Page 29 of Bitter Beats

“Fuck.” I collapse against Angela.

I’m just about to pull out and thank her for the decent lay when a flash goes off.

“What’s going on?” Angela sounds panicked.

I snort, glancing over my shoulder.

Sure enough, my black SUV is surrounded by a handful of paparazzi, their cameras poised, flash bulbs flickering.

“Fuck,” I mutter again, shaking my head when I spot Drew trying to hold off the paps.

Alfred is racing for the front seat.

“You gotta go,” I tell Angela.

“What?” she shrieks, lifting her hand to block out the flashes of light. “You can’t just toss me out there.” She points to the mayhem occurring outside the tinted window.

“Look, I’m sure it’s?—”

“You don’t know who my husband is, do you?” she asks, cutting me off.

I look down at her, about to tell her he can’t be a bigger deal than me, but I pause at the expression on her face.

“Who is he?”

ELEVEN

MCKENNA

I wake up to mayhem.

Loud voices, beeping horns, and a bellowing screech that splits my head in two.

What the hell?

I sit up in bed, squinting around my room. Nope, I’m still at the brownstone.

I didn’t drink last night. I shake my head to clear the noise, but the mundane sounds that usually fill these quiet back streets is drowned out by the chaos unfolding outside my window.

Slipping from my bed, I glide to the window and carefully pull back the blackout shades that Derek swears by.

“Holy shit.” I drop the shade instantly as the swarm of people—paparazzi—camped out front, littering the sidewalk and hanging over the iron gate, point and shout.

“Who is she?”

“Is it her?”

“Come back, sweetheart!”

Their voices follow me as I cross my room and swipe up my phone.

A message from Mom stops me in my tracks.

Mom: Mckenna, when you speak with your father, please tell him this month’s alimony check was a day late.

Mom: Also, I’m in Boston for Christmas this year.

I shake my head. How out of touch with reality can a woman be? One, I barely speak to my father. Two, the last thing I would do is share anything regarding her alimony check. And three, is there an invitation in that cryptic Christmas text?

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