Lets Start

Arell sat in the backseat of the black SUV, staring out at the dark, rolling hills as they passed under the streetlights. India had just been dropped off at her family's home in the hills. She had kissed him goodbye with her usual warmth, her hand lingering on his for a moment longer than usual as if sensing his tension, but she didn't ask questions. She knew he needed space, even though her curious eyes had flicked toward Geoffrey a few times as they parted.

Now, in the dimly lit backseat, Arell leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to shake the lingering chill of Michèle Lamy's words, the weight of her touch, and the way her knife had pressed against his chest. His heart was still racing, even though they were miles away from that room and the people who had been inside it.

Geoffrey, sitting next to him, was quiet at first, the kind of silence that held its own tension. Cam was at the wheel, his focus entirely on the road ahead and Rashad sat shotgun, even he seemed unusually quiet tonight. Arell finally opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Geoffrey, who was staring out of the window, his brow furrowed in thought.

"You okay?" Geoffrey asked, finally breaking the silence, though his tone suggested he knew the answer already.

Arell exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don't even know. What the hell just happened back there?"

Geoffrey shifted, his gaze turning toward Arell with the same confusion that had been gnawing at him since they'd left. "I wish I had an answer. I know these sort of things occur in the industry but the details..."

"Details," Arell repeated, the word hanging in the air between them. "You're stuck on the details? I had a literal knife to my throat, man. And they're talking about sacrifices like it's normal."

Geoffrey shook his head, the lines on his face deepening as he tried to make sense of it all. "This is the first time I've ever felt stumped."

Geoffrey hesitated, his gaze flicking to Cam, who stayed silent but alert, then back to Arell. "Look, we both know that the entertainment industry is ran by Jews. That's just a fact. And somehow, that mattered tonight. That's the only reason she backed off. But these… rules…protection? I have no clue as to what they are exactly."

"Protection from what, though?" Arell shot back, his frustration bubbling over. "From being sacrificed? I don't care if I'm Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or whatever—none of that makes sense. She said they'd 'make it up to me' like she was giving me a coupon or something. What does that even mean?"

Geoffrey stared out the window for a moment, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "I don't know, Arell."

"You don't know?" Arell repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. "Geoffrey, I was in a room with people holding me down while she cut her own hand open."

Geoffrey didn't respond right away, and the SUV rolled through the empty streets.

"Look," Geoffrey finally said, turning his full attention to Arell, "there's no way we're ignoring this. But if you want to understand what just happened, you're going to need someone with… experience in these things. Mayhap some kind of… supernatural checkup."

Arell's head whipped around. "A supernatural checkup? I'm not going to some astrologer or shaman or whatever voodoo shit you're suggesting. My grandma taught me better than that."

Geoffrey raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I get it, I get it. But you've gotta admit, what happened back there is deeply concerning. This goes beyond contracts and record deals. If you're not comfortable with that kind of stuff, fine. But what are you comfortable with? How are we supposed to figure this out?"

Arell stared out the window again, his mind racing.

"Church," Arell said suddenly. "I'll go to a church."

Geoffrey blinked, surprised. "Church?"

Arell nodded. "Yeah. My grandma always said, when things don't make sense, when the world feels like it's turning upside down, you go to God. Not to some medium or psychic. If I'm going to figure this out, I'll go to a church. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I trust that over whatever she was doing in there."

Geoffrey was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the idea. "Alright," he said after a pause. "We can do that. But you need to explain everything to me first. You said she mentioned 'making it up to you.' Did she say anything else?"

Arell ran a hand through his braids, trying to recall the exact words. "She said something about my bloodline. Because I'm of Jewish decent, there are rules they have to follow. She couldn't force me to answer her questions or do whatever ritual she had planned, at least not there. But she hinted that it might be different in other places." He glanced at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey's expression darkened. "Sounds like there are places where their 'rules' don't apply. Where they have more freedom to do whatever they want. But here… maybe the entertainment industry has its own set of guidelines specifically meant for the protection of Jews."

Arell exhaled, shaking his head. "She wasn't just talking to me like I'm some new artist. She acted like she knew everything about me. And those other artists in the room? French Montana, The Weeknd, others… they just sat there. Heads down, like they knew what was going on but didn't want to get involved."

"This isn't new to them." Geoffrey said.

Arell's jaw tightened. "And Jay Z? He gave me all this business advice like he was doing me a favor, but the whole time, he was holding me back, stalling. Like, what did he mean when he said 'you'd be in good company'? What kind of company is that?"

Geoffrey rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It sounds like they wanted to bring you into their fold, perhaps for Roc Nation. But when Michèle stepped in, things shifted. Whatever Jay Z was offering might've been part of their plan to reel you in. But after what happened tonight, they owe you."

"Owe me?" Arell scoffed. "They could have tried killing me, Geoffrey. What kind of 'favor' makes that up?"

"I don't know," Geoffrey admitted. "But whatever she was talking about, it's not the end. You're on their radar now, and they'll want something from you eventually."

Arell felt a chill run down his spine. "Yeah, well, they're not getting anything from me, make sure we ramp up security, not just for me, for everyone. Lets get our Mexican friends over the border citizenship if need be."

The SUV pulled up to the hotel, and Arell felt a strange sense of relief as the towering building came into view. At least here, he could breathe, could try to process everything that had happened. He was back in familiar territory now: strategy, business, control.

They quickly climbed the many floors in the comfort of the elavtor and he found himself sat in one of the many plush balcony couches overlooking the city skyline, that twinkled with a different type of light at these hours.

Geoffrey sat beside him, flipping through files on his tablet.

"You've got the numbers from Tariq?" Arell asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Geoffrey replied, eyes still on the screen. "He's got the first round of properties lined up. Mostly small, multi-family deals and some distressed commercial lots. Not the big ones yet, but we're setting the stage. The heavy hitters come next."

Arell nodded, his mind already running through the list of assets they'd scouted. "Right. We're a week in and we've barely scratched the surface. Time to pick up the pace. How are we playing it with the next acquisitions? Fast flips or holding for the right buyer?"

Geoffrey shifted slightly, leaning back as well. "Fast flips, no renovations. We target distressed owners—people on the edge of foreclosure, businesses with high-value real estate but no cash flow. We swoop in, take the properties for below market value, and sell them off to REITs or larger developers. We're not getting bogged down with renovations or holding too long. The longer we sit on a property, the higher the risk."

Arell agreed. "Right. No dragging this out. If we can't move it in under a month, it's a liability. What's the plan for financing the next wave of deals?"

Geoffrey's expression sharpened, the gears of his mind already turning. "Hard money loans. We're not going to banks. We need flexibility and speed, not regulation and red tape. Private investors can push the cash fast. We'll lock in short-term financing—high interest, but we won't be sitting on the loans long enough for it to bite us."

"Agreed," Arell said, satisfied. "We're leveraging a $6 million loan to secure what, $30 million in property? Give or take."

"Exactly. Use the $6 million as leverage, get hard money loans to cover the rest, and keep flipping. We'll hit the target before the two-month mark if we stay aggressive. But we need to be smarter about taxes too."

Arell nodded again. "1031 exchanges. No capital gains tax. We reinvest everything into the next property, roll it forward, and defer the taxes. It's basic, but it'll keep more cash in our pocket for the next flip."

"Exactly. The more we flip without getting hit by capital gains, the faster we grow the portfolio. Then there's depreciation on the rental properties we hold briefly—it reduces taxable income, even if we don't plan on holding them for long."

Arell smirked, pleased with the pace they were setting. "That's what I like to hear. And what about those sale-leaseback deals you mentioned?"

Geoffrey pulled up another file, swiping through the data. "That's the big play. We're targeting businesses that are failing but still own valuable real estate. We buy the property, sell it back to them under a lease agreement. They get the cash flow they need to stay afloat, and we get the real estate. Meanwhile, we flip the property or sell the lease to a larger developer. Quick profits, minimal involvement."

"I like it," Arell said, his tone approving. "What about auction properties? We've got eyes on those, right?"

"Of course," Geoffrey replied smoothly. "Tariq's already scouting foreclosure auctions. Atlanta's still got distressed properties left over from the 2008 crash. Foreclosed commercial buildings and luxury homes are hitting the block at 30 to 50 percent below market value. We pick up the best ones, flip them within weeks, and double our money."

Arell leaned back, satisfied with the plan but thinking of the bigger picture.

Geoffrey spoke again. "Do you find it interesting?"

Arell shot him a perplexed look. "Find what interesting?"

"How business savvy you've become?" Geoffrey say, drawing a sharp smirk from Arell.

Arell shrugged. "What can I say, I've learned from the best." He remarked.

Geoffrey smiled, setting the tablet down. "And that's good, because we need you on this, Aisha's running Infinity's clothing line, but she can't handle the financials. And Jamal and Tariq are already stretched thin. We need more people."

Arell raised an eyebrow. "You think Malik can handle it?" His mind flashing back to…

…

…

Malik leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I can handle it," he said again.

There was a beat of silence as Arell and Geoffrey exchanged a glance. They'd been on the same page about Malik since the idea first came up, but hearing him say it aloud made it feel real. Arell smirked.

"Hold up, we gotta clear something up," Arell started, leaning forward. "Gambling?"

Malik blinked. "What?"

"You said you've been learning finance through gambling?" Geoffrey repeated, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Oh, that," Malik scratched the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I mean, it's all about the odds. You learn how to calculate risk, weigh your options, you know?"

Arell shook his head, chuckling. "Well, let's hope that skill set translates to handling real money and not just betting on sports."

Malik, catching the playful vibe, leaned back with a grin. "Hey, I've been winning."

"Let's make sure that streak continues," Geoffrey added, giving him a knowing nod. "This isn't about getting lucky—it's about strategy."

…

Cornell University – Nick Huber

Nick Huber sat at a table piled high with textbooks, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over complex financial models.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across his work. Nick looked up, startled, to find two men standing over him.

"Nick Huber?" the younger man asked, extending his hand. "I'm Arell Rose. This is my associate, Geoffrey."

Nick's eyes widened in recognition. He stood up quickly, knocking over a stack of books in his haste. "Oh, shi-" he muttered, scrambling to pick them up.

Arell and Geoffrey both knelt to help, amusement dancing in their eyes.

"Sorry about that," Nick said, flustered. "I, uh, I know who you are. Your music is incredible."

Arell grinned. "Thanks. We hear you're doing some pretty incredible work yourself. Mind if we chat?"

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a quiet corner of the library's café. Nick listened intently as Arell and Geoffrey laid out their vision for a real estate empire.

"We need someone with your financial acumen," Geoffrey explained. "Someone who can see the potential in properties others might overlook."

Nick's mind was racing with possibilities. "This is... ambitious," he said finally. "But I'm intrigued. What exactly would my role be?"

Arell leaned forward. "We want you to be our numbers guy. Find the deals, crunch the data, help us build something extraordinary."

Nick's eyes lit up. "When do I start?"

…

Office - Codie Sanchez

As Arell and Geoffrey entered, Codie held up a finger, signaling them to wait. "Listen, Johnson, I don't care what the market's doing. We're not backing down. Make it happen." She hung up and turned to her visitors with a dazzling smile. "Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

Arell stepped forward, extending his hand. "Ms. Sanchez, I'm Arell Rose. This is Geoffrey. We've got a proposition for you."

Codie's eyebrow arched. "I'm listening."

For the next hour, they outlined their plans. Codie listened intently, occasionally interjecting with razor-sharp questions that kept Arell and Geoffrey on their toes.

"It's an interesting concept," Codie said finally. "But I've got my own ventures. Why should I join yours?"

Geoffrey leaned forward. "Because together, we can create something bigger than any of us could alone. Your expertise in alternative investments, combined with our resources and vision? We could revolutionize the industry."

Codie tapped her pen against her desk, considering. "I'd need to maintain control over my current projects."

Arell nodded. "Of course. We're not looking to absorb your work, Codie. We want to collaborate, to amplify each other's strengths."

A slow smile spread across Codie's face. "Well then, gentlemen. I'd love to hear more."

…

The meeting with Jay Morrison was brief and left a sour taste in both Arell and Geoffrey's mouths.

They exchanged pleasantries, but the conversation felt forced. Geoffrey probed into his real estate ventures, and Jay responded with polished answers that felt a little too rehearsed. He talked about empowerment, about legacy, about building for the community—but it all felt like surface-level chatter.

Arell glanced at Geoffrey, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. They didn't need to say anything more. Morrison wasn't the right fit. There was something about him that screamed opportunist in the wrong way.

"Thanks for your time," Arell said politely as they shook hands. "We'll be in touch."

But they both knew they wouldn't be.

"You saw it too?" Arell asked quietly.

Geoffrey nodded, his expression grim. "The charm was too polished, the promises too grand. Classic signs of a-"

"Snake," Arell finished. "A conman."

They walked in silence for a moment before Geoffrey spoke again. "It's a shame. His network could have been valuable."

Arell shrugged. "Better to spot the red flags now than down the line."

…

Geoffrey glanced at Arell as they continued reviewing information on the tablet. "Codie's onboard. She'll help with media and investments, but we've got one more on the list."

Arell raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Alexander Wang."

…

As they approached the campus of MIT, Arell turned to Geoffrey with a quizzical expression. "Remind me again why we're here? This Wang guy has nothing to do with real estate."

Geoffrey's eyes twinkled with excitement. "The future, Arell. We're not just building for today. We're laying the groundwork for tomorrow."

They found Alexander Wang in a cramped dorm room that looked more like a mad scientist's lab than a living space. Computers hummed, wires snaked across the floor, and holographic displays flickered with complex algorithms.

Wang barely looked up as they entered, his fingers flying across a keyboard. "You're late," he said matter-of-factly.

Arell glanced at his watch, confused. "Actually, we're right on-"

"Not by the clock," Wang interrupted, finally turning to face them. "By the pace of innovation. Every second counts in the AI race."

For the next hour, Wang regaled them with his vision of the future - a world where AI and blockchain technology would revolutionize everything from finance to manufacturing. Arell found himself lost in the technical jargon, but Geoffrey was nodding along, his eyes alight with possibilities.

"Your ideas are fascinating," Geoffrey said. "But you need resources to bring them to life. Infrastructure, computing power..."

Wang's had a relaxed demeanor, but his own eyes deceived him, Arell could see it, desperation, hope, Wang wanted this, desperately. "And you're offering what, exactly?"

Arell leaned forward. "Manufacturing facilities. High-end production capabilities. Even more importantly. Money."

Before Wang could respond, the door burst open. Two young women entered, their arms laden with takeout containers.

"Alex, we brought fuel!" one of them announced cheerfully. She stopped short at the sight of Arell and Geoffrey. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you had company."

Wang waved them in. "It's fine. Arell, Geoffrey, meet Sarah and Lucy Guo. Cousins, tech prodigies, and general pains in my ass."

The newcomers grinned, setting down the food. "Charmed," Lucy said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now, what's this about manufacturing facilities?"

As they shared the impromptu meal, the conversation flowed freely. Ideas bounced back and forth, each more ambitious than the last. Arell found himself caught up in the excitement, even if he didn't understand half of what was being said.

"So," Sarah said eventually, fixing Arell with a piercing gaze. "You're offering to bankroll all this? What's in it for you?"

Arell smiled. "A stake in the future. And partners who can help shape it." He turned to Lucy. "I hear you're interested in starting your own AI firm. We could provide seed funding, connections..."

Lucy's eyes widened. "Seriously? That would be incredible!"

"And Sarah," Arell continued, "Venture capital is something we have planned. Who knows? Play your cards right, and you might find yourself as CEO of our investment arm someday."

The room fell silent for a moment as the possibilities sank in. Then Wang cleared his throat. "Well," he said, excitement creeping into his voice, "I suppose we have some details to iron out."

As they left the dorm hours later, contracts signed and plans in motion, Arell turned to Geoffrey with a grin. "I gotta hand it to you. You were right about this one, 3 in 1 deal just like that."

Geoffrey chuckled. "Just wait. This is only the beginning."