5. Noree Marcell
The closer we got to the studio, the more my stomach started doing all types of flips. I ain’t even gon’ lie, I checked my reflection in the window about three times before we even pulled all the way up.
They had us all park at the hotel we’d be staying at for the weekend.
It was a very well-known and very pricey hotel.
I was practically shittin’ on myself, realizing this was where we’d be staying, but I barely had time to think because we hopped on a Sprinter van, which made all of this feel way more official.
My sister had texted me a million times, saying my location wasn’t showing up and telling me to send it again so she could make sure she didn’t have to pull her Mousekatool out.
I laughed nervously, my hands shaking a little as I resent her my location. She responded fast, saying she got it, and I looked up just in time to see the building coming into view.
It was bigger than I expected, with a line of black SUVs parked out front. There was already a crowd gathered on the sidewalk, phones up, screaming and pushing against the barricades while hollering Ozy’s name.
Me and the other winners slowly but surely got off the van. One girl grabbed my arm without even asking, but I didn’t blame her. The noise was a lot. Cameras were flashing from every direction, and I was immediately overwhelmed, but I tried my best to play it cool.
Security formed a little wall around us and walked us through the chaos toward the entrance. I swear, for those thirty seconds, I felt like I was somebody famous.
It was a lot, but it was also kind of nice. I wasn’t even gon’ front.
Inside was a whole different world. Cool air, soft lighting, and a table set up with champagne flutes already poured and waiting. A woman with a clipboard and a headset greeted us with a wide smile and had us sign in one by one.
“Welcome in, ladies and gentlemen. This is the first official day of A Weekend with Ozy and the first of many more to come. I’m Kyana, Ozy’s assistant, but you all can call me Ky.
If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, and please enjoy the complimentary food and drinks.
Ozy isn’t here yet, but he’s en route and should be pulling up any minute now. ”
Ky was a pretty, brown-skinned woman who looked to be a little older than me. She had on a powder-blue top with a navy skirt and matching baby-doll shoes. Her dark-brown bob was laid perfectly, and she looked very professional, but also like she was genuinely happy to be doing her job.
The camera crew was already moving around, setting up different angles, adjusting lights, and testing microphones.
We mingled for a good twenty minutes, sipping champagne and chatting with each other about nothing in particular, for real. I did learn that one of the guys worked in construction and one of the other women did hair, but that was about it.
We were all nervous as hell, and honestly, I was sipping slow because my stomach was low-key bubbling.
“Oh my God, he’s here!” someone shouted.
We all looked toward the entrance.
Out of habit, I smoothed my top down and checked to make sure I didn’t have anything in my teeth.
When he walked in, I forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.
He had on a fitted white T-shirt that clung to his fit, muscular body, dark jeans, and a fresh pair of kicks with not one scuff mark in sight.
Diamonds in his ears caught the studio lights every time he moved his head.
He had a fitted cap pulled low over his eyes and a red Solo cup in his hand, looking casual as hell and probably higher than a kite.
He made his way around the room easily, dapping up the men, hugging the women, taking pictures, and cracking jokes.
I liked his vibe already.
I expected him to walk in with his head held high and walk right the fuck past all of us, but he didn’t.
When he got to me, he pulled me into a hug. When he pulled back, he looked at me for a second longer than he had looked at anybody else.
Just staring.
“I’m Noree,” I said since he ain’t ask, but seemed like he wanted to know.
“Pretty name. Nice to meet you, love. The pleasure… is mine,” he said, his voice low.
Then, just like that, he licked his lips and moved on to the next person like nothing had happened.
The cameras flashed the whole time, catching every second of it.
Everything surprisingly felt natural, and the tightness in my chest eased up just a little. He was immediately bombarded with questions. I guessed everyone was just excited to be in his presence, but damn, let the man get comfortable first.
“So, Ozy…”
The woman next to me had two front gold teeth, a big ghetto booty that made her little body look like an ant, clothes that had to be from 1990, and one of those old-school throwback pinup hairstyles from the nineties.
She licked her lips at him seductively, and I had to turn my head to keep from laughing because she was definitely somebody’s mama and probably somebody’s grandma too, but she was looking at him like he was a pork chop dinner.
“I’m actually your biggest fan, and I know a lot about you, but, uh… you like it rough, or—”
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I burst out laughing, and everybody, including Ozy, looked at me.
His eyes traveled over my body from head to toe, low-key doing something to me, but I looked away when the woman asked, “What’s so damn funny?”
“I, uh… was thinking about a joke somebody told me earlier,” I lied before excusing myself to the bathroom.
She was embarrassing herself and today was only day one. She did not need to know whether that man liked it rough or not.
When I got to the bathroom, I used it right quick, washed my hands, and reapplied my lip gloss. Then I pulled out my phone and texted my sister.
Me: Sis!
NouNou: What happened???
Me: Girl…Why one of the winners asked him in front of a room full of people if he likes it rough? That’s just embarrassing.
NouNou: No tf she didn’t.
Me: Did! And had the nerve to be old enough to be his damn mama.
NouNou: LOL. A damn shame. Well…what all have y’all done so far?
Me: Nothing much yet. He just got here. We took a few pictures with him, but they were all group pics.
There was a knock at the bathroom door, confusing me.
My brows rose as I put my phone back inside my purse and opened the door.
A lump got caught in my throat immediately.
It was Ozy.
“H-hey. Everything okay?” I tried to say.
Stuttering? Really?
“You tell me.” He smirked before leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “You hiding from me?”
“Oh, no.” I laughed nervously. “I was just, uh… freshening up.”
He chuckled. “I’m just fucking with you, love. I was coming to check on you. You seem a little distant from the group.”
I fidgeted with the buckles on my purse. “Oh, sorry. I’m not trying to be. I just… I didn’t wanna be all up in your personal space.”
“Understood.” He nodded. “Unlike shawty, who’s been following me around asking freaky-ass sex questions. The whole time you were in the bathroom, she was right behind me. I finally escaped her ass.”
We both burst out laughing.
As the laughter died down, we stared at each other for a moment, and my heart started doing the A-Town Stomp.
Security walked up right then, trying to figure out what was going on.
Honestly, so was I.
Like, did he really come looking for you?
“Everything good, boss?” the guy asked.
Ozy smiled at me, then nodded before looking over at him. “Yeah.”
Before I knew it, they both walked off. I immediately pulled my phone back out and went to my messages.
Me: Girl! I came to the bathroom for a second and tell me why Ozy came looking for me! Asking if I was good!
NouNou: Oop! Not him checking on you! Okay, I need to be the maid of honor at the wedding. Thangyaaa!
I laughed to myself while texting her back.
Me: That man has a girl. I think he was just being nice.
NouNou: Mhm. I said what I said lol.
I looked at myself one more time before heading back out toward the lobby, but everyone was gone.
A big black man who looked like he could tackle six people at once escorted me down the hall. He pointed toward a room at the end of the nicest hallway I’d ever seen.
The hallway had red carpet and a wall filled with Ozy’s accomplishments, including framed pictures of him with other famous artists. All the frames were gold, and if you asked me, the gold was probably real.
Everything looked expensive.
Red lights hung above us, giving off that red-light-special vibe, and I could hear music playing louder the closer I got.
The room looked big enough to fit a football team. It was spacious, with nice leather couches, a lounge area, a mini fridge, a bar, and Ozy’s Grammys sitting on a shelf.
It was very nice.
I could see myself spending hours in there coming up with songs and getting lost in the music. The whole room felt comfortable and creative, like the type of place where you could forget what time it was.
Everybody was sitting on the couches while Ozy’s engineer played different beats for him. The camera crew was all in the way, trying to film everything.
His girl, Ginger Maree’, who I hadn’t seen come in, was inside the booth with him. They were both wearing headphones, and I smiled because I just knew I was about to witness greatness. I’d only seen her on social media, and she was honestly a cute girl—smaller in person, too.
I took a seat, and Ky walked up to me.
“Here you go.” She smiled and handed me a name tag and a marker.
I jotted my name down, handed the marker back to her, and stuck the name tag on my shirt. Looking around, I noticed everybody else already had theirs on.
“Ooo, I get to hear my baby daddy sing. I’m ready, and I shole ain’t wear no panties,” said the older woman, who I now knew was Char from her name tag.
I shook my head.
I already knew her ass was gon’ get on my damn nerves for the remainder of the day.
“Yeah, I like that one,” Ozy said, pulling my attention away from her.
He listened to the beat for a few more seconds before singing, “Is she the one for me… is she… is she the one?”