26
KNOX
The email hitsat 6:41 a.m. Quincy forwards it with a subject line that saysNeed you now. The body is two paragraphs from the label. Legal tone. No greetings.
They “value the partnership, but leg two funding is contingent on stabilizing brand risk.” They want us to “calm the Navarro situation.” They don’t define what that means. They don’t have to. They want the noise to stop. They want easy.
I call Quincy. “The hell is going on?”
“They’re spooked. They don’t want the second leg if they think we’re a headline farm.”
“We’re not.”
“You have been. They care about risk, Knox. We need to contain the narrative. A quiet cycle for at least ten days. Minimal Lou in frames. Music-first messaging only. Then they’ll sign the final transfers.”
“Minimal Lou in frames,” I repeat. The words taste like ashes.
“I know. I don’t like it either. But we can’t lose the label.”
I look at the rehearsal schedule and the production invoices. Leg two is booked. Crews lined. Trucks penciled. If we lose the money, we cancel dates or go into debt, we can’t clean up this year. People lose their jobs over this. Fans demand ticket refunds.
It’s a fucking mess if this goes south.
“Meeting at eleven. Suite office. You, me, the guys, Lou.”
“I’ll bring options and donuts.”
I hang up and stare at the email again. It isn’t subtle. It isn’t meant to be. I text everyone for the meeting and prepare for all hell to break loose.
I set the room. Laptop open. Notes ready. I write a simple agenda on a pad:1) label money 2) quiet plan 3) release week cadence. I put four chairs around the small table. Quincy arrives with a laptop, a folder, and his phone already buzzing. He looks like he hasn’t slept. Houston and Salem slide in. Lou last. She looks ready to work, not to fight.
I hope it doesn’t come to that.
I start. “The label is threatening leg two funding unless we quiet things down. They want ten days of calm.”
“Define calm,” Lou says.
“Less fuel for the fire. No reactive posts. No interviews. Behind-the-scenes on pause. No projection of internal process. We lock schedule, we stick to it, we keep the room closed.”
“You mean we go dark? But the behind-the-scenes strategy was working,” she counters.
Salem leans back. “They mean less of you, Lou. Isn’t that right, Quincy?”
Quincy sighs. “They mean less anything that makes a story that isn’t the record.”
“Which is her work,” Houston says, level.
I keep going because I want to get through the plan before the fight starts. “We’re going to route all press to Quincy. If we tease, we tease with audio snippets, not visuals. Lou, pull any scheduled posts that show faces, and hold your mapping clips for a week. No new titles on the site till after we clear the Friday add dates. Push the deck updates to me and Quincy only. Nothing public till next week.”
She doesn’t move. “Say that again.”
I do. Firmer.
She looks at me like she’s checking if I heard myself. “You want me to hide.”
“I want to reduce risk. For ten days. Then we go loud again.”
“Whose risk?”
