Page 6 of Bitter Beats

She snorts and goes back to washing her cup. “No problem.” She places it on the drying rack and wipes her hands across the ass of her jeans. “See you later, Mav.”

She walks out of the kitchen, and I try not to stare at her ass as she moves up the stairs. I fail. Fucking Mckenna is an uptight prude, but damn if she doesn’t have curves.

Shaking my head, I pour myself a bowl of cereal and chomp on it until Mckenna leaves for campus. Then, I dial my brother.

“No,” he answers on the first ring.

“No, what?” I say around a mouthful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“No, I don’t want to hear you bitch about Mckenna Byrne.”

“You knew?” I accuse.

Jameson sighs. “Of course, I knew. I texted you twice.”

“I lost my phone in Costa Rica.”

“Shocking.”

“Took me a minute to replace it.”

“Right,” Jameson agrees, used to my bullshit. “Well, make sure you don’t lose it again. We may have a few months to dick around, but when it’s time to record, you need to be accessible.”

I mutter a swear word but don’t respond.

When I go off the grid, I’m unreachable. And, as my brother likes to remind me, it usually bites me in the ass. At least this time, it didn’t cut into band time. After our last tour, we earned a handful of months off, and I thoroughly enjoyed mine.

“Too bad, or you would’ve known Mckenna was moving in,” Jameson says, right on cue.

“Yeah,” I mumble, knowing I’m not going to get any sympathy from him.

Nope, as far as everyone is concerned, Mckenna Byrne is an ambitious, hardworking, thoughtful delight.

Too bad she’s also a thorn in my fucking side.

THREE

MCKENNA

Sender:Bursar Office

Subject: Late Tuition Payment

“No,” I groan as the email pops up in my inbox. I minimize the email I’m reading, my fourth job rejection today, and pull up the newest piece of negative news.

Shit.

Mom and Dad’s divorce, a theatrical, two-year event, is still in full swing. As they each try to one-up each other, they’ve completely forgotten about their adult daughter, and as a result, my tuition hasn’t been paid by them for over two years.

When I embarked on my law school journey, I was under the impression that I wouldn’t have to worry about student loans or repayment plans. That understanding disintegrated one month into my 1L year.

Now, I’m $160,000 in debt, unable to pay rent, and in desperate need of a job to cover my daily expenses.

“What the hell am I even qualified for?” I whisper to myself, dropping my forehead to my hand.

Sitting in the law school library, surrounded by the gentle clacking of keyboards and under-the-breath mutterings of studying students, I want to scream.

How the hell am I going to make this work?

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