He sprints off. Ignores the groupies. He needs to ponder the implications.
‘Nobody in my dressing room,’ he whispers to his bodyguard.
The number of notes he hit tonight were by far outnumbered by those he missed. His career, his dream is over.
She’s stunning. But he’s not in the mood.
‘Who let you in?’
‘Don’t blame your man, he isn’t meant to see me.’
She twirls her index finger. Is that magic?
‘You need my help.’
He’ll come to regret this, no doubt. Tonight, though, he’ll do anything to keep his dream alive.