I’m ere! Oh…no…Am I late?! ” she exclaimed, skidding to a stop, glad that Bob hadn’t shown up yet, but also dejected by the half empty look of the venue. “No, yer not. He left abruptly. I had a hard time keeping his frenzied fans under control. It’s all er fault.” Mick complained, moving past the empty stage, stepping over crushed beer cans and strewn placards proclaiming their love for the rock legend as he headed for the exit. “Whose fault? ” a confused Ina asked, following behind. “He drops everythin when she comes along, with her gorgeous face an’ her sweet talk. He’s still head o’er heels in love with er.” he continued to mutter. “With whom, Mick?! ” she asked, desperate for a story. “That’s it! I’m done covering for im and handling his unruly fans!” he declared. “Could ya just tell me what’s the matter already?! ” she cried out, impatiently. “He’s sleepin with Sylvia Fletcher! ” he let the cat out of the bag. “The Sylvia Fletcher?! ” she asked, shocked by the revelation of the extramarital affair. “Is there any other? Anyway, I quit.” the fed up manager replied, tossing away his ID badge. “Wait! Where’re ya goin?! I need more information! ” she pleaded, as he walked out of the venue. “Why dontcha ask im yerself? I heard em ask the cab driver to drive em to the Silverado hotel.” he revealed, before vanishing into the darkness.


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