4HRZ
As they drove, Arell's mind wandered back to his conversation with Cole. The older rapper's words about money management and staying true to oneself echoed in his head. He glanced at the steering wheel of the luxury rental car and felt a twinge of uncertainty.
"You know what," Arell said, breaking the comfortable silence in the car, "I think I'm gonna hold off on buying that Hellcat and BMW for now."
Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought you were set on those."
Arell shrugged. "Yeah, but... I've been thinking. Maybe it's better to be smart with my money right now."
Rashad nodded approvingly from the backseat. "That's smart, bro. Those cars ain't going nowhere."
As they pulled up to the warehouse, Arell's phone buzzed. He quickly typed out a message to Geoffrey: "So I've decided…can you set me up with a therapist? Someone trustworthy. Thanks."
His finger hovered over the send button for a moment. The thought of actually going to therapy made his heart race. He'd never felt this nervous about something before. It was like a weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. But he knew it was the right thing to do. He hit send.
The warehouse was buzzing with activity when they arrived. Crew members rushed about, carrying equipment and shouting instructions. In the center of it all stood India and her sisters, looking absolutely stunning.
India spotted Arell and waved him over, her face lighting up. She was wearing a form-fitting red dress that accentuated her curves perfectly. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves.
"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "How was the session with Cole?"
Arell grinned. "It was amazing. Learned a lot."
He turned his attention to India's sisters. Crystal, the youngest, was in a pale blue crop top and high-waisted jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Despite being the baby of the family, she carried herself with a confidence that belied her age.
Morgan, 21, wore a fitted black jumpsuit that showed off her athletic build and Bree, 23, opted for a more bohemian look with a flowing floral maxi dress and strappy sandals.
"Ladies," Arell greeted them with a warm smile. "You all look really good."
The sisters beamed at the compliment, each thanking him in turn.
As they chatted, a producer approached, clipboard in hand. "India, we need you for an interview in five minutes. The rest of you, wardrobe change in ten."
India nodded, then turned back to Arell. "Duty calls. Why don't you hang out and watch for a bit? Maybe we can grab a late dinner after we wrap?"
Arell agreed, finding a quiet corner to observe the filming process. He watched as India and her sisters moved through various setups, posing for photoshoots, filming confessionals, and acting out scripted scenes.
Their show, "Living Westbrooks," had been gaining popularity since its debutearly this year. It followed the lives of the five Westbrooks sisters as they navigated fame, family, and their careers in the entertainment industry. The show had quickly become a hit, drawing comparisons to Keeping Up with the Kardashians but with a fresher, more youthful energy.
As Arell watched, he couldn't help but be impressed by the sisters' professionalism. They moved from task to task with ease, their smiles never faltering even as the hours ticked by. He found himself particularly drawn to Crystal.
Between takes, India would steal moments with Arell, filling him in on the day's events and asking about his session with Cole. As the night wore on, Arell found himself yawning, the long day finally catching up with him.
It was nearly 4 AM when the director finally called wrap. The sisters let out a collective sigh of relief, their shoulders sagging as the tension of the day melted away.
India made her way over to Arell, collapsing into the chair next to him. "God, I'm exhausted," she groaned, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Arell chuckled, wrapping an arm around her.
As the crew began to pack up, Arell's phone buzzed with a message from Geoffrey: "Therapist arranged. Dr. Sarah Chen, highly recommended and discreet. First appointment next week, in Atlanta. Let me know if you need anything else."
Arell felt his stomach lurch as he read the message. The reality of actually going to therapy hit him like a ton of bricks. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the anxiety persisted, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
Despite his nervousness, Arell managed to enjoy a late-night, or early morning, dinner with India at a cozy 24-hour diner. They talked about her show, her family, and her dreams for the future. India was passionate about fashion and hoped to launch her own line someday. Arell listened intently, asking questions and offering encouragement.
As they finished their meal, India suggested they head back to her hotel. Arell hesitated, remembering Cole's advice about taking things slow.
"I'd love to," he said gently, "but I think we should take our time with this. Maybe another night?"
India looked surprised but nodded understandingly. They shared a sweet goodbye kiss before parting ways.
When Arell, Cameron, and Rashad arrived back at the villa, they found Kenny sitting alone in the living room, halfheartedly playing NBA 2K. The usually upbeat Kenny looked dejected, his shoulders slumped as he mindlessly mashed buttons on the controller.
"Ken Ken," Arell called out as they entered. "You're up late."
Kenny glanced up, offering a weak smile. "Yeah, couldn't sleep."
Arell exchanged a concerned look with Cam and Rash. They all knew Kenny had been struggling since the shooting that had derailed his college basketball plans.
"You guys go ahead," Arell told Cam and Rash. "I'm gonna hang here for a bit."
As they headed off to bed, Arell plopped down on the couch next to Kenny. For a moment, they just sat in silence, the only sound the muted commentary from the game.
"So," Arell finally said, "you wanna talk about it?"
Kenny shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Not much to talk about. My shot at college ball is gone. End of story."
Arell frowned. "Man, that's not true and you know it. This is just a setback."
"A setback?" Kenny scoffed, finally turning to look at Arell. "Bro, I got shot in the leg. My chances are gone. How's that just a setback?"
"Because you're too damn talented to let this stop you," Arell insisted. "Look, I-"
"You don't get it, man," Kenny interrupted, his voice rising. "Basketball was everything to me. It was my future. And now-"
"And now nothing," Arell cut in. "You think this is the end?"
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're blowing up. You've got money, fame-"
"And you've got me," Arell said firmly. "Kenny, listen to me. You don't need to worry about money, alright? That's taken care of. What you need to focus on is getting better."
Kenny opened his mouth to argue, but Arell held up a hand. "Nah, let me finish. I'm getting you a physiotherapist. The best one we can find. You're gonna work with them, you're gonna get stronger, and you're gonna come back better than ever."
"But what if I can't?" Kenny's voice was barely above a whisper, his vulnerability showing through.
Arell leaned forward, looking Kenny dead in the eye. "You can, and you will. You're going to be in the NBA, full stop. You hear me?"
Kenny didn't respond, just stared at the paused game on the screen.
"Hey," Arell said, nudging Kenny's shoulder. "You remember when we were kids? Playing ball at the park?"
A small smile tugged at Kenny's lips. "Yeah, what about it?"
"Remember how you used to smoke everyone? Even the older kids?"
Kenny chuckled. "Yeah, they used to get so mad."
"Exactly," Arell said, grinning. "You've always been a baller, Kenny. That didn't change just because some asshole with a gun tried to take it from you."
Kenny sighed, running a hand over his face. "I hear you, man. It's just... it's hard, you know? Watching everyone else move forward while I'm stuck here, Devon's selling beats… Malik's been getting into sportsbetting, and you- you're Arell Rose."
"Don't think like that," Arell said softly. "You're not alone in this. We're all here for you. And hey, maybe this is an opportunity in disguise. You've got time now to work on your game, to get even better."
Kenny nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, maybe you're right."
"Course I'm right," Arell said with a grin. "Now, you gonna keep hogging that controller or what? Let me show you how it's done."
Kenny snorted, a competitive glint in his eye. "Yeah, I'm gonna cook Golden State. Don't even try using Curry."
Arell laughed, settling in for what would undoubtedly be an intense game.
The next day, Arell woke up late, feeling refreshed despite the long night. After a leisurely breakfast of avocado toast and fresh fruit, Arell decided to head outside for some fresh air. The Miami sun was already blazing, but a gentle breeze made it bearable. As he stepped onto the patio, he spotted Jarad sitting in a corner, hunched over a notebook.
Arell felt a sense of curiosity. He found Jarad intriguing - there was something familiar about him. Deciding to approach, Arell called out, "Hey, Jarad. What's up, man?"
Jarad looked up, his expression guarded but not unwelcoming. "Just writing," he said, gesturing to the notebook.
Arell nodded, taking a seat nearby. "Mind if I join you?"
Jarad shrugged, which Arell took as an invitation. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Arell spoke again.
"So, what kind of stuff are you working on?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Jarad hesitated, then said, "Just... thoughts, you know? Trying to make sense of things through music."
Arell nodded encouragingly. "That's dope. What do you think about when you're making music?"
Jarad's eyes lit up slightly, passion seeping into his voice. "It's like... I want to make music that means something, you know? Not just empty words and catchy beats. I want people to feel what I'm feeling, to understand where I'm coming from."
As Jarad spoke, Arell found himself nodding along. His words resonated with him deeply.
"I get that," Arell said. "It's like... our experiences shape us, right? And sometimes those experiences are hard, painful even. It can be tough to shake off the bad parts."
Jarad's eyes widened slightly, surprised by Arell's understanding. "Yeah, exactly. It's like... the pain is always there, you know? And sometimes it feels like music is the only way to let it out."
Arell leaned back, considering Jarad's words. "I felt the same way for a long time," he admitted. "Like I was carrying this weight around, and music was the only thing that made it bearable. But recently... I don't know, man. I've been thinking maybe there's more to it than that."
Jarad raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"
Arell took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "Well, I've been kind of... shying away from dealing with my shit, you know? Like, really dealing with it. But I recently decided to go to therapy. It took a small push, but I'm doing it."
Jarad's expression was a mix of surprise and uncertainty. "Therapy? I don't know, man. Seems like a lot."
Arell nodded, understanding the hesitation. "Yeah, it is. But I'm starting to think maybe it's necessary, you know? Like, it's good to pour all that pain and confusion into music, but what happens to the people listening to it?"
Jarad frowned, considering this. "What do you mean?"
Arell struggled to articulate his thoughts, the concept still new to him. "It's like... our music speaks to people, right? It touches them. But if we're just putting out all our pain and anger without... I don't know, processing it somehow... are we really helping them? Or just spreading more pain?"
Jarad was quiet for a moment, absorbing Arell's words. "I never really thought about it like that," he admitted.
Arell nodded, feeling like he was on the verge of understanding something important. "Yeah, me neither. It's something I'm still figuring out. But I think... I think maybe we have a responsibility, you know? To our listeners. To try and balance things out somehow."
Jarad looked thoughtful. "But how do you do that? How do you balance out the pain?"
Arell shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe it starts with asking ourselves if we're happy with those thoughts we're putting out there. Like, are they helping us? Are they helping others?"
Jarad nodded slowly, then said, "Thanks, by the way. For the house, I mean. For my mom. It means a lot."
Arell smiled warmly. "Of course, man. I'm glad I could help."
Encouraged by Arell's openness, Jarad began to open up more about his own struggles. He talked about his difficult childhood, his struggles with depression and anxiety, and his fears about the future.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, you know?" Jarad confessed. "Like no matter how hard I try, I can't escape these dark thoughts."
Arell listened intently, feeling a deep empathy for him. Pain and creativity often went hand in hand, he realised, and unchecked pain could be destructive.
"Have you ever thought about talking to someone?" Arell asked gently. "Like, professionally?"
Jarad shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know. It's hard to open up, you know? Especially to a stranger."
Arell nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I get that. It's scary. But maybe... maybe it's worth a try? I mean, if it could help..."
They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. Then Jarad spoke again, his voice quiet but determined.
"Maybe you're right," he said. "About balancing things out. Maybe I need to try and find some light to go with all this darkness."
Arell nodded, he patted Jarad on the shoulder. "That's a good start. Keep at it. I'm here if you ever want to talk more."
Leaving Jarad to his writing, Arell headed back inside, his mind buzzing with thoughts. He felt a restless energy, a need to do something productive.
Pulling out his phone, Arell typed out a message: "Yo Pharrell, what's good? Was wondering when we might be able to link up for that studio session we talked about."
To his surprise, Pharrell responded almost immediately: "Hey Arell! Actually heading to the studio in about 4 hours to work on some beats. You're welcome to join if you're free. Just a heads up, a couple of friends might be stopping by too."
He quickly replied: "Sounds perfect, I'll be there. Just send me the address."
With four hours to kill, Arell found himself at a loss. Then it hit him – he still needed to sort out his transportation situation.
Grabbing his laptop, Arell started researching cars. He wanted something practical but still impressive, and he set himself a budget of no more than $90,000.
As he scrolled through various options, Arell found himself drawn to SUVs. They were spacious, comfortable, and perfect for both city driving and longer trips. After comparing several models, his eyes landed on the 2015 BMW X5.
The more he read about it, the more he liked it. 3.0-liter turbocharged inline-six engine, 300 horsepower. It had a sleek, luxurious design without being overly flashy. The interior was plush and had a 10.2-inch display with navigation and a sound system.
Arell pulled up some reviews, nodding along as he read about the smooth ride and responsive handling. It seemed like the perfect balance of luxury and practicality. And in black? It would look absolutely fire.
He checked the price – it came in just under his budget. Perfect.
Feeling satisfied with his choice, Arell made a mental note to talk to Geoffrey about purchasing one when they got back to Atlanta.
As he closed his laptop, Arell glanced at the clock. He still had a couple of hours before he needed to leave for the studio session with Pharrell. His mind wandered, curiosity piqued by Pharrell's mention of "friends" stopping by. Who could it be? Given Pharrell's status in the industry, it could be practically anyone, he just hoped it wasn't…Beyoncé or even worse…Diddy, he just wanted to go in there, learn and make something hard-
"No Diddy." He chuckled as he muttered to no one besides himself.