A Name Dress

The Supra's engine idled softly as Lex parked across the street from the small recording studio. His fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel, the rhythm uneven, like his thoughts. The glow from the studio's sign spilled across the cracked pavement, flickering faintly.

He sighed, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't fear—it was calculation. Rose deserved to rise, to become everything she was meant to be. But Lex? He carried too much weight, too many complications. Every time he thought about her, the same thought stopped him: What if I pull her down?

Rose emerged, her jade bracelet catching the late evening light, the subtle curve of her shoulders showing the weight she carried. Jason followed her out, gesturing wildly as if mid-pitch for some grand idea.

Jason followed, animated as always, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Lex watched her smile—tired, polite, but genuine. It was the kind of smile she gave when she wanted people to believe she was fine. That smile had haunted him in another life.

He leaned back in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. He didn't want her to see him, not yet. Not when he wasn't sure if being close to her would help or hurt. She deserved better than the collateral damage of his war with Barnie.

The memory of Rose's voice drifted through his mind, uninvited. Her laugh, her sharp wit, the way she carried herself despite everything weighing her down. It hasn't change. She was the same.

She was working herself to the bone, recording over 24 songs and writing 15 of them with Quinn. Jason had told him as much during their last call, his voice practically buzzing with excitement.

"She's a machine, man," Jason had said, not knowing how much Lex already knew. "You've got to hear track six. It's—"

"I will," Lex had interrupted. "Just keep her focused. Don't let her burn out."

Jason had laughed, a low, easy sound. "You sound like a manager."

Lex hadn't corrected him. He'd stayed in the shadows, pulling strings to make sure Rose had what she needed, but never stepping too close.

"Lex, here to pick our Rose up," Jason called, his voice cutting through the hum of the street.

Lex stepped out of the car, closing the door with a firm click.

Rose gave him a small wave. "You're early."

"A new habit of mine," Lex quipped, motioning her toward the car.

Jason jogged up, grinning. "I was just telling Rose how the session went. You won't believe how much range she showed on track twelve."

"Let me guess," Lex said, smirking. "She hit the chorus harder than Quinn expected?"

Rose's eyes widened slightly. "How did you—"

"Quinn talks," Lex interrupted, gesturing toward the car. "Now, get in. You deserve more than studio chatter tonight."

Rose hesitated, glancing back at Jason.

Jason laughed, throwing his hands up. "Don't look at me—I'm not gonna argue with the guy who's driving a Supra and footing the bills."

Lex opened the passenger door for her. "Come on, Rose. Trust me."

It was a twenty minute drive across the city. The Supra's low growl came to a halt outside the boutique, its black exterior gleaming under the late afternoon sun. Lex stepped out first, his expression unreadable as he rounded the car to open the door for Rose.

She hesitated, staring at the boutique's glass doors. "This doesn't look like the kind of place I shop at, Lex."

"That's the point," he said with a faint smirk, offering his hand. "Come on. Trust me."

With a reluctant sigh, she took his hand and stepped out onto the pavement. The boutique exuded elegance, its windows showcasing dresses that whispered sophistication and exclusivity.

Lex stepped inside, the faint scent of leather and floral perfume meeting him. Gregory Tann turned toward the door, a silk scarf fluttering dramatically as he spread his arms wide.

"Lexington Latham!" Gregory exclaimed, his voice practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "You've finally brought me someone worthy of my talents."

Lex smirked faintly. "Good to see you too, Gregory. Meet Rose Russo."

Gregory's eyes sparkled as he looked her up and down, circling her slowly. ""This lovely rose. What's the plan?"

Rose glanced nervously at Lex. "Is he always like this?"

"Always," Lex replied with a dry chuckle. "You get used to it."

Lex crossed his arms and look at Gregory. "She's been too focused on making music to think about the rest. I need you to fix that."

Gregory gasped, clutching his scarf like Lex had just declared a fashion emergency. "Focused on the music? Darling, she can't just sing her way to the top. Image is everything. And right now, from what I've heard, her look screams 'I work doubles at a diner.'"

"That's why I'm here," Lex said evenly. "She has full access to my mom's private closet."

Gregory's mouth fell open. "Lian Mei's closet? Number one or two or three?"

Lex nodded. "All and my great-grandmother's jewelry collection."

Gregory staggered back dramatically. "Maddox heirloom jewelry? Lexington, you're practically handing me the keys to the kingdom."

"Just make sure she shines," Lex said.

Gregory's grin widened, his theatrical demeanor giving way to something more genuine. "You're serious about her, aren't you?"

It had a double meaning that Rose didn't missed. She look at him pointed. Lex's gaze drifted to the polished floor not meeting her eye.

Gregory clapped his hands together. "Alright, Rose. You're a blank canvas right now, but don't worry—that's what I live for. The world's going to see you for what you are: a star. Now," he turned dramatically toward the racks, "we start with a signature look."

Rose folded her arms. "I'm not sure I need a 'signature look.' I mean, I'm just a singer—"

Gregory spun back, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "No. You are not 'just a singer.' You are the singer, my dear. And stars don't walk around in denim." He turned to Lex. " What's the vibe?"

"She's got the voice. Old School."

Gregory's eyes lit up. "Oh, I like this. Bold, understated power. Yes, I know just the thing."

He darted toward a rack in the corner, his hands moving deftly through fabrics until he pulled out a deep burgundy silk dress. The material shimmered like water as he held it up, turning it to catch the light.

"This," he declared, holding it aloft, "is perfection. It moves like a dream and hugs every curve. She'll walk into a room, and people won't just notice her—they'll stop breathing."

Rose blinked at the dress. "I don't know. It's a little... much."

Gregory's jaw dropped. "Much? Oh, darling, no. This isn't 'much.' This is everything. It's bold but refined. It's Marilyn Monroe meets modern goddess."

Lex arched a brow. "You really think it's her?"

Gregory shot him an indignant look. "Darling, this dress is everyone if they're brave enough to wear it."

Rose sighed, brushing her fingers hesitantly over the fabric. "I've never worn anything like this before. What if it doesn't fit?"

"Only one way to find out," Gregory said with a wink, gesturing toward the fitting room.

The boutique fell quiet as Rose stepped out of the fitting room. The burgundy silk clung to her like it had been poured on, the neckline dipping just low enough to be daring without losing elegance. She smoothed the fabric over her hips nervously, her eyes darting to Lex and Gregory.

Gregory clasped his hands together. "Oh. My. God. It's perfect."

Rose frowned, looking at her reflection. "It's… a lot."

Gregory shook his head and walked over, pulling a small pair of scissors from his pocket. "Not quite there yet."

"What are you doing?" she asked, alarmed.

"Relax, darling. I'm elevating," Gregory replied. With a few quick snips, he adjusted the hem so it skimmed just above her ankles, and deepened the neckline making it more of a statement. "Now," he said, stepping back, "look again."

Rose turned to the mirror, and her breath caught. The adjustments were subtle, but they transformed the dress. It didn't just fit her—it became her.

Lex straightened from where he leaned, his gaze fixed on her. "Gregory's right. That's it."

Rose looked between them, unsure. "I feel like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not."

"No," Lex said softly, stepping closer. "This is who you are. You've just never had a chance to see it before."

Gregory grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Lexington, you're such a poet. Now, picture this, Rose: You walk into a club, this dress flowing like silk and fire. Heads turn. Conversations stop. And everyone wonders, 'Who is she?'"

Rose laughed, a soft, nervous sound. "You make it sound like a movie."

"It is," Gregory said firmly. "Your movie. And this is the scene where the star steps into the spotlight."

Lex stayed quiet, he discretly took a photo and sent it to Jason, he also sent a couple of angles to Rizz Ceo Adam. It was going to hit different soon.

There was a small, growing smile on her face, the kind that hinted at something more than just approval.

"What do you think?" Lex finally asked.

Rose met his gaze in the mirror, her voice quiet but sure. "I think… I'm ready."

Gregory spun dramatically toward a rack of accessories. "Oh, you're not just ready, my dear—you're iconic. Now, pearls for the club, diamonds for the gala, and…" He snapped his fingers. "A moment in bed for the music videos."

Lex smirked faintly, shaking his head as Gregory fussed over details. But as Rose turned back to the mirror, seeing herself fully transformed.