“You don’t provide my fiancée with anything. She’s the talent. She provided you with a job. So, she gets what she wants. You understand? For this Vegas residency, and honestly”—he looked at me pointedly—“it should be for the rest of the time you’re employed by her, you do as she says. No arguments. No pushback. If my fiancée wants to sing on stilts while elephants weave through her legs, you make it happen. You say yes and find a way. You don’t question her vision. I don’t give a fuck what your title is. Got it?”
