XXIX. NEIL HOCHHEISER
“Let’s take a break.” Estrella pinched his eyes, squeezing water from them. Charlie wiped the tears with the bottom of his T-shirt and ambled toward the sound of the band practicing in the nearby hangar.
LaRissa knew not to bother Estrella. His tale of Myron’s and Randy’s deaths had drained the music star. And combined with the late hour and the zany events of the day, LaRissa needed a break as well.
No sooner had the music stopped that the door swung open, nearly clipping Charlie in the face.
“Jesus, Neil, you scared me,” Charlie said to Neil Hochheiser, stumbling backward a few steps.
“Sorry, man. I, uh, sorry to bother you. I know you got this interview thing.” Hochheiser looked rattled. The forty-year-old guitarist had worked as a session player for two decad
