoffed. “We’ve had heart-to-heart conversations before.” Her confidence in that statement faded almost immediately. “Haven’t we?”
Melody attempted a smile, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate today.
“It’s that man, isn’t it?” Trina said quietly. “I warned you about him. He comes from spiteful stock.”
Those words struck Melody like stones. Even now, her heart denied them. Beat wasn’t spiteful. He was wonderful. She was missing something. She wasn’t seeing the full picture. That’s all. Or was she pathetic to be thinking like that? “Mom, I should warn you that Octavia Dawkins apparently watches this live stream.”
“Does she?” Trina turned slowly to face the camera, smiled, and lifted a middle finger. “Sit and spin on it, you pretentious hag.”
“That’s nice,” Melody murmured.
“Uh-oh,” Danielle said from the other side of the room. “Hold that thought. The server crashed. The viewer count started shooting up when Trina arrived and it just kept going . . .”
“Looks like I’ve still got it,” Trina said, openly preening.
“Yes,” Danielle confirmed. “Well, I’ve got to work on this. Don’t say anything important until we get the feed up and running again.”
The producer and the cameraman left through the front door, a cacophony of excited shouts filling the apartment, before they were once again muffled. Some of the tension released from Melody’s shoulders at the reality of being off camera, even temporarily. God, she wanted it to be over. It was bearable before because she’d had a teammate, but the weight of expectations and pressure was too hard to carry alone.
For good measure, she reached back and turned off her microphone.
After a full ten seconds of heavy silence, Trina cleared her throat. “Melody Anne . . .” She put down her drink. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Begin with what?”
Her mother laughed without humor. “Everything.” She paused. “First of all, you made the devil dance with your performance of ‘Rattle the Cage.’ Did me proud, even though I was pissed as hell.” She frowned. “When did you learn how to play the guitar?”
Being given a compliment by her mother made speaking difficult. “Years ago. In my early twenties.”
“That long?” Trina blinked. “You didn’t think I’d care to know? I’m a musician.”
“You just answered your own question. I wouldn’t have been . . .” She shrugged jerkily. “It’s just that you’ve had this grand success and it’s hard not to measure myself, and everything I do, against that. It’s hard not to assume you’re measuring everything against it.”
“Oh. Damn.” Trina seemed to take that in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way.”
Melody nodded. “Well, I’m sorry I called you out in front of your friends.”
Her mother’s eyebrow rose. “Are you? Seemed to me, you were enjoying it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I just said I was sorry.”
Trina laughed, good and long. “That’s fair enough. I suppose I had it coming.” After a moment, she grew serious. “It’s a little ironic that you didn’t tell me about learning to play the guitar because you didn’t think you’d measure up. Because . . . I don’t talk to my housemates about you because I know I haven’t been a very good mother. They’d probably ask me questions about you and I wouldn’t know the answers.”
“You could.” Melody sat very still, afraid to rupture the moment. “You could ask me.”
“I’m going to start, if that’s okay.” Trina coughed to cover her voice cracking. “Every time I leave my comfort zone and come down to New York, I feel like I’m reliving the past and I’m just so exposed and regretful, I can’t think of anything else. I should have been focusing on you. I should have been doing that for a long time.”
Acknowledgment. Apparently that was all it took to want to forgive someone. Just to have them acknowledge that you were hurt, out loud. “We can start now, Mom.”
“Thank you.” Trina slapped some moisture from under her eyes, visibly trying to regroup. “Seems like a good chance to tell me what happened,” Trina said, trying to sound casual despite the emotion still threading her tone. “With the enemy spawn, that is.”
A chuckle snuck out of Melody, but it transformed into a shaky sigh. “That’s the thing, I don’t really know what happened. We spent the night together, things were . . . I thought they were great. Me and Beat, Mom . . . when we’re together, I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. I can almost read his thoughts. And I swore it was the same for him. No . . .” She shook her head adamantly. “I know it’s the same for him. That’s why I’m so confused. He would never hurt me . . . but he has. I don’t get it.”
“What did he say?”
“We went on the Today show and I sort of confirmed we were together. But we hadn’t officially decided to be together. It just seemed like a given.”