TITLE: Jake

RATING: NC17

PAIRING: Em/Original Female

 

DEDICATION: Well- if it weren't for him- we wouldn't have such delicious inspiration. So let's dedicate this one to Marshall! With MUCH thanks to Vibe, Emily & Gi!

 

MAD PROPS TO: Jenn

 

ALSO THANKS TO: Sammie, Steph, Callie, cc4mm, alex, Tammy, Liyah, star, sanne, Colleen, me

 

NOTE: This is the first fic in which Kim will have a rather… cruel treatment from me. But please know- although I may in the minority here- I feel nothing but respect (and extreme jealousy) toward her and wish her and Marshall the best!

 

ALSO NOTE: I really, really tried to keep consistency with my own timeline of events, but if there are discrepancies, forget 'em! :-D AND I've changed a few facts- timeline of Marshall's life events a bit for plot reasons (i.e.: when Kim moved in, when they met etc…) Forgive me!

 

SUMMARY: Some things are going on in Marsh's life and he starts thinking of an old friend… but what is said friend up to?!

 

 

-Jake-

 

1

 

"GOD DAMMIT!" She yelled, slamming the door to her small, undersized claustrophobia-inducing hole of a studio apartment.

 

She read over the notice again. <How the fuck can I be being evicted?!> The notice said it was due to failure of payment of rent. <I fuckin' *pay* the rent!>

 

To say she was angry was to dramatically understate the obvious. <Being a grown-up sucks!> She kicked one of her counter stools a foot, which was, coincidentally, across the room. Like I said, it was a small apartment.

 

Now just between you and me- she *hadn't* been paying the rent. She'd been *trying* but it was far from paid- too many hospital bills, too little time in the day to work. She *could* have had the rent paid in full every month in exchange for a little… let's just say 'pillow time' with the landlord. But she wasn't that type of girl; never had been.

 

She was the type that believed that sex and love were not mutually exclusive. She believed that if you didn't love someone, you shouldn't fuck them. Don't ask *me* where she got that idea from. I haven't a clue. It certainly wasn't from her mother who would screw everyone on Main Street if it meant having smokes for the week. Perhaps it was *because* of what she saw her mother whoring herself for- that she had that belief.

 

Nevertheless- knowing how *not* often a girl falls in true love with a man; you can guess how many people she'd actually been with. But it didn't really matter to her too much. Work kept her busy. Bustin' her ass six days a week between two jobs kept her more than busy enough. Hell- even if she *had* a boyfriend- she would never have time for him.

 

She did have a circle of friends- although she mainly didn't talk to them too much. They weren't around all that often. The majority of people she counted as 'friends' were people she'd known in high school and they just didn't have the time to keep in contact with her. Her other four friends, whom she'd met at one of the various jobs she held, were also busy. She did have two really close friends, whom she cared deeply for, and was able to have no-strings, no-risk sex with them when either of them or she needed.

 

Ryan and Xander were good like that for her.

 

But back to the story- she threw the notice onto the table, although since it was a piece of paper and it rarely *flies* to the table with the attitude with which you threw it, it floated to the floor, which further pissed her off.

 

This was not her night.

 

Elsewhere in the lovely, desolate Detroit, someone *else* was having a bad night.

 

"GOD DAMMIT!" He yelled, slamming the door and although he *wished* he had a gun, he was also *really* glad he didn't.

 

"I wanted to tell you-"

 

"NO! SHUT UP!" He shouted at her. <Damn her!> "HOW COULD YOU *DO* THIS TO ME, KIM?"

 

"Marshall-"

 

"NO! No explanations this time! Just get out."

 

"What?! What about-"

 

"GET OUT!" He roared and opened and slammed the bedroom door *again*, for effect.

 

*And* to keep himself from strangling her.

 

I'm sorry. This must be confusing for you as you weren't here earlier this evening. This is Kim and Marshall. Marshall, a.k.a. Eminem, has just recently been told by his ex-wife, girlfriend and now ex-girlfriend (apparently), that she's been seeing someone else. Again.

 

Although between you and me? Why would he have reconciled with her after the *first* time she was running around on him? Not that he hasn't had his fair share of cheats- he has. Scores of fans pouring over you *has* to affect a guy somehow. Sure- he's kissed fans, groupies… but he never got involved. He never *slept* with any of t-

 

Well… except for once. But that was a long time ago- he'd been eighteen. But like I said, that was a *long* time ago.

 

Anyway- back to the lecture at hand- it appears as though Kim met someone while shopping one day and what started off as lunch and pizza dates progressed over the course of five months (while Marshall was between Detroit and Cali). And Kim has just informed him that she had… let's just say 'relations' with him about a week ago.

 

"Marshall, please- I'm sorry but-"

"NO! GET OUT! Take your shit and GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

 

To say he was mad is a *dramatic* understatement of the painfully obvious. This had happened once before- granted it had been just a kiss then, but he thought they'd worked it out- gotten their relationship to another level- to an adult one. Well- perhaps Kim put the 'adult' in adultery.

 

Whatever the case- he was through.

 

"Marsh, Hailie- what about-"

 

"Shoulda thought about her *before* you *fucked* him. God- did you suck him, Kim?"

 

"Don't-" she said.

 

"YOU did- I wanna know- did you go down on him? Did he go down on you?"

 

"Please-" She pleaded. What girl wants to give the sordid details to the person she was trying to apologize to.

 

"Was he better than me?" Marshall asked. "Bigger?"

 

"No, Marshall- let's not-"

 

"Why not? YOU did- tell me! Did he fuck your ass?"

 

"HOW DARE YOU!" She gasped.

 

"HOW DARE I?! HOW DARE *YOU*, BITCH! HOW COULD YOU *DO* THIS TO US?!"

 

"I didn't mean-"

 

"What? His dick fell in? Did you like it? Did you come?"

 

"I'm not talking about this," she resolved.

 

"Then get out! And don't come back." He opened the bedroom door and slammed it, this time with him on the other side. He had to get out of that house before he *killed* her. The thought of someone else touching… *his* woman…

 

He could admit he was a jealous man, at times. He tried not to be, but this was *Kim*. Some whore- he wouldn't give a damn about- but they had patched things up. He'd gotten the fuckin' tattoo removed too! He touched his stomach on the way to the car. <Probably the only thing that was keepin' her in line!>

 

He got in the car and sped off- thankful that Hailie hadn't been in the house that night. Luckily- and probably timed by Kim- there had been a sleepover for one of her friends at school. Kim had *waited* for this night to tell him.

 

He drove to Deshaun's house- his longtime friend. The two had met when Marshall was just 13- new in Detroit and had instantly become best friends. Besides Ronnie, Shaun had been Marshall's only confident. Well… *almost* only…

 

He knocked on the door and was happy when his friend answered. "Marsh- what's-"

 

"She fuckin' *cheated*."

 

"Again?" His friend asked, surprised. "I thought-"

 

"Yeah. So did I."

 

2

 

Okay- so honestly? That was pretty bad- possibly the worst Marshall-Kim fight I've witnessed and I was *there* for the 'parking lot fiasco of 2000'. And he's not gonna forgive her for this- it's not in his nature.

 

Well- that was a month ago. Kim refused to move, Marshall threatened to *have* her moved, Kim left, but not before explaining to Hailie was Mommy was going to live somewhere else. Poor thing- she's only eight and can't really understand why her parents can't stay together. She's taking it pretty hard and is involved with the Banana Splits at school now. She's trying to adjust. As is Marshall- who has since decided to file for full custody.

 

Honestly? Judges don't look at single fathers as well as they do mothers, but who knows how this one will turn out. I certainly don't- although I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for him. And for dear Hailie- as they know not what is in store for them and misguided Kim.

 

Anyway- where was I going?

 

Oh yes.

 

"Order's up," Ryan announced.

 

"Gee thanks, Ry- really, *thanks*," Morgan said, grabbing the plates. She *really* didn't wanna go back to table seven. He was a regular customer who regularly grabbed her ass and didn't tip.

 

"Sorry," he shrugged.

 

She grabbed the two sodas and the plate. Morgan worked nights in a five star dump with a one star wage. Eight-hour shift on top of a half-hour lunch and two fifteen minutes.

 

Let's just survey the place tonight- all but one table is full of poor, hungry factory workers that work the evening shift and only have ten more minutes before they have to clock in again. They're tired and can't understand that as much as they don't wanna work in a factory is as violently as she despises serving them.

 

She's liable to walk away from the hour-long rush with a mere ten bucks in tips- enough to prepay for bus fare for the weekend.

 

And above all this- two of the five waitresses called in this evening and she's working her own tables and two-thirds of Mindy's.

 

"I said Dr. Pepper- this is coke," a brawny black woman said snidely.

 

"I'll bring you another. I'm sorry, Ma'am," she said and quickly disappeared, glancing at the clock again. It was only two minutes closer to her break than it had been the last time she looked. And her break was two hours away.

 

She sighed and headed back out with another Dr. Pepper for the woman.

 

<God- I'm so tired.>

 

Between you and me- she used to dream. She used to dream of going to college, the first in her family. She dreamt of going to some state university and studying law or medicine or biology or music or English or history or anything but the fine art of folding napkins at midnight before the dinner rush.

 

Truth be told, if she had gone to school- she would have majored in business. She'd always wanted to own her own store or restaurant or something- a hotel… anything but wearing the apron.

 

But she doesn't dream anymore.

 

She's just another blade of grass the city destroyed and put a blue collar on. Just another person sucked into a life that was neither wanted nor desired, but worn.

 

The only saving grace of this, her second job, is that it is only five nights a week. Her *first* job was that of a glorified secretary for a self-made businessman. She worked in the office, a.k.a. converted garage, 8 to 4 every week day, answering phones, cutting checks, placing orders, tracking shipments and doing web work. She got paid fairly well- six bucks an hour, sans taxes, *and* was able to keep off her feet. All in all not bad, until you factor in that Tuesday thru Saturday she worked at the diner from 6 pm to 3 am and then had a bus ride of twenty minutes and a ten minute walk on top of that to go home, sleep for two hours, and wake up to shower and take another bus across Detroit.

 

Oh yeah- the glory life.

 

And even with all the working- making $446 dollars a week plus thirty bucks in tips was *not* her idea of livin' it up. That was roughly seventeen hundred dollars a month, which doesn't sound *bad*, but when her rent was six hundred, electric was another fifty, phone was another fifty, groceries another two hundred, insurance another three hundred- that left her with five hundred dollars left. And that five hundred got sent to the hospital to put toward her mother's medical bills which were *quickly* piling up on her desk.

 

Well- now I'm depressed.

 

Let's see what Marshall's up to-

 

"Yo, Man, whachu gonna do if you *do* get custody?"

 

"Take care of my daughter, what do you think?" He asked his friend.

 

"No- we got that tour comin' up in two months. *Two* *months*- whachu gonna do wit' Hai then? You need a plan before you go in and see the judge next month."

 

"Fuck, you're right, Shaun. FUCK. Shit-" he threw his head back and looked at his two closest friends. Deshaun and Denaun, and it dawned on him suddenly that "I am *so* unhappy."

 

"We know, Em- we've noticed."

 

They had been friends for so long- they'd known each other longer than he'd been with Kim. Kim had moved in when she was fourteen, due to his mother's incessant need to be in the spotlight. He'd been seventeen at the time and they'd started as friends. It didn't turn romantic for another year or so.

 

"Shit- ya know who I miss?" He asked, besides Ronnie and Bugz, of course. His friends looked at him. "Jake," he answered himself.

 

"OH shit- yeah- been a *long* time… eleven years or so- right?"

 

"Yeah," he sighed. "Jake… shit." He hadn't thought of Jake in a *long* time. Marshall and Jake had been *really* close, especially before Kim came around. Jake lived three doors down from he and his mother and he'd just instantly bonded with Jake. As kids- they'd get into all sorts of trouble and Marshall fondly thought of Jake as his first crush.

 

And then- when they were sixteen- they'd shared… let's just say 'another' first together.

 

"Wonder what Jake's up to," he wondered out loud. "Love to see-"

 

"Yeah- we *know* why you wanna see Jake again, Em. Is it really good to rebound with *Jake* of all people?"

 

Shit- Marshall knew they were right.

 

*Or*- had *Kim* been the rebound from Jake?

 

Because the more he thought about it- the safest he'd ever felt had been with Jake. But he *knew* why'd they'd stopped seeing each other. And he regretted it now. He often found himself wondering how life would have been different had he and Jake stayed together.

 

What?

 

Oh- I'm terribly sorry- allow me to clarify- you thought Marshall was straight?

 

Of course he is! I never said otherwise.

 

Just pay attention to the story.

 

All things come to those who wait.

 

3

 

It was a dreary, rainy day. It had been foggy early that morning, but the fog had lifted and she almost wished it was still there so you couldn't see how dark the rain made the sky and already tired city.

 

Morgan Jacobsen sat patiently for her mother's doctor. And by patiently, I mean rocking back and forth and tapping her foot nervously. She just wanted to be *home* on her one and only day off. She wanted to wake up at ten or eleven and lay in bed until three. But visiting hours were from ten to two. So there she was, bright and early.

 

"Ms. Jacobsen?"

 

"Yes? Any change?"

 

"Your mother's condition… it's not *likely* to improve, as we feared. The disease has… progressed and-"

 

"Can I see her?"

 

"Of course."

 

She walked into the room and saw her mother sitting in bed. "Mama?" She asked softly, unsure if the woman was sleeping or not.

 

"Mori? Is that you?"

 

"Yes, Mama, it's me." She pulled a chair over to the bed. "How are you feeling?" She asked, but she could tell, as anyone could, by the pale color and frailness of the woman's body, that she wasn't well.

 

"Right as rain, Mori. Are you still at the pizza place, Honey?"

 

She tried not to cry and smiled. "For six years now, Mama. I'm the assistant manager now." Her mother didn't remember that the pizza place had gone belly up eight years prior and she had not the heart to correct the old woman.

 

"I *knew* my girl would rise," she said, placing her hand on her daughter's hand. "And Mickey? You and he are still planning a May wedding?"

 

Morgan almost lost it then. "Yeah, Mama. A May wedding-" she said, biting back the tears. The doctor's had warned her that she would start losing time more rapidly as the disease progressed, but-

 

"Yes- you'll look so pretty in your dress, Mori," she said, placing a hand on her daughter's belly. "It'll almost be time by then, huh?"

 

"Yeah, Mama. I have to go- Mickey's… Mickey's expecting me- I have to go-"

 

She raced from the room and ran the three miles in the rain to the bus stop, trying to drown the tears with the sound of her feet pounding on the pavement.

 

She jumped on the bus and threw herself into the first seat.

 

An hour later, she found herself kneeling in front of the small stone and she traced the letters with her fingers B-A-B-Y-M-J-M. And she cried as the rain fell on her face, as if the sky were crying for *her*.

 

Oh sure- she tried not to think about her baby. She tried every day not to think about MJ, but it rarely worked. But now her mother didn't remember that the baby had died- stillborn, two months early.

 

That night had changed everything. For her *and* for Mickey.

 

She still thought of him. Often. Every day. How could she not?

 

And she often wondered if he thought of *her*.

 

While she cries- we really should check up on Marshall since he's… decided to act.

 

He knocked on the door and waited an answer.

 

"Hel…loohmygod- you're…"

 

"Yeah- um… weird question- but do you know Margaret Jacobsen?"

 

"Ohmygod-" the girl was *obviously* a fan who was *not* expecting to open the door to Eminem. He hadn't been planning on knocking on the door. He meant to just 'drive by' his old house- Jake's house… but his heart got the better of him.

 

"Please- focus- Mrs. Jacobsen? Does she live here still?"

 

"No- sorry- we- bought the house six years ago- the lady was ill, I guess. I'm not sure- I don't remember it too much."

 

"Thanks," he shrugged and turned away.

 

"BUT- my mom- she's due back in a few minutes- if you wanna… come in- I think she had the woman's number- or… she had a kid, I think."

 

The kid?!

 

"Okay," he said and stepped inside. He looked around and things had changed- new furniture… a bit of paint- but it was still Jake's house.

 

The girl led him to the kitchen and he sat at the table and looked over to the counter. Fond memories of making popcorn and making out- when he couldn't get enough and they'd kiss until they couldn't breathe and *barely* be able to stop for air.

 

"Um- do you think you could…"

 

"Yeah, bring it."

 

The girl smiled and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with CDs and a poster. He gladly signed everything for her.

 

"So- you… knew her? Mrs. Jacobsen?"

 

"Yeah. Neighbors- just got thinkin' about everyone lately."

 

"Did you know her kid?"

 

"Yeah- we were close- friends… I'm actually tryin' to find-"

 

"Janet- whose car is- hello?"

 

"Mom! Oh my god! Can you believe it?!"

 

He stood up and offered his hand to the woman. "Marshall Mathers, pleased to meet you- I… hope you don't mind my stoppin', but- I was tryin' to find out where the Jacobsen's went when they moved."

 

"Oh- lemme go see if I still have that number." She disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a small piece of paper. "This is the only number I have- I'm not sure if it'd even work, but… maybe that person could help you."

 

"Thanks. A lot. I appreciate it."

 

He left after hugging the younger girl and glancing in the living room where 'it' happened.

 

While he was around… he decided to swing by the cemetery. He hadn't been in a while.

 

But not before dialing the number on his cell-phone once he was in his car.

 

"Hello?" A familiar voice answered.

 

"Hi… this is- it's Mar- Mickey."

 

There was silence on the other end of the line.

 

4

 

She really had *no* idea what to do or say.

 

She'd *never* been expecting to hear his voice again- other than on the radio… or television.

 

"Jake?" He asked, hesitantly, not sure if perhaps it *hadn't* been the voice he'd heard calling his name in mid-orgasm so many times before in years past.

 

"What are you- why- how…" she couldn't speak. She gave up trying. "MJ," she said softly before hanging up.

 

He knew where she'd be. He'd been on his way there himself, but he couldn't really understand how it was that he'd be looking for her at the exact moment that she'd be there.

 

He drove to the cemetery, oblivious to the music on the radio or rain that was falling, oblivious to everything and anything except the thought of seeing her again after twelve years.

 

As he pulled into the cemetery, he looked toward the tree they had chosen for their daughter. He saw a woman- god- was she a woman? He couldn't believe it. He couldn't really see her too well from where he was- but he knew she was hardly the young twenty-year old he'd known.

 

He parked the car and got out and the rain began to soak him too.

 

He approached the woman quietly and knelt beside her. His eyes fell on the words they'd chosen carefully together eleven years ago. Baby MJM.

 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and she had honestly never expected to see him again. Ever. He had changed so much and not- all in the same breath. His eyes were older. His face, thinner, more chiseled out. He'd been muscular before, but it had been a teen's body and he had adult muscles now- more defined, harder from more years of working out. But his lips were the same- inviting, soft… his general features- his skin, still flawless and beautiful. He'd always been gorgeous to her.

 

She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to say anything. She had nothing to say.

 

There was too *much* to say.

 

He glanced at her. She'd changed a bit- her hair was longer- wet, because of the rain. She was soaked and he wondered how long she'd been sitting there.

 

The baby fat from her face had disappeared and she'd gotten over the dreaded breakouts that had plagued her in the summers of her teen years. She looked tired…. Exhausted.

 

"You're shivering," he whispered, but he wasn't sure she heard him. "Jake?"

 

"Huh?" She looked at him, finally, eye contact. And when they looked into each other's eyes- it was like staring into history itself.

 

"You're soaked- you should… get warm- changed… inside-"

 

"Oh. I didn't notice," she said softly.

 

"How long have you been here?"

 

"What time is it?"

 

"Two," he said, after glancing at this watch.

 

"Few hours," she shrugged, before resuming her vigil. "She'd be thirteen next month."

 

"Yeah. I know," he said. "Can I- please- let me take you home. You're gonna get sick."

 

The thought occurred to her that if she was sick- she wouldn't be able to work and she would for sure be evicted, since the hospital bill always got paid first.

 

She nodded. Placed a kiss on her hand and touched the tombstone once more, before standing up.

 

He opened the door for her and didn't much care about how wet the seat would get. "Where do you-"

 

"Just get me to the bus stop."

 

"Jake- lemme take you home."

 

"No one's called me that in years."

 

"Yeah well-" he smiled at her and it nearly made her weak at the knees. "Where do you live?"

 

"Live? You mean *exist*?"

 

"Either way," he shrugged.

 

"Left, here," she indicated at the next intersection. "Why are you *here*?"

 

"What?"

 

"Why'd you call me after… god, ten years has it been? More?"

 

"Got thinkin' about before- well… I *always* think about it- you- but… guess I decided to do somethin' 'bout it."

 

She nodded. "I'm glad you followed your dream," she commented, knowing how stupid it sounded. But she *was* happy to see him so successful. She always *knew* he was something special. She was glad the rest of the world could see it.

 

"Thanks," he said and he wished he hadn't lost contact with her. Hell- without *her*, he might not even have followed his dream- might not have met Proof, who would have never then forced him into battling. Fuck- he wished he'd never *listened* to- "I wish I would have called you sooner."

 

"Right at the next light."

 

She chose to ignore his comment. Everyone *wished* for something. But it didn't much matter, did it?

 

I know- aren't they exhausting?! He's famously known for never saying the right thing at the right time and she's just… well- quite frankly- she never forgave him for disappearing when she needed him the most. She'd thought he was different from everyone else in her life.

 

"So… what are *you* doing these days?"

 

"Besides *not* being a gazillionaire?" She said with the hint of a smile. He remembered how gorgeous she was when she smiled. Her smile would light up a room and make her eyes sparkle. And when she laughed? Forget it. He was a *goner*.

 

"Not a *gazillionaire*," he corrected her.

 

"Then tell me- just to satisfy my own curiosity- what's your net worth right now?"

 

"I don't-"

 

"You do so, *Marshall*- I *know* you know. You *never* *didn't* know how much money you had. Now tell me."

 

"Eighty-two million seven hundred thousand, roughly."

 

"Shit," she gasped. "Oh- left at the stop sign."

 

He noticed that they were slowly getting closer to the… let's just say 'not so pleasant' part of Detroit. That worried him. She'd *wanted* to own a company. He wondered what had happened to that dream.

 

"It's just money," he stated.

 

"Yeah well… when you've got it? It's not quite as important. But for us peons…"

 

"Stop that. I'm no different from you, *Morgan*."

 

There were *so* many unspoken words between the two it made me sick.

 

They used to be close. They used to tell each other everything. They used to talk about her period and what he would think about when jackin' off. They used to talk about his childhood and her parents and their hopes and dreams. And as much history as they held in their eyes, they held more hurt feelings and pain in their hearts.

 

Oh- what?

 

You wanna know?

 

Well… I'm not supposed to tell…

 

But I guess I can make an exception.

 

You convinced me.

 

5

 

Okay- well… I suppose if you want to really understand what the whole thing is about- you've got to start back on a day in 1986, a few months after Marshall moved in to a small house in Warner.

 

It was sunny but cold that day and he was on his way to school, which he loathed.

 

"Marshall!" His mother yelled as he opened the door.

 

"What?!" He yelled back.

 

"Get your ass back here right after school. The bathroom needs to be cleaned, you little shit and your room is messy!"

 

"Fine," he muttered under his breath and slammed the door behind him. He *hated* his mother.

 

She just *had* to move them *here*- away from Ronnie, his grandmother… everyone who gave a damn about him. And on top of that- he had to walk an additional mile to school to avoid certain… *people* who didn't like him very much.

 

He was walking along, minding his own business when he heard something behind him. He turned and <fuck>.

 

"Hey lil' boy- Mommy let you leave today?"

 

He *hated* Ty- a big, black high schooler who got his kicks from pickin' on all the younger kids- Marshall especially.

 

Marshall turned and just kept walking, but he knew Ty was following him. "Yo- I need money- gimme yers."

 

"Don't got none," Marshall said and hit the pavement with a thud when Ty pushed him from behind. <Not again.>

 

"I *said* gimme yer money. An' now ya pissed me off- so I'ma take yer damn coat too!" Marshall heard Ty's friends laughing. "C'mon, Whitey- or do we gotta take 'em from ya?"

 

One of his friends grabbed Marshall by the coat and yanked him up to his feet before another friend smacked him. <Shit. Just *give* them the money, Marshall.>

 

"HEY!" He heard a voice from behind the guys, but he couldn't see the source. "TYLER!"

 

"What the fuck you want, Bitch?!"

 

"Yo mama! But the fat bitch won't call me!" Morgan said, running up to the pack of boys. She usually didn't bother with them, but she still had a trump card that kept Tyler away from her.

 

"Bitch - don't make me hit no girl."

 

"Leave him alone," she said, pointing to the kid. She'd noticed him the past few months. He kept to himself a *lot*. And got picked on a *lot* more. But any time she'd tried to approach him, he always left or she got distracted… she *knew* he lived a few houses down from her. She'd seen them moving in. Him and a woman- his mother, she assumed.

 

"And whachu gonna do 'bout it, Jake?"

 

She just glared at Ty and raised her eyebrow suggestively.

 

He stared at her for a second before turning to his boys. "C'mon. It ain't worth it - fucker's prolly only got a dolla anyway."

 

They threw Marshall down as they left.

 

She walked over to him and offered him a hand. "You okay?" She asked.

 

"Yeah. Thanks." He turned from her and walked away.

 

"Hey!" She caught up with him and walked backwards in front of him. "I'm Jake."

 

He'd never really met a girl who *talked* to him. It shocked him. But- "Jake?" He questioned.

 

"Morgan Jacobsen. My friends just call me Jake- don't know why- makes me sound more manly?" She smiled a bit. "And you are…?" She asked.

 

"Oh- sorry. Marshall."

 

"Hi!" She smiled. He looked at her for a second. Her jeans were tattered, like his. Sneakers were probably a year or two old, like his. She had shoulder-length brown, curly hair, pulled into a pony-tail and brown eyes. She was pretty, he decided.

 

"So… those guys-"

 

"Won't bother you again."

 

"Why'd they- I mean- you don't *look* older than them-"

 

"I'm thirteen," she said. "And Ty's all tough- but… I got a lil sum sumin' on him, so he don't bother me. And he'll you alone too- but just to make sure, you should prolly walk wit' me to school every morning."

 

"You go to my school?"

 

"Yeah," she said. "We got English together- and you're in my math class too."

 

"Oh," he said. He hadn't really noticed anyone in any of his classes. He preferred to keep to himself. A lot. "Whachu got on him?"

 

She smiled. He was smart. "We used to go to church together- years back- I was five and in the Christmas play. He was nine and was the only one who fit into the 'Mary' outfit when the girl got sick."

 

"What?!"

 

"I got a picture of him dressed up as Mary, with little pillow baby-belly- I told him if he ever tried anything- I'd show everyone the picture."

 

Marshall couldn't help but laugh and she couldn't help but notice how his blue eyes sparkled a bit when he laughed and he had dimples. He was cute.

 

That week- there was rarely a time when he *wasn't* hanging out with Jake. She showed him the good places to hang, good routes to take to avoid people… she too understood what it was like growing up white in a black neighborhood. She'd done it for thirteen years.

 

It was that weekend when she invited him to hang with her and a couple of her friends. He went over to her house one night, when her mother wasn't home, and it was there where he met her friends: Deshaun, Quadem and Jovi. He thought it was strange that she only had male friends, and although he was nervous with meeting new people- they were really accepting. It was the first time in his life when he actually felt comfortable with people. *She* made him feel comfortable with people. And it was the first time in Detroit when it really didn't matter what color he was, since her 3 friends had no problem with the fact that she was a white girl and he was a white boy and they were all black.

 

Of course, you know that Deshaun is still his friend to this day- and also his label mate. Bet you didn't know that it was all because of a girl.

 

He also found that they all had something in common… rhyming.

 

So that was a pretty crucial time in young Marshall's life. Had he not been saved that morning… perhaps he never would have opened up- he never would have met Deshaun and therefore would not have been encouraged to rap and battle… but the rest is history!

 

They met and the five of them would rhyme and he and Shaun would battle each other all the time. He actually had friends.

 

Over the next year- he became close with them. And Jake. He'd hang at her house when her mother was out and she'd visit him when his mother was gone.

 

She had just as tough a home life as he did, sometimes worse he thought. Her mother would rotate boyfriends more frequently than a Merry-Go-Round. Some nights, he'd look out his window and see her sitting on the back porch. Those were nights when her mother had a 'special friend' over and Jake wasn't welcome in the house. Those were nights when they'd go walking or over to Shaun's house.

 

Some time, years later- he'd realize that she'd actually had it pretty good. Her mother always provided for her. By whoring herself, but at least Jake had had a roof over her head most parts. And her mother was *nice*, which was more than he could say about his own.

 

For the most part, though, the guys didn't touch *her* and Marshall was glad of that. Or at least, that's what she said. Until one night- his mother was out at Bingo and he was watching television when the door burst open and it was Jake. She was crying hysterically and he didn't know what was wrong, but she just fell into his arms on the couch and held onto him tightly.

 

He was 14 and he'd never really *seen* a girl crying like that- especially not Jake. She always seemed so… tough, like one of the guys. When she calmed down he asked, "What happened?"

 

"Rick- he… tried to-"

 

"Ohmygod! Are you okay? We should call the-"

 

"No!" She said. "No. Just… hold me." She hated being weak. She hated it in her mother, and especially in herself. But she trusted him.

 

"Mori, are you- he didn't though, right?"

 

"No. No. He didn't…" she said. "Not really."

 

In actuality? He had a *little*. She'd been in her room when the door opened and it was her mother's 'boyfriend' Rick. He'd touched her chest, kissed her, slipped a finger inside her and then left.

 

"I don't wanna go back there," she said softly.

 

"So let's go."

 

"Huh?" She sat up and looked at him.

 

"Let's go- I've got some money- we'll leave."

 

"Where we gonna go?"

 

"We'll go to my gram's house- you can meet Ronnie and we can stay there for a while."

 

"Okay."

 

Yeah. He's never put *this* in a rhyme. But they *did* run away for a bit. Took the money from his mother's room, and emptied Rick's wallet (who had since passed out)- and bought two bus tickets.

 

And that trip *really* was the start of… *something*. Something neither saw coming.

 

6

 

"Wanna talk?" He asked.

 

"Huh?" She turned to him. "No. Let's… we need a game- it's like a *long* ride to Missouri." She turned and curled her legs up under her so she could face him.

 

"What kinda game?" The young man asked.

 

"Truth or dare?"

 

"And what are we gonna dare? To sit on a bus for ten hours?"

 

"OH. Right. Well… we could *owe* each other dares?"

 

"Boring!" He slightly sung. "Here!" He handed her a pack of cards from his pocket. "Poker?"

 

"Okay. Jacks wild?"

 

"Fine. *Girl*."

 

"Hey! Jerk!" She smiled and he was glad to see her smile. She hadn't smiled since they got on the bus nearly two hours ago. As for her? She could already feel Detroit disappearing and fading from memory. "I gotta pee before we start though."

 

When she came back from the bathroom, she seemed in a worse mood as she sat down, her back to him. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nuthin'- when's the next stop?"

 

"An hour. Why?"

 

"We gotta get off- I gotta go to a store or somethin'."

 

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked.

 

She turned to him and said, "I'm raggin'."

 

"Oh. Oh- um…" Now, for a fourteen year old boy- he had *no* idea what to do with that information. He and the boys always treated her as one of the guys since she *was*. She was Jake- one of the guys. But this… this was definitely 'girl-y'. And he wasn't really used to thinking about her 'girl parts'. Sure- he knew she had them. And occasionally, she'd wear a shirt that showed off her early and ample development.

 

"Don't look surprised. I *am* a girl," she said, nudging him a bit. "God- duh?! Don't tell me you didn't-"

 

"I figured, I guess," he shrugged. "I dunno- never thought about it."

 

"Oh please- I know you guys look at my boobs."

 

"We do not!" He denied quickly. She just raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Okay… maybe a little- sometimes…"

 

He was a bit embarrassed by the fact that the talk about her 'girlness' was making his… let's just say 'boyness'… wake up a bit. So maybe he'd thought about her *more* than just sometimes…

 

"Let's just not talk," he said.

 

"Fine," she shrugged and turned back to the window. She didn't really wanna admit to him that she'd thought of him before… wondering what they guys talked about when she wasn't around.

 

She wasn't terribly *shy* about sex. She knew Shaun had been jackin' off for a couple years, anyway. Quadem was a year older than they both were and she *knew* he'd kissed girls before. And, if he was a credible source, had actually been to second base with his girlfriend. But Jake didn't really believe half of what he said. Her other best friend, Jovi, she *knew* had been to third, because the girl had told Jake about it personally.

 

But she knew very little about Marshall, other than the fact that he hadn't had many friends at his last school. "Marsh?"

 

"What?" He asked, not really wanting to talk too much, due to his problem. And he really thought it was unfair that his stupid dick would just decide on its own when to be active. And it's not like he could go into the bathroom and take care of it.

 

"Truth or dare?" She asked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"C'mon, just pick," she said, touching his arm softly and he jumped. So did his cock. <Shit.>

 

"Fine. Truth."

 

"Do you jack off?" She asked him quietly, so as not to disturb other passengers on the bus.

 

"What?!" He gasped. He couldn't believe she'd actually *said* that to him.

 

"Well, do you?"

 

"I can't believe you'd-"

 

"C'mon. I know the guys do- we've talked about it…"

 

"When?"

 

"Before- we… just do. So do you?" He didn't want to answer her. "Tell me. You picked truth…"

 

"Fine. Yes. Okay?" He answered her quickly and then looked around to see if anyone knew of their conversation.

 

"How much?"

 

"What?"

 

"How much do you do it?"

 

He smirked. Fine. If she wanted to talk- he'd talk. She was just one of the guys, right? "You'll have to hope I pick 'truth' next time. Won't you? Truth or dare?"

 

"Truth," she said.

 

"Do you?" He asked.

 

"Why, Marshall- you naughty, naughty boy…"

 

"You started it," he said, turning a bit red.

 

A few minutes after she did it, she didn't really know why she did- but in that instance, she leaned in to him, very close, with her lips seconds from his ear and whispered, "Yesss, I do."

 

His dick went *wild* with that… he didn't know what to do with himself. He'd never really known a girl like her before.

 

She sat back, leaning back against the window. "Your turn. Truth or dare."

 

Marshall wasn't sure if he really *wanted* to be honest again. He didn't want to tell her he did it nearly every day. He didn't want to ask other questions. So… he said "dare."

 

She smirked. "I *dare* you to touch my-"

 

The bus came halting to a stop and they got slammed into the next seat in front of them before the driver said, "NEXT STOP!! LEAVING AGAIN IN A HALF-HOUR!"

 

Okay, okay. You're probably wondering what all this really has to do with Marshall and Morgan, sitting in his car, driving. I know- but you said you wanted to know, so don't ask me dumb questions like "what does this have to do with them?"

 

Do you wanna know the story, or not?

 

You do?

 

Good.

 

7

 

The two decided to stay the night in Illinois instead of staying on the bus for the night.

 

"So- who would you rather be?"

 

"Between who?" He asked.

 

"Big Bird or Oscar?"

 

"Why are we even *having* this conversation?"

 

"It says a lot about your personality- just answer the question."

 

"Fine. Fine. Oscar, I guess. What does that say about me?"

 

"That you'd rather not be some froofy yellow bird!"

 

He opened the motel door for her and she walked inside. "Great- isn't *this* just lovely?"

 

"It's all we could afford if we wanna make it to my gram's house."

 

"I know. I know." She walked in and threw her coat and bag on the floor before falling onto the bed. "I am *so* tired… and I need a shower."

 

"Well- you can go ahead. I'ma go find us somethin' for dinner. Okay?"

 

"Alright."

 

As she showered, it dawned on her that it just felt right- being with him. She trusted him. She liked him. A lot. And she was beginning to think it was more than just in a friendly way…

 

That night, as they lied in bed next to each, on top of the covers in their clothes waiting for sleep, she heard him softly ask, "What was the dare?"

 

"Dare?" She repeated before remembering what she was *going* to say. "Oh- it was… silly."

 

"Well- I owe it to you," he said. He turned his head and looked at her. "So tell me."

 

"To kiss me," she answered softly. "I was gonna dare you to kiss me."

 

Without batting an eyelash, the shy Marshall leaned over to her and pressed his lips against hers quickly, for their first kiss.

 

In the instant when he realized what did, he stiffened and lay back down next to her.

 

She was stunned as well.

 

And they fell asleep that way- with a foot of bed between them.

 

The rest of the ride to Kansas City was pretty quiet. A strange silence had fallen between them as they tried to make sense of the things that were changing between them.

 

And in a way- Morgan couldn't help but feel like the things had already been there, they simply hadn't *known*.

 

"Okay- she may be upset, but- you'll like her," Marshall assured Morgan. "And she'll like you. I *know* she will!"

 

He knocked on the door and a woman opened the door. "Marshall?! What on earth are you doin' here?!"

 

"Surprise, Gram! Are you surprised?!"

 

"Yes- of course! But… Marshall- does your mother know you're here?"

 

"No," he informed her. "Please, Grandma- please don't tell her. Not right now, please," he begged.

 

Her eyes fell onto Morgan and Morgan looked at the woman who smiled wide. "Well- don't be so rude, Mickey- who's your friend?"

 

"*Mickey*?" Morgan asked.

 

"*Gram*," Marshall whined. How embarrassing! He couldn't *believe* she'd said that in front of… "This is Jake."

 

"Jake?" The woman questioned.

 

"Short for my last name. My *first* name is Morgan- my mom calls me Mori…" she said "when she's sober," she added softly as an afterthought.

 

But Betty Kresin heard it and instinctively knew there was more to the story. She knew her grandson missed her and- "OH! Ronnie! He'll be so happy to see you! Come in, come on in!" She shut the door behind them before calling up the stairs, "RONNIE! You got a visitor!"

 

8

 

"What, Ma?" He called, coming down the stairs before seeing his nephew. "MARSH!"

 

She watched as the boy, not two inches taller than Marshall, ran down the stairs and the boys hugged violently.

 

"Ronnie- you gotta meet my friend- this is Jake."

 

"Hi!" She said.

 

"Hey."

 

"Well- I'll get you kids some soda. Mickey- why don't you and Ronnie show Morgan the extra bedroom. We'll pull the couch out for her there."

 

"C'mon," Marshall told her and they followed Ronnie up the stairs.

 

"So- what the hell are you doin' here, Marsh? Debbie musta had a shit fit when-"

 

"She don't know I left. Or maybe she *does*, but- don't know where I went."

 

"Why you here then?"

 

"Hada get away for a bit," he lied. He didn't wanna get into Jake's business. He didn't feel it was right to air such pe