Eezy
The email was detailed, filled with updates on the design he had sent the team a few days ago. They were killing it, really delivering on his vision. The deal with Puma was still holding strong, and while the sales on his personal colorway hadn't blown up yet, he knew they would soon. The RS-X line was still well on its way, with solid designs for the sneakers. But Puma had been holding off on something—the launch, which wasn't really his concern, but it was interesting. What did matter was how working with Puma had given him insight into sneaker tech he hadn't known about. He'd used that knowledge to spin something new, something for Infinity.
His mind flipped through it all. The technology, the design process—it was all interconnected now. His stats were a huge part of how he approached everything. With his creativity sitting at 9/10 and his fashion stat close behind at 8/10, he was without a doubt a great designer. Considering all his stats and the speed at which they all improved, he'd consider himself overpowered. But that didn't mean he wasn't constantly working. Even if he wasn't spending hours in the studio he was still doing the system challenges, always reading books, putting more effort into the business side of things. And his unrelenting hard work paid off.
Now, with all the inspiration he'd been drawing from projects like the RS-X and even, surprisingly, Kanye's Yeezy line, Arell was able to push his own designs to a whole new level.
He tapped the screen, opening up the image the team had sent him.
[]
It was exactly what he wanted. Something new, something unique. The foreign designers they had invested in, some from Italy and Japan, had really elevated the vision. Infinity's recent buyouts of smaller, struggling companies had been strategic, too. Companies under $400k, often overlooked, but with valuable patents and talented teams that just needed the right push. It was risky, but they loved risk.
Arell smiled to himself, impressed. They'd brought in some key pieces, and the result was starting to show. +The precision of it, the attention to detail, was on point. The money Infinity had in the bank was being used wisely, invested into something with real longevity.
He swiped to the next email.
[]
An old email with previous ideas for designs. He swiped it off of the screen, his mind drifting as he thought back to the recent studio sessions he'd had, and it was wild how inspiration seemed to flow from everywhere lately. Even from Kanye, as much as he hated to admit it. That second session they'd had was different. Kanye had been cool—surprisingly so. Arell had helped out with some tracks they were working on, and it seemed like things were starting to level out between them. No awkward tension, no passive-aggressive energy. Just two people in the studio, creating.
Pharrell had been right, of course. Sometimes things just needed time. Today was no different. He had another session lined up with Pharrell to help him finish something on the Hidden Figures soundtrack, and honestly, Arell was looking forward to it. Pharrell was one of the few people in the game who understood the bigger picture of what Arell was trying to build. Working with him was always seamless, their blend of creativity just clicked.
He sighed, turning off his phone for now.
Arell glanced over at India, her hand resting gently on her stomach. Her belly was definitely getting bigger. He smiled, watching her for a moment, her face relaxed, peaceful in sleep.
He reached out, gently rubbing her belly, feeling the slight firmness beneath his fingers. It was still surreal to him sometimes—a baby on the way. But it felt right. He was used to the chaos of his world—the grind of building Infinity, the studio sessions, deals, and business. But this was grounding.
India stirred slightly but didn't wake, her body instinctively moving closer to him. Arell smiled, resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes, finally letting his mind drift.
Everything felt balanced.
<>
Arell and Pharrell were locked into their flow, the kind of creative zone where time dissolved. The piano melody they'd been working on was delicate but rich, laced with something that could either be soul or funk, depending on how they flipped the beat. Arell adjusted a filter on the drums while Pharrell hummed under his breath, his fingers dancing across the keys. The two of them clicked effortlessly, no wasted words, no confusion—just music, pure and simple.
Pharrell threw in a new chord progression, and Arell's eyebrows shot up. "Yo, loop that real quick," he said, already fiddling with the pitch on the bassline to match the new vibe. The track was building, each layer bringing it closer to something special. The way they worked, it was like playing ping pong with ideas, each bounce leading to something better.
As the track looped, they heard footsteps behind them. Kanye walked by, a coffee in hand, his eyes scanning the studio as if he was looking for something to criticize. He slowed down when he saw them, his expression unreadable.
"What y'all working on?" Kanye asked, his voice flat.
"Just playing with a melody," Arell said casually, not thinking much of it.
"Okay…" Kanye trailed off, looking down at the gear for a moment, then up at Pharrell. Arell could tell he had something on his mind.
Arell turned to Kanye. "So what you think?"
But Kanye had already moved on, fiddling with some equipment. Okay… what was that? Arell thought, his mood slightly thrown but not enough to kill the vibe. He shook his head, muttering "Aight then" under his breath and refocused on the beat.
Pharrell cleared his throat. "Hey Ye, we're just messing around with some ideas. You wanna hop in?"
Kanye shrugged, noncommittal. "Maybe later. I got some shit to handle first."
As Kanye wandered off, Arell and Pharrell exchanged a look. Without a word, they dove back into their work. Arell tweaked the sample, chopping and warping it until it was barely recognizable. Pharrell nodded approvingly, tweaking the EQ and adding in a subtle synth that tied the whole thing together. They were back in sync.
Just as they were vibing again, Dave Grohl popped in, a grin spreading across his face as he listened to the beat. "Yo, what's crackin' fellas?" he greeted, his voice easygoing. He'd been around a lot lately, and he and Arell had clicked over their shared love for mixing live instruments with digital production.
"Just messing with something new," Arell said, giving him a nod.
Dave nodded along with the beat. "That's fire."
Dave turned to Arell, his expression serious despite the smile still playing on his lips. "Hey, remember that rock-rap fusion we were talking about last time? When you're ready to make that happen, hit me up. I'm all in."
Arell nodded, excitement bubbling in his chest. "For sure, man. That's gonna be epic."
As Dave headed out, promising to catch up later, another person emerged. This time, it was Rocky, his braids swinging as he strode in.
"Yo, A$AP," Arell called out. "What's good?"
Rocky's face was uncharacteristically serious as he approached. "You heard yet?"
Arell's brow furrowed. "Heard what?"
He shoved his phone in front of Arell's face.
"What am I looking at?" Arell asked, leaning closer.
On Rocky's screen was a tweet, a group photo of Meek Mill, Rick Ross, The Game, Tyga? and a whole squad in the studio. They looked hyped, posting up like they had something to prove. The caption read:
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@MeekMill: Big moves. Something special coming for y'all soon. #DreamsWorthMore #June11th #ComingForEverything
---
Arell's stomach knotted. But he already knew this, June 11th was the day his mixtape was dropping—this was a direct shot. "So?"
Rocky's expression tightened. "Word on the street is They got a verse on a track on that album dissing you."
That got Arell's full attention. His muscles tensed. "Wait… what?"
Pharrell glanced over, feeling the tension spike. "Arell, don't—just chill."
But Arell was already heating up. "Did he say something personal?" Arell asked.
Rocky hesitated, then nodded. "From what I heard… Game said something about how he'd be a better father to your kid."
Arell's blood went from simmering to boiling in an instant. His unborn child? He won't hold back, he'd eviscerate them 1v1, 1v2, 1v3, 1v4.
It didn't matter.
"Yo, relax," Pharrell urged, his voice calm but firm. "Don't give them what they want."
But just as Arell was about to explode, Kanye—who had been circling the studio like some kind of restless hurricane—took center stage. Literally. He stood right in the middle of the room, arms spread like a preacher about to give a sermon.
"Yo, everybody listen up!" Kanye shouted, his voice cutting through the chatter, demanding attention. "Y'all been supporting me, but I need to make something clear. They tryna stop me out here! The industry been fighting me down, they trying to make more Kanyes, but there's only one Kanye. Ain't nobody doing it like me!"
The room fell silent, an uncomfortable tension settling over everyone. Kanye continued, his voice rising.
"Drake ain't gonna be Kanye. J. Cole ain't gonna be Kanye. Chance the Rapper? Nah. They wanna make more Kanyes, but they can't! Look at what I built—Yeezy, the music, the culture. They out here cloning, but they ain't got me. I'm different. I'm untouchable!"
Kanye's eyes landed on Arell. "And you, man."
"You got some talent, you can make beats. But you'll never sample like Kanye. You see this device?" He grabbed a nearby drum machine, holding it up like it was some holy relic. "You can't use this like I can! You can't use the MPC like Kanye. You can't produce like Kanye. You can't innovate like Kanye. You can't flip a sample like Kanye! You can't touch a piano and make it sing like Kanye!"
Arell's irritation hit its boiling point. The last thing he needed was Kanye's ego right now. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, but Kanye kept going.
"Yo, Arell," Kanye said, pointing at him with way too much intensity. "They made you, but they didn't make you like me. You grew up listening to me. I'm the blueprint. Without me, y'all wouldn't even be here."
Arell snapped.
"What the hell are you on about?" Arell shot back, his voice sharp, cutting through Kanye's sermon.
Kanye blinked, thrown off for a split second but then regaining his stride. "You know what I mean—"
"No, I really don't," Arell interrupted, standing up now, the heat in his voice undeniable. "No one's trying to be you, Kanye. Never in my life have I wanted to."
The room went silent. Pharrell gave Arell a look like, man, don't take the bait, but Arell was too far gone now.
"You wanna talk about people growing up listening to you? I didn't. Not once growing up did I say, 'Yo, put on that Kanye.' Not once," Arell said, staring Kanye down.
The atmosphere got tense. Even the engineers and producers who had been doing their own thing were now glued to the moment, watching the scene unfold.
"And let me tell you something else," Arell continued, his voice unwavering. "You, Timbaland, and Ty Dollar Sign straight-up stole my beat. Showed no respect, no acknowledgment. And now you wanna stand here like you're some untouchable god, telling me what I can't do?"
Timbaland, who had been sitting in the corner, perked up at his name. "Yo, hold up, that wasn't even like that—"
"Man, nah, it was exactly like that," Arell cut him off. "Y'all took my beat and didn't give me credit. You didn't think I'd notice? And now you wanna sit here acting like I can't do what you do?"
Kanye, visibly ruffled, tried to jump back in, talking over him. "You can't use the gear like me! You don't have the ear I got! You can't—"
Arell's voice rose over Kanye's. "Man, nobody is trying to be you! I'm not out here playing copycat. I'm out here doing me. I'm doing fine without needing to be 'the next Kanye.'"
The two were practically shouting over each other now, voices clashing like waves. Everyone else in the room was dead silent, watching the storm unfold. Ty Dollar Sign tried to say something, but Arell's focus was squarely on Kanye.
Pharrell stepped in, holding up his hands. "Alright, alright, everybody cool it," he said, trying to bring the situation down. "This ain't the time for this."
But Arell was done. He grabbed his jacket, shaking his head as he turned to leave. He wasn't about to sit there and listen to more of Kanye's nonsense.
"I'm out," he muttered.
Pharrell gave him a quick nod, understanding in his eyes. He knew when to push and when to let things be. "Alright. Still coming to the party?"
"Wouldn't miss it."