บท 102: Fashion Show Pt: "Bye Bye"
"So, about that video," Arell murmured, his voice low as they navigated through the crowd of Miami's elite.
Geoffrey's eyes gleamed with calculated intent. "Send it to Akademiks," he replied, his tone measured. "But not yet. We'll wait for the right moment to make our move."
Arell nodded, trusting Geoffrey's strategic mind. As they found their seats, he scanned the room, taking in the dazzling array of celebrities and industry bigwigs. His gaze landed on a familiar face – J. Cole, looking sharp in a tailored suit.
Making his way over, Arell exchanged a warm handshake with Cole. "Good to see you, man," he said, genuine appreciation in his voice.
Cole grinned. "You too, bro."
They fell into an easy conversation, discussing music and life, their laughter blending with the ambient chatter of the venue. As the lights dimmed and the show began, Arell found himself captivated by the spectacle unfolding on the runway.
Models glided past in a blur of vibrant colors and avant-garde designs, each outfit more stunning than the last. The creations of Ágatha Ruiz de la Prada, Rene Ruiz, and Fernando Alberto Atelier transformed the catwalk into a living, breathing work of art.
As he watched, Arell couldn't help but notice India's absence. She had texted earlier, claiming to be under the weather. A pang of concern tugged at his heart, and he made a mental note to check on her after the show.
The familiar scent of expensive cologne wafted towards him, and Arell turned to find Pharrell Williams approaching.
Pharrell cleared his throat, his usual confidence tempered by a hint of remorse. "Arell, man. Can we talk?"
Arell nodded, gesturing to an empty seat beside him.
"Look," Pharrell began, his voice low. "I wanted to apologize for what went down in the studio. That wasn't cool, and you didn't deserve to be sidelined like that."
Arell studied Pharrell's face, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he felt the knot of resentment in his chest begin to loosen. "I appreciate that."
Pharrell's shoulders relaxed visibly, relief washing over his features. "We good?"
"We're good," Arell confirmed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Emboldened by the olive branch, Pharrell leaned in, his eyes sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. "Listen, we should hit the studio again. For real this time. No distractions, just pure creativity."
Arell's smile widened, but he shook his head regretfully. "I'm actually heading back to Atlanta tomorrow."
Pharrell's face fell for a moment before brightening again. "No worries, man. I've got a few shows coming up in Atlanta. We could link up then?"
"Absolutely," Arell agreed. "Hit me up when you're in town."
The glittering chaos of the fashion show swirled around Arell, a dizzying blend of music, laughter, and the constant flash of cameras. That was asurprisingly pleasant conversation with Pharrell and just as his mood was somewhat uplifted was when he spotted a formidable entourage cutting through the crowd like a shark through water. At its head, unmistakable even in this sea of celebrities, was Diddy.
Arell's stomach clenched. He wasn't ready for another Diddy encounter. But before he could make his escape, Diddy's booming voice cut through the ambient noise.
"Arell! My man!"
Diddy strode up, his designer suit impeccably tailored, a gleaming watch catching the light on his wrist. Without warning, he clapped a hand on Arell's shoulder, the force of it making Arell stumble slightly.
"We didn't get to party properly last time," Diddy said, his grin wide but his eyes sharp. "You and me, we gotta fix that. Tonight's the night, yeah?"
Arell's mind raced, searching for an excuse, any excuse. "Actually, I—"
Diddy's grip on his shoulder tightened, just shy of painful. "Come on, don't tell me you're bailing again. That ain't cool, man."
"Someone tried breaking into my mansion," Arell blurted out, the lie coming to him in a flash of desperate inspiration. "I got the call nnot long ago. I gotta head back, sort some stuff out."
Diddy's eyebrows shot up, his hand finally dropping from Arell's shoulder. "Damn, that's rough. You sure you don't want to party first? Might help take your mind off things." He leaned in close, his breath hot on Arell's ear as he whispered, "I could show you how to really relax, if you know what I mean."
A shiver of disgust ran down Arell's spine. He forced a smile, taking a step back. "Thanks, but I really need to handle this. Rain check?"
Diddy's eyes narrowed for a moment before his face split into another wide grin. "Alright, alright. But don't keep me waiting too long, young blood. Da- Diddy's got plans for you."
As Diddy sauntered away, Arell let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He turned to Cam, who'd been watching the exchange with barely concealed concern.
"Man, that was intense," Cam muttered. "You good?"
Arell nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Yeah, I'm good. Just ready to get out of here."
They fell into an easy conversation about the models they'd seen on the runway, a welcome distraction from the unsettling encounter with Diddy. But their respite was short-lived.
"Arell?"
He turned to find Nicki Minaj standing there, resplendent in a form-fitting dress that sparkled under the venue's lights. Arell blinked, caught off guard by her sudden appearance.
"Uh, hey," he managed, trying to keep his tone casual. "What's up?"
Nicki's eyes darted around before settling back on him. "Craig told me to come talk to you. Said we should link up in the studio."
Arell's brow furrowed, what exactly was Craig planning with this?
Was this another setup? Another 'opportunity'?
"I appreciate that," he said slowly, "but I won't be here much longer. Heading back to Atlanta tomorrow."
Nicki cocked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Hmm, when are you coming to New York then?"
Arell shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. "Honestly, it's not really in my plans right now."
"I see," Nicki mused. Without warning, she reached out and plucked his phone from his hand. Her fingers flew over the screen as she spoke. "Well, let me give you my number. We'll make plans."
Before Arell could protest, she handed the phone back, her number now saved in his contacts. As she started chatting about her recent music releases, a thought niggled at the back of Arell's mind.
"Why is she so friendly, isn't she with Meek Mill?" he wondered silently, his brow furrowing. But then Diddy's unsettling words to Meek echoed in his memory 'Punish him', casting a shadow of doubt over everything.
Nicki's voice faded into the background as Arell's thoughts drifted to India. Her absence tonight, her recent distance - it all felt off somehow. He nodded mechanically as Nicki talked about her latest single, "Feeling Myself," but his mind was elsewhere.
As Nicki sauntered away, Arell found himself adrift in a sea of glitz and glamour. The rest of the fashion show passed in a blur of haute couture and air kisses. By the time the final model left the runway, Arell was more than ready to leave this world behind.
"I'm done with all this," he muttered to Cam as they made their way out of the venue. "Let's go check on India."
The drive to the warehouse where India was prepping for her own show was mercifully quick. As they pulled up, Arell felt a mixture of anticipation and unease settle in his stomach.
Inside, the warehouse hummed with pre-show energy. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and makeup stations were scattered throughout the space. Arell spotted India sitting with her sister Crystal, their heads close together in intense conversation.
As he approached, India's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Arell! I didn't expect you here."
There was something in her voice, a tremor that hadn't been there before. Crystal shot her sister a pointed look before excusing herself.
"Just wanted to check on you," Arell said, studying India's face. "You need anything?"
India bit her lip, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Actually, could you grab my handbag from the makeup room? It's the black one on the table."
"Sure thing," Arell replied, sensing the tension in her voice.
He made his way to the makeup room, easily spotting the black handbag on a cluttered table. But next to it, something else caught his eye. A small, white envelope with a medical logo stamped on the corner.
Curiosity got the better of him. Arell picked up the envelope, his heart racing as he slid out the contents. It was a printout of some kind, filled with medical jargon, but one word jumped out at him: "PREGNANT."
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Arell stared at the word, his mind refusing to process its implications. He blinked hard, as if the action might erase what he'd seen. When he looked again, the word remained, undeniable on the crisp white paper.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he hastily shoved the paper back into the envelope. "Other people use this room," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding hollow in the small space. "It could be anyone's."
But even as he formed the thought, his eyes fell on India's bag, sitting innocently on the table. Next to it lay a small orange prescription bottle, its label facing him like an accusation. Prenatal vitamins.
Arell's hand trembled as he reached for the bottle, turning it over in his palm. The name on the label swam before his eyes: India Westbrooks.
A wave of nausea washed over him, but he pushed it down, desperately clinging to denial. "There has to be another explanation," he thought, his mind racing. "Maybe she's holding them for someone else. Maybe..."
But each rationalization felt flimsier than the last. Arell set the bottle down, his movements mechanical as he grabbed India's bag. The weight of it in his hand felt impossibly heavy.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the makeup room and back into the bustling warehouse. The noise and activity hit him like a physical force, India sat where he'd left her, her face a mask of nervous anticipation.
"Here's your bag," Arell said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.
India took it, her eyes searching his face. "Thanks," she said softly. "How are you feeling? You look a bit pale."
Arell forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "I'm alright. Just tired, I guess. How about you? Feeling better?"
They fell into a stilted conversation, discussing his upcoming return to Atlanta and her preparations for the show. But beneath the surface of their words, an undercurrent of tension crackled between them. Arell found himself hyper-aware of India's every movement, searching for signs of... what? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
As they talked, a dark cloud seemed to descend over Arell's thoughts. Each laugh, each casual touch from India felt loaded with hidden meaning. He found himself studying her body, looking for changes he might have missed. Was her stomach slightly rounder? Were her cheeks fuller? Or was his imagination running wild?
"Is there anything you need?" Arell asked, his voice catching slightly. "Anything I can get for you?"
India hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "No, I'm okay. Actually, Arell, there's something I need to tell you..."
But before she could continue, Arell blurted out, "I saw some medication in the makeup room. Next to your bag."
India's face paled, her eyes widening. Arell felt his stomach drop, the last shreds of his denial slipping away.
"They're not yours, right?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.
India opened her mouth, clearly about to lie, but something in Arell's expression stopped her. She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears.
"They are," she admitted softly.
Arell felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He gripped the edge of the table, steadying himself as a wave of nausea washed over him.
"Why-" he started, his voice cracking. He took a deep breath, forcing the words out. "Why do you need pregnancy medications?"
India's silence was answer enough. Arell's mind raced, pieces falling into place with sickening clarity. The missed calls, the distance between them, her absence from the fashion show - it all made terrible sense now.
"You're pregnant," he said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.
India nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Yes."
Arell's heart hammered in his chest, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. But one thought cut through the chaos, sharp and painful.
"It's not mine," he said, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "We always used protection. It can't be-"
"It is yours," India interrupted, her voice steady despite her tears. "Remember that night when you were smoking? You were pretty out of it, but... it happened."
The memory hit Arell like a freight train. Flashes of that night came back to him - the haze of weed and something stronger, India's skin against his, a moment of reckless abandon. He'd been too high to think about protection, too caught up in the moment to care.
The realization left him reeling. He stumbled back, bumping into someone behind him. It was Crystal..
"Arell? Are you okay?" Crystal asked, placing a steadying hand on his arm.
But Arell couldn't respond. The world around him had faded to a dull roar, India's words echoing in his head. Pregnant. His. A baby.
"What the fuck," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. Without thinking, he turned and stumbled away, ignoring Cam's calls as he pushed through the warehouse doors and into the cool night air.
The SUV loomed before him, a dark sanctuary from the chaos swirling in his mind. Arell yanked the door open and collapsed into the backseat, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His hands shook as he fumbled for his phone, muscle memory taking over as he dialed Geoffrey's number.
The line rang once, twice, before Geoffrey's voice cut through, tinny and distant over the sounds of the fashion show still in full swing.
"Arell? What's wrong?"
"She's pregnant," Arell blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush. "India. She's... she's..."
"Pregnant?" Geoffrey's voice sharpened. "Are you sure?"
Arell nodded, forgetting for a moment that Geoffrey couldn't see him. "Y-yeah," he stuttered. "I saw... there were papers, and pills, and... fuck, Geoffrey, what do I do?"
There was a pause, filled only by the muffled bass of the fashion show music and Arell's ragged breathing. When Geoffrey spoke again, his voice was calm, measured.
"This is unprecedented," he said slowly. "But we'll figure it out. For now, just try to calm down. Take deep breaths."
Arell tried to follow Geoffrey's instructions, forcing air into his lungs in long, shuddering breaths. "What the actual..." he muttered, trailing off as he struggled to process the magnitude of the situation.
"Go back inside," Geoffrey urged gently. "Talk to India. We'll deal with this together, but right now, you need to be there."
The call ended, leaving Arell alone with his thoughts. For a long moment, he sat motionless, staring unseeing at the warehouse doors. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up and out of the SUV.
Each step back towards the warehouse felt like wading through molasses. Arell's mind raced, a jumble of fragmented thoughts and half-formed questions.
India and Crystal stood where he'd left them, their faces etched with concern. Cam hovered nearby, his expression filled with confusion and worry. Arell approached slowly, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
"Are... are you sure?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
India nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sure, Arell. I've known for a few days now."
Arell nodded mechanically, struggling to form coherent thoughts. "And... what... I mean, what are we..."
"We've been thinking," India began hesitantly, exchanging a glance with Crystal. "About... getting an abortion."
The word hit Arell like a physical blow. "Abortion," he repeated, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "An abortion."
Crystal stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. "You're both only 19," she said. "Neither of you is ready for this kind of responsibility."
She paused, a hint of dark humor creeping into her tone. "Though I bet it would do wonders for the show's ratings."
But Arell barely heard her. The word 'abortion' echoed in his mind, growing louder with each repetition. As he stared at India, her face began to blur, morphing into another familiar visage – his grandmother's.
Suddenly, he was no longer in the warehouse, but sitting on the worn couch in his grandmother's small living room. He was younger, maybe twelve or thirteen, listening as she spoke in her slow, measured way.
"You see, baby," she said, her eyes distant with memory, "your parents, they were scared when they found out about you. Young, broke, not sure how they'd manage. They thought about... ending it."
Young Arell frowned, not fully understanding. "Ending what, Grandma?"
His grandmother's eyes focused on him, filled with a love and sorrow. "The pregnancy, child. They thought about not having you."
She leaned forward, her weathered hands clasping his. "But I talked to them. Reminded them of God's plan, of the precious gift of life. You see, Arell, every life is sacred. From the moment it begins, it's a miracle."
She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Think of it like a seed," she continued. "When you plant a seed, it doesn't look like much. Just a tiny speck in the dirt. But that seed holds all the potential of a mighty oak tree. It just needs time, nurturing, love."
Her eyes bore into his, intense and unwavering. "That's what a baby is, Arell. A seed of potential. To end that... it's like pulling up the seed before it has a chance to grow. Before you can see the beautiful tree it might become."
The memory faded, and Arell found himself back in the warehouse, India's concerned face swimming into focus before him. The weight of his grandmother's words pressed heavily on his mind, but as he looked at India's tear-stained face, he found himself hesitating.
"What do you want?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the warehouse.
India's lower lip trembled, her eyes searching his face as if looking for an answer there. "I... I don't know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm scared, Arell. We're so young, and our careers are just taking off, and I..." She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself as if for protection.
Arell felt his heart constrict at the sight of her vulnerability. The word 'abortion' echoed in his mind, his grandmother's voice mixing with India's fears. He opened his mouth to speak, to say 'no,' to argue against it, but the word caught in his throat.
Instead, he heard himself saying, "An abortion..." The word hung in the air between them, loaded with implications and unspoken emotions. Arell trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
A heavy silence fell over them, broken only by the distant sounds of the bustling warehouse. Arell's mind raced, torn between the teachings of his grandmother and the reality of their situation. He thought about their age, their careers, the life they'd be bringing into the world. But alongside those practical concerns, he couldn't shake the image of that seed his grandmother had spoken of, full of potential and promise.
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