บท 130: Billboard Music Awards 2015
Arell sat quietly, trying to let the surreal surroundings sink in. Everything felt larger than life—the flashing lights, the sea of celebrities, the energy that rippled through the crowd. For Arell, who had spent the last five months on an intense journey from prison to this moment, it was a lot to process.
India sat next to him, her hand resting on his. "Can you believe we're really here?" she whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the spectacle around them.
Arell nodded. "Yeah, it's wild," he murmured, trying to stay grounded amidst the sensory overload.
The show kicked off with Ludacris and Chrissy Teigen stepping onto the stage as hosts for the night. Ludacris, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, had the crowd laughing within seconds with his quick wit and natural charisma. Chrissy, stunning in a floor-length red gown, complemented him perfectly, her charm and humor keeping the banter light and engaging.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ludacris said, his voice booming through the arena, "welcome to the 2015 Billboard Music Awards! We've got a hell of a show for you tonight, with performances that are gonna blow your minds and awards for the biggest names in music. So let's get this party started!"
The crowd erupted in applause, the energy in the room ratcheting up a notch. The first award of the night was announced—Top Rap Album. The nominees: J. Cole, Eminem, Drake, Nicki Minaj, and Iggy Azalea.
Ludacris and Chrissy exchanged dramatic glances before Chrissy tore open the envelope. "And the Billboard Music Award for Top Rap Album goes to… J. Cole for 2014 Forest Hills Drive!"
The crowd erupted in cheers as Cole made his way to the stage. Arell watched closely, Cole was one of the very few he had respect for, it was great to see him atop that stage.
"First off, I wanna thank God for giving me the strength to do what I do," Cole began, his eyes scanning the audience. "This album was my way of speaking truth to power, of telling my story and the story of so many others who've been silenced. I want to thank my family, my team, and of course, my fans for riding with me. This is for the culture. We ain't done yet."
The crowd applauded, and Cole held the award up high before exiting the stage. Arell nodded in appreciation. That's how you do it, he thought, though he had no idea Cole believed in God, a slight suprise he supposed.
The night continued with a mix of performances and awards. Taylor Swift took home Top Female Artist, beating out tough competition from Meghan Trainor, Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj, and Ariana Grande. Taylor's acceptance speech was as polished as her persona—humble, grateful, and just the right amount of self-deprecating humor.
As the night wore on, Arell started noticing that there was something almost eerie about the way everything was so perfectly orchestrated, from the color schemes to the choreography. The symbolism in some of the performances caught his eye—dark, always dark. He exchanged a glance with Geoffrey, who sat a few seats down, both of them silently acknowledging the strangeness without needing to say a word.
India leaned over. "This is amazing, isn't it? The production, the choreography… it's all so well done."
Arell nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, it's impressive," he said, trying to match her enthusiasm.
The performances rolled on, each one more elaborate than the last. The crowd was on its feet, clapping and singing along as the artist danced across the stage with infectious energy. But even in a song as light-hearted as the one being sung, Arell couldn't help but notice the intricacies in the set design—the geometric patterns, the way the lights pulsed in a way that felt almost like a heartbeat.
When Pharrell won Top R&B Artist, the crowd erupted in applause, and Arell found himself genuinely clapping along, caught up in the moment. Pharrell's acceptance speech was gracious and humble, as he thanked his fans, his team, and everyone who had supported him along the way.
"Music has the power to bring people together," Pharrell said, his voice resonating through the arena. "It's a universal language that transcends boundaries, and I'm just grateful to be able to share my music with the world. Thank you to everyone who made this possible."
As Pharrell left the stage, Arell leaned over to Geoffrey, who had been observing everything with his usual calm demeanor. "Pharrell's killing it tonight," Arell said.
Geoffrey nodded. "He's got the talent and the vision to back it up. That's why he's where he is."
Arell glanced around the room, taking in the faces of the other nominees and performers. Some were beaming with excitement, others looked tense, waiting for their moment. "You notice anything… off about the show?" Arell asked, keeping his voice low.
Geoffrey's eyes flicked to Arell, and for a moment, there was a silence between them. "There's always more than what meets the eye in these things," Geoffrey replied carefully. "Just keep your eyes open."
As the evening progressed, Arell and India continued to chat, with India pointing out various outfits and performances that caught her eye. "I love how daring some of these artists are," she said, admiring a particularly bold look on the screen. "It's like they're pushing the boundaries of fashion and art."
"Yeah, it's definitely… something," Arell replied, his tone noncommittal. He didn't want to dampen her excitement, but his mind kept returning to the strange, almost eerie vibes he was picking up.
Eventually, it was time for the Top New Artist award, one of the most anticipated categories of the night. The tension in the arena ramped up as the nominees' names were announced: Sam Smith, Meghan Trainor, Hozier, Iggy Azalea, and the man himself, Arell.
Arell's heart pounded in his chest as the screen lit up with his face, followed by a clip from his Fair Trade video. He watched himself on the massive screen, sitting on the railing of a penthouse, the city sprawled out below him. The Rolls-Royce on the balcony spun slowly. His voice echoed through the arena as he rapped, "I've been losing friends and finding peace but honestly that seems like a fair trade to me."
The presenter, Taylor Swift, took her time with the phone in hand, building the suspense to a near unbearable level. "And the Billboard Music Award for Top New Artist goes to…"
Arell held his breath, his entire body tense as he waited for the name to be announced.
"…Sam Smith!"
The crowd erupted into cheers as Sam Smith stood and made his way to the stage. Arell exhaled slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. He wasn't surprised—Sam Smith was a powerhouse, and he deserved it. But the disappointment was still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
India leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You're still the best in my book," she whispered, her voice full of warmth and affection.
Arell chuckled softly. "Thanks, but we knew this wasn't my night. Next year, though? Watch out."
As Sam Smith gave his acceptance speech, Arell clapped along with the rest of the audience.
There was no bitterness in his heart, the moment was a learning experience, a reminder that the journey was far from over.
Sam Smith's speech was heartfelt, filled with gratitude for his fans, his family, and his team. He spoke about the struggles he faced, the hard work that went into his album, and how much the recognition meant to him.
But as the applause died down and the show moved on, Arell's thoughts turned inward. He knew he had what it took to be up there, holding that award, making that speech. He just needed more time, more hits, when One of a Kind was released, they would know how good he truly is.
The night continued with more performances and awards. Pharrell's name was called again for Top R&B Album, and he made his way to the stage with his usual calm, confident demeanor.
"Thank you," Pharrell began, his voice resonating with sincerity. "This album was a labor of love, a project that allowed me to express myself in ways I never thought possible. I want to thank my fans for sticking with me, my team for believing in my vision, and most importantly, I want to thank my family for their support. Music is a universal language, and I'm just glad to be a part of the conversation."
As Pharrell spoke, Arell couldn't help but admire the his ability to stay grounded despite his immense success. Pharrell had been in the game for a long time, and he carried himself with the wisdom and grace of someone who had seen it all. Arell knew he had a lot more to learn from Pharrell.
After Pharrell's speech, the show took a brief intermission. The lights came up, and people began milling around, chatting and stretching their legs. Arell stayed seated, his mind still processing everything he had seen and heard so far. India excused herself to use the restroom, leaving Arell alone with his thoughts.
As he sat there, Geoffrey returned to his seat beside him, holding two glasses of water. He handed one to Arell, who accepted it gratefully.
"You're doing good," Geoffrey said quietly, his voice steady and reassuring. "Tonight's about making your presence known. You didn't win this one, but people are watching. They're talking."
Arell nodded, taking a sip of water. "Yeah, I know. I just… I want it, Geoff. I want to be up there."
"And you will be," Geoffrey replied with certainty. "Just keep doing what you're doing. Remember, it's a marathon, not a sprint. "
Arell appreciated Geoffrey's words, but there was still a part of him that felt restless. He had always been driven, always pushed himself to be the best, and being so close to the prize but not quite getting it was hard to swallow. But he knew Geoffrey was right. This was just the beginning, and there would be plenty more opportunities.
Yet at the same time, would he truly let a throphy dictate how good he was?
As the lights dimmed once again, signaling the end of the intermission, Arell took a deep breath and prepared himself for the second half of the show. He wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.
The hosts returned to the stage to announce the next category. Ludacris and Chrissy Teigen kept the energy high, their banter light and humorous as they introduced the nominees for Top Male Artist.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Ludacris said, his voice booming through the arena, "the nominees for Top Male Artist are… Justin Timberlake, Ed Sheeran, Drake, Pharell Williams, and Sam Smith!"
The camera panned to each nominee, showing their reactions as their names were called. Drake gave a slight nod to the camera. Sam Smith, still riding high from his earlier win, looked genuinely touched by the nomination.
"And the Billboard Music Award for Top Male Artist goes to…" Chrissy Teigen announced, drawing out the suspense.
"…Sam Smith!"
Arell was shocked to say the least, Sam Smith over Drake and Pharell?
Sam Smith made his way to the stage for the second time that night, the crowd erupted in applause. Arell clapped along, his mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.
The rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind of performances and awards. Taylor Swift dominated several pop categories, while Iggy Azalea surprised many, or maybe just him, by clinching Top Rap Artist. Through it all, Arell watched intently, absorbing every detail and nuance of the spectacle around him.
As the final notes of the closing performance faded away, Ludacris and Chrissy Teigen returned to the stage for one last time.
"What a night!" Chrissy exclaimed, her voice slightly hoarse from the evening's excitement. "I don't know about you, Luda, but I think I need a vacation after all this."
Ludacris laughed, his energy still high despite the late hour. "I hear you, Chrissy. But before we go, let's give it up one more time for all our incredible performers and winners!"
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