31
CAMPBELL
“He’s not here yet,” Viv said before I could even open my mouth.
I deflated. “How did you know I was going to ask?”
She arched an eyebrow and picked at her new neon-purple nail polish. “Because I know you.”
“Bobby is waiting for us,” Santi said, bounding in my direction.
We hit knuckles.
“And West?”
“I introduced him to Micky, and they started in on technical speak. I lost whatever the thread was and left them to it. I bet they’re already in the studio, figuring s**t out.”
I nodded. Well, that was a relief. Micky worked in the recording booth. He knew his s**t. He’d helped record our last two albums. If he and West hit it off, it was going to make our lives a lot easier.
“Good. And Yorke?”
“Can you believe that one of the receptionists is a Peppermint Patty?” Santi a
