Interlocking
"Bro, I really appreciate y'all for everything," Austin said, his voice carrying that Texas drawl. "Like, for real, I don't even know where I'd be without all this." He gestured around the studio, a sheepish grin crossing his face. "These concerts been giving me bread I didn't even know was possible. And I still can't believe you let me keep 100% of the earnings."
Arell waved a hand dismissively, leaning forward slightly. "Don't even mention it. You're out here working, putting in the time, the effort—that's what matters. I just want you to win, bro. It's the least I can do."
Austin chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, seriously, it's crazy. Like, White Iverson hit #81 on the Billboard Hot 100. That's my first track, bro. First song I ever put out. The only song I ever put out."
Arell leaned back with a grin, a glint of pride in his eyes. "That's 'cause you're poppin', Austin. You've got a whole lane for yourself out here. People connect with your sound—it's real, it's different."
Austin grinned, but then nodded toward Arell, a more serious look crossing his face. "Man, look at you talkin' me up when you're the one goin' crazy. You're the one that's out here killin' it. Flex is still sittin' at #10, Fair Trade is at #6—probably gonna break top 5 by next week—and Freestyle is still holdin' at #16. You're everywhere right now, bro. The streets, the radio, the charts… You gotta be up for Best New Artist at the BET Awards or MTV, especially after they slept on you at the Billboards."
Arell laughed, shaking his head. "I don't even care about all that. Awards are cool, but they don't make the music better or worse."
Austin nodded, but his smile didn't fade. "Still, you gotta take that in, bro. You're at the top of your game right now."
Arell leaned back, his hands running through his hair, which he had to get braided again. The truth was, Austin wasn't wrong. Things were moving faster than he could've ever imagined when he first started, but he kept it all in perspective. Success was fleeting—one minute you're on top, the next you're yesterday's news.
As Austin strummed a few more notes, Arell's mind wandered briefly to the night before. He hadn't even told anyone, but he'd ended up going to that Bible study Katt Williams had invited him to. It was a last-minute thing, and while Arell had expected it to be awkward or intense, it had actually been kind of nice. Katt had warned him something would pop up to try and distract him, and while Arell wasn't exactly superstitious, he had to admit—Katt wasn't wrong.
Sure enough, just as Arell was getting ready to head there, he got an offer—some quick money for an appearance at some rich person's birthday party. Normally, Arell would've taken it as it was only a quick meet and greet, but the money wasn't something he needed anymore. He was past that. Plus, after hearing what had gone down with India and Baka, he was already feeling irritated enough to make the decision to skip meeting Drake entirely. The way he saw it, if Drake couldn't respect him enough to avoid his girl, there was no point in faking the vibe. Drake was now officially in his "dislike" book. For now.
But the church thing? That was different.
The pastor that night had been funny as hell, though. Arell wasn't expecting to laugh, but there he was, chuckling at the pastor's stories. There was one in particular—something about the pastor trying to evangelize to a rich businessman back in the day. The pastor had been young, eager to spread the gospel, but when he approached the guy talking about showing him "the glory of God," the businessman had laughed and said, 'Boy, come taste my glory—just look at the size of my yacht.'
The whole room had burst out laughing, and even Arell found himself grinning. The pastor had been embarrassed back then, but now, he told the story with pride, using it as a lesson about humility. He joked about how trying to preach to rich folks could sometimes make you feel like the joke. It wasn't what Arell had expected from a church setting, but that was part of what made it memorable.
The night had been good for Arell. He didn't even end up asking the questions he had about Lamy and that whole situation. It wasn't necessary. Sometimes, it was better to just let things breathe. He'd gotten the distraction he needed, the laughter he hadn't expected, and it was enough for now.
Still, Arell couldn't linger in that space for long. He had moves to make. He was flying out to LA tomorrow for the music video shoot for Psychedelic, one of the standout tracks from his upcoming mixtape, maybe even his favorite. Arell had a vision for the video that he wanted to bring to life. Artsy, surreal, experimental—that was the vibe. And when it came to artistic direction, Pharrell was the only person Arell trusted besides his own self to help bring it all together.
Pharrell had lined up everything for the shoot, including Nigo, the legendary founder of BAPE, which he didn't even know until recently, and Rocky. Rocky wasn't listed as a feature on the song, but his voice was all over the hook, and his presence in the video was essential. With Pharrell and Nigo involved, the video would have that blend of avant-garde style and hip-hop grit that Arell loved.
"You really 'bout to be everywhere, huh?" Austin's voice cut through Arell's thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Austin was grinning, clearly in awe of the moves Arell was making.
Arell shrugged, trying to keep it humble, but a small smirk played on his lips. "I'm just tryin' to do my thing, man. Make the art I wanna make."
"Man, you more than doin' your thing," Austin said, standing up and stretching. "You out here buildin' companies. I'm just tryna make sure I don't get left behind."
Arell laughed, shaking his head. "Ain't no one getting left behind. We all winning out here."
Austin chuckled, clearly grateful for the reassurance. "For real, though—thanks for everything, bro. I wouldn't be here without you, man. Y'all promoted White Iverson like it was a damn platinum single, and now look where it's at."
"White Iverson is that track," Arell said, standing up and dapping Austin up. "You made that shit, bro. We just gave it the platform."
Austin nodded, a little sheepish but clearly grateful. "I guess," he said with a laugh. "Still, I appreciate it."
Arell smiled, but his mind was already moving ahead.
"Alright, man, let's run this one more time," Arell said, nodding toward the track they'd been working on before the conversation shifted. He needed to get the music right before everything else. The art always came first.
<>
Arell eased his car into park outside Pharrell's mansion in Laurel Canyon, the last light of the day casting a warm, golden glow over the hills. The drive up had given him time to think—about everything, really. India was with her parents now, and the studio work with Austin had been smooth, but this visit felt different.
As he stepped out of the car, the cool L.A. evening breeze hit him, carrying a strange calm. Pharrell's house loomed ahead, modern but understated, much like Pharrell himself—artistic but never over the top. Arell adjusted his hoodie, the fabric settling over his shoulders as he walked up to the front door.
Before he could even knock, the door swung open.
"My man!" Pharrell beamed, pulling Arell into a hug that felt more like a warm welcome than a simple greeting. Pharrell always had this energy about him—like you were stepping into another world where everything moved slower, more deliberate.
"Good to see you, bro," Arell said, dap-hugging him back. He stepped inside, his eyes taking in the spacious living area that opened up like a gallery. Art pieces lined the walls, records and collectibles everywhere. The vibe was pure Pharrell.
"I'm glad you came through," Pharrell said, leading him inside. "We got everything lined up for the shoot, but tonight… tonight's all about just catching up, man."
"Yeah, I'm here for it," Arell said, already feeling that calm settle in.
As they moved through the house, Pharrell gestured toward the kitchen where a tall, striking woman stood pouring herself a glass of wine.
"This is Helen," Pharrell introduced. "My better half."
Helen smiled warmly, stepping forward. "Finally, we meet. Pharrell talks about you all the time."
Arell shook her hand, slightly taken aback by her genuine warmth. "It's a pleasure," he said, appreciating how down-to-earth she seemed. For someone who was married to Pharrell, she carried herself with quiet grace, not the star-struck awe you'd expect.
They talked briefly, and soon enough, Pharrell's son, Rocket, came bounding into the room with a ball in his hand. Pharrell scooped him up with ease, his smile never fading.
"This little man right here," Pharrell said, laughing, "is the future of all this."
Rocket grinned shyly, waving at Arell before scampering off, leaving the adults to their conversation.
As they made their way deeper into the house, Arell noticed someone sitting by the large window, sipping tea. His eyes widened slightly, recognizing him immediately.
"Nigo?" Arell couldn't help the surprise in his voice.
Nigo looked up, flashing that quiet, knowing smile of his. "Arell Rose, right?"
"Yeah, man," Arell said, reaching out to shake Nigo's hand. "Damn, I didn't expect to meet a legend today."
Nigo gave a small laugh, his voice soft but filled with warmth. "I've heard a lot about you. Pharrell's been talking about your sound, your vision. It's good to finally meet."
"Same here. I grew up dreaming of wearing BAPE, so this is wild," Arell admitted, feeling a bit starstruck for the first time in a long time.
Pharrell chuckled. "Yeah, Nigo and I've been working on some stuff for a minute now. You know how it is—music, fashion, culture. It's all connected."
Arell settled into the living room, already feeling the creative energy buzzing. The conversation flowed easily—about music, about life, about the vision they had for the music video. Pharrell and Nigo were tossing ideas back and forth, and the excitement in their voices was infectious.
After an hour of talking about locations, color palettes, and visual direction, Pharrell stood up, that glimmer of excitement in his eyes again.
"You know, we've been talking about this project for months," Pharrell began, pacing slightly as if preparing for a reveal. "And throughout all of it, I've been thinking about how far you've come, man. You told me about your grandmother, your crew, how tight y'all were. That stuck with me."
Arell sat forward, his interest piqued.
"So, I wanted to do something special," Pharrell continued. "Nigo helped, Jacob & Co. came through with the craftsmanship, and Louis Vuitton joined in recently, mostly just to cover the bill." He chuckled at that last part, but Arell could see the sincerity in his eyes.
Pharrell gestured toward the coffee table where a sleek black gift bag sat, the Louis Vuitton logo glimmering faintly in the low light.
"You didn't have to, man," Arell said, shaking his head slightly. "This is too much."
Pharrell smiled softly, shaking his head. "Nah, I wanted to."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a black velvet box. Arell leaned forward, and when Pharrell opened it, he was hit with a flash of brilliance that took his breath for a second.
Inside was a chain like none he had ever seen. The centerpiece was a strange mix of a clover and a abstract infinity symbol, the surface encrusted with small white diamonds that shimmered like stars against the polished metal. But that wasn't what got him. Within the curves of the symbol were interlocking figures—crafted from brushed gold and diamonds—each holding a different musical instrument. Their exaggerated features, oversized heads, and afros gave them a cartoon-like vibe, but there was a warmth to it that made Arell smile instantly.
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Each figure represented people from his life, Geoffrey, Malik, Kenny…. His grandmother even. The ones who had been with him through thick and thin. The ones who mattered most.
"Man…" Arell breathed out, staring at the chain. "This is crazy."
Pharrell grinned, clearly pleased. "You like it?"
"Like it? Bro, this is… I don't even know what to say." Arell turned the chain over in his hands, the weight of it settling into his palms.
"Those figures," Pharrell explained, leaning in, "that's you and your people, man. I know how much they mean to you, how much your past shapes what you do. I wanted you to have something that keeps that close."
Arell just stared at the chain for a moment longer, feeling the weight of it in more ways than one. He wasn't one to get choked up, but this hit different. It wasn't just flashy or cool—it was meaningful.
"You nailed it, man," Arell said, voice quiet but full of gratitude. "For real, this is… I don't even have words."
Pharrell clapped him on the shoulder, beaming. "I'm glad, bro. I used one of my concept models for a chain I had in mind, but this—it's all you."
As Arell stood up, Pharrell reached back into the bag. "And there's more," he added with a grin. He pulled out a few more pieces—rings, bracelets, a couple of smaller pendants.
"Louis Vuitton sent over these," Pharrell said. "Rings, bracelets, chains. The whole set. Nothing crazy, just enough to keep you flexin'. About 100K worth."
Arell laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You all really went all out, huh?"
Pharrell chuckled. "Man, that chain alone cost 400K. But you helped me finish Hidden Figures early, and the bonuses I got from that covered it easy. This is barely a dent."
Arell slipped the chain around his neck, the cool metal settling against his skin. He caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror and smiled.
Nigo stood up, nodding approvingly. "It suits you," he said softly.
Pharrell pulled out his phone and started recording as Arell admired the rest of the pieces.
"Gotta get this on camera, man," Pharrell laughed, zooming in on Arell's reaction. "This is too good."
<>
The evening in Pharrell's home had wrapped up on a high note. Arell was still feeling the weight of the chain around his neck as he settled into the backseat of a blacked-out SUV.
As they pulled into the shooting location, Arell was still replaying the last few hours in his head. What he found strange was LV contributing to Pharrell along with the set of Jewelry they sent, the offer from LV only came just weeks ago so in order to foot the bill they likely had their eyes locked on Arell for some time now. Though, he was very much pleased by the show of goodwill and it certainly would make negotiations all the more intriguing.
The van came to a stop outside a secluded spot in L.A.—an old industrial building decked out with enough futuristic set design to make it feel like the end of the world. The van they'd been working on—wrapped head to toe in Gucci—was parked in the middle of the lot, with crew members swarming around it. On top of the van, a group of extras dressed in post-apocalyptic gear loitered, ready for the next scene. Dust swirled in the evening light, and the place had a gritty, surreal atmosphere that matched the vibe Arell was going for.
Pharrell was already there directing some of the design team. Rocky stood just off to the side. Arell stepped out of the car and adjusted his hoodie, taking it all in.
"Yo, Arell!" Rocky called out, walking over. His braided hair swung as he moved, and his oversized Gucci jacket added to the post-apocalyptic streetwear vibe they had going on.
"What's good, man?" Arell dapped him up, the energy between them easy and natural.
Rocky grinned, glancing up at the van wrapped in Gucci. "Bro, this shit is good. Y'all really out here making some art."
"You already know how Pharrell gets down," Arell chuckled.
Pharrell wandered over. "Alright, fellas," he said, clapping his hands together. "We're gonna shoot the van scene first. Arell, you're driving. Rocky, we need you on top for a couple of shots, then you're hopping off, going down the stairs, and boom—we hit you with that close-up."
Rocky nodded, still grinning. "Bet. I'ma be shining my teeth in that camera like a damn spotlight."
Pharrell laughed. "Exactly, that's the energy we need. We'll add some more gold in post, really make them pop. Then, once you hit the stairs, we're gonna have the diamonds on the carpet, right? Like they're falling from the sky. We'll get a few cuts of that, and then move to the next spot."
Arell nodded, trying to picture how it would all come together. It was one of those things that sounded chaotic as hell on paper but woul look incredible once he and Pharrell's team worked their magic in post-production.
"Also," Pharrell added, glancing over at some of the crew. "Before we start, I want you to meet some of the design folks helping us out with the visual concepts."
He motioned for two people to come over—a guy with neon-dyed hair and a woman in an oversized vintage jacket, both of them looking like they'd stepped straight out of a high-fashion editorial.
"This is Kai and Lena," Pharrell said. "They've been working on the set design, costumes, all the visual flair. I think you guys will vibe."
Arell shook hands with them, exchanging quick introductions. He liked their energy—they seemed passionate but easygoing, already talking about how the Gucci-wrapped van had been a crazy idea but ended up pulling the whole set together.
Kai was talking excitedly about a possible extra shot when Pharrell leaned closer to Arell, dropping his voice. "You know, we're doing a studio session tomorrow too. Just a little something before the final edit of the video."
Arell raised an eyebrow, sensing something more. "Oh yeah? Who's pulling up?"
Pharrell smiled, a little too casually. "Kanye's coming through."
Arell's face tightened just for a second, but he tried to play it cool. Kanye.
There was history there, and not the good kind. Arell still remembered the time Kanye had snatched his beat a without so much as a nod to where it came from. Arell had moved on, but hearing that name still sparked something in him. Not anger, exactly—more like irritation.
Pharrell caught the flicker in Arell's expression and raised a hand in defense. "I know, I know. Y'all got some history, but hey—this is about the art. You don't have to do anything crazy. Just thought it could be an interesting session, you know?"
Arell shrugged, not wanting to disrespect Pharrell, but also not feeling it. "I'll think about it," he said, keeping his voice neutral.
Pharrell grinned, patting him on the back. "No pressure, man. Just wanted to throw it out there."
Arell nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere. He wasn't about to pretend like everything was cool with Kanye, but at the same time, he wasn't trying to burn bridges. Pharrell was a good friend—hell, more like family—and he didn't want to cause any unnecessary drama. Still, he had to be real with himself. The idea of being in the same room as Kanye wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to.
Before he could dwell too much on it, one of the production assistants called out that they were ready to start shooting.
"All right, let's get this thing rolling," Pharrell said, his focus shifting back to the task at hand. "Arell, hop in the van. Rocky, you're up top."
The set burst into motion, the crew moving like clockwork as everyone took their places. Arell climbed into the driver's seat of the Gucci-wrapped van, adjusting the mirror as he watched the extras in their post-apocalyptic gear scrambling into position on the roof. The camera crew was setting up on all sides, and Pharrell was giving quick instructions to everyone involved.
"Action!" Pharrell's voice rang out, and the scene snapped to life.
Arell drove forward slowly, the van lurching as the extras on top waved flags and posed in their ragged gear. Rocky was up there, striking a pose with his arms out, balancing like he was on top of the world. The camera followed them, catching every detail, every movement.
"Rocky, teeth to the camera!" Pharrell called, and Rocky flashed that grin, his gold tooth catching the light just right. The camera zoomed in, capturing the moment before they cut to the next scene.
Arell watched as they reset, moving to the next angle—Rocky hopping off the van and making his way down a set of industrial stairs. Pharrell was in his element, calling out directions, adjusting the lighting, making sure every shot was perfect. Arell couldn't help but respect the man's vision. Pharrell saw things other people didn't.
Between shots, Pharrell leaned over to Arell again. "I know you're still on the fence about the session tomorrow," he said, his tone casual but probing. "But honestly, it could be dope. You and Kanye in the same room making music—that's history in the making."
Arell sighed, leaning back against the van. He didn't want to let Pharrell down, but at the same time, he wasn't about to force himself into something he didn't vibe with.
"I hear you," Arell said. "I just don't know if I'm there yet, you know? But I'll think on it."
Pharrell nodded, understanding. "No worries, bro. Whatever you decide, it's all love. We'll keep building either way."
The shoot continued late into the evening, the sun dipping below the horizon and the city lights flickering to life in the distance. They wrapped up the van scene, then moved onto the diamond-covered stair shot.
As the crew started packing up, Arell found himself standing next to Rocky, both of them watching as the set slowly dissolved into the night.
"You really gonna skip that session with Ye tomorrow?" Rocky asked, raising an eyebrow.
Arell smirked, crossing his arms. "Man, you know how it is. I ain't trying to force nothing. But maybe. We'll see."
Rocky chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I feel you. Do what you gotta do, bro. Either way, you already winning."
Arell nodded, his mind still playing through the decision. He wasn't one to hold grudges, but he wasn't about to ignore his gut either.