Chris’ lady friend
Dinner time has long come and gone and there’s no trace of this crazy singer.
I still can’t believe he yelled at me. There’s something wrong with that guy, Helen’s agitation made me understand. The embarrassment on her face when she told me “he’ll be back soon” did nothing but confirm my hypothesis.
With his life of excess and immoderation, he makes a meal out of his official photo plastered everywhere in his office and his rehearsal space.
I try to cast away the nervousness that’s starting to eat me up inside by reading a novel from the comfort of the couch, but boredom takes hold and tiredness goes hand-in-hand.
I must’ve fallen asleep because I jump up startled when I hear somebody fumbling with the lock on the basement door leading to the garage and the tavern
