Fair Trade

As the night went on, the buzz around Fair Trade continued to grow. The song quickly climbed the trending charts on all major streaming platforms, and the music video views skyrocketed. Fans flooded social media with their reactions, sharing their favorite lyrics and speculating about the song's deeper meanings.

@HipHopQueen: "Arell really outdid himself with #FairTrade. The lyrics, the beat, everything is on point. This is gonna be on repeat for a while."

@RapRadar: "Fair Trade" by Arell is the song of the summer. Mark my words. 🌞🎶

@Fanatic4Life: "Arell's new track just hit different. That beat drop tho. #FairTrade"

As the clock struck midnight, marking 12 hours since the release of Fair Trade, Arell sat in his hotel room, his laptop open before him. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his face as he scrolled through the latest statistics.

The music video views had skyrocketed to 1.2 million, far exceeding their initial projections. Streams across various platforms were approaching the 2 million mark, with Spotify leading the charge. But what really caught Arell's attention was the projected Billboard Hot 100 position - industry insiders were predicting a debut around the mid-60s, an impressive feat since he was still a relatively new artist.

Arell leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The combination of his SXSW performance, the Miley Cyrus and India rumors, and now this release had catapulted his buzz higher than it had ever been. He knew the trajectory was only going up from here.

As he basked in the glow of his success, a notification popped up on his phone. Kamilah had sent him a link to the Game's Instagram, aparently he was going live. Curiosity piqued, Arell tapped the notification, and The Game's face filled his screen.

The rapper's expression was filled with anger and indignation as he addressed his audience. "Yo, check this out," The Game began. "I'm seein' all these pictures of my girl India with some new rapper. What's his name? Arell? A-rell? Whatever. Listen up, young blood. You don't know who you're messin' with."

Arell watched, his face impassive, as The Game continued his tirade. "I've been in this game longer than you've been alive, kid. You think you can just swoop in and take my girl? Nah, it don't work like that in these streets."

The threats started flowing, each more colorful than the last. "I'll beat your ass so bad, your own mama won't recognize you. You'll be drinking through a straw for months. I've got shooters in every city, so watch your back."

Despite the harsh words, Arell remained calm. He'd been through too much in his life to be rattled by empty threats from a fading star. As The Game's rant continued, Arell's phone buzzed with messages.

Geoffrey: "Don't engage. We'll handle it." Janelle: "PR nightmare brewing. Need to strategize ASAP." India: "I'm so sorry about this. It's not what you think. Can we talk?"

Arell ignored the messages for now, his attention fixed on The Game's increasingly erratic monologue. The older rapper was now challenging Arell to meet him face to face, spouting off addresses of clubs and neighborhoods in LA.

Finally, The Game seemed to run out of steam. "So what you got to say about that, A-rell? You gonna man up?"

Arell considered for a moment. He knew engaging could escalate the situation, but staying silent might be seen as weakness. He decided on a middle ground, typing out a comment that was cool and dismissive without being directly confrontational.

"I ain't beefing over no girl. I'll see you when I see you."

The Game instantly began sputtering, his anger evident as he paced back and forth, ranting into his phone. "Oh, so you think you're tough, huh? You think you can just brush me off like that? Boy, you don't know who you're messing with. I'll stomp you out so hard, they'll need dental records to identify you."

Arell's phone continued to buzz with more messages, but he ignored them, his attention still fixed on the live stream.

The Game escalated. "You think this is a joke? I got connections everywhere, young blood. You ain't safe in no city. My shooters will find you. You'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life."

Arell couldn't help but laugh. "This old head really losing it," he muttered to himself. He decided to engage just a little, but in a way that showed he wasn't taking the bait.

He typed another comment: "Bro, chill. You sound like you need a nap."

The Game's eyes narrowed as he read the comment. "Oh, it's like that, huh? You wanna play games? You wanna disrespect me? I'll catch you slippin' one day, and when I do, it'll be lights out for you."

Arell shook his head, chuckling. He typed back: "Man, I'll beat this old ass nigga. Stop embarrassing yourself on live."

The Game's rage seemed to peak at that moment. "Embarrassing myself? Embarrassing myself? You're the one who'll be embarrassed when I lay you out in front of everyone. You better stay out of LA, on my momma."

Arell couldn't resist another jab. "Guess I won't be visiting the retirement home anytime soon."

The comments section of The Game's live stream exploded with reactions, some fans egging on the beef, others calling for peace. The Game's face contorted with fury, but Arell knew he had already won this round. The older rapper was letting his emotions get the better of him.

Geoffrey's message popped up again: "Seriously, don't engage further. We'll handle it."

Arell decided to heed Geoffrey's advice this time. He closed the live stream and leaned back in his chair.

As Arell closed the live stream, his phone immediately lit up with incoming calls. He answered the conference call from Geoffrey and Janelle.

"Arell, what the hell were you thinking?" Geoffrey's voice came through, a mix of frustration and concern.

Janelle chimed in, her tone more measured but equally serious. "We need to get ahead of this, fast. The Game's not someone to take lightly."

Arell sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. I shouldn't have engaged. But he was coming at me hard."

"That's exactly why you shouldn't have responded," Geoffrey said.

Janelle agreed. "No more comments, please."

"But-" Arell started to protest.

"No buts," Geoffrey cut him off.

Arell nodded, even though they couldn't see him.

After a few more minutes of strategy discussion, they ended the call. Arell flopped back on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. Just as he was about to close his eyes, his phone buzzed again. It was India.

"Hey," he answered, his voice neutral.

"Arell, I'm so sorry about all this," India's voice came through, sounding stressed. "Can we talk? I need to explain everything."

Arell hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him. "Alright. Pull up to the hotel."

"I'll be there in 10," India said before hanging up.

Arell sighed, getting up from the bed and tidying up his hotel room a bit before India arrived. He didn't know what she wanted to say, but he was willing to hear her out. Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Arell opened it to find India standing there, looking visibly upset.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside to let her enter.

India walked in, her eyes scanning the room before settling on Arell. "Thanks for seeing me. I know this whole situation is a mess."

"Yeah, it's something alright," Arell replied, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "So, what do you need to explain?"

India took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "First of all, The Game is not my man. You know this.."

Arell nodded slowly, processing her words.

"He's just being extra because he thinks it makes him look tough or something. I didn't expect him to go off like that." India said emphatically.

"I see," Arell said, uncrossing his arms. "Look, India, we ain't even together. So, I ain't really worried about it. It's just a lot of unnecessary drama."

India sighed, a look of relief mixed with frustration crossing her face. "I know, and I feel terrible that you're caught up in this. I never wanted this to happen."

Arell shrugged. "It's all good. This kind of stuff happens on a regular. But for real, you need to handle your business with him. I don't need this kind of beef."

"I will, I promise," India said earnestly. "I just wanted to make sure you knew the truth. And... I don't want things to be weird between us."

"Things ain't gotta be weird," Arell replied, giving her a small smile. "Just keep it real with me."

India nodded, looking somewhat reassured. "Thanks, Arell. Can I ask you one more thing?"

"What's up?" Arell asked, curious.

"Can I pull up on you when you get back to Atlanta? I feel like we need to talk more in person, away from all this craziness," India said, her voice hopeful.

Arell considered for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we can do that. Hit me up when I'm back in the A, and we'll talk."

India smiled, a genuine look of relief washing over her face. "Thank you, Arell. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Arell replied, walking her to the door. "Just handle your business and stay safe."

India gave him a quick hug before leaving. "I will. Thanks again."

Arell closed the door behind India, he took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly. He returned to his laptop, glancing at the statistics again. Fair Trade was still growing in streams and views and the positive feedback was pouring in.

Feeling a bit more at ease, Arell decided to check his messages.

Young Thug: "Yo, you good, bro? Don't let that old head get to you. Focus on your grind. Proud of you."

Travis Scott: "LOL that live was wild. Keep your head up. Let's link soon."

ASAP Rocky: "Keep doing you, man. Haters gonna hate.."

The messages brought a smile to Arell's face. He continued scrolling until a message from Diddy caught his eye. Curious, he opened it.

Diddy: "Arell, you handled that situation with The Game well. But let me drop some knowledge on you. The Game, he's been around a long time. He's got his demons, and sometimes those demons come out in public. Don't engage with the nonsense. Focus on your music, your art. Let the work speak for itself. And remember, sometimes the loudest bark comes from the most insecure place. Also, I gotta say, that confidence? It's sexy as hell. Stay wise, stay focused. Hit me up if you need anything."

Arell read the message twice, raising an eyebrow at Diddy's compliment. The advice was solid, but the "sexy as hell" comment threw him off a bit.

"Huh," Arell muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. "Facts, though."

<>

As the soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated Kenny's face in the dim light of his room, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. It was well past midnight, but Kenny couldn't tear himself away from his research.

Tabs upon tabs of college websites cluttered his browser, Kenny's eyes darted from one to another, taking in the information.

He clicked on the University of North Carolina's basketball program page, his heart rate quickening as he scrolled through the impressive stats and accolades. The Tar Heels' rich history in basketball was undeniable, and for a moment, Kenny allowed himself to imagine donning that iconic Carolina blue jersey.

"Coach Roy Williams," Kenny murmured, reading the name aloud. "Man's a legend."

He pulled up Williams' coaching record, his eyes widening at the impressive list of NBA players he had mentored. The thought of playing under such a coach was both exhilarating and intimidating.

Kenny's cursor hovered over the tuition costs, and he felt a knot form in his stomach. But then, Arell's voice message echoed in his mind: "I meant every word. It's time for you to shine on that court again."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Kenny let out a soft chuckle. "Man, Arell really bout to change my life," he whispered to himself.

He moved on to Duke University's page, another basketball powerhouse. The thought of playing at Cameron Indoor Stadium, feeling the energy of the Cameron Crazies, sent a shiver down his spine. Coach K's reputation preceded him, and Kenny found himself poring over game footage of Duke's latest season.

As he watched the Blue Devils execute a flawless fast break, Kenny's mind drifted to his own playing days. He could almost feel the ball in his hands, hear the squeak of sneakers on the polished court. The muscle memory of those countless hours of practice tingled in his fingers.

A soft knock at the door jolted Kenny from his reverie. Malik's head poked in, his eyes heavy with sleep but filled with curiosity.

"You still up, man?" Malik asked, stifling a yawn.

Kenny nodded, gesturing for his friend to come in. "Yeah, just looking at some colleges. Shit's overwhelming, bro."

Malik pulled up a chair, his interest piqued. "For real? Let me see what you got so far."

As Kenny began to explain his research, Malik's eyes lit up with excitement. He leaned in, pointing at the screen.

"Yo, what about Kentucky? You know Coach Calipari's got a reputation for sending players to the NBA, right?"

Kenny quickly pulled up the University of Kentucky's page, and together, they delved into the stats and history of the Wildcats' program.

"Man, their player development program is no joke," Kenny mused, scrolling through the impressive list of NBA draft picks.

Malik nodded enthusiastically. "And look at their facilities. State-of-the-art everything. You'd be living like a king."

As they continued to explore different programs, the conversation flowed freely. They debated the merits of different coaches, analyzed playing styles, and speculated on which program would best suit Kenny's skills.

"What about expenses, though?" Kenny said, voicing the concern that had been nagging at him. "Even with Arell covering tuition, there's still a lot to consider. Books, housing, meal plans..."

Malik leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "True, but remember, a lot of these top programs offer full rides to their players. And if not, there are always scholarships and financial aid options."

Kenny nodded slowly, processing the information. "You're right. I guess I'm just not used to thinking about college as a real possibility, you know?"

Malik clapped a hand on Kenny's shoulder. "Well, get used to it, bro. This is happening. Arell's given you a golden ticket, and you're gonna run with it."

As the night wore on, they continued their research, diving deep into the world of college basketball. They compared conference standings, analyzed team dynamics, and even started a spreadsheet to track the pros and cons of each program.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Kenny finally leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. His eyes were bloodshot from hours of staring at the screen, but there was a new energy in his movements.

"You know what, Malik?" Kenny said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I think I'm really gonna do this. I'm gonna play college ball with this team."

Malik grinned, offering a fist bump. "That's what I'm talking about, man. You're gonna kill it out there."