4. Nourah Marcell
Ipulled up, and the valet barely had time to get my door open before I was stepping out.
I'd gotten the call less than two hours ago.
One of my regular clients had passed my information along because a high-profile client needed a suit tailored.
All I was given was measurements, an address, and a room number, so I gathered my things, packed them up, and hopped on the highway with the quickness.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, ma'am." He smiled.
"Oh, can you grab my bag from the trunk, please?"
"Yes, ma'am," the valet responded, giving me another big smile.
I slid my sunglasses up on top of my head and stepped back while he closed the door to my car. I still wasn't used to somebody else driving off in my shit, even if it was only to park it. Especially not this car.
I was now driving a powder pink 2026 Lexus IS 350 F SPORT, because why the hell not? The interior was a beautiful cream with pink accents. I loved the hell out of my new baby.
I had worked too damn hard for it.
A year and a half ago, Bodied By NouNou was nothing but a dream, and now I had a little over 50k followers on Instagram, 100k on Facebook, and I was on a high, that's for sure.
It started with me cutting up a few T-shirts for a concert. I'd take some regular shit somebody could buy anywhere, cut it, sew it, and make it my own. I posted a few pieces online, then people started asking if they could send me their own clothes, and after that, shit took off.
Next thing I knew, I was personal shopping, helping people figure out their style, building looks from head to toe, and styling clients for events and photo shoots.
I had even styled my first celebrity a few months ago. Granted, I only had one celebrity client so far, but shit, one was better than none, okurrr!
Everybody had to start somewhere, and I was beyond grateful to say those denial emails couldn't hold a real bitch down.
My phone vibrated in my hand just as the valet handed me my ticket.
Carl : You ain’t have to leave me that fast.
ME: Boy please you just had me all to yourself.
Carl : And I wanted a little more time before I leave in the morning.
ME: Awww, you gon’ miss me?
Carl : You know I am.
ME: Well, I can come back over tonight.
Carl : Pizza?
ME: Now you speaking my language
Carl : So that’s a yes?
ME: Obviously, babe.
I couldn't stop the smile that came across my face. Carl was my baby, and I just loved that man down!
He worked in tech, made damn good money, and looked absolutely nothing like what I used to picture when somebody said they worked in tech.
Six foot one, brown skin, shoulder-length locs he kept twisted neat, glasses he was always pushing up on his nose, and a build on him that made no sense.
He was muscular as hell because he practically lived in the gym, and fine enough that I had stared at him a little longer than I should have the first time we met.
I'd been hired to style him for some big tech event his company was hosting. He had to speak in front of a room full of people, and apparently, somebody had finally told him that the same three suits he kept rotating weren't cutting it anymore.
He spent our entire first appointment trying to flirt with me, and it was bad. I'm cringing just thinking about it.
At one point, I'd been adjusting his jacket, and he looked down at me and said, "So... do you come with the suit?"
I stared at him for a good five seconds.
"Did you really just say that?" I asked, 'cause baby, I had to be sure!
He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I-I'm sorry. It sounded better in my head before I said it."
I laughed so hard I had to walk away from him, but honestly, that's what reeled me in. He kept me laughing that day, so much so that his corny ass had gotten my number by the end of the session.
A year and a half later, we were still together, living separately, but together.
I was still in my one-bedroom, saving my own coins because I didn't play them shacking-up games.
My mama didn't raise me to move my whole life into a man's house on a promise.
He'd asked twice. I said the same thing both times.
Put a ring on my finger. That's it... that's all.
I walked through the revolving doors in my heels, smoothing one hand down the front of my blazer.
I looked good. I was dressed professionally but still making sure I looked like someone you'd want to hire again.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to the Laurent Royale."
"Hi. I'm Nourah Marcell. I'm here for––.”
"Yes, Ms. Marcell.” The woman behind the desk immediately smiled. “They've been expecting you."
I still didn't know who the hell they were, but for the amount they told me I'd be getting paid, I didn't give a damn who they were. They'd already sent over my deposit, so I was lowkey giddy but tryna play it cool.
A hotel employee escorted me toward the elevators.
"Right this way, Ms. Marcell."
"Thank you."
The second the elevator doors closed, I let out a slow breath. I wasn't nervous often, but for some reason, this felt different.
High-profile could mean anything. An athlete, rapper, or even an actor. Hell, even an activist, politician, singer, or chef. My mind was racing all over the place.
The elevator stopped near the top floor, and I followed the employee down a hallway until we reached a set of double doors.
He knocked twice before opening the door for me to step inside, and immediately, I was confused. I stepped in, wheeling my bag behind me.
Two men stood off to one side talking while another paced near the windows with a phone pressed to his ear.
A woman was going through clothes on a rolling rack.
Garment bags were spread across one of the couches, and two more racks sat near the wall, filled with suits, shirts, jackets, and shoes.
The room was huge, triple the size of my tiny apartment.
"Ms. Marcell?"
I turned toward a woman walking in my direction.
"Yes."
"Hi. I'm Nanya. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice."
"No problem." I had to put on my professional voice; y'all know which one.
"We really appreciate it. Can I get you anything while you wait? Water? Champagne?"
I glanced toward the bottle sitting in an ice bucket.
"Champagne is fine, thank you."
She laughed. "I don't blame you." She poured me a glass before motioning toward an empty chair.
"You can have a seat. He should be ready for you in a few minutes."
"Perfect." I sat down and crossed one leg over the other before taking a small sip, just as my phone started vibrating inside my purse.
I pulled it out to see Noree was calling, probably to tell me how her interview went. I sure hoped like hell that she got this job, but even if she didn't, I'd make sure she and my niece were good. I was a little upset earlier after finding out she kept the eviction from me.
I declined the call, but I had barely gotten the phone back inside my purse before it started vibrating again.
I stared at it for a second, but when I declined again, she called right back.
My stomach tightened.
What the hell?
I stood up quickly.
"Excuse me. I need to take this." I stepped out into the hallway and answered. "Hey, sis, I'm in the middle of—" All I heard was crying. "Noree?"
She sniffled. "Sis, I'm not okay... I... I—"
"What happened? Is Oaklynn okay?" My heart began to race.
"Yeah... she's fine. I'm on my way to pick her up now."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I saw him today."
I paused, not sure what she was talking about. "Saw who?"
"Ozy."
I went still. "What?"
There's no way in hell that I'd just heard her say that man's name.
"I saw Ozy," she repeated.
I looked back at the closed door behind me before lowering my voice.
"What the fuck do you mean you saw Ozy? As in Love? As in your baby daddy, Noree?"
"Yes, and... remember I told you about my interview? Well, it was with him."
"What was with him?"
"The job... he's looking for a nanny for his nephew since he took him in after his sister's passing."
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it.
"Oh shit!" I blurted out, trying to keep my voice down. I looked at the champagne flute in my hand and downed it.
When I put the phone back to my ear, I heard her crying harder.
I looked toward the door and sighed. "Look, sis, I'm with an important last-minute client right now, so we'll have to talk about this later. You already know I'ma need all the details, but I have to go."
"Okay," she sobbed.
"We'll figure all of this out in about an hour or two. I'll just come by on my way home, okay?"
"Yeah."
I hated hearing her like this. It really hurt my heart, but I didn't even have time to dwell on it because just as I hung up, the door behind me opened.
"Ms. Marcell?"
I turned to see Nanya standing there smiling.
"He's ready to see you now."
"Okay, thank you." I followed her inside, taking a deep breath and exhaling to get my mind right.
Someone came and took the empty flute from me. I came around the corner into the sitting area where they had a three-way mirror set up, and there was a man standing on the platform in front of it with his back to me, in slacks and a white undershirt, with his phone to his ear.
I wasn't sure who or what he may have been talking about. All I know is that once I got a good look at him, I stopped walking.
He turned around, eyes wide, and it was none other than Princeton Brentley.