“We won’t,” Knox says.
“We don’t have the energy,” Houston adds.
“I already perform for every other camera.” Salem folds his arms over his chest, making both bulge. “This one gets the grown-up version of me.”
Quincy nods. “Do it. Send me the statement before it goes up. I’ll sync legal so the hotel doesn’t pucker.”
“Done,” I say.
We shift to the album title conversation because I want to fold it into the same frame. “I have a title I like.Back to the Drawing Board. It’s the title of the docu-series, and I think it’s appropriate to what’s happening with everything else. This album is about second chances and starting over. Feels right.”
Salem grins. “Mean.”
Houston tests it with a melody under his breath, as if titles need a pitch. “It sings.”
Knox nods once. “It fits the shape of things.”
Quincy watches their faces first, then mine. “You can sell that to the hotel and not end up with a note that saysMake It Sexier?”
Knox shakes his head. “This album isn’t about sexy. And the hotel only wants to debut a single here—they don’t get a say in what we do.”
Quincy’s lined face smooths a little. “You might have a talent for this, Lou.”
“Thank you.” I hold for the other shoe to fall.
It doesn’t. The guys shake hands with Quincy, who seems slightly put off when I shake his hand on the way out. But he gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and we part ways.
I get it—I’m a new addition to this situation. Per Knox, Quincy has been managing them for fifteen years, so throwing me into the mix is odd for him. And he’s an old white guy. They’re not known for adjusting well to change.
“He’ll come around,” Houston assures me in the elevator.
It makes me smile. “You saw that too?”
Salem huffs a laugh. “Quincy has the biggest stick up his ass I have ever seen.” His face falls. “Particularly when it comes to women.”
“How so?”
Knox sighs. “He’s always had a thing about Yoko Ono and the whole Beatles situation. He has a lot of opinions about groupies and women because he knows women are the easiest way to fuck up a band.”
My brow falls. “That’s not women’s fault?—”
“I don’t mean it that way.” The elevator opens, and we hold the conversation until we reach the suite. Once inside, Knoxcontinues, “Musicians have women throwing themselves at them for their whole careers, and men are…”
“Weak,” Salem fills in.
“Easily distracted,” Knox corrects. “All it takes is one easily distracted guy to derail the career of a whole band. Quincy knows it, so do we. So, a woman who dated one brother, then the other three—whatever you want to call our situation, I mean—then comes into the meeting with opinions and great ideas of her own…that’s bound to make him extremely nervous about you.”
I sigh at that, but I get it. Still. “Yoko didn’t break up The Beatles. They were cracked before she came along.”
Houston smiles and kisses my forehead. “No one is saying you’re a Yoko. And you’re right—history did her dirty.”
“Not history.People.”
He nods. “Damn straight.”
“Well, I have a lot of work to grind out. So, I’m heading to my room for a while, and then I’ll bring out the camera for some B-roll.” Note to self—give Quincy a wide berth. I don’t want to cause any more drama than I already do.
The work is calming, but a nagging voice in the back of my head wonders if Quincy will ever like me.
