SWAG by Monica Marie Jones
“SWAG is something that comes from with in and shines through on the outside. It draws people to you. It can’t really be taught or bought…Everyone has the power to unleash the SWAG within, but most never do. It’s really about being yourself and loving you from the inside out..When you love yourself from the inside out it emits an aura that is magnetic.” -Monica Marie Jones, Inspirationista!
Chapter 10
Pages 55-63
House of Swag
When the house guests entered Swag Central, they were told to leave their bags at the door and were directed to the massive boardroom where an intimidating panel stood before them behind a long cherry oak table.
Monroe was in the middle standing in front of a chair that was designed like a throne from medieval times. To his right stood Connex, his personal assistant who had gotten his name because he had a knack for connecting people with other people, resources, and basically whatever they needed. On the other side of Connex stood Bizzie, the world renowned choreographer that had worked for pretty much everyone that was anyone in the music industry.
To Monroe’s left stood super model, Maxine Moore, who was known for being the first Indian-American fashion icon. Her last name wasn’t always Moore, but it was so long and hard to pronounce that she shortened it down to its first syllable and got it changed legally. Madame Henri, pronounced as the French do (Ma-dom On-ree), sat to her left. He was a stylist to the stars who towered over all of them in stilettos that added six inches to his already 6′5 frame. His make-up was more flawless than Maxine’s and his aura screamed, Fierce!
As all of the house guests stood before the panel, Noelle couldn’t help but feel like a slave on the block being examined by a potential master. The camera men that milled about and the boom microphones that loomed overhead didn’t help matters. Noelle couldn’t imagine how she would ever get used to their unremitting presence. Even harder still was having to act as if they were not there as she’d agreed to in the contract that she signed when she consented to being on the show.
Initially the panel looked at all of the house guests collectively while they whispered to one another and took notes. Just as Noelle began to find comfort in the fact that she did not have to stand before them alone, Connex announced that they would like to see each of them one at a time.
“Alright kids, while you are waiting to be called go ahead and get settled into your rooms. Fellas, you are in the black room and ladies, you are in the purple room. We would like to see Noelle first,” he added without looking up from the forest green file folder full of 8×10 glossy headshots that lay on the table before him.
Noelle felt that familiar drop in her stomach that she felt every time she was either in an uncomfortable situation or going down a hill on a roller coaster. She stood before the panel and began her regular nervous habit of picking with her fingernails. They stared at her, took notes and whispered to one another for what seemed like hours before Monroe finally said, “Turn around.”
She hesitated for a moment to see if he was serious but quickly turned when Madame Henri gave her a look that was so telling that he might as well have gotten up, knocked on the side of her head and said, “Hello, is anybody home?” He was well known for humiliating people in that way.
“Keep turning,” he said after she had stood with her back to them for a few moments.
“She needs to lose weight,” he said to Maxine.
Her heart dropped. She knew that eventually her weight might be an issue, but she wasn’t prepared for it to be the first thing that came up. She was not what one would overtly consider fat, but she was definitely thick and a lot softer than she would have liked to be in several places. Slowly but surely, the pounds crept up on her year after year ever since she began dating Jonah. It was probably due to the fact that they spent hours lying up under each other. When they weren’t doing that, they went out to eat quite often or ordered take-out on a regular basis. As a result she had packed on almost forty pounds from the time he had moved in with her. The pounds might not have been as noticeable had she been taller, but she stood at a mere 5′4″.
“I’ll arrange for Cutz to come in tomorrow morning for a session instead of next week,” Connex said as he scribbled something onto the yellow legal pad that he’d been writing on. Cutz was a personal trainer that was notorious for whipping many a doughy celebrity body into camera, movie, or video-ready shape. She was excited but frightened at the same time. On other reality shows that he made guest appearances on, she had seen him make grown men cry with no mercy, so she knew that she was in for some very grueling work.
“Noelle?” Maxine said in voice that didn’t have a trace of the accent of her native tongue. “Why do you believe that you have what it takes to be the next Swag Superstar?”
Noelle opened her mouth to answer, but the words seem to be caught in the back of her throat. All of the answers that swirled through her mind seemed so contrived, so she answered in the most genuine way that she knew how. She took a deep breath from her diaphragm and belted out a freestyle verse.
Been thinking while you sleep…
Mind racing constantly…
With thoughts of what could be…
If you lived what you dreamed…
Your world would be complete…
Rolled out before your feet…
Your path to destiny…
If you lived what you dreamed.”
She sung what she felt deep within her heart. She could have gone on and on. She was in a zone. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the usually outspoken panel was speechless. Bizzie’s mouth was even wide open. She didn’t know what she should do next so she giggled nervously being sure to look down at the ground so no one on the panel would think that she was laughing at them.
“Thank you, Noelle. Please go to your room and tell Taylor to come out,” Monroe said in a voice that was clearly shaken. His tone was so abrupt, so final. Had she done something wrong?
Noelle did as she was told, not quite sure what to make of their reaction to her impromptu song. She just hoped that she hadn’t jeopardized her chances of remaining on the show for not answering correctly. She did answer their question after all…just in her own way.
Noelle wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on the bridge of her nose and beneath her eyes as she walked into the girls’ room. She saw that the other two female house guests had claimed their beds leaving her with no other choice but to sleep on the one that was left.
It was a twin sized day bed that was housed inside of a cove in the wall that was right in front of the window. It took the place of where a window sill might otherwise be. She found that getting a daily fifteen minute dose of sunlight did wonders to keep her spirits high so the bed was a perfect fit for her despite the fact that it was the least luxurious of the three. She figured that it was done intentionally so in order to cause drama based on who was stuck with the last choice, but she had no plans to make a fuss. The way that it was set back into the wall gave her more privacy. She wasn’t sure if they were allowed to alter the room but maybe she’d drape some fabric or funky beaded curtains to close off the space even further.
There was a stunning natural blonde with piercing ice blue eyes on the canopy bed near the door. A light brown girl with a long blonde weave that hung down her back just short of her behind and slanted eyes was unpacking her things and placing them in an antique armoire next to her circular bed on the other side of the room.
When they’d entered the house initially, they were immediately faced with the panel after arriving in separate cars provided by a local limousine service. They still had not had an opportunity for introductions. Noelle made eye contact with the blue-eyed blonde.
“Taylor, the panel wants to see you next,” she said. Those piercing eyes became filled with confusion.
“Taylor? My name is TaKeysha,” she said with major attitude and what sounded like a slight yet forced Latin accent. Noelle felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Now she was the one that was confused.
“I’m Taylor.” A voice that was a strange combination of nasally and huskiness came from behind her. “I bet you won’t be so quick to feed into racial stereotypes anymore now, will you? There are black girls named Taylor, and now I see that there are white girls named TaKeysha as well.”
“Who are you calling white? My dad is one eighth Puerto Rican,” TaKeysha said, correcting Taylor.
“My bad, Christina Aguilera,” Taylor said crassly while flinging her infinite tresses over her shoulder and walking out of the door.
“Puta!” TaKeysha spat after her.
Noelle knew that the name TaKeysha had called Taylor was something bad, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. She made a mental note to Google it later to find the translation. She expected there to be drama in the house, but she never would have thought that things would start popping off this soon.
Seeing her on the video was one thing, but now that he had experienced her gift first hand he was affected beyond measure.
Monroe looked around at the other panelists. They were all silently examining him. They could tell that he had been affected. Normally after screening a contestant, they had much to discuss…even if it were jokes about their appearance or talent, or lack thereof.
The cameras were waiting patiently for their response to Noelle. Monroe suddenly became aware of them. He knew they needed something. Dead air was just not acceptable.
For once in his life, he was literally speechless, so he was relieved when Bizzie saved him by saying, “I don’t know about y’all, but I feel like we don’t even need to see anyone else.”
“Biz. She was the first one,” Maxine said.
“I know, but she has the voice, the look, and she is humble. That is a rare combination. In all my years in this business, I’ve never experienced anything like her.”
“Experience,” Monroe said the word and paused. “That’s the right word. You don’t just see her, you don’t just hear her…you feel her. Noelle is an experience. That will be our hook for her.” Monroe’s mind was reeling.
“And was it just me or did she freestyle those lyrics? I bet she can write, too. That is most definitely money in the bank,” Madame Henri added in his regal rendition of British dialect.
“Connex, I need a drink.” Connex scampered away to the bar in Monroe’s office and fixed his signature drink, Belvedere vodka on the rocks with a twist of freshly squeezed lime juice.
He served it to Monroe who drank it down in a single gulp.
Maxine and Madame Henri exchanged knowing glances. This Noelle had Monroe shook down to the core. Women like Noelle stirred something deep within him because music was his passion. What Noelle displayed before the panel was passionate music personified. So needless to say, they’d never seen Monroe in such a state of disequilibrium.
Monroe had problems in the past with his dealings with women, but over the last few years he’d worked hard to polish his tarnished reputation. None of the women that he had dealt with could even compare to Noelle. He had to watch his step.
If he gave her too much special attention like Maxine guessed that he might, the media would have a field day exploiting how Monroe “Paper” Chase had gone back to his old womanizing ways. Maxine made a mental note to pull him to the side to discuss this matter once the cameras were off.
When Taylor entered the room, an evident wave of disappointment washed over Monroe. His disenchantment stemmed from the fact that for now, their discussion of Noelle had to end.
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