shadyfiction.com - Rain, chapter 4

Title : Rain
Pairing: Eminem/Kim
Summary: Em and Kim are trying work things out, meanwhile- fourteen year old Lily Rayne has problems of her own.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I will NOT be address Kim's niece who is supposedly living with them. For the purposes of this, she doesn't exist in their home permanently. 1) I don't want to complicate things MORE. 2) Some sources say her name is Amy others say it's Aidan. 3) I'm the author and it's my right! It's fanfic! :-) I will *also* not really be addressing Nathan *too* much. He may pop up- but he's not living with them either. ALSO I am assuming the book "Cleanin' Out My Closet" is a load of crap since that's what the man himself said. So any information J.R. Watkins said about Kim or Em and their relationship does not apply here.

ONE MORE THING!!! This fiction is color coded for ease of reading since there are three main characters!! Anytime you see (------), it means time has passed. Here's the KEY:

4
~~~~~~~~

I have *no* clue what the hell to do with myself. So I've been throwing myself into catching up with my schoolwork. Or at least some of it. I don't care all that much right now. But-

God- I miss Mom every second.

I wish she were here to help me.

I have no idea what the hell to do. I mean- Mom is *dead* and I miss her soo much and now-

"Knock knock?"

"Come in," I say and Marcie opens the door.

"How goes it, Lily?"

"It goes."

"I thought maybe… you'd like to go out."

"Out?" I don't *go* out anymore. Haven't since Mom got sick again. I didn't really *wanna* go anywhere without Mom. I *don't* wanna go anywhere without Mom. Mom and I used to go to the movies and buy popcorn and sour patch kids and a big huge Mountain Dew and we'd never see just one movie- we'd always see two.

"Yeah. I thought- maybe you'd wanna go shopping or something- or lunch? Just you and me?"

"No thanks," I sigh.

"Lily?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna take you mother's place. I don't think I could. But- I thought maybe you'd wanna talk about-"

My famous parents?

"What if they really don't want me?" I ask.

"Oh, Honey," she says and sits down next to where I'm laying on my bed. She rubs my back a little like Mom used to. "From what you told me and what your mother said before she- when we were talking about it- it sounded like they'd very much wanna know you."

"Yeah, but- why haven't they called him back?"

God. I'm not a huge rap fanatic or anything and Mom woulda *never* let me listen to Eminem. I mean- I didn't even know what his real name was. I guess pop culture doesn't really seem important when your mother is dying.

"I don't know, Lily. Why don't you let me take you shopping? You could pick out some jeans or books or something? We could to go to Media Play and listen to some CDs?"

"Can I get the Eminem CDs?"

"I don't know, Lil- I, uh- they're full of bad language and-"

"Please?" I ask, sitting up. "They're… all I got of my blood family right now. I mean- I don't even know who he is. My *friends* know more about my father than *I* do. Please?"

"Okay… we'll look, okay? Leave in a half hour?"

------------

I flip through the CDs and find another one. Man- he's… productive I guess. And now that I'm looking- I do remember the big deal made about the movie- back in November. A few kids from school were tryin' to sneak into theatres to see it.

"Can I help you find anything?" One of the Media Play people asks. "Oh- new Eminem fan?"

"Huh? Yeah- I guess."

"Ohgod- he's *so* fuckin' hot, isn't he? A few of my friends and I saw him in concert last summer- it was off the hook. Have you seen 8 mile?"

"No- not yet."

"It's worth the rental- shows a completely different side of him."

"Oh- I really don't know *any* side of him. I just- was curious what it all was about."

"Well- you should definitely check it out- oh and there are a few books too with some great info."

"Thanks." I glance at what I've got in my hand. Four CDs.

"OH! *And* you *gotta* get the DVDs too! They're great! The All Access Europe DVD is *great* backstage shit and you get to see his ass! It's AWESOME!"

God- what the fuck am I supposed to do? I don't… think my *dad* is hot. Do I?

I sigh and head over to the DVDs and sure enough- four DVDs later I head over to the books.

"Lily!" I turn toward the voice and it's my friend Jen, from school.

"Hey."

"How *are* you? Some kids are sayin' you're not comin' back 'cause a your mom."

"I don't know yet," I shrug. "Hey- sorry I haven't called. I got your card though. Thanks."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Jen's the *only* one of my 'friends' who visited me who *didn't* have that 'I feel so sorry for you' look in her eyes. "Um- you… rebelling against Marcie?"

"Huh? No. I just- am curious, I guess. You ever… listened?"

"Are you kidding? I hide all hit shit in my room so my mom can't find it. He's so fuckin' hysterical! Is Marcie here with you?"

"Yeah. She's lookin' at baby books. Anyway- I should-"

"Yeah, okay. Just- gimme a call. Maybe we could have a movie marathon or somethin'- bunch of stupid movies?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Two books later, I find Marcie sitting with a book on baby's development from one year to six. I flop down next to her on the couch and her eyes go wide when she sees what I have in my hands. Easily a hundred and fifty bucks. Maybe more.

"Um… Lily- I don't… know about this stuff. It's… a lot of language." She picks up one of the books- actually written by *him*- and starts flipping through it. "Oh god- look at this- Lily- this is-"

"He wrote it and… Marcie- I just- everyone knows about him than me. It's like- all I know is that everyone said he was a horrible sexist jerk. Do I even *want* to meet him? I mean… is he a horrible person? I don't even *have* a mother any more and-"

"Okay, okay," she says when she sees me starting to get upset. "We'll get 'em."

-------------
*********

God- this is just-

"Em- all I'm saying is that you don't know if it's-"

"Paul-"

"LISTEN to me. Kim's pregnancy- any good reporter could have dug it up and found some young girl to claim to-"

"Did they *ask* for money?" I ask.

"No, but-"

Everyone is saying we shouldn't call 'em back because- I don't know. Because of the PR nightmare or because it could be a scam and we don't know if this or if that- and if it got out and-

"Paul," Marshall says, trying to remain calm. "Have you spoken to the lawyer?"

"No, not in person. But- Jimmy, Steve- everyone is worried about this. You shouldn't even *contact* these people until they send us some hard DNA proof. Do you *know* what a nightmare this could be?"

"*Paul*," I interrupt angrily. "I haven't seen my daughter in fourteen *years*. If this could potentially be her- I don't *give* a fuck about the publicity. *Call* the lawyer back. *Now*."

"Kim-" he starts to protest.

"PAUL!" Marsh yells, throwing his chair back against the wall. "Make the call. Just- find out her story- see if they can give any details- her name, the name of her parents- anything like that."

And I am *so* glad he agrees with me. God- if she's… looking for us- does she know who we *are*? God- what if all she knows of us is what the Enquirer says? That we're horrible people…

God- I have this ache inside me and it's *screaming* to me. It's *her*. I *know* it's her.

It's Rain.

++++++++

Kim looks exhausted. She didn't sleep last night at *all*.

To tell you the truth, I didn't either. We didn't talk much either. It's just- too painful.

We just held each other and cried. God- what does she *think* about us? And- I mean… she's fourteen. Hailie's eight- she has a little sister she doesn't know. Fuck- what if she's mad that we kept Hailie? I mean- things were so bad back then.

We had no fuckin' money. I was sixteen and Kim was fourteen. We were livin' wit' my Mom and she's crazy as a fuckin' rabid skunk. What the hell were we *supposed* to do? Keep another kid in a nightmare with two fuckin' kids bein' raised by a kid herself?

Paul just looks at me. "CALL or gimme the number."

"Fine. I just-"

"CALL!"

"Fine. I will."

------------
~~~~~~~~

Shit. What the hell am I supposed to *do* with all this shit?

I don't even know how to process this all. And that fuckin' song… does he *hate* her *that* much?! God- was I even born from love at all? I don't know. And Hailie? I guess I have a sister?

I have *no* idea what to do with all this, so I put it all in a box and shove it under my bed. Maybe I'm better off that they didn't call Mr. Barnes back.

<Ring. Ring.>

Marcie'll get it. I don't wanna talk to one more person who's calling to find out how I'm doing. My MOM DIED. How would YOU be doing?

"Rae-Rae?" Jess comes in.

"You're supposed to be asleep, Jessie."

"Ni be down?"

"Yeah- c'mere," I say and pay my bed. She comes over and crawls up onto the bed with some help from me. "Now- close your eyes." She does and I rub her temple for a while and she falls asleep. It's naptime for her and she's taken to coming in here to sleep.

God- I'm tired. I close my eyes too and don't open them again until I hear Marcie's voice. "Lily?"

"Huh?"

"Lily- Mr. Barnes called."

"What?" I jump up, careful not to wake Jessie. I follow her into her room where Rob is already sitting. "What happened?"

"Well- Mr. Barnes spoke with his manager slash lawyer and- I guess his 'people' are apprehensive and are demanding some kind of proof. They don't want-"

"Anyone taking advantage and claiming to be some long lost kid?"

"But he did convey to Mr. Barnes that your parents insisted he call back immediately. Apparently- they were out of town Friday and that's why they didn't get back to us. So-"

"What about the letter?" I ask.

-------------
*********

"Whacha thinkin'?" I ask as sit in the chair next to him. I *knew* I'd find him down here.

"We did the right thing, didn't we?" He asks, looking at me with a few tear streaks on his cheeks.

"C'mere, Baby," I say and pull his chair to me. I pull him into my arms and we hold each other. "I think we did. As hard as it was-"

And it *was* hard. We'd wanted to keep our baby. But- his *mother* said the baby had to go or *we* had to go. I was fourteen! I *loved* my daughter, but- what the hell was I supposed to do? She was cursing us out every day- it was a bad situation. So Marshall contacted an adoption agency and said we had a child that was wanted given to nice, wealthy parents who could give her a secure and happy life. Two days later, we carried her to the clinic and- they looked nice. And they promised they'd give her a good life. And we said goodbye.

"We didn't have a choice."

"I coulda gotten a job and-"

"Marsh, look at me." I take his face in my hands and make him look at me. "You were *sixteen*. I was fourteen. We had a hard enough time keeping Hailie fed and clean when we were older and could work without child labor laws in effect. We didn't have a choice. Had she stayed with us- she woulda been raised by your *mother* and she did such a fine job on you-"

"I just- god what she must *think* of us- if she even knows who we are-"

"Maybe she doesn't know who we are," I suggest.

"Like- who her parents are or who *we* are?"

"Who we are- maybe she's-"

"Been living in a box? C'mon, Kim. What if- she can't forgive us giving her up?"

++++++++

God- all these possible scenarios are in my head. She could be a huge fan and totally in love with me and then find out I'm her dad? Or she could think I'm the worst psycho in the world and think she was conceived in this horrible relationship and- either way, is it really good?

And that doesn't even touch upon- what if her parents *weren't* good to her? And now she'll hate us for giving her to them. What if- she resents us for *having* two kids in the house and now keeping her?

And then I guess I gotta think about- what if she *is* just contacting us for money or whatever. What if her parents figured out who we were and just need money? Something terrible could have happen. OR she could just wanna capitalize on it.

I just- don't know.

"What'll we tell Hailie?" I ask, because that's something *else* we need to think about. She thinks she's our oldest child- our *only* child- but she's not.

"Nothing for a while," she answers. "We don't even know if- it's *her*. Not yet."

Hell- we don't even know her *name*.

-------------
*********

"Yo, you wanna go shoppin' or-"

"Oh- I'll do it," I answer. We are out of like… everything. "Just add anything you want to the list. I need diapers and food for Whit and I'm gonna get Hailie stuff for her lunches. And we need everything else, so-"

"Yeah. Here," he offers me a credit card.

"I'm gonna write a check."

"Kim- just- take the card and charge it."

"Why? I'll write a check just fine."

"But the check is *your* money."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, Mr. Machismo. Any money I have is money you gave me anyway, so-" He's got a weird thing about money. He wouldn't even let me buy Hailie's bracelet! And he's been fighting me tooth and nail the past six months about when I go shopping. For either of the girls.

"Just take the damn credit card, will you?"

"No," I state plainly. Okay- I gotta pack Whit up to take with me.

"Kim-" he protests as he follows me into the nursery. He wouldn't even let me pay for this stuff. "Just- lemme pay for the fuckin' good."

"*Marshall*-" we really do try not to swear around the girls.

Although- I glance down and she's asleep still. I sigh and pull on his hand. I drag him into the kitchen. "Okay- let's not fight about this. What the hell is your problem with me writing checks?"

"That's *your* money-"

"No it's not. I didn't earn it. Fuckin' half a million and then child support? It's *your* money that the court made you give me."

"So take it and spend it on *you*. It's yours."

He's so annoying about this, but today he seems more agitated than normal. "Why do you *really* not wanting me using that money?"

++++++++

Okay. Just be a man and tell her. I sigh and say, "'Cause I couldn't- take care a' you before- like a man. But- I made it. For *us*- for our family."

And I'm shocked when she kisses me softly and then takes the card from me.

It only takes her a few minutes to look down at the card and- "Marsh?!"

"It's for you, Kim. For whatever- I mean- anything. For the girls, for you- just… use it. Take the fuckin' child support and stick in a savings account for Whitney's college or something. I don't care- just- don't use it."

She looks at me and I can tell she wanted to cry, but keeps it under control. Who knew just givin' her a credit card with her name on it would do that?

All this little shit I've done the past few days has *really* gotten to her.

"Okay-" she says. "I'm gonna get Whitney's stuff ready to go. She should be wakin' up pretty soon."

She leaves to get the baby bag ready and I think I'll work a bit in the studio. If I can. I just- things go on, even as we're waiting to hear from that lawyer guy.

<Ring. Ring.>

"Hello?"

"Hi, Marshall. It's Donny!" He's the guard at the entrance to the development we live.

"Oh- hey, Man. What's up?"

"FEDEX truck for you?"

Oh- "Yeah, let 'em in. Thanks."

Ten minutes later, I'm sitting on the couch and I open the envelope that was overnighted to us.

It's from a L. R. Fredricks. Perhaps a secretary or something for the lawyer?

"What's that?" Kim asks, coming in with all the baby shit. Fuck- babies take a lot of stuff wit' 'em when you go out.

"I think it's from the lawyer."

*********

Oh. I drop the bags and sit down next to him. "Open it up."

They were supposedly sending some sort of proof. Or something and he opens the envelope and- ohgod.

"Marsh- it's…"

"The letter," he finishes. God- I wrote about ten versions of this letter and was working on an eleventh, but it was time to leave with her for the clinic.

"It's her, Baby," I smile. "It's *Rain*. She's coming home!"

"Kim- maybe she don't wanna live wit' us- maybe she needs somethin'- money or blood or somethin'- she could hate us."

"She *needs* us, Marsh," I smile. It's what I've been feeling the past few weeks. That sadness- she needs us. "What's the other piece of paper?"

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.