Not Cho

DJ Khaled's face filled the screen, his expression intense. "We the best music!" he shouted, then fell silent, staring into the camera for a long, dramatic moment.

"Let me tell you something," he said finally. "This young king, Arell Rose, he just dropped a freestyle that's gonna change the game. I'm talking seismic shifts, you feel me?"

He stood up suddenly, camera shaking as he moved. "But before we get into that, let me show you something." The view switched to the infinity pool, waves lapping gently against the edges. For a solid twenty seconds, Khaled said nothing, just letting the camera linger on the water.

"You see that?" he finally broke the silence. "That's that infinity pool. And you know what? Arell Rose, he's got that infinity mindset. We doing infinity things by the infinity pool!" He chuckled at his own wordplay.

Turning the camera back to his face, Khaled's expression grew serious. "Now, let's talk about this freestyle. Arell, he brought in some of his Infinity label artists. We're talking Juice, XXX, Ski Mask. These young kings, they're the future. Legacy"

Khaled pulled out his phone, scrolling through it with exaggerated concentration. "Let me read you some of these lyrics. Juice WRLD, he came in hot. Listen to this:

'If Rose blooms in this bitch, watch the petals unfold…

Studio's my garden, bars grow when they're told….'"

Khaled's eyes widened, looking directly into the camera. "You hear that? He's talking about growth, about blooming. It's like... it's like he's a florist, but instead of arranging flowers, he's arranging bars." He nodded sagely.

"You know what else he said? Listen to this." He said as he read out another line of lyrics.

"'Four doors to a two-door, I'm paradoxin'

Oxymoron flow, clean as fuck but I'm toxin'"

He paused, staring off into the distance for an uncomfortably long time before snapping back to attention. "Now, I don't know much about geometry, but I know bars when I hear 'em."

"And then, check this out. XXXTentacion, that's Spanish for temptation, I would know since I just got back from the coast of Spain, beautiful beaches, beautiful women. But listen, XXXTemptation comes in with:

'Rough tire on your neck, leave tread marks

Red beam on your chest, Rudolph in the dark'"

Khaled paused, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Now, you might think he's just talking about cars and Christmas, but it's deeper than that. It's about..." He trailed off, looking deeply into the profound meaning. "It's about how life can be rough, like a tire, but also bright, like Rudolph's nose. Its simple, but layered, complexed, intricate. You feel me?"

"You know what else he said." He asked, staring into the camera lens. "He said:

'Beat a pussy nigga up, call that cat scratch fever'

And I'm like, yo! That's that Ted Nugent joint! But nah, he flips it. He's talking about beating... you know what, never mind. We keeping it positive out here!"

He stood up again, this time walking towards a rose bush in his garden. "And Ski Mask, oh man, Ski Mask The Slump God came through with the alphabet flow. He said:

'A-game I bring to the booth

Bodies I leave on the roof'

Big moves that I'm countin' like Sesame Street

Durag, waves deeper than Fleet

Big E-T engery, pikachu'

Khaled gently plucked a rose from the bush. "See, Ski Mask, he's bringing his A-game, just like how I'm bringing you this A-grade rose." He handed the rose to his confused-looking maid who had just walked into frame. "This is from Arell Rose, because we give roses out here. Bless up!"

Turning back to the camera, Khaled's face grew serious again. "Now, let me tell you something. I've known Arell had potential since he started rapping last year. Remember that track he dropped, Love Sosa? Oh my goodness!" He nodded confidently.

"But you know what? It's not just about the music. It's about opening doors, creating opportunities. Some people in the game, they might be throwing shots, but we don't play that. We're all about positivity, about lifting each other up."

Khaled's face suddenly lit up. "Oh! Speaking of lifting up, let me show you something." The camera shook wildly as he jogged over to his home gym. For the next thirty seconds, the stream showed nothing but Khaled's heavy breathing as he attempted to lift a dumbbell that was clearly too heavy for him.

Finally giving up, he turned back to the camera, slightly out of breath. "See, that's what Arell's music does. It lifts you up, even when you think you can't go any higher."

Walking back to his poolside chair, Khaled settled in for his conclusion. "So here's what I want you to do. Go stream Arell's music. Buy his merch. Support these young kings. Because when they win, we all win."

He leaned in close to the camera, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "And remember, they don't want you to win. But guess what? We gon' win more!" He flashed a grin.

"This is DJ Khaled, we the best music. And Arell Rose? He's another one. Bless up!" With that, he ended the stream, the final frame freezing on his beaming face.

Just another day in the life of DJ Khaled.

<>

Arell pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the penthouse window, his breath fogging the pristine surface as he gazed out at the New York City skyline. The temptation gnawed at him, a relentless itch he couldn't scratch. Nicki Minaj's new message burned in his mind - a simple tongue emoji that set his lust aflame. If it wasn't for Geoffrey's quick thinking, snatching his phone away at the first sign of trouble, Arell didn't know what he might have replied back with.

Turning from the window, Arell called out, "India? You up for a walk?"

India's voice drifted from the bedroom. "Again? You're like a puppy that can't sit still."

Arell chuckled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Come on, we barely scratched the surface last time. Plus, the fresh air will do us both good."

A moment later, India appeared, her hand resting gently on the swell of her belly. "Alright, alright. But you're buying me one of those giant pretzels from that cart on the corner."

As they made their way to the elevator, Arell's mind drifted to Meek Mill's recent jabs on social media. The irony wasn't lost on him - Meek throwing shots while his girl was sliding into Arell's DMs. Though, from what he'd seen, Diddy seemed to have a large piece of Meek's pie than Nicki did.

Soon, they were cruising through the city streets, the tinted windows of their SUV offering a semblance of privacy.

"You've been quiet," India murmured, her thumb tracing circles on his skin. "Everything okay?"

Arell hesitated but then in that moment Cam's voice cut through the silence.

"Yo, check it out! There's something going down over there."

Arell's attention snapped to where Cam was pointing. A basketball court, swarming with people, Without thinking, he instructed the driver to pull over.

As they approached the crowd, recognition rippled through the gathering. Excited whispers of "Is that Arell?" spread like wildfire.

"Y'all chill," he said to the security already itching to step out, a grin spreading across his face. "Let's see what's poppin'."

A young man with sharp eyes and an easy swagger stepped forward, extending his hand. "Yo, Arell Rose in the flesh! Welcome to the Woo, G."

Arell clasped his hand, feeling the strength in his grip. "Good looks on the welcome. What's the scene here? Everything cool?"

The young man's chest puffed with pride. "Course it's safe, this is big Woo, not Cho. We handle our business right." He paused, a flicker of something - recognition, maybe even a touch of vulnerability - crossing his face. "For real though, I fuck with your music heavy. That Freestyle joint? Straight fire."

Arell nodded, genuinely touched by the praise. "Appreciate that, for real. You spit yourself?"

The young man, who could be no older than 16, eyes lit up. "Nah not really. But they call me Pop AKA big Smoke Oh Guap around here."

"Word?" Arell's interest piqued. "What's good with the music scene around the Brooklyn?"

Pop gestured broadly at the crowd. "We got talent all over, but no real way to get it out there, you feel me? Studios cost bread, I got some but all the homies ain't got it like that."

"Who's the producer, though? Y'all gotta have somebody laying down beats, right?" Arell asked, scanning the group, curious to see who was really behind their sound.

One of Pop's boys stepped forward, tall, lanky, wearing a beat-up Yankees cap turned backwards.

"Yeah, that's me, i'm Jay," Jay said, scratching the back of his neck, a little nervous now that Arell had turned his attention to him. "I mean, we got some stuff—Mac, a couple of decent mics, decent mixer but we make it work."

Arell frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to visualize the setup.

"Word?" Arell said, glancing back at Pop. "That's what y'all working with?"

Pop shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, but we ain't complainin'. We just tryna do what we can with what we got."

Arell tapped his chin thoughtfully, he looked back at Geoffrey, who had been quietly observing from the side.

"Yo, hold up," Arell said, pushing off the car and straightening up. "I'ma see if I can do somethin' about that."

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "You know equipment is expensive, right?"

Arell shot him a grin, feeling the excitement build in his chest. "Yeah, but you know what? I'm gettin' the same vibes I got from Malone."

Geoffrey's expression softened with understanding.

"Alright," Geoffrey said, nodding. "If you're getting that feeling, then we'll do it right. Let's make sure we get them some solid gear."

They checked for the nearest music equipment store. Geoffrey was already making calls, ensuring they could grab what they needed quickly.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a specialty music store tucked away on a side street. The inside smelled like fresh electronics and dusted cardboard, shelves lined with everything from guitars to high-end studio mics. Arell and Geoffrey walked in, taking in the scene, and were immediately greeted by a sales rep, who seemed more than eager to help.

"Lookin' for anything in particular?" the rep asked, his eyes lighting up when he recognized Arell. "Yo, you're Arell Rose, right? Man, I gotta say—Freestyle? Fire."

"Appreciate that," Arell replied smoothly. "We're lookin' for some studio gear."

The rep nodded eagerly, already leading them toward the back of the store where the higher-end equipment was displayed. As they moved through the aisles, Arell's eyes caught on a pair of studio monitors that looked overpriced, and then a few more items that had inflated price tags.

"This is way too high," Arell muttered to Geoffrey, shaking his head. "They trying to finesse people out here."

Geoffrey chuckled softly. "It's New York. Everything's overpriced."

Arell sighed but kept moving. They grabbed what they needed—some high-quality mics, a solid mixing board, a MIDI controller, headphones, and a few other essentials like music theory books.

When it came time to check out, Arell felt the familiar pang in his chest as the total flashed on the register. He had to remind himself, it wasn't about the money—it was about the principle. He hated how overpriced everything was.

As he swiped his card, he couldn't help but feel a little pain as the number drained from his account. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Good thing to give, right?"

Geoffrey shot him a knowing look but said nothing. He understood what this meant to Arell. Sometimes, giving back was the only way to move forward.

When they pulled back up to the court, the energy was still buzzing. Pop and Jay were waiting, along with others from their crew. The looks on their faces when they saw the SUV roll up with the equipment were priceless.

"Yo, what's all this?" Pop asked, his eyes wide as he took in the gear being unloaded.

"Your new setup," Arell said casually, tossing Jay a box of cables. "You said you needed better equipment, right?"

Jay's jaw dropped as he saw the brand-new gear being unloaded. "Yo, this is crazy..."

"Don't say nothin'," Arell replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Just make sure y'all use it right. And don't forget to give back when it's your turn."

He handed Pop his number, but before letting it go, he locked eyes with him, the seriousness of his expression cutting through the excitement. "Listen, don't be givin' out my number to nobody."

Pop nodded quickly, tucking the slip of paper into his pocket. "I got you, bro. No worries."

"Hit me up when y'all get somethin' down. I wanna hear it."

Pop and Jay nodded, still clearly overwhelmed by the whole experience. As they pulled away, Geoffrey leaned over and gave Arell a sideways glance.

"You know, you didn't have to do all that," Geoffrey said, his tone soft but firm.

"Yeah, I know," Arell replied, watching the taillights disappear down the street. "But it felt right. Sometimes you just gotta give back. As Marsha said, its God's plan."

Geoffrey nodded thoughtfully. "Just don't expect it to always pay off."

Arell chuckled, leaning back in his seat as they headed back toward the city. "Yeah, I'm not. But you never know. Sometimes, the right people show up when you least expect it."