ravenna_c_tan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

No one from BNC called that morning. I found out later why, when we were nosing around the performance hall, and a guy in jeans and a corduroy jacket came in carrying a briefcase. “You must be Daron,” he said when he saw me.

“Yes.” I took the hand he was offering and shook it.

“I’m Mills, A&R, BNC.”

So they flew this guy all the way out here for this. As if we weren’t playing New York in two weeks, anyway? “Nice to finally talk to you.”

“Likewise. You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Well, cut the preamble and let’s discuss, I was thinking. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Actually, I have to take care of some bullshit first, but I’ll be sure I talk to you before the night’s out. Have you seen John…?”

Fine, whatever. I shrugged in the general direction of the seating area. I had to wonder, though. Was he sent out here to bully a signature out of me? To double-check the goods prior to purchase? Because he liked being a jet-setter? Could be all of the above.

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