Chapter 17Game of Chance
“What’s with the dopey smile?” Stella asked as she burst through Contessa’s front door, unannounced, as usual.
“Huh? Oh, it’s nothin’…” Contessa sighed.
“Things going good in Marshall land, then?”
“You could say that,” she smiled coyly.
“You wanna enlighten your best friend over here? Look, I even brought you coffee to make you more willing to spill your guts, since I never did get the full story from you.”
“I told you everything!” Contessa said, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
“I wanna know the details,” she clarified with a raise of her eyebrows.
Contessa’s mouth flew open, and she quickly closed it. “No way.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Well, he sure can be a putz when he wants to… you know, when we’re in the middle of—of doing it.”
Contessa mentally chastised herself for being such a schoolgirl—as if she’d never divulged all her dirty secrets to Stella before.
“What do you mean?” Stella asked interestedly and handed a paper cup filled with coffee to her friend.
“Okay, well, he was being such an ass over the whole song deal—remember that?—so I was fed up with it and asked if we go to a movie. So, we went, only I tricked him into fucking me—”
“Tricked him? Honey, I really don’t think that boy needs you to trick him to do that!”
Contessa laughed. “He was really pissed,” she paused before continuing. “Anyway, I picked a shitty movie that I knew had been out for a while, so the place would be pretty empty.”
“You guys had sex in the fuckin’ movie theatre?!” Stella stuttered in disbelief. “Remind me never to go to the movies with you two.”
//
“You send your girl back home?” Dre asked as he and Marshall sat down in the studio.
“Nah, she had to get back—work and shit.”
“You didn’t try and persuade her to stay?”
“Kinda… But then she went off about how she doesn’t want my money, how she wants to make her own…”
“That’s good. You don’t want a bitch who’s after you for your green.”
“I know, but I wanna…I wanna take care of her.”
“Shit, boy, you’re sunk!”
//
“So, what’s up today?” Curtis asked casually as he strolled into the recording studio.
“We’re gonna put the finishing touches on Marsh’s latest track.”
“I thought he was still in the middle of writin’?”
“I had one song finished.”
“Oh?”
“Remember that beat we heard the other day? The one with Marshall and his girl—”
“Oh, shit! Yeah?”
“Marshall, the genius idiot that he is, recorded his next hit onto it.”
“I didn’t know that shit had picked up ‘Tessa and I when I hit the mic.”
Curtis chuckled. “You seem to lose a lot of your mind when you’re with her, man.”
“Whatever.”
“Let me hear this,” Curtis said, moving to sit down.
“Just wait, you’re gonna love it. Marsh over here, hates it, though.”
“Why, man?”
“It’s too personal to let every fucker in America here it.”
“So is a lot of your shit. Now, shut up, ‘cause knowing you hate it is gonna make this that much sweeter to listen to,” Curtis replied with a smirk.
//
“What do you think?” Dre asked after they’d listened to the new track.
“When you gonna give it to the DJs?”
“Today, if possible.”
“Do it. It’s perfect.”
“I hate you both.”
“Marshall, you’re always a killjoy. You know, you hated me for bringin’ you to my release party—and look who you met there! And you were so pissed at me when I brought Contessa over…now look at you two.”
“Shut up!” Marshall replied gruffly.
“Stop being such a grumpy old man and maybe I won’t run my mouth on you so much!”
Marshall had to laugh—he couldn’t help it. “Old man, eh? What’s Dre, then?”
“Dre is still keepin’ it cool. You’re like the landlord who hasn’t gotten paid his rent money in a couple months.”
“Am I that bad?”
Curtis and Dre exchanged looks. “Lately, yeah.”
“Gee, thanks you two!”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be better ‘cause you got Contessa back, so your hormones aren’t gonna be fuckin’ with you anymore.”
“They ain’t? You think bein’ three fuckin’ thousand miles away from her makes me happy?”
Dre guffawed loudly. “Damn, Marsh. Good thing I’m having you sent out there in a couple weeks.”
“Yeah, I’m already goin’ stir-crazy without her.”
“Man, it’s only been like, a day!” Curtis said jovially.
“So?” Marshall grinned despite his needy admittance.
//
Marshall closed his eyes; his palms were sweaty, and his head was pounding. He really did not want to be where he was, doing what he was going to do. But the alternative of not doing it wasn’t a possibility, so here he was—at Kim’s doorstep.
“Hey, honey!” she greeted.
“Hey, Kim. Can I—can I come in?”
“Of course,” she replied with a sugary voice.
//
“So, uh, how’s Hailie?” he started.
“Good; she’s at her friend’s house right now.”
Marshall breathed a sigh of relief—at least his daughter wouldn’t have to witness another fight between her parents.
“Call me crazy, but I get the feeling that you being here is not a good sign,” Kim remarked offhandedly.
“You’re right.”
“So, spit your shit out while you can.”
“Look, we can’t be together.”
Marshall held his breath, poised for a reaction.
Chapter 18Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.