Notes: This is just a little “tag along” to Game of Chance. Time period is within chapter 5, before Curtis called her; essentially, during the time Marshall was avoiding her. This is told in Contessa’s point of view. Song credit to Radiohead “Talk Show Host.”
[I want toI'm Ready
I want to be someone else]
Why the fuck hasn’t he called? Yeah, that’s right—I haven’t gotten a single word from him since he left three weeks ago.
I hate that I miss him. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about when I was just lying on top of him after some amazing sex or when we were in the fitting room.
Didn’t all of that…even if it was just sex… Didn’t it mean something?
[Or I'll explode]
Shit, I’d settle for him wanting to have another round—just something, anything!
[Floating upon the surface
For the birds
The birds
The birds]
Like, I’m tryin’ to be happy and all that now. Stella’s been bitching at me for the past few weeks because she knows I’m missing him. She knows how much I’m missing him.
Last week, I was barely living. I was playing the lovesick fool—I waited by the damn telephone and prayed for it to ring.
Yeah, it rang.
It just wasn’t Marshall. Ever.
Thankfully, I snapped out of that state soon after. But even now…sometimes I look at the telephone and sigh; I’d like something. He could tell me he hated me. That he didn’t want to see me again. He owes me that much—
[You want me?
Well fucking well
Come and find me]
He needs to make a decision; well, maybe he has.
Maybe his decision is to avoid me, ignore me, and forget me.
I just…wanna know his decision.
I need to know it.
[I'll be waiting
With a gun and a
Pack of sandwiches]
But if his decision wasn’t to forget me, it won’t be easy when he finally comes back to Cali.
He may be a world famous rapper, a millionaire, and idolized by millions, but that does not give him the right to walk all over me—to come as he pleases without so much as a word in-between just to get his little fix of satisfaction.
My legs don’t spread like peanut butter, damn it!
[And nothing
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing]
I want to hate him.
But I can’t.
I just feel…nothing.
Maybe a little empty, a little disappointed.
I’m past feeling sorry for myself.
[You want me?
Well come on and
Break the door down
You want me?
Fucking come on and
Break the door down]
There was life before Marshall, and there will be life afterwards.
He is not my universe, and I am obviously not his. I just…have to accept that what we had is over.
Silly me, I hadn’t realized it was just sex, that I was so insignificant that I wasn’t even worthy of a phone call.
So, fuck Marshall Mathers.
[I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm ready
I'm ready]
Next time our paths cross—and they will, because it’s simply not in the cards for us to never see each other again—his presence will be no more than an annoyance, unlike the ache I feel now. He will be as forgettable for me as I was for him—a bittersweet taste of his own medicine serves him right.
Author: zines@aol.com
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Disclaimer: 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.