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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
The girl behind the monitor’s name was Bailey. She unlocked a little office upstairs in the back so Carynne could make a few phone calls, but C. instead sat and motioned for me to close the door behind me and join her. “Mister Zee’s off the edge,” she said as she sat down behind an empty desk.
I sat on the desk. “God, maybe he was always like this but I didn’t notice because I was too worried about other things. Speaking of which,” I looked at the billboard with old concert flyers tacked to it instead of at her, “how are things with you and him?”
“Thankfully null. He’s latched onto that reporter-groupie.”