บท 71: Thinking for a bit
"Be the song you were born to sing, not the tune others expect to hear." He repeated it over and over, trying to grasp its full meaning, but the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he felt.
His mind wandered to that night with Swae Lee, the cup of lean in his hand, the pungent smell of smoke in the air. He'd never been one for drinking or drugs, always priding himself on staying clean. But in that moment he'd faltered. The memory of the syrupy liquid sliding down his throat made him wince now.
"I just wanted to fit in," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Is that what Elvis felt like too? Nah, can't be. He was the King of Rock and Roll, for crying out loud."
But even as he dismissed the thought, doubt crept in. He remembered the meeting with Atlantic, their smooth talk about "broadening his appeal" and "reaching a wider audience." It had sounded so reasonable at the time, so logical, and it still was. Yet, still, with Priscilla's words ringing in his ears, he felt a twinge of shame.
"Am I really gonna let them change me like that?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just roll over and become whatever they wanted me to be?"
He thought about all the times he'd held back around industry people, biting his tongue when he wanted to speak up, laughing at jokes he didn't find funny, lingering around even when he wanted to be anywhere else. The realization made him uncomfortable, squirming in his seat.
"But that's just how the game is played, right?" he argued with himself. "You gotta play nice, make connections. That's what Diddy said..."
The memory of the party with Diddy flooded back, the older rapper's words of advice mixing with the scenes he'd just witnessed of Colonel Parker manipulating Elvis. Arell's head began to spin.
Why would someone like Diddy take such an interest in a relative newcomer? What did he really want?
Arell's thoughts were interrupted by a flash of memory - the club, the stripper, the fuzzy feeling as the world spun out of control. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Now that," he said firmly, "that was just me being stupid. Can't blame anyone else for that one."
He sat up straighter, trying to shake off the embarrassment. His mind drifted back to Elvis, to the scenes he'd witnessed of the King's decline. The manipulation, the exhaustion, the loss of self.
"But why didn't he just fire Parker?" Arell wondered aloud, frustration creeping into his voice. "I mean, if someone was messing with my career like that, I'd just get rid of them."
Even as he said it, doubt crept in. He thought about Geoffrey, about how much he relied on his manager. The idea of suddenly being without that guidance, that support, was terrifying. Infinity, his collaborations, his deals, without Geoffrey none of them would happen.
"Maybe it's not that simple," he mused, running a hand through his hair. "All that pressure, all those people depending on you... man, I can't even imagine."
Arell leaned back, his mind shifting to the business side of his career. A wave of gratitude washed over him as he considered his level of control. Unlike many artists, he had rights over his image, music, and most aspects of his career. It was a decision he and Geoffrey agreed on and they both fought hard for from the beginning, and now, in light of everything he'd witnessed about Elvis's struggles, it seemed more crucial than ever.
"At least I've got that going for me," he muttered, reaching for his phone to check his financial app. The numbers stared back at him: $2.4 million in the bank, soon to be $1.4 million after he closed on the house. It was a comfortable cushion, but in the world of high-stakes music and celebrity, he knew it could vanish in an instant if he wasn't careful.
His clothing line flashed through his mind next. $121,000 in profit so far, after minus the loan and production and distribution cost. He remembered the excitement of launching the line, the nervousness of wondering if anyone would actually buy it. Now, seeing that number, he felt a surge of pride.
"That's absolutely incredible," he said aloud, a smile tugging at his lips. But the feeling was quickly tempered. "We need to do even better if we want to hit those Puma milestones, though."
Targets that had seemed so achievable when he'd first signed the deal. Now, faced with the reality of the market, he realized just how much work lay ahead.
His thoughts drifted to his music. The streaming numbers for his tracks scrolled through his mind. The diss tracks that had catapulted him into the spotlight were starting to see a decrease in listeners. He nodded to himself, unsurprised.
"Expected," he mused. "They don't have a lot of replay value. It was always about the heat of the moment."
But then there was Blue Balenciagas. The track was gaining traction, climbing the rap charts. "Wouldn't be surprised if it hit the Billboard 100 soon enough," he said, allowing himself a moment of optimism.
As he considered his various revenue streams - the music, the clothing line, the endorsements - Arell felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Each decision, each deal, each song needed to be carefully considered. It wasn't just about making money; it was about building a sustainable career, something that would last.
"Gotta value the right things," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Can't just chase every dollar. Gotta think long-term."
His train of thought was interrupted by a pang of guilt. Kenny's face flashed in his mind, the memory of their argument still fresh and painful. They hadn't spoken since that night, the silence between them growing heavier with each passing day.
Arell sighed, his eyes falling on Kenny's number in his phone. He stared at it for a long moment, hesitation and pride warring within him. Finally, with a deep breath, he pressed call.
The conversation that followed was a blur of apologies, explanations, and promises to do better. By the time they hung up, both had said their sorries, and a tentative peace had been restored.
"We good, man," Kenny had said at the end, his voice gruff but warm. "Just don't let all this fame stuff go to your head, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah," Arell had replied, relief evident in his voice. "You know me better than that."
As he tossed his phone aside, Arell felt drained but lighter. The weight of the unresolved conflict with his friend had been pressing on him more than he'd realized. Now, with that bridge mended, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.
Leaning back, Arell closed his eyes, the weight of everything he'd experienced and realized in the past few hours pressing down on him. The lessons of Elvis's life, the warnings Diddy, the pressure to conform, the complexities of managing his growing brand - it all swirled in his mind.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked the empty room, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He knew he had decisions to make, boundaries to set, a career to nurture and protect. But in that moment, despite all his success, he felt more lost than ever. The music industry was a labyrinth, and he was still learning to navigate it.
But as he sat there, wrestling with these thoughts, Priscilla's words came back to him once more.
"Don't lose yourself in trying to be what others want. The world doesn't need another copy. It needs your unique voice."
Arell took a deep breath. He didn't have all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain - he was determined to find his own way, to make his mark on music without losing himself in the process.
Arell's mind turned back to business. Juice WRLD, Cochise, Cardi B, and Post Malone – names that would soon be synonymous with his brand.
Cardi B was the most straightforward. Her advance was substantial – $20,000 – but it was necessary. She'd already built a considerable following on social media, her personality and candidness winning over fans by the thousands. When he'd offered her the deal, she'd been both excited and cautious. The $20,000 advance was a lot, but the 360 deal was generous, capping Arell's cut at just below 50%. He didn't want to be another Parker. He wanted her to thrive, to feel supported and respected.
Becalis had also been approached by Love & Hip Hop about potentially joining the show. Geoffrey saw this as a golden opportunity for her. It would boost her visibility even further, and she already had the charisma to become a reality TV star. With her appearance on the show, her face and name would be out there even more.
Post Malone had been a different story. Post seemed uncertain, almost dismissive of his own potential. Arell had seen something special in him and had insisted on giving him the same $20,000 advance. Post, though, had requested higher percentages from his side, planning to keep his options open for future deals. Arell respected that. It showed foresight and a willingness to protect his interests, something he could relate to.
"Cochise and Juice WRLD," Arell mused. Juice WRLD and Cochise were almost too easy. They were new and eager. Juice was just beginning to release music, with barely any listeners yet, and Cochise had a few freestyle videos and was releasing beats, but he was nowhere near the level of 'Turn it up'.
Arell planned to get them coaches, from vocal coaches to even a lyricist. It would be an investment of time and resources, but Arell believed it would pay off in the long run. He was committed to building a label that nurtured talent, not just exploited it for quick profits.
Post Malone, however, was different. He was too good to be left to develop on his own. Arell wanted to capitalize on his talent immediately. The idea of getting him on the mixtape was what first popped up in his mind. He even considered helping Post move to Atlanta so they could work more closely together.
Arell glanced at his phone, the bright screen illuminating his face in the dim room. 2 AM. His next performance wasn't for hours.
"Man, what am I gonna do with all this time?" he muttered, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
For a fleeting moment, he considered hitting up India. They hadn't really connected beyond that initial meeting, and part of him was curious to know her better. But just as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it.
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Not the move right now."
Instead, he found himself scrolling through his stats, a habit he'd picked up recently. Numbers and percentages flashed across the screen.
"Comedy, 5 out of 10... Calligraphy, 7 out of 10..." he mumbled, his eyes skimming over the familiar categories. Then something caught his attention. "Instrument skills, 5 out of 10? How's that even possible?"
Arell furrowed his brow, trying to recall any significant time he'd spent with an instrument. Sure, he'd messed around with a piano while making beats, but that was hardly enough to justify a 5 out of 10 rating.
Then it hit him. Those music theory boosters he'd received had probably given him a basic understanding of various instruments.
"Guess that explains it," he said, feeling a bit more satisfied with the mystery solved. He continued scrolling and noticed his guitar skills were at a modest 4/10. The idea of learning to play guitar intrigued him. It was an instrument he'd always admired but never really considered picking up.
"Why not?" he said, standing up. "I've got time, and it could be fun."
Determined, Arell decided to head out and buy a guitar. The idea of learning something new excited him. He grabbed his keys and wallet, then left the hotel, the cool night air hitting his face as he stepped outside.
After a while, he reached a music store. He pushed the door open, a small bell tinkling above his head as he entered.
An older man behind the counter looked up and smiled. "Welcome. How can I help you tonight?"
"I'm looking to buy a guitar," Arell said, glancing around at the rows of instruments hanging on the walls.
"First time player?" the man asked, coming around the counter.
"Yeah," Arell admitted. "I've always wanted to learn."
"Well, you've come to the right place," the man said, leading him to a section of acoustic guitars. "Do you have any particular style in mind?"
Arell shrugged. "Not really. Just something that's good for a beginner."
The man nodded and picked up a sleek, black acoustic guitar. "This one here is great for beginners. Easy to play, sounds good, and won't break the bank."
Arell took the guitar, feeling its weight in his hands. He strummed the strings lightly, the sound resonating pleasantly.
"I'll take it," he said, already envisioning himself learning to play.
Back in his hotel room, Arell spent the next few hours immersing himself in his new guitar. He practiced diligently, watching online tutorials and following along with intermediate and advanced lessons. His fingers, initially clumsy and awkward, gradually became more adept at finding the right chords.
In between practice sessions, Arell continued to work on his other skills and system challenges.
After a particularly boring vocal practice session, Arell decided to take a break and call Becalis, deciding to check up on her, since they hadn't spoken since she had went back to New York. He dialed her number, and after a few rings, she picked up, her face filling the screen.
"Hey, Arell!" Becalis greeted him, her voice loud and full of energy. "What's good?"
"Hey, Becalis," Arell replied, smiling. "Just taking a break from practicing. How about you?"
"Oh, you know, just being fabulous and all that," she said. "I've been working on some new tracks. You gotta hear them, they're fire!"
"Can't wait to listen," Arell said. "I've heard some of your stuff already, and it's dope."
Becalis grinned, clearly pleased. "Thanks, boo! So, when are we gonna make this deal official? I'm ready to blow up!"
"Real soon," Arell assured her. "We're just ironing out the final details. I want to make sure everything's set up perfectly for you."
"Good, 'cause I ain't got time to waste," she said, shaking her head. "I gotta get this money, you feel me?"
Arell laughed. "I feel you, Becalis. We're gonna make it happen."
Suddenly, Becalis leaned back and pulled down her top, flashing the camera. "Look at these babies!" she exclaimed, shaking her breasts at the screen. "You know you want some of this!"
Arell burst out laughing, shaking his head. "You're wild, Becalis."
"Just keepin' it real," she said, laughing along with him. "You better not be screen recording this!"
"Nah, you're safe," Arell said, still chuckling. "I'll let you get back to being fabulous. We'll talk soon, alright?"
"Alright, baby," she said with a wink. "You take care now."
"Later, Becalis," Arell said, ending the call. He shook his head, a smile lingering on his face. She was definitely one of a kind.
Just then, his phone buzzed with a message from Geoffrey. "Time to go to the performance," it read.
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