Page 48 of Bitter Beats

Mav chuckles. “I’m making this sick kale salad and some salmon tonight.”

I try not to roll my eyes. I’ve never seen Mav cook anything other than burnt toast.

I reach his side, and he drops an arm around my waist, pinching my skin.

At his not-so-subtle reminder, I smile. I tilt my head toward the doors. “Shall we?”

“After you, love,” Mav breathes, a bite to his words.

Heaving out a sigh, I grip the shopping cart handle and push.

“Take care, Tate,” the guy hollers.

“You too, brother,” Mav replies.

“You nice to all the paparazzi?” I ask.

Mav smirks. “Only the ones I pay to show up.”

Of course. My face burns at the reminder that this is part of the show. The lie we’re selling. The lie I’m complicit in.

“You could sell it a little,” Mav advises. “You know, smile and laugh at my jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

Mav mock gasps. “That’s not true, Mckenna. We all know I can be funny.” He lowers his voice. “And I can be your friend. Ifyou’ll let me…” He arches an eyebrow, letting that sentence trail off.

I wince. I know he can be my friend. But then what?

We stare at each other for a beat, the shopping cart between us.

“Hey! You’re the rockstar that banged the senator’s wife!” a man with a reusable green bin announces. Since Mav’s poor judgement call, his sexcapade with the senator’s wife has been all over the news as well as trending on socials. Although the senator’s and the band’s PR teams have been working nonstop to mitigate the scandal, it’s certainly out there.

Case in point—this dude hardly looks like he’d keep up with celebrity gossip. And yet, he’s grinning at Mav, oblivious to how callous and insensitive his observation is. His eyes dart to me and he blushes. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize you had a new girl already.” The man falters as realization dawns in his eyes. “Oh, shit. Wait, is this for real?” he gestures between us. “Or is this some PR stunt to?—”

Gah! Now, he’s calling us out? Too close to home!

Luckily, Mav interjects. Pointing at his green bin, he says, “The bags are better for the environment. Cotton bags, not those polypropylene bags that tear.” He holds up the cotton, reusable bags. “Take it easy, mate.” Mav continues, placing a hand on the center of my back and steering me, and the cart, away from the stranger.

The man watches us with a confused and embarrassed expression.

At that, I laugh and let out a long exhale.

Mav glances at me.

Tilting my head, I concede. “All right, you can be funny.”

He grins. “And we can be friends, Mckenna.”

“Maybe.” I begin to add random groceries to our cart, my mind processing the last few minutes.

That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what I can’t trust. Because when Mav and I are done acting out our little ruse, will he even bother with me? Or will it be like I don’t exist?

Forgotten, as always.

SIXTEEN

MAV

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