Chapter Thirty-Three
After a solid twenty hours of sleep, Padric felt a lot better. So much better that he used his newfound strength to get on the phone with his manager and thrash out an agreement. Zoe brought him his phone and curled up next to him as he talked.
“I’ll be in Stockholm on schedule,” he promised. “Can’t let a little thing like an explosion get in the way. The show must go on.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” said the man. “This’ll be huge. PR wet dream.”
Padric cringed. “No publicity about the explosion. Promise me. Otherwise I’m retiring.”
“Fine. Radio silence on your near-death experience. What else?”
“I want to cut back on touring. I want to build a studio in Lost Harbor and shift my focus to songwriting and producing. I want to offer studio time and help to younger artists.”
