With limited time between performances, Chipper’s schedule was crowded. His rehearsals and other responsibilities left few hours for personal matters.
“Chipper, I presume?” The deep baritone had a softness to it. “I’m Miles Abramonov.” Tan, well built with sparkling salt-and-pepper hair, the man looked like what central casting would send out to play a lawyer. The attorney had insisted on meeting Chipper at the studio where he had just recorded his next song. It would be streamed on Apple