“He wasn’t lying. Not about this. I know it.”
“Quincy has managed us for fifteen years,” Houston says. “He’s been like a dad to us. He wouldn’t do that.”
But it only matters what Quincy says. “What about it? Is Troy a liar about this too?”
“I did what had to be done,” he says, quiet, like he’s disappointed in a child. “Just like I always have.”
Knox tenses. “What does that mean? Exactly what?”
“You boys are soft-hearted. You can’t handle breakups.”
“And…?” Houston asks.
“You needed me to break it up for the good of the family and the album. It’s not pleasant. But whenever a girl clung too hard, I handled it. One way or another. I always have. That way, you can focus on the music. It’s better this way.”
“Say that again.” Houston’s jaw clenches.
Quincy keeps going, calmer now that he’s chosen his lane. “You’re too close to see it. She’s talented. She helped. She also turned the cameras. We don’t need another person with claims on your brand. This is a long game. You pay me to play it for you.”
I feel my hands shake. I don’t move them. “You paid yourself to play it,” I say. “With our brother. With threats to her life.”
He tsks. “The death threats aren’t real. They’re a troll farm I use to drum up attention or apply pressure. Nothing to worry about.”
Knox’s face goes blank. “Fake death threats?”
“Tried to scare the girl off, but she’s a stage five clinger. I had to use other methods. Honestly, you shouldn’t concern yourselves with the things I do for you. I’ve made you millionaires. I’m the reason your mother has two homes and all the cheap jewelry she loves. The reason you three can do whatever you want in the world. I make things easy for you. That’s the deal.”
I grind my teeth. “Belinda. Is this what you did to her too?”
He chortles. “Well, if you must know how the sausage is made, yes. A little money disappears, hire a girl who looks like her to shoplift and pick fights, it’s honestly easier than you think.”
Knox looks sick. Houston looks like someone pulled a rug out from under him.
I catch their attention. They both meet my eyes and nod once.
I turn back to Quincy. “You’re fired. You can expect to hear from our lawyers. And the police.”
He laughs like I told a joke and then sees I didn’t. “You’re the reckless one, Salem. Not the leader?—”
“He’s right, Salem,” Knox says. “I’m the one with power of attorney for the band.” He turns to Quincy. “You are so fucking fired that I wish it were a literal term.”
Quincy sputters, turning to Houston. “They’re being ridiculous. You understand it, right? You three are like the sons I never had because I was too busy managing your careers. You know how much I care about you boys. I was there for you when your mom was sick. When you lost gigs. When you?—”
“With no due respect, Quincy, go fuck yourself,” Houston growls.
We turn on our heels and head for the door. He follows us, hands open like a preacher passing the plate. “You’re making a mistake. You need me. I’ve kept you out of worse.”
“We’ll risk it,” Knox says, not turning around.
We walk. He calls after us by our names, as if they’re tethers to him. But his voice fades as we keep going.
I drive back to the hotel with a copy of a file I hate and a plan I like. I want to go to Lou and tell her everything. But I want one night where the world doesn’t ask her to carry more weight. “We don’t tell her tonight. Not yet. She needs a break. I want to give it to her.”
My brothers nod, and we go our own ways.
I stop at the grocery store and buy tomatoes, garlic, basil, boxed pasta, a carton of cream, a bag of salad, a loaf of bread. I grab a sprig of thyme because I don’t know what I’m doing. That’s the point.
I knock on her door with the grocery bag in my arms. She opens in a T-shirt and shorts and bare feet. Her hair is up. She smiles like the day didn’t take a bite out of us, and it makes everything new again.
