I sit with that. “You’re right. My protectiveness turned into pressure. I wanted you to feel safe, and ended up making you feel watched. I prefer you feel supported, not handled. What does support look like to you? Spell it out so I don’t screw it up.”
She thinks. “Ask, don’t assume. Pick one point person per decision, so I’m not babysitting three opinions. No unilateral changes to visuals after midnight. If I’m the one who has to answer to printers and venue ops, I get veto power on my lane. And if you’re worried, say ‘I’m worried,’ not ‘where are you.’”
“I can do that.”
She starts again. “And for the record, I don’t want to be hidden to calm a label. If there’s a safety issue, we handle it with security. If there’s a PR issue, Quincy handles it. Hiding me makes the story worse. You can’t hide a person for convenience.”
“Okay.” I hold a hand up. “They need to hear this from you, not from me. Will you say it once, to all of us, with me in the room?”
Her shoulders climb. “I don’t want to see Knox right now.”
“We can keep it short. He knows he screwed up. He wants to fix it. What do you want?”
She stares at me for three beats and then nods. “To fix it. I hate being mad at you guys. It’s exhausting, and I was already exhausted.”
I text the thread:Studio live room now. She’s ready to talk.
They arrive together, since they were waiting in the SUV in the parking lot. Knox stops in the doorway. Salem takes the chair by the wall and bounces his knee once. I sit back on the bench and don’t talk.
Lou doesn’t look away from them. “I’m going to be direct. Salem, you’re unpredictable. I like your energy when it’s on the song or in the bedroom. I don’t like it when it drags old habits into rooms I have to walk through later. I get the fallout. I get the death threats and the Yoko accusations. I’m not built for your old life.”
He nods, face serious. “Fair.”
“Knox, you were too bossy. You talked to me like I work for you, not with you. You used label fear to push me out of frames. You told me to hide. That’s not a partnership, and I won’t settle for less.”
Knox exhales short. “You’re right.”
She turns to me. “Houston, you protect until it pushes. I like being safe. I don’t like being tracked like an Amazon package.”
“Never again.”
She exhales. “I like working with you. All of you. I like parts of how each of you shows up. But you take it to extremes. I need it in bounds.”
I look at Knox. He keeps it short. “I was wrong. No excuses. I panicked, and I punched down. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”
Salem leans forward, elbows on knees. “I’m sorry. For the fight and the word that got thrown at you because of it. For the noise I make that lands on you, not me. How can we fix this?”
Lou holds his eyes. “Actions. Two things. One public, one private.”
“Say it,” Knox says.
“For the public, upgrade my credit. Not just a buried line on a website. Update the album site, the press kit, everything. Call me the Creative Director. Put ‘featuring Lou Navarro’ on ‘Locket’ wherever that’s contractually clean. If you can’t change a field, change the caption. You’ve said it in rooms. Say it in places that count.”
Knox nods. “I’ll route through Quincy and the label, and we’ll change what we control now.”
“Good.” She takes a beat. “In private, vow to do better on all accounts. No barking orders. No unilateral decisions that affect my area of responsibility. Ask me, don’t move me. If I say I’m not good with something, you believe me. If I say I’m fine with athing, you believe me. No second-guessing my artistic opinions. All other opinions are up for debate.”
“You got it.”
She turns to Salem, who jumps the gun. “No bars. No after-parties. In bed by one holds. No ghosts backstage. If someone calls you a name, I let security handle it. If I want to defend you online, I don’t. I’ll write you a text instead. Something with kittens.”
She snorts a laugh. “Maybe fries instead.”
“Done.”
“And me?” I ask.
“Be there for me. Don’t be everywhere for me. I don’t need you to monitor my every move.”
