บท 89: Florida
Kenny rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. "Man, shut up. You know I can walk, right?"
"Yeah, but why walk when you can ride in style?" Malik chimed in, gesturing dramatically at the wheelchair.
The nurse helped Kenny stand, and he took a few tentative steps. "See? Good as new. Well, almost."
Arell moved to Kenny's side, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "For real though, how you feeling?"
Kenny shrugged. "Been better, been worse. Doc says I'm good to go, long as I take it easy."
"Perfect timing," Arell said. "We're headed to Florida. First plane out."
Kenny's eyes widened. "For real? Damn, I go down for a bit and y'all start jet-setting without me?"
Malik laughed. "Trust me, it wouldn't be the same without you. Now come on, let's get you home so you can pack."
The trip to the airport was a blur of last-minute packing and excited chatter. Before they knew it, they were touching down in Miami, the Florida heat hitting them like a wall as they exited the plane.
A convoy of SUVs was waiting for them, courtesy of Craig. As they drove through the city, Arell couldn't help but press his face against the window, taking in the sights. The towering palm trees, the gleaming high-rises, the endless stretch of blue ocean - it was a world away from what he was used to.
"Yo, this place is something else," Arell muttered, pressing his face against the tinted window as they passed a group of bikini-clad rollerbladers.
Kenny, still moving gingerly, nodded in agreement. "For real. Makes Chicago look like a small town."
In the back row, Tariq and Jamal were engaged in a heated debate about which beach they should hit first, while Devon sat quietly, his eyes glued to his phone.
As they turned onto Ocean Drive, the full spectacle of South Beach came into view. The wide, sandy expanse was dotted with colorful umbrellas and bronzed bodies, while the turquoise waters of the Atlantic stretched endlessly to the horizon.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Malik grinned, nudging Arell. "We gotta get out there ASAP."
The convoy wound its way through the city, eventually turning onto a private road that led to their destination. As they approached the massive gates of Villa Azure, a collective gasp went up from the group.
The villa was a masterpiece, all clean lines and gleaming glass, perched on a cliff overlooking a secluded stretch of beach. As the gates swung open and they pulled into the circular driveway, Arell couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed.
"Goddamn," Tariq whispered from the second SUV as they all piled out. "Craig really went all out."
Geoffrey was already conferring with the villa's staff, ensuring everything was in order. The rest of the group, however, was too busy gawking at their surroundings to worry about logistics.
The interior of the villa was even more impressive than the exterior. The main living area was a vast, open-plan space with soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered panoramic views of the ocean. A massive flat-screen TV dominated one wall, while plush sofas and armchairs were arranged to take advantage of both the view and the entertainment system.
"This place is bigger than the apartment block." Jamal marveled, running his hand along the smooth surface of a marble countertop in the kitchen.
As the others explored the villa, Arell and Geoffrey stepped aside for a quiet word.
"So, we're still on to meet Juice today, right?" Arell asked, his voice low but relaxed.
Geoffrey nodded, checking his watch. "That's right. I figured we'd head over there soon. You remember the rundown I gave you about him?"
"Yeah, yeah," Arell replied, a hint of excitement in his tone.
Geoffrey smiled, pleased at Arell's enthusiasm. "Good. And just to confirm, you remember we've got the two fashion shows coming up? First one's tomorrow, second one's in five days."
"Got it," Arell said with a nod. "Anything else I need to know before we head out?"
"Nothing major," Geoffrey replied. "Just remember, this is Juice's home turf. Let's keep it respectful. His mother will be there too."
Arell grinned. "No worries, man. I know how to act around people's mamas."
Geoffrey chuckled. "I'm sure you do. Alright, let's gather Cam and Rashard and head out."
They made their way back to the group, Arell calling out, "Yo, Cam, Rashard! We're rolling out in five. The rest of y'all, behave yourselves while we're gone."
Arell, Geoffrey, Cam, and Rashard made their way out of the villa and into one of the waiting SUVs. As they pulled away from the property, Arell couldn't help but feel nervous. This was unfamiliar territory, both literally and figuratively.
As they pulled into a modest neighborhood, where the houses were small, tidy homes with well-kept yards. Children played in the streets, their laughter carrying on the warm Florida breeze.
"This is it," Geoffrey said as they pulled up to a single-story house with a small porch. The lawn was neatly trimmed, and a basketball hoop stood in the driveway.
As they approached the front door, Arell felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. He was acutely aware of his diamond pendant, his designer clothes. This was a world he'd left behind, but one that still felt familiar in many ways.
Before they could knock, the door swung open. A woman in her early forties stood there, her eyes widening as she took in the group on her porch.
"Mrs. Wallace?" Geoffrey stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Geoffrey. We spoke on the phone."
The woman's face broke into a warm smile. "Of course, Geoffrey! Please, come in. And you must be Arell," she added, turning to him.
Arell nodded, offering his most charming smile. "Yes, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you."
As they stepped inside, Mrs. Wallace called out, "Jarad! Your guests are here!"
There was a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by a teenage voice. "Coming, Ma!"
Mrs. Wallace turned back to the group, looking slightly embarrassed. "He was still asleep. You know how teenagers are."
Arell chuckled. "No worries, Mrs. Wallace. I'm still a teen as well."
She ushered them into the living room, a cozy space filled with family photos and well-worn furniture. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water? Lemonade?"
As they settled onto the couch, Arell couldn't help but notice a framed photo on the side table. It showed a younger Juice, gap-toothed and grinning, holding up a trophy.
"That's from his first talent show," Mrs. Wallace said, noticing Arell's gaze. "He won first place with a rap he wrote himself. He was only ten."
Before Arell could respond, there was a commotion from the hallway. Juice appeared, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, his hair a wild mess.
"Ma! Why didn't you tell me they were here already?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in the group in his living room.
Mrs. Wallace sighed. "Jarad Anthony Higgins, go put some clothes on this instant."
Juice disappeared back down the hall, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
Arell couldn't help but laugh. "He seems... energetic."
Mrs. Wallace shook her head, but there was fondness in her eyes. "That boy... I swear, he'd forget his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders."
A few minutes later, Juice reappeared, this time fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His eyes were bright with excitement as he approached Arell.
"Man, I can't believe you're really here," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I've been listening to your stuff non-stop. That track you did with Traivs? Fire, man. Absolute fire."
Arell grinned, feeling a surge of pride. "Thanks, man. I hear you've got some skills yourself."
Juice's face lit up. "You wanna hear something? I've been working on this new-"
"Jarad," his mother interrupted gently. "Why don't we let our guests sit down and relax first? I'm sure they're hungry after their trip."
As if on cue, Arell's stomach growled. He realized he hadn't eaten since the plane.
Mrs. Wallace disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a plate piled high with sandwiches. "It's not much," she apologized, "but I hope it'll tide you over."
Arell took a bite of a sandwich, his eyes widening in surprise. "Mrs. Wallace, this is delicious. Thank you."
As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. Juice peppered Arell with questions about the music industry, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. Arell found himself drawn in by his energy and genuine passion for music.
"So, Arell," Mrs. Wallace said during a lull in the conversation. "Geoffrey mentioned you might have some plans for Jarad?"
Arell nodded, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. "Yes, ma'am. I've heard some of his work, and I think he's got real potential. I'd like to sign him to my label, help him develop his skills and get his music out there."
Mrs. Wallace's eyes filled with tears. "You have no idea what this means to us. Jarad's been working so hard, and I've always believed in his talent, but..." she trailed off, overcome with emotion.
Juice put an arm around his mother's shoulders. "Ma, don't cry. It's all good."
Arell felt a lump form in his throat.. "Mrs. Wallace," he said softly, "I promise you, I'll do right by your son. This isn't just business for me. I see something special in Jarad, and I want to help him share that with the world."
Mrs. Wallace dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Thank you, Arell. And please, call me Carmela."
As the afternoon wore on, Arell found himself feeling more and more at ease in the Wallace home. Juice showed him some of his notebooks, filled with lyrics and ideas for songs. Arell was impressed by the depth and complexity of the young rapper's work.
As they left Jarad's house, Arell turned to him with a grin. "So, you wanna go meet..uh.. Stokeley now?"
Jarad's eyes lit up. "For real? Yeah, let's do it!"
They said their goodbyes to Carmela and headed out to the SUV where Cam and Rashard were waiting, vigilantly scanning the area.
During the drive, Jarad enthusiastically filled them in on Stokeley. "Stokeley's insanely talented, man. We've been making music together for a while now. And he's got this friend - I can't remember his name right now - but he's supposed to be fire too."
They pulled up to Stokeley's house, a modest home similar to Jarad's. Stokeley's family welcomed them warmly. His mother, Jacqueline, greeted them at the door with a warm smile.
"Come in, come in," Jacqueline ushered them inside. "Stokeley's been talking non-stop about you all coming."
Stokeley appeared from his room, his face breaking into a wide grin when he saw Jarad and Arell. "Yo! You made it!"
Arell extended his hand to Stokeley. "Good to finally meet you, man. Jarad's been singing your praises."
They all gathered in the living room, where Stokeley's younger brother, Raheem, was playing a video game. Stokeley's stepfather, Tramaine, joined them, shaking hands with Geoffrey and Arell.
As they chatted, Arell couldn't help but notice the family photos on the walls - Stokeley at various ages, always with a mischievous grin on his face.
After spending some time with Stokeley and his family, Arell suggested they go meet Stokeley's friend. "You said he's got skills too, right?" Arell asked.
Stokeley nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, for sure. Jahseh's... different, you know? But in a good way."
As they prepared to leave, Jarad decided to stay behind with Stokeley. "We'll wait on you guys here," Jarad said. "Stokeley and I have some beats we want to work on."
Arell nodded, understanding the creative pull. "Alright, we'll pick you up later."
As they drove to meet Jahseh, Geoffrey leaned over to Arell. "Just a heads up, this kid's had a rough go of it. Might be a bit... unpredictable."
They pulled up to a run-down apartment complex. The paint was peeling, and several windows were boarded up. A group of young men loitered near the entrance, eyeing the SUV suspiciously.
Arell took a deep breath, reminding himself of where he came from. This scene wasn't unfamiliar to him, even if it felt like a lifetime ago.
They made their way to a unit on the second floor. The door was slightly ajar, and they could hear muffled voices and the bass of a heavy beat from inside.
Arell knocked, and the music abruptly cut off. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Jahseh. He was shorter than Arell expected, with distinctive tattoos and an intense gaze that seemed to look right through him.
"You Arell?" Jahseh asked, his voice gruff.
Arell nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you, man. Heard you've got some serious talent."
Jahseh scoffed. "Talent? You don't know shit about me or my music."
Arell, taken aback by the hostility, tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, no disrespect intended. I'm just here to listen, you know?"
But something in Arell's tone must have rubbed Jahseh the wrong way. Without warning, Jahseh lunged at Arell, his fist aimed squarely at Arell's face.
Arell, thanks to his quick reflexes, managed to dodge the punch. But Jahseh wasn't done. He came at Arell again, this time tackling him to the ground.
They hit the dirty floor hard, kicking up dust and grime. Arell could feel the anger radiating off Jahseh as they grappled. For a moment, Arell was transported back to his own past, to fights in alleys and parking lots.
But Arell was bigger and stronger. Using his weight advantage, he managed to flip Jahseh over, pinning him to the ground. Jahseh struggled, his face contorted with rage, but Arell held firm.
"Yo, chill out!" Arell shouted, his voice echoing in the cramped apartment. "I'm not here to fight you, man!"
Jahseh continued to struggle for a few more moments before finally going limp. His chest heaved as he glared up at Arell.
Arell, still holding Jahseh down, looked into his eyes. He saw anger there, yes, but also pain, fear, and a desperate need to prove himself. It was like looking in a mirror from a few years ago.
"Look," Arell said, his voice softer now. "I get it, alright? You've got reasons to be on edge. But I'm not here to judge or disrespect you. I'm here because I believe in your talent."
Jahseh's glare softened slightly. "You don't know me," he said, but some of the fight had gone out of his voice.
"You're right, I don't," Arell agreed. He slowly released his hold on Jahseh and stood up, offering his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Jahseh took it, allowing Arell to help him up.
They stood there for a moment, covered in dust and grime, sizing each other up. Then Arell cracked a smile. "Man, you've got a mean right hook."
This unexpected comment seemed to break the tension. Jahseh's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
"Look," Arell continued, "we're heading back to my place. Why don't you come with us? No pressure, just a chance to hang out, maybe make some music. What do you say?"
Jahseh hesitated, looking around the cramped apartment. Arell could see the conflict in his eyes - the desire to seize an opportunity warring with the instinct to protect himself.
Finally, Jahseh nodded. "Aight. But I'm not promising anything."
As they drove away from Jahseh's apartment, Arell turned to him, his expression thoughtful. "You live alone in that place?"
Jahseh tensed up slightly, his eyes narrowing. "What's it to you?"
Arell held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Just asking, man. No judgment here."
Looking at Jahseh, Arell couldn't help but see a reflection of his younger self - always on edge, ready to fight at the slightest provocation. It reminded him of a time not so long ago, when he was in a similar state of mind. A memory surfaced, of a woman who had helped him during one of the darkest periods of his life.
Cook County Jail, 2013
Arell sat in a small, sterile room, his hands cuffed to the table in front of him. His face was bruised, evidence of the fight he'd been in just hours before. The door opened, and a woman in her late forties entered, her kind eyes contrasting with the harsh surroundings.
"Hello, Arell," she said, taking a seat across from him. "I'm Jenny. I heard you had quite a day yesterday."
Arell remained silent, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind her.
Jenny didn't seem bothered by his lack of response. She opened a file in front of her and began to speak in a calm, measured tone. "I see here that this isn't your first altercation since you've been here. Want to tell me what happened?"
Arell's jaw clenched, but he remained silent.
Jenny leaned forward slightly. "Arell, I'm not here to judge you or get you in trouble. I'm here to help. But I can't do that if you won't talk to me."
Something in her tone made Arell finally meet her eyes. "What's there to talk about? Someone came at me, I defended myself. End of story."
Jenny nodded. "I see. And how did that make you feel?"
Arell scoffed. "Feel? It's not about feelings."
"Is it?" Jenny asked gently. "Or is it about something more?"
For the first time, Arell's stoic facade cracked slightly. "What do you mean?"
Jenny smiled softly. "Arell, I've been doing this job for a long time. I've seen a lot of young men like you come through here. Strong, tough, always ready to fight. But what I've learned is that often, the toughest exterior hides the deepest pain."
Arell's eyes widened slightly, then quickly narrowed again. But Jenny had seen the flicker of vulnerability.
"I have something for you," she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out two books - a small, leather-bound Bible and another book titled "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen Covey.
"I know you might not be interested in reading right now," Jenny said, "but I think these could help you. The Bible, well, that's for your spirit. And this other book, it's about understanding yourself and others better. About living a more effective, fulfilling life."
Arell looked at the books skeptically but didn't refuse them.
Jenny continued, "Arell, I believe you have so much potential. But to realize it, you need to start dealing with what's inside you, not just reacting to what's outside."
For the first time since she'd entered the room, Arell's expression softened slightly. "Why do you care?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny's eyes filled with compassion. "Because every life has value, Arell. Including yours. Especially yours."
As the memory faded, Arell found himself back in the present, looking at Jahseh. He saw in the young man's eyes the same pain, the same anger he had once carried.
"Look, Jahseh," Arell said softly, "I know you don't know me, and you've got no reason to trust me. But I've been where you are. I know what it's like to feel like the world's against you, like you've got to fight just to survive."
Jahseh's expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.
Arell continued, "I had someone who believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. She helped me see that there was more to life than just surviving. That I could actually live, you know? Create something meaningful."
Jahseh was silent for a moment, then asked, "And how'd that work out for you?"
Arell gestured around them. "Well, I'm here, aren't I? Making music, trying to help other artists. It's not perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better than where I was headed before."
<>
After Arell's conversation with Jahseh, they returned to the villa where the others were waiting. Geoffrey watched with approval as Arell introduced Jahseh, Stokeley and Jarad to Kenny, Devon, Malik, Tariq and the rest of the group.
As everyone got acquainted in the living room, Arell noticed the grand piano. Feeling inspired, he sat down, his fingers hovering over the keys. The others gathered around, curious to see what he could do. He took a deep breath, centering himself.
"Give me a topic," he said.
Jahseh spoke up. "How about... change?"
Arell nodded, letting the word sink in. He mumbled to himself,
"Change... adapting... growing up..." His fingers began to dance across the keys, a soft melody emerging. As he played, he started to sing, his voice rich and soulful, drawing everyone in.
"I wouldn't say I even changed...
But they be like "Yo, you changed"
Nah, I wouldn't even say I changed
I wouldn''t even say I changed, Nah
I just elevated, rearranged
I just grew up, rearranged..."
The words flowed from him, painting a picture of a young man navigating the complexities of fame and fortune while trying to stay true to himself. His voice, though not classically beautiful, had a raw authenticity.
"Still the same kid from the block... Just with more zeros in my stock...
Nineteen, feelin' like I've lived a hundred lives…
Nineteen with a vision that's twenty out of twenty
Don't need many friends, my circle's encrypted
Rather be alone than with souls conflicted…
Imagine a rose growing through concrete
Now picture that rose with infinity petals, each one unique
That's me at right now, wisdom beyond my years
They think I''m new money, nah, I'm old soul, new fears"
As he sang, Arell could almost see the scenes he was describing. He thought about his own journey, the challenges he'd faced, and how he'd grown.
"Laid back, chillin', that's my style...
Could ball out, but I'm low-profile...
"Yo, you really made it out"
I say, "Nah, I brought it with me"
"But you''re different now, no doubt"
I say, "Same tree, different fruits, G"
I wouldn''t even say I changed, I evolved
Like how water becomes vapor, but it''s still H2O, problem solved
Still shopping thrift, mixed with designer thoughts
A walking paradox, simple yet complex, connect the dots
Still got love for the corner store, Loyal to my soil, bruh
Million in the bank, but I still bargain hunt….
'Cause value ain''t in the price tag, that''s what my grandmomma taught me once"
He paused, his fingers still on the keys, letting the last notes hang in the air. The room was silent for a moment, everyone caught up in the emotion of the song.
Then, without warning, Jarad jumped in. His voice was different from Arell's - higher, more melodic, with a hint of vulnerability. He started to freestyle, picking up where Arell left off.
"Yeah, I'm changing every day... Feels like I'm losing my way... Same soul, different frame…. Same heart, different game… Mama said be careful... But these demons, they don't play fair, no..."
As Jarad continued, his words became more introspective. He rapped about feeling lost, about wanting to numb the pain, about the fear of success and the even greater fear of failure.
"Got the world in my palm, but I'm scared to hold on... What if I fall? What if it's all gone…. Five missed calls, girl, I ain''t pickin' up…..You know the deal, we just here to….
Blunt after blunt, numbin' all the feels
You playin'' games, I''m just tryna chill
Sent a message to God, asked him 'bout you
He left me on read, guess he confused too
Your love''s a labyrinth, I''m lost in the haze
Moonlight''s our spotlight, we''re actors on stage…Rather be alone than with fake humans…."
The others listened in rapt attention, caught up in the raw honesty of Jarad's words. Even Geoffrey, who had been chatting with Stokeley, turned to watch, a look of surprise on his face.
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