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The Thirteenth Hour

The musicians were just chilling out, having a beer before the presser, when they heard the first thunder. All of them looked up, surprised.

“What the fuck?” Tom cried. “It was sunny not five minutes ago!”

Jim went up to the nearest window, looking out to hide a smile. A sudden storm when they were about to meet again. What were the odds? He shook his head slightly. She was on the way.

“She’s a fucking force of nature,” he muttered to himself.

Deborah and her assistant Ron came to take them to the conference hall where the press waited for them. She nodded at Jim to let the others take the lead to the elevators and walk with her.

“No green passes so far, Jim,” she said, keeping her voice down.

He took his phone, searched for something and handed it to her.

“Here’s a picture of her,” he said. “Go wait for her at the lobby, Deb. Keep my phone, in case she texts me while I’m busy in there. And bring her to me the minute she gets h

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