LOU
We takethe back elevator because it’s easier on everyone. Houston holds the door with his foot and a paper tray of coffee in one hand. Salem has a box of cables he didn’t trust the runner to carry. Knox checks the hallway mirrors on instinct and then looks at me. I nod. I’m fine. I like being part of the check.
The doors open on the ground floor. The hotel swallows us without comment. We cross the service lot and climb into the SUV that gets less attention than the bikes. Knox drives. I ride up front with a notebook and a pen, comfortable in my corner. The guys hum with the low energy of morning—quiet, awake, already thinking about takes.
Sagebrush waits behind its new glass. The guard logs us in and sits back down, bored but useful. I like the boredom. The room smells like wood, tape, and cleaner. It’s almost cozy.
Talia beats us to the control room. She’s in a fitted floral dress and heels that could be a weapon and a cardigan the color of peaches. Her blond curls are up, her lipstick is bright, her diamond bangles clack when she waves. West Coast DollyParton, with a look that says she has stories and blackmail material on celebrities that she’d never use.
“Baby,” she says to Houston, kissing his cheek. “Sweetheart,” to Salem, patting his chest like a drum. “Soldier,” to Knox, squeezing his forearm. Then she turns to me and softens. “Lou. Look at you. This room likes you.”
“Hi, Talia.”
“Come here and tell me what you’re making these boys do.”
We do a quick hug. She takes the coffee from Houston, picks one without asking whose it is, and claims the engineer’s chair like a throne she let someone else borrow until today.
“Quincy’s coming later,” Knox says, setting his bag under the desk.
“Mm,” Talia says, not a fan noise. “He’s a good manager. I’ve never liked him, though.”
Knox merely sighs like he’s heard it all before.
But I’m confused. “You don’t like Quincy?”
“Never have,” she says, casual. “He gets results. He also gets on my nerves. Vibe’s off. Too much math in his smile.”
Houston laughs. Salem grins. Knox pretends to check the patch bay. I like Quincy more than I expected to, but I trust a woman who has seen every kind of man twice.
“Don’t fuss,” she adds, tapping the board’s armrest. “You don’t have to like a manager for him to do his job. You just have to know where he ends and you begin. Some men don’t know where they end.”
Houston sets a small cassette on the edge of the console like it’s a fragile thing. “I need to confess something, Lou. It might make you hate me.”
I glance at Talia and the brothers. They look as confused as I feel. “What are you talking about?”
“I found a demo in the archive. R. Navarro.” He turns the cassette around to show off the label.
My throat clicks. I look at the label. I don’t reach for it. “Oh. Okay.”
“We did open calls,” Talia says. “A lot of tape came through these doors.”
Houston’s voice is careful. “I know there’s no chance you’re related,” he says, running a thumb along the plastic. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Not showing you felt wrong too. So, I wasn’t sure what to do, but I’m not Troy. I don’t hide things from you, even if they amount to nothing. Are you mad?”
I chuckle because it’s true and because he’s a sweet man and because he needs me to release him from whatever promise he made to himself. “You’re fine. I’m not naïve. Navarro is a common last name. R can be anything. I understand where you’re coming from on the hope thing, but we’re good.”
He looks relieved and still a little tense. He wants to fix things before they break. He can’t help it. I understand that part of him.
“Play it,” Salem says, already leaning closer.
Houston glances at me for permission. I shrug. “Go ahead.”
He slots the tape and presses play. Hiss, a count, a guitar that sounds like thrifted wood and newer strings. A voice comes in,low and smoky, not trained, not afraid. The kind of tone that makes you want to sit down without knowing why. My mouth goes dry, not from hope, just from the sound of someone telling the truth with their tone.
Talia’s face lifts. “Mm. Listen to that.”
The chorus lands simple and then is gone. Houston stops it there. He doesn’t make a thing of it. He doesn’t watch me watching it. Good choice.
I clear my throat. “She’s good.”
