Next day.
"Mr. Derek, you know many people in the showbiz industry, even if you worked from a smaller city than this one," Tristan said, gesturing at the view of Los Angeles outside the window. "Help me with something, please."
He had approached the manager during his breakfast. Nel was still asleep, but Derek was an early bird.
Derek smiled.
"It's my job to help you with everything I can, Mr. Gemello. Well… At least until it's related to your art!" He chuckled. "Although even if it's something personal, I'd love to help. I can argue to my boss that your art will only suffer if you are stressed from personal problems."
Tristan grinned and waved his hand dismissively.
"It's not a problem, exactly. You know a rapper called Big Rocket? I want to meet him, but I don't even know where he will be next night. And if I just write to him, he won't even read, I know it."
Derek blinked.
