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“You’re judging Adam Levine because he’s a cheating scumbag? Does that make his music bad as well?”
“Yeah. His character is poor.”
“Well, we don’t know that his character is poor,” I interjected. “We don’t know that he actually cheated.”
Poppy stared at me and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t like ten billion women step forward and say that they were sexting with him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t been following the story that closely.”
Travis cleared his throat. “That’s an interesting point, though.”
“What’s an interesting point?” I said, staring at him.
“Does the personal life of someone make a difference in their product? It seems that you think so, Poppy.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“What if I told you that the butcher that cut up your steak cheated on his wife?”
Poppy stared at him for a couple of seconds. “I would think he was a dirtbag for sure.”
“Would that stop you from eating the steak?” His lips twitched as she sighed.
“Probably not, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever get that information.”
“But if he was a famous butcher,” Travis said, “then you might get that information and would you then boycott his brand because you knew?”
Poppy looked over at me. “This man is very philosophical, isn’t he?”
“I guess so.” I laughed, though this was the first time I realized he was this philosophical.
“What about you, Molly?” he asked. “Would you boycott the butcher?”
“I wouldn’t boycott the butcher, and I wouldn’t boycott a band,” I said, shrugging. “Not that I’m into Maroon 5, though. I mean, back in the day, I was when they had ‘Sunday Morning’ and ‘She Would Be Loved.’ Now those were good songs. But their most recent ones?” I shook my head. “Not into them.”
“So what music are you into?”
I stared at him for a couple of seconds. “Well…”
“Oh gosh. Please don’t say Britney Spears and NSYNC.”
“No. I mean, of course I went through my Britney Spears phase. Who didn’t? But right now, I would say I’m into a lot of Afrobeat music and…”
“Afrobeats?” It was Travis’s turn to look surprised.
“Yeah, I love Afrobeats. I’m really into this guy Stormzy. He’s a British performer.”
“I know Stormzy.” He nodded. “In fact, I went to one of his shows when I was in London a couple of years ago.”
“You did?” My jaw dropped. “No way.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “It wasn’t my choice to go, but I was there.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t your choice to go?”
“I went with a friend,” he said.
I looked over at Poppy and rolled my eyes. I’d bet a hundred dollars that that friend had been a woman.
