The Buzz Deal

Lex leaned back in the corner booth at Smore Jazz & Supper Club, the faint hum of the live band weaving through the room. Rose stood on stage, her voice flowing effortlessly with the music, wearing the dress Gregory had declared her masterpiece. She owned the space, her every note and movement magnetic.

Benny, pacing with his camera, was directing his crew like a symphony conductor. "Lights on her face—softer! No, not that soft! Focus, people! We're capturing history here!"

Lex watched quietly, his mind already drifting to the next move, when Jason practically burst into the seat beside him like he was spring-loaded.

"Lex!" Jason half-whispered, half-yelled, his hands tapping erratically on the table. "Man, you've got to listen to me. I've been holding this in for hours. No, DAYS."

Lex smirked faintly, glancing at him. "Jason, you're buzzing. Did you switch to espresso?"

Jason waved him off, his hands still drumming on the table. "Coffee? No! Okay, yes, I've had coffee, but that's not the point. Do you know what just happened? Do you have any idea?"

Lex arched a brow, humoring him. "Enlighten me."

Jason leaned in, his voice dropping like he was about to share a state secret. "Netflix, my friend. Netflix! They just dropped an offer on Silent Crossing."

Lex's interest sharpened, though he kept his tone steady. "What's the number?"

Jason's eyes widened like saucers, his voice pitching higher. "Mid. Eight. Figures. Eight! And that's not even the crazy part—they want their name on everything. Global rights, streaming, the works. And get this—they want it before Cannes!"

"Before Cannes?" Lex asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes!" Jason flailed his arms like the words were physically overwhelming him. "Cannes is months away, but they're pushing now because they want the prestige. Their name on the banners, on the screenings, all of it!"

Lex took a moment, letting Jason's energy swirl around him. Finally, he said, "Tell them to wait."

Jason froze mid-gesture, staring at him like Lex had just suggested selling the movie for scraps. "Wait? Wait?! Lex, are you serious? This is Netflix. They've got real money, real reach—"

"And they'll offer even more after Cannes," Lex interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "Right now, they're betting on potential. After Cannes, they'll pay for results."

Jason blinked rapidly, his fingers tapping out a jittery rhythm on the table. "Okay. Okay. I get it. Smart. Strategic. Let them stew. But man, they're not going to like it."

"They'll like it when they're cutting a bigger check," Lex replied smoothly.

Jason huffed, shaking his head but grinning. "You've got guts, Lex. I'll stall them, but don't blame me if they call you directly."

"They won't," Lex said, taking a sip of his drink. "Not yet."

Jason sat back, muttering under his breath as if trying to settle his own nerves. "Alright, fine. But that's not even why I'm here."

Lex tilted his head. "No?"

"Nope!" Jason said, his energy surging again. "It's about Aiden."

Lex's gaze flicked toward him. "What about him?"

Jason practically bounced in his seat. "He's on the charts, Lex! Country charts. Number seventy-two! Quinn says he's ready to tour—full setup, buses, merch, screaming fans, the whole thing. And I know someone who can make it happen."

Lex rested his elbow on the table, steepling his fingers. "Touring's a big leap. Is he ready for that kind of spotlight?"

Jason nodded furiously, his knee bouncing under the table. "Oh, he's ready. The numbers say he's ready. But there's a catch—he needs more songs. Can't hit the road with one hit and some fluff. He needs a setlist, Lex."

"Then build one," Lex said simply. "Pull anything country we own. Dig through the catalog. And get Quinn to write two fresh songs. If she thinks it's worth pushing him, let her prove it."

Jason blinked rapidly, processing. "Quinn? Write more? She's already swamped—wait, no, you're right. She wrote his hit, she can do it again. She'll complain, but she'll do it. And you're good with using the catalog?"

Lex nodded. "Pick the best tracks. Make sure they fit him—songs he can own, not just perform. And bring me the list before you move forward."

"Done," Jason said, typing furiously on his phone. Then he paused, biting his lip. "Okay, but one more thing. And I swear this is the last thing. For now."

Lex chuckled. "Go on."

Jason leaned in like a conspirator. "The Everett estate."

Lex's smirk faded, his tone cooling. "What about them?"

Jason groaned, flopping back in his seat like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "They're shopping again. Same garbage as before—ten million for a book, a half-baked movie script, and a catalog so tiny you could fit it on a Post-it. They're asking too much and giving too little. Again."

Lex's jaw tightened, his voice steady. "Set up an in-person appointment. Bring my lawyer."

Jason blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "You're actually meeting with them? Lex, you remember the last time, right? They threw a tantrum when we found the catalog and called them out!"

"They didn't have a case then, and they don't now," Lex said evenly. "But this time, I'm making sure it ends well. No loose ends."

Jason tapped his fingers on the table again, his expression torn between awe and exasperation. "Man, you're bold. Bold and probably insane. But fine. I'll get it set up."

Lex glanced toward the stage as Rose started another take, her voice weaving effortlessly through the band's music. Benny was practically dancing with his camera, muttering to his crew about angles and lighting.

Jason followed Lex's gaze, letting out a low whistle. "She's incredible. You really know how to pick them, huh?"

Lex smirked faintly. "It's not about picking. It's about seeing what's already there."

Jason laughed, shaking his head. "You've got your hands in everything, Lex. Netflix, Aiden, Everett, Rose. How do you even keep track of it all?"

Lex leaned back, his voice calm but confident. "By making sure I'm always two steps ahead."

After everyone left to their much needed sleep. Lex sit at the back of the club swirled the gin in his glass, watching the ice cubes clink.

He wasn't old enough to drink—not for another four years—but no one here seemed to care. They all knew him as the owner.

Today had been a win and Lex let himself savor it.

In three weeks since waking up in this second shot, he'd move the pieces.

Rose was well on her way to stardom, her voice climbing the charts, her music video buzzing with views. He remembered her biggest regret from his first life—the crushing sense that she'd never done enough, that she'd never been enough.

This time, in a few short months, she'd have the power to protect herself from Barnie and anyone else who tried to take advantage of her including himself.

The gin stung slightly as he took another sip, grounding him in the moment. His mother's illness… He'd made her an appointment last week. The scans had come back clear. She was healthy, vibrant, a far cry from the frail woman he'd helplessly watched fade in his first life. That alone felt like a win worth celebrating.

His thoughts turned to the short contracts sitting neatly in his portfolio, hedging against every reckless bet Barnie had made on CDs and commercial real estate. Elias had notice but Lex had questions.

The music played and the gin numbed his nerves, Lex couldn't ignore the weight of the past. The first timeline's bloody tally haunted him. Almost everyone he cared about had died—accidents, they'd said. A car crash on a foggy highway, a suspicious fire in a suburban home, Elias's car plunging into the East River. Only his mother had survived, her grief consuming her as she clung to the ruins of their life.

Lex closed his eyes briefly, the saxophone's mournful notes filling the silence of his thoughts. What could he do this time? How could he protect them all?

He opened his eyes, his gaze hardening as he stared into his glass. The Maddox Trust. It was still salvageable, a separate entity from Maddox Holdings, with rules and protections Barnie had violated in secret. Removing Barnie from the trust wouldn't save the company—it was too late for that—but it could cripple his power, sever his hold on their legacy.

The plan began to take shape in his mind, piece by piece, like a chessboard arranging itself. Barnie thought the game was his to control, but Lex had learned the moves. This time, the king wouldn't be checked.