The next day. Nashville.
"UGHxxx. Damn hangovers… I guess 50 is too old for heavy drinking." Dylan wakes up on his bed with a huge headache.
The previous night, he was treated to some drink by some music executives.
*ring* *ring* His phone rings but his ringtone exacerbating his headache, he rejects the call.
Before he can shut off the screen, he notices something that makes his stomach drop.
"19 missed phone calls? What the…" Dylan then calls back the most recent number that tried to call him.
/*brr* *Brr* DYLAN! YOU FINALLY PICKED UP!/ His call is soon answered.
"Ed! The hell's going on?" Dylan asks.
/I don't know exactly what happened, but I know this had something to do with you. I knew you'd mess something up. I knew you were dirty. What were the other members of the selection board thinking when they elected you board president?/ Ed starts ranting, his words hitting Dylan's conscience.
