Day in the life
"So let me get this straight," Arell said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement barely concealed beneath a veneer of professional calm. "Your patented digital textile printing technology can be used apply digital designs onto fabric using inkjet technology?"
Across from him stood Marcus Chen, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His company, DigiThread, while being a small operation had caught Arell's attention with their textile techniques.
Marcus nodded eagerly. "Exactly. It allows for high customization, you can have intricate designs and patterns printed directly onto fabrics without the need for screens or plates. You can easily customize colors, patterns, and images… its really ideal for personalized fashion items."
Arell's mind raced with possibilities. He glanced at Geoffrey, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"Alright, Marcus," Arell said, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm not gonna beat around the bush. We want to bring DigiThread into the Infinity family. Full buyout, 910k, your valuation. Plus, we want you and your team on board to keep pushing this technology forward."
Marcus's eyes widened. "That's... that's more than generous, Mr. Rose."
"Call me Arell," he replied, extending his hand. "So, do we have a deal?"
As Marcus shook his hand vigorously, Arell felt a surge of satisfaction. Another piece falling into place.
Later, as Arell walked through the design floor of Infinity's main office, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The space had a fresh buzz to it - designers hunched over tablets, fabric swatches pinned to mood boards, and the constant chatter of creative minds at work.
He spotted Aisha in her office, brow furrowed as she pored over a stack of financial documents. Arell smiled to himself. Putting her in charge of design had been a no-brainer, but having her review financials? That had raised some eyebrows. But Arell and Geoffrey knew the value of cross-training, of building a team that understood every facet of the business.
"How's it going, Aisha?" he asked, leaning against her doorframe.
She looked up, blinking as if emerging from a trance. "Oh, hey Arell. Just going over these quarterly projections. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually starting to enjoy this numbers game."
Arell chuckled. "That's what I like to hear. Keep it up - you're doing great."
As he continued his rounds, Arell's mind drifted to the upcoming performance that night. The comedy show beforehand - Katt Williams headlining, with a few up-and-comers opening - was generating serious buzz. And then, of course, there was Drake.
Arell's jaw clenched involuntarily at the thought of him Drake's self-invitation to the show had been... unexpected. On the surface, it was a coup - having one of the biggest names in hip-hop show up would only amplify the event's profile.
He pushed the thought aside as he stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the parking garage. He had promised to drive India to her photoshoot, and he didn't want to be late.
His X5 purred to life as Arell slid behind the wheel. India climbed into the passenger seat, her pregnancy barely showing beneath her flowing top.
As they pulled out onto the bustling New York street, Arell couldn't help but notice the tension in India's posture. She sat rigidly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
"Everything okay?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
India took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "There's... something I need to tell you."
Arell's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "What is it?"
"Drake texted me," she said,
The words hung in the air between them. Arell's mind raced. Drake had reached out to him about collaborating, and now he was texting India? A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
"What did you say?" Arell asked, fighting to keep his voice neutral.
"Nothing," India replied. "I... I didn't respond."
Arell frowned. "Why not?"
India turned to look at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of emotions - fear, uncertainty, defiance. "Because I know what he wants, Arell. I'm not stupid."
"You're pregnant," Arell said, as if that explained everything.
India's laugh was sharp, humorless. "Oh, like that's stopped men before?"
Arell opened his mouth, ready to let loose a torrent of irritation but then, like a bucket of ice water, the guilt hit him.
Nicki's message flashed through his mind - that damned tongue emoji that had set his blood on fire. He hadn't told India about it.
The hypocrisy of his near-outburst struck him like a physical blow.
"India," he said, his voice strained. "There's something I need to tell you too."
He recounted the incident with Nicki's message, watching India's expression shift from surprise to hurt to anger.
"Were you even going to tell me?" she demanded.
Arell's silence was answer enough.
"Unbelievable," India scoffed, turning away from him to stare out the window.
The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, the only sound the muted hum of traffic and the occasional honk of an impatient driver. As they pulled up to the studio where India's photoshoot was scheduled.
India unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but Arell gently caught her wrist.
"India, I-"
"Save it," she said. "Just... save it."
India's expression softened slightly as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"We'll talk about this later," she said, her voice low. "I'm just pissed."
As she climbed out of the car, Arell watched her go, a mix of emotions churning in his gut. He pulled out his phone, sending a quick, discreet message to his security team. India hated having them hover, but he'd be damned if he left her unprotected.
He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, merging into the traffic. As he navigated the busy streets, his mind raced, replaying the tense conversation with India over and over. The guilt gnawed at him - he should have told her about Nicki's message right away just as she should have with Drake. But a small, defiant part of him bristled at India's reaction. Hadn't he proven his loyalty time and time again?
He shook his head, trying to clear the circular thoughts. Right now, he had business to attend to.
Arell turned onto the highway, heading towards their latest real estate acquisition in East Atlanta Village.
The real estate market was booming for them, defying all expectations in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis.
Their strategy was unorthodox but effective. They already knew found the properties they wanted to target, and had their profit flips planned out. It was an aggressive approach, one that definitely raised eyebrows in more conservative circles. But with 2 months they had to make do.
As he cruised down the highway, he couldn't help but marvel at how quickly they'd been able to pull off these deals. It was irregular, to say the least, being able to move at such a breakneck pace in an industry known for its sluggishness. But then again, they were an irregular bunch.
Arell smirked to himself, remembering the looks on the faces of some of the older real estate moguls when they realized they'd been outmaneuvered by a group of twenty-somethings.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it quickly, seeing a message from Geoffrey about their latest acquisition. Arell nodded to himself, pleased. They weren't planning to hold onto the real estate company long-term - they already had Rose Capital for that. They had already started talks about selling, knowing that negotiations in this world could drag on for months.
It was a delicate balance they were striking. Their high-risk loans were funneled into their quick flips, while the more stable, long-term profit deals were backed by loans with better loan-to-value ratios. It was a strategy that made their portfolio appear more lucrative to potential buyers, many of whom were skeptical of Georgia real estate given the ongoing billion-dollar development project that was showing signs of failure after big investors like JP Morgan decided to pull out.
They didn't have a lot of equity, which meant they needed to be smart about their exit strategy. Their target sale price for the full portfolio was in the $50-60 million range, based on current appraised value plus future growth potential. Arell was confident they could hit that mark, if not exceed it.
As Arell's mind shifted to the other exciting developments on the horizon. They were officially a week away from June, which meant the mixtape drop was just around the corner - two weeks and a few days. And after that, his first tour ever.
The realization sent a jolt of excitement through him. It was all happening so fast, sometimes he had to remind himself to breathe, to take it all in like Pharell said.
Soon enough he found himself leaning back into a plush seat rather than the car seat with the hum of a crowd buzzing around him as the lights dimmed in a theater.
Sitting next to him, India was glowing, her laughter soft but genuine, after they had a long but honest conversation there was no tension between the two of them.
Katt Williams was already halfway through his set, pacing across the stage with the energy of a man much younger than his years, mic in hand, letting loose with a fresh string of biting humor.
"…so I'm thinkin' about buyin' me a self-driving car," Katt said, his voice carrying over the laughter. "Y'all got me fucked up if you think I'm gonna be in the front seat, though. Nah, I'm sittin' my ass in the back. You pull me over, officer? I have no idea what to tell you. I'm not the driver! Talk to the damn car!"
The crowd erupted, a rolling wave of laughter that filled the venue. Arell was nearly doubled over, his sides aching. India's hand was on his knee, squeezing it as she tried to catch her breath, her head tipping back as she laughed.
Katt paused, savoring the energy in the room before continuing. "And some of y'all out here look like you ain't even qualified to own a self-driving car. You ever seen a person who just got bad genes? Like, if I knew my genes were gonna make me come out the womb lookin' like a goddamn T-Rex, I might've had to reconsider my life choices—kill myself in the womb before I let that happen. Lookin' like I been extinct for 65 million years but still tryin' to buy a Tesla…"
He pointed toward a guy in the front row, his eyes scanning the audience. "Bro, don't act like I'm not talkin' about you. You sittin' up here lookin' like your ancestors fought velociraptors." The crowd lost it again as the guy in the front row couldn't help but laugh along with everyone else.
Arell wiped his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Katt had everything, sharp one-liners to full-blown stories that had the whole place in stitches.
Katt's eyes swept the room again, and then they stopped—locked on Arell. A wide grin split his face. "Wait, hold the hell up. They told me there was a rapper in here with hair as luscious as mine… Man, y'all don't understand. I walked backstage, saw this motherfucker and thought—damn, when did I get into the rap game?!"
The audience howled.
"Nah, but for real," Katt said, pacing toward the edge of the stage, "they told me it was some rapper named Arell out here. You know I had to Google him, right? Saw all these headlines—'Youngest mogul,' 'Making money faster than Wall Street,' 'Million-dollar deal.' I thought, 'This nigga must be Jewish!'"
The crowd erupted again. Katt waved a hand, pretending to be serious. "Don't get it twisted—I got love for my Jewish brothers and sisters. But y'all be moving money quick, and Arell here got the nerve to be moving faster than all of 'em. I had to check my pockets, like, 'Shit, where's my million?'"
Arell was nearly in tears. Katt's grin grew wider, and he pointed at him, wagging a finger. "But see, here's the crazy part—I looked deeper. I said, 'Alright, he's got money. He's got deals. But this nigga ain't got no chains? Where's the bling?'" Katt's voice rose an octave. "You ever seen a rapper you can't rob? This man's got no gold, no ice, no supercar. Nigga, you rob Arell, all you getting is a solid handshake and some life insurance advice!"
The laughter was deafening. Arell couldn't stop himself; he was practically doubled over, and even India, who normally didn't go for roasting humor, was covering her face with her hands, laughing despite herself.
"And see, here's the thing," Katt continued, his eyes gleaming as he paced back and forth. "Arell don't even gotta do the street shit, man. He probably the poorest richest rapper out here. You pull up on this man expecting a Lambo, he shows up in a damn Honda Accord. Meanwhile, you sittin' there like, 'Damn, how am I supposed to flex on this dude if he don't even flex on me?' It's like trying to rob a ghost—this nigga already out here living like he transcended material wealth and shit."
Arell threw his head back, laughing so hard his stomach hurt. He couldn't even be mad at Katt for roasting him; the jokes were too damn good.
Katt paused, looking around dramatically, before pointing at Arell again. "Bruh, you too damn humble. You makin' all this money, and you still look like you just came from TJ Maxx. Small ass chain, ain't no diamonds, just out here looking like you work at the damn concert instead of headlining it."
The audience screamed with laughter, and Katt wasn't done. He leaned in toward the front row as if sharing a secret. "But you know why I respect it, right? You gotta stack your paper, you got to."
Arell wiped his face, trying to recover, but the damage was done. India was shaking her head, her eyes brimming with tears of laughter. She leaned in closer, whispering through a smile, "You're never gonna hear the end of that Honda joke."
Katt wasn't done, though. "This man got his money so right, he don't even need to stunt on nobody. But I'm just saying, bro, at least get a chain with your initials or something. Damn."
Katt straightened, his eyes gleaming as he gestured grandly. "Alright, enough roastin' the richest broke nigga in Atlanta. Let me get back to the real show before y'all think I came here just to clown Arell."
Katt's set soon wound down, the audience's laughter still echoed through the theater. Arell's sides ached from the relentless barrage of jokes, but a grin remained plastered on his face. As the house lights came up and people began to file out, he made his way backstage.
He found Katt in his dressing room, a plush robe draped over his slight frame as he wiped away the last traces of stage makeup. Arell knocked on the open door, and Katt's eyes met his in the mirror.
"Well, well," Katt drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "If it ain't the richest broke nigga in Atlanta himself. Come on in, young man."
Arell stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Man, that was something else," he said, shaking his head in admiration. "You had me dying out there."
Katt turned in his chair, eyebrow raised. "Oh yeah? Even when I was roasting your ass about that Honda Accord?"
"Especially then," Arell laughed. "That shit was too real."
Katt's face split into a wide grin. "I gotta say, it's refreshing to meet someone in this business who can take a joke. Too many sensitive-ass motherfuckers out here nowadays."
"Nah, man. If you can't laugh at yourself, what's the point?" Arell settled into a nearby chair, feeling the post-show adrenaline begin to ebb. "You know, this was actually my first time at a real comedy show."
Katt's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "For real? Damn, son. You've been missing out. But I guess when you're busy building empires and shit, you don't have much time for laughs, huh?"
Arell shrugged, a touch of wistfulness creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess not."
Katt nodded, his expression growing more serious. "I hear you. Speaking of intense, how you holding up with all that Chicago beef? You been back since everything went down?"
The change in topic caught Arell off guard. He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Nah, man. Haven't been back. It's... complicated."
"Complicated, my ass," Katt scoffed. "Look, I know it ain't my place, but you gotta go back and do something for that community. That's where you came from, right? And after what they did to your grandma's grave..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Arell felt a familiar pang of guilt. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly. "It's fucked up."
"Your grandma, she was somebody, right?" Katt pressed.
Arell nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Yeah, she was big time. Especially in the church. Everyone respected her."
"Church, huh?" Katt leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You grew up in that life?"
"Used to," Arell admitted. "Haven't been in a long time, though."
Katt was quiet for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Listen, I got a friend down here running a little Bible study tonight. Nothing fancy, just some folks getting together, talking about life and faith and all that good shit. You should come through."
Arell hesitated, memories of Michèle flashing through his mind. "You know what? I might just do that. Actually, there's something I've been wanting to get a... churchy opinion on."
Katt's eyes lit up. "For real? Alright, bet. But let me tell you something right now." He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Something's gonna come up tonight. Some bullshit that's gonna try to keep you from coming. Mark my words."
Arell furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said," Katt replied, his tone deadly serious despite the hint of amusement in his eyes. "All of a sudden, out of nowhere, something's gonna pop off. Could be anything – a last-minute meeting, a girl blowing up your phone, maybe even a fucking alien invasion."
Arell couldn't help but chuckle. "Man, you wild for that. But alright, I hear you. I'll be there, come hell or high water."
"That's what I like to hear," Katt grinned, clapping Arell on the shoulder. "Now get your ass out of here. I gotta change, and you got a show to get ready for."
<>
Arell was halfway through his performance when the beat dropped, his voice cutting through the air with the raw energy that only live shows can bring. He was drenched in sweat, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins made it impossible to feel anything but the electricity of the moment.
"Yo, Atlanta!" Arell's voice rang out, piercing through the music. He paused mid-verse, pacing the stage with a grin on his face, his breath slightly ragged. "Real talk... Katt Williams had me out here earlier tonight, roasting the hell outta me. Man said I'm the richest broke nigga in Atlanta!" The audience exploded in laughter, as if they'd been waiting for the call-back.
He chuckled, pulling the mic from his lips for a second to shake his head, enjoying the wave of response from the crowd. "Yo, I gotta ask though," he continued, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. "He said I ain't got no bling, no chains or nothin'. Y'all think I need to get a chain? Should I get one?"
The crowd screamed back, a mixture of "yeahs" and a few scattered "nos,".
Arell tilted his head, letting the moment hang. "Maybe," he teased. "Maybe I'll get one. Maybe I'll stay broke. Who knows?" His grin widened, the crowd loving every second of it.
He glanced over at the DJ booth, giving a nod to the man standing there.
"But before we jump back in, y'all gotta show some love to my brother up there on the decks tonight," Arell said, his voice taking on a more personal tone. "This right here, this is Devon. Known him since day 1—childhood, to be real with you. This is his first time DJing for me on a show, so y'all make some noise for my man!"
The arena responded with thunderous applause and cheers, and Devon gave a sheepish wave from behind the booth. Arell smiled, proud and affectionate, before turning back to the crowd.
"Alright, Atlanta, enough talk—let's get back to it. Y'all ready?"
The beat dropped again, harder this time, and Arell dove straight into the next song.
<>
India leaned back in her seat, the VIP section providing a perfect view of the stage where Arell performing.
Beside her, Geoffrey leaned forward, casually sipping his drink, but his eyes were glued to the stage as well. India turned to him, her smile still in place.
"He barely spends a dime on himself, you know that?" she mused, a hint of amusement in her tone. "All this money and the man still only has one chain and barely any jewelry."
Geoffrey chuckled, shaking his head. "He's never been one for the flashy stuff." He paused, setting his glass down on the table. "But trust me—he'll spend once he gets what he's making from this tour."
India raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how much are we talking?"
Geoffrey glanced over, a small grin tugging at his lips. "At least two million by the end of it. Maybe more."
India's eyes widened in surprise, though she quickly masked it with a nod. "Two million?"
"Easily," Geoffrey confirmed, leaning back in his seat.
India fell silent, her gaze drifting back to Arell as he moved across the stage.
"What was he like, growing up?" India asked, her tone curious. "Before all of this?"
Geoffrey leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with forced fondness. "Arell was always about family. Real loyal, real dependable. He'd do anything for the people he cares about. And he loves racing, maybe not when he was younger but he loves it even more than he does basketball now. He'd spend hours talking about engines, about getting into street races."
India smiled, picturing Arell as a kid, wide-eyed and full of dreams. They both grew up in Chicago but she hadn't known him back then, but hearing these little stories from Geoffrey made her feel closer to him somehow. And it sparked an idea—a gift for his birthday. Cars, family, animals, books… it gave her a starting point.
As she was lost in thought, Geoffrey's voice broke through. "You're thinking of a gift, aren't you?"
India chuckled softly, nodding.
Geoffrey gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about the price or the flash. With Arell, it's all about the meaning behind it. You'll figure it out."
India nodded, feeling grateful for the advice. Geoffrey stood, excusing himself to go check on something backstage, leaving her alone in the VIP section for a moment. She didn't mind the solitude, though—being in the crowd, even surrounded by people, still felt like a moment to herself. She watched as the energy of the room continued to swell with each song, the crowd completely under Arell's spell.
But a few minutes later, someone approached her table. India noticed him immediately—a tall man, dressed in an oversized jacket with a recognizable OVO owl stitched on the front. As he got closer, she realized it wasn't just any random person from Drake's crew. It was Baka Not Nice and India felt a small knot form in her stomach before he even opened his mouth.
"India, right?" Baka said, his voice smooth, the hint of a Toronto accent clear. He leaned in slightly, a friendly smile on his face. "Drake told me to come say what's up. He's just in the next section with the crew. Wanted to see if you'd like to come join us for a bit."
India blinked, her heart beating just a little faster. Part of her had known this moment would come—Someone like Drake wouldn't exactly take "no response" for an answer. And now, here was Baka, the invitation hanging between them, tempting her in a way she wasn't prepared for.
Baka grinned, sensing her hesitation. "We got bottles coming through, and Drake wanted to personally meet you. He thinks you're cool. You'd be more than welcome to come hang. No pressure, just good vibes."
India bit her lip, torn. On one hand, the idea of hanging with Drake and his crew was tempting—who wouldn't want to be in that circle, even just for a night? The exclusivity of it, the allure, the chance to be around people like that… it was hard to resist. Part of her wanted to go, wanted to see what it was like to be in that world, even for a little while.
But then there was the other part of her. The part that knew how these things played out. She wasn't naive. She knew what would happen if she went over there. Drake wasn't just "inviting her to hang."
She hesitated, caught between wanting to say yes and feeling as if she probably shouldn't.
Baka could tell she was conflicted. He leaned in a little closer, his voice persuasive. "Come on, India. You don't have to sit here by yourself. Drake's been wanting to meet you for a minute. You'd have a good time. We'd take care of you—nothing crazy. Just chill."
India's fingers drummed against her knee as she thought about it. The pull of temptation was real. Part of her wanted to just say screw it and go, to be a part of that scene, to enjoy the night without thinking too hard about the consequences. It was Drake, after all. But the other part of her—the part that valued loyalty and the peace she had with Arell—was louder.
"I don't know…" she started, her voice trailing off. "I'm just trying to relax tonight, you know? Plus, I'm waiting for someone."
Baka didn't seem phased, his grin still firmly in place. "It's no big deal. You can relax with us. You'd be in good company, I promise."
India felt a strange mix of temptation, curiosity, and a sense of guilt. She didn't want to be rude, and she definitely didn't want to offend someone like Drake, what if it blew back on Arell? But at the same time, she didn't want to go. She wasn't sure if it was out of loyalty to Arell or a desire to avoid a situation that would definitely get complicated. Maybe it was both.
Just as she was about to respond, Geoffrey returned, stepping into the space like a guardian angel at the perfect moment. His presence immediately put her at ease.
"Everything good over here?" Geoffrey asked, his tone light but with an unmistakable authority behind it.
India let out a small breath, grateful for the interruption. "Yeah, just talking to Baka here. Drake wanted me to come hang with them, but I'm good here."
Geoffrey gave a polite nod to Baka, his expression friendly but firm. "Appreciate the invite, my friend, but she's all set for now."
Baka smiled, though there was a hint of something in his eyes—maybe frustration, maybe disappointment. But he wasn't about to push it. "Alright, cool. Just thought I'd extend the invite. Y'all know where we are if you change your mind."
India nodded, offering a polite smile as he turned and walked away. She watched him go, a tension still swirling inside her. When she turned back to Geoffrey, he was watching her closely, his expression calm.
"You alright?" he asked.
India nodded, exhaling slowly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just… wasn't expecting that."
Geoffrey smiled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. "You handled it well. It's not easy saying no to people like that."
India forced a small smile, though inside, she was still processing everything.