Leon is stretched out lazily on a beat-up couch in the band’s rehearsal space with a bottle of whiskey in hand, a half-empty pack of cigarettes on the table beside him. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, stubbing his last smoke out on the ashtray with a scowl.

The door opens and he turns, ready to shoo away whoever’s come to bother him. Instead, he sees who it is and groans with frustration. His newest manager—the last two had quit. Something about his attitude just getting worse with age, he can hardly blame ‘em. “What’d I do this time? You look annoyed. If it’s about blowing off that interview—”