Page 1 of Bitter Beats

ONE

MCKENNA

The wanton moanof a woman wakes me.

Opening my eyes, I peer around the unfamiliar bedroom and bolt straight up, fisting the navy duvet in my hands, until I recall where I am.

Allegra and Derek’s place.My college friend and her rockstar boyfriend generously offered to let me stay at their brownstone after my roommates, Emily and Robyn, got engaged.

As my roommates celebrated their upcoming nuptials with a lot—a whole fucking lot—of sex, it became increasingly difficult to live in the same space as the lovebirds. After lamenting my need to take shelter at the law school library two weeks after Robyn put a ring on it, Allegra offered up her and Derek’s room in his band’s—The Burnt Clovers—Boston headquarters.

The brownstone where the band started is now a piece of history none of its members can part with. However, I thought all band members had moved on, purchasing mansions in LA, penthouses in New York, and properties on Beacon Hill in Boston, Massachusetts.

“Oh fuck, Mav. You’re a fucking god,” the woman announces. She moans breathily. “Right there. Right fucking there.”

Jesus.I collapse back into bed, my head hitting the pillow.

One band member needs to embrace his independence and economic freedom.

A male—I’m assuming drummer Maverick Tate—groans. The sound of a headboard hitting the wall rings out in a consistent staccato.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The tempo increases, and I drag a pillow over my face, wrapping it around my ears to drown out the sound and muffle my frustrated scream.

I’ve traded one set of sex-ing for another.

“Ride me, babe,” Mav grunts. “Fuck yeah, that’s it.” The sound of an ass slap cuts the air.

I squeeze my eyes closed.

The noises of Maverick and the woman going at it intensify. This version is infinitely worse than Emily and Robyn because at least my friends—fellow 3Ls at Boston University’s School of Law—are madly in love.

Mav probably picked this woman up about twenty minutes before he railed into her from behind.

That’s who Maverick Tate is. Sure, he may be sexy as hell, with bright blue eyes and dirty blond hair. I’ll give him his strong jawline and full lips. He’s tall, which I like, and has two full sleeves of tattoos, which I usually don’t find attractive, but it works for him.

But that’s it. That’s where it ends.

Once you get past his looks, which should happen the second he opens his mouth, it’s clear that Mav is an arrogant, annoying, cavalier fuckboy. He moves through life riding the success of his band, a band he probably wouldn’t have been included in if his older brother, Jameson, didn’t pave the way for him. He flirts with every woman he interacts with. Sleeps with most of them too.

Then, he moves on to the next, with zero fucks given. It doesn’t matter if they show up crying, stalk him on social media, or send him death threats. I’ve witnessed all three reactions, and none made Maverick blink twice.

Nope. Once you get past his playful veneer, it’s evident that Mav doesn’t have much of a heart. I’ve yet to see him react emotionally to anything or anyone unless he’s sneering in my direction about what a prissy, no-fun prude I am.

“Ooooh yeah. Right fuckingthere,” the woman cries.

I grope for my AirPods on the nightstand and pop them in, turning up the volume on a sleep story from the Calm app to drown out the noise. More than most, I need a dose of calm, peace, and tranquility in my life.

Should I leave?

And go where? Back to Emily and Robyn? No, I don’t want to interrupt them. They waited a long time to take this next step. I want them to enjoy this time, wrapped up in wedding planning, without worrying about me.

I know they felt awful when I moved out, but facts are facts. I couldn’t keep tiptoeing around a home I live in, and I can’t afford solo rent in Boston. Even less now than when I was a 1L since I’m acutely aware of my growing student loan debts.

I try to clear my mind, sink into the narrator’s soothing voice, and breathe deeply, but frustration flares below my skin, making me itchy and hot and unable to sleep.

Another thing I blame on Maverick.

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