Page 4 of Bitter Beats

I grin slowly, savoring the moment, as a flicker of appreciation spreads through my chest. My announcementwill ruin Mav’s morning. “Say hello to your new roommate, Maverick. I moved in last night.”

TWO

MAV

“No fucking way,”I blurt out, thrown by Mckenna’s little announcement.

Her smile widens. That gesture—those gleaming white teeth with a tiny gap between the front two—tells me she’s serious. Mckenna Byrne takes pleasure in my suffering. I swear she gets off on it.

“Way,” she replies. Chipper. Fucking chipper.

I frown. “Derek would’ve told me.” I pull my new cell out of my sweatpants pocket and dial my bandmate. I swear when it goes to voicemail. I glance at Mckenna and call Allegra instead. “Why? Don’t you have a sweet little condo near campus, decorated in all monochromatic neutrals, thanks to some fancy interior designer your parents hired? Mommy and Daddy Byrne seem to hand you everything on a silver platter.”

It’s no secret that Mckenna is flush. I’m not exactly sure what her parents do, but merino wool sweaters and Burberry trench coats don’t scream “unemployed student.” Family holiday cards, complete with a Goldendoodle, hardly indicate “neglected offspring.” Nah, the Byrne family is nothing like the Tates. They’re all about stability, rolling with the country club crowds who brunch and sail. I’m cut from a different kind ofcloth. A grimier, grittier, woven-with-secrets, and knotted-with-disappointments variety.

At my glare, Mckenna’s cheeks heat, and she averts her gaze. I’m about to press for a response when Derek’s girl answers.

“Mav! I heard you’re back in town,” Allegra says, yawning. I either woke her up, or she hasn’t crashed yet.

I glare at the pain in my ass. “Wonder where you heard that from.”

Mckenna sighs.

Allegra snorts. “Look, I don’t want to get involved. You and Kenny are both important to me. You’re two of my closest friends. The brownstone sits empty most of the time, she needed a place to stay, and I tried to give you a heads-up. Derek said he left you three messages too.”

“You know I don’t check my voicemails,” I whine, earning a snarled lip from Mckenna. “Besides, I lost my phone.”

“Not my fault,” Allegra quips. “We’ve reached out for the past two weeks. If you weren’t losingyourselfacross Central America?—”

“Just Costa Rica,” I correct. I have a place there. It’s the only house I own, and its fucking heaven—a sweet little bungalow right on the beach. Sand, surfing, and sun all day. Tequila and sweet pussy all night. My vacation was much needed and didn’t include checking in with the guys I had just spent the last nine months touring with.

“You would have answered Derek’s and my calls and known that Kenny was moving into our room for a bit,” Allegra continues, unfazed.

“Define ‘a bit’?” I press.

Mckenna’s grip on her espresso cup tightens, her knuckles straining.

Allegra huffs. “Until she no longer needs a place to stay. She’s my friend, Mav. Be nice.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, not because I mean it but because I love Allegra Rousell like a little sister. In fact, she’s my bandmate Levi’s kid sister, and the summer she moved in here was epic.

Unlike her friend, stuck-up Mckenna Byrne, Allegra is fuckingfun.

“I really need to sleep. Love you. ‘Byeeeee!” Allegra hangs up.

I toss down the phone and glance at my new roommate. “We should establish some ground rules.”

Mckenna smiles as if I announced I’m buying beer and pizza every Friday night. I study her. With dark auburn hair that curls around her shoulders and deep blue eyes, Mckenna is striking.

Back when her hair was blonder, she was cute. But now, she looks sophisticated. She’s got an old-fashioned vibe, with her peaches-and-cream complexion and rosebud mouth. A timepiece photo of her would look like someone’s great-grandmother from back in the day. She’s classically pretty. If she tried not to be a stuck-up prude, she could be hot by modern standards. Just not by my standards.

“I agree,” she says civilly.

“Of course, you do,” I mutter. Mckenna’s nothing if not a rule follower. Boring to the fucking core.

“No drugs,” she says off the bat.

I close my eyes. Maybe I should just go back to Costa Rica. I’m not a druggie or anything, but a little recreational fun isn’t outside my wheelhouse.

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