“Dorian? You got a minute?” Evan called through the door of my office in the stockroom the following evening.
“Come in.”
He opened it and leaned against the frame. The faint noise of people chattering and a band doing a quick sound check could be heard from the other side of the building. My office was to the left of the stage, but soundproofed enough so I could hear myself think.
“I just wanted to let you know Rocky’s Hollow is here.”
I glanced up at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
He usually took it for granted that I didn’t care which bands played in the evenings, since that was his baby.
Evan bounced a little and rubbed his hands together. “Chuck and Laramie are here, too.”
Well, s**t.
“They just arrived.” He rushed on. “It’s crazy, because everyone wants their autograph. A
