Page 100 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

He makes a small, almost amused sound and gestures for me to continue.

“Don’t tell the press everything at once. Give different outlets different angles.”

That gets his full attention again. “Explain.”

“If you give everybody the exact same story, then every article reads the same, every interview sounds rehearsed, and people start smelling PR all over it.” I lean back in my chair. “Music press gets the artist development angle. Local press gets the town investment angle. Business press gets the label model and independence angle. Lifestyle outlets can have the aesthetic of the compound or whatever if you really insist on being insufferable about it.”

Julian grins. “She said insufferable.”

Gabe ignores him. “You’d segment the messaging.”

“Yes,” I say. “Same core truth. Different entry point. Otherwise, it’s lazy.”

He nods once. “That changes the media plan.”

“Yeah,” I say. “What you have right now is a solid operational strategy. What’s missing is the emotional side of the rollout.”

Gabe leans back, eyes on me but not in that social way people usually look. This is different. He’s turning the whole thing over, fitting pieces into place. “That changes the rollout entirely.”

“Good,” I reply. “Because I’m betting your original version sounded like something a consultant would charge a fortune for and still somehow make boring.”

Julian laughs into his drink.

Xander says, “She’s right.”

Gabe glances at him, then back at me. “We’ll also need artist media training.”

I nod. “Yes, but not the creepy robotic kind. Just enough that they know their own story and don’t panic in interviews. Three anchor talking points each. No memorized speeches. And for the love of everything holy, if any of them have an actual personality, let them keep it.”

Julian lifts a hand. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t about you.”

“It still felt affirming.”

I shake my head, then point my fork at Gabe. “Also, if you’re going to use this place visually, stop trying to make it look too perfect.”

He blinks. “The compound.”

“Yes. It’s beautiful, but if every image looks staged, people will assume the whole thing is fake. Leave a cable on the floor. Let somebody’s coffee cup exist in frame. Show a half-finished lyric board. Use the nice architecture, sure, but let it look like people actually make things there.”

He’s still watching me.

“So,” I say, because now I’m on a roll and he deserves at least some of this, “what you need is this: one flagship artist with a clear identity, one town integration plan, one segmented press strategy, one content calendar that doesn’t look like a robot wrote it, and a hard rule that every artist rollout has to answer the same four questions.”

Julian leans forward. “What four questions?”

I tick them off on my fingers. “Why this artist? Why now? Why here? Why should anyone care?”

Gabe’s already gone quiet in that way that means he’s rebuilding the whole structure in his head.

Julian glances between us. “That’s annoyingly solid.”

“I know.”

Xander’s gaze settles on me. “That’s not common sense.”

I look at him. There’s more in his face now.