“And if you’re going to do it,” he adds, “I’d rather we’re loud together than at odds.”
The words hang there.
*Loud together.*
Not in a press statement crafted by his people.
In something else.
“Is this about the interview you tried to set up?” I ask. “The one you canceled when someone popped off a gun outside?”
“That was about survival,” he says. “This is about strategy. They’ve heard your song. They’re hungry for more. If we wait too long, the story will calcify into whatever they like best. If we move now, on our terms, we can at least nudge where their attention goes.”
“Back to you,” I say.
“To the truth,” he corrects.
“Your version of it,” I say.
“Our version,” he says. “If you’ll agree to one.”
I stand, facing him fully.
“I won’t be quiet,” I say. “Not again. Not even if
