Chapter Twenty-Two
The security guard handed him a pass. Jutting network studio buildings loomed through the windshield. Charleston found an available parking spot. There he attempted to calm his nerves before proceeding.
Corporatized, clean, they had a job assigned to every square inch of the building. It was polished and sterilized by night. The ostentatious facility reminded each entrant of his true place in the big scheme. The money flowed in one direction.
One Mic Only's oversized Green Room was a comedian's paradise, luxurious, except that it was overstuffed with thirty-two other joke jockeys. Packed in like lemmings, faces from the clubs sat and paced and watched the live feeds, as the day's audience piled into the arena. There would be two thousand in attendance. Each and every
