Chance to Reminisce
Notes: This is not necessarily a triquel to Game of Chance, it’s just…scenes between Marshall and Contessa. Go read Chances and Game of Chance for the previous series installments. I’ve manipulated some of the time periods to suit my devious purposes, so just go with the flow.
Song credit goes to Eminem - "As the World Turns" and "Marshall Mathers."
~~~~~~
Contessa looked out the window and watched the sun set. It was days like these when she found herself curled up in Marshall’s favorite chair—now hers—just thinking and remembering.
//
“Damn it, Marshall! Wake the fuck up already!” she yelled as she shook him roughly in the limousine.
“Huh?” he replied groggily. “Fuck, why you gotta be so loud?”
“It’s time to go! You’re late! Do you have any idea how pissed I am at you right now?”
“I think I’m starting to get the idea. Woman, you’re going to make me go deaf if you don’t calm down.”
“You try explaining to thirty thousand fans why you’re not on the stage!”
“Christ! All right, I’m up.”
“Finally!” she replied, throwing her hands up in victory.
“Now, that I’m up, though…”
“Marshall! You’re already late—we don’t have time to do anything.”
“Please?”
“No,” she said firmly, despite her lack of resistance as he brought her onto his lap.
“I don’t think that’s what you want,” he mused.
“I’m pissed, and you have your fans waiting.”
“Let them wait, I can’t wait for you.”
“Marshall!” she giggled as he slid his hands along the inside of her thighs. “I told you—”
He effectively cut off all further communication with a hot, fiery kiss that left her breathless and lusting for more. Contessa liquefied in his arms as he tongue tangled with hers in a wicked, torturous manner—she felt his fingers trailing her panty line and shivered involuntarily.
“Think we have time?” he teased.
“We’re going to make time. Now!”
Marshall grinned. “I told you so!”
She growled.
“Do you concede this victory to me?” he added.
“It’s only victory if I let you in,” she reminded him.
“Oh, but that’s already ‘conquered’ territory.”
She half-smiled. “Hurry up, I’m going insane, and if you’re anymore late, my stress level is going to shoot through the roof!”
“As you wish,” he replied and pushed her blouse open and ravaged her like a madman.
“Hurry,” she repeated.
//
“Marshall,” Contessa said, trying to get his attention.
He looked up from the magazine he’d been reading, “Yeah?”
“Do you remember that road trip we took?”
“Oh, god. Don’t remind me. That one is better forgotten!”
//
“Daddy, when are we gon’ get there?” Hailie asked with a whine.
“Soon,” he promised.
“Yeah, right,” Contessa laughed.
“You, shut up,” he growled.
“Be nice!” Hailie said defensively.
“Thank you, baby,” Contessa said, turning to give her a smile.
“Daddy, what’s excrement?”
“It’s shit.”
“Marshall, you swear too much in front of her.”
“So? It’s real, she’s gonna hear it anyway.”
Contessa raised her brow. “You’re infuriating sometimes. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”
“You already do, sweetheart,” he said with a lopsided smile.
Their moment of sweetness was interrupted by a shrill ring.
“Hello?” Marshall said, picking up his cell phone. “Yeah, you want that? I dunno, what’s in it for me?” he laughed. “Of course, man, you know I have your back. Go ahead—call Dre and work out the business shit. I’m on vacation. Okay, later man.”
“Who was that?” Contessa asked.
“Stretch.”
“Stretch what?”
“Stretch your—”
“Be serious, Marsh!”
“Stretch Armstrong. He helped me out back in the day, did some freestyles for him.”
“Oh, tell me—”
“Daddy, when are we gonna get there?”
“I told you, soon. You just asked like, five minutes ago.”
“We’ve been in here forever!”
“We’re about to make a stop, so you can get out then,” he compromised.
“All right, everyone out. I’m gonna get the gasoline while you two girls use the restroom so I don’t have to hear about you guys having to pee later on!”
“Wait,” Hailie called out.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I get some animal crackers?”
“I guess so. Contessa?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she nodded and took Hailie into the snack shop.
Once Hailie and Contessa came back to the car, Marshall left to take his own bathroom break.
“Why are we going to Times Square, ‘Tessa?” Hailie asked.
“’Cause your Daddy’s performing there, sweetheart.”
“Do you think he’d let us be in one of those yellow thingies? I always seem them on TV! Daddy always makes us go in a big black car! I hate it. Soooo stuffy and boring.”
Contessa laughed. “You mean a taxi cab? Oh, honey, I don’t know. I’ll ask him, but you know, he’s just very protective of you.”
“God, that was the nastiest bathroom I have ever seen in my entire life,” Marshall said exaggeratedly and jumped into the driver’s seat.
“Marshall! No!”
“What?”
“Lift your ass!”
“You know, that sounds really wrong—”
“Look, my headphones are broken!” she sighed.
“Good, now you’re going to have to listen to me the whole time,” he replied smugly.
“Did you ever see Pulp Fiction?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Who was in it?”
“Demi Moore, Kurt Russell…or was it Mark Walhberg? God, like I know.”
“Why’d you bring it up?”
“There’s a special party for it in NY—some like, revisiting shit… I don’t know. I just got an email from Dre before we left the house.”
“You’re a worse liar than Nostradamus was!”
“He fooled a lot of people, I’ll have you know! Besides, I’m not a liar.”
“You wanna know what I think?”
“I never want to know, but you’re going to tell me.”
“Well, fine, if you’re gonna be like that—”
“I’m just teasing, baby.”
“I know, stupid. Anyway, I think—”
“Did you guys know that there are more fake flamingos than real ones?” Hailie said, chiming in.
“No, I didn’t. That’s interesting!”
“Daddy, when are we gonna get there? I’m hungry.”
“Didn’t you just finish your crackers?”
“So?” she pouted.
“Hold on, baby,” Contessa said. “Daddy doesn’t understand girls. He’s just jealous that he has to drive while we get to eat.”
“Oh, right,” he muttered and rolled his eyes.
“Here—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Don’t forget to eat the fresh vegetables I packed in the bag!” she said and handed over a paper bag to the little girl.
“Thankies!”
“God, what was I thinking? Driving hours with two females. Fuck," he swore and switched on the radio, only to be plagued by an advertisement for Preparation H.
//
“The road trip from hell,” he summarized.
“It wasn’t that bad,” she soothed.
“Oh, yeah? I felt all girly-fied, you didn’t.”
“You still had fun.”
“Well, maybe,” he conceded. “There was one good part about that trip…”
//
“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “You made up that party shit just so you could get me alone and have reason for a babysitter.”
“Mad?” he asked, grinning.
“Insanely…about you.
//
“You know what, I remember thinking—in that moment—how lucky I was.”
“How lucky we are,” he corrected.
She smiled. “I remembered thinking, ‘You’re with fucking Eminem,’ after we were together for the first time.”
“You know what I was thinking?”
“Hmm… ‘When do I get to fuck her again?’” she tried.
“Funny. No, I was thinking… ‘Damn, that was good.’”
“Same thing,” she said with a smile.
“And then I was like, ‘I hope she likes me.’ Don’t even think about—”
“Repeating that, I know, I know. You are so predictable sometimes!”
“Yeah, yeah. Since we’re sittin’ here reminiscin’, you wanna know what one of my favorite memories is?”
“What?”
“Spending Easter with you.”
“Oh, Marsh—”
“Yeah, it was hot…”
//
“Lay back,” he commanded.
“I’m never betting with you again.”
“You act like I’m punishing you. You said you’d indulge in any of my fantasies if you lost. Well, you lost. This is my fantasy, so shut up and enjoy it!”
She laughed musically. “I will!”
“Good. Now, don’t move!”
“Where are you going!”
“It’s a surprise, shh.”
“Chocolate?”
“Uh huh. You know what my fantasy is?”
“Which one?”
“Well, the one we’re about to indulge in.”
“I don’t know. Tell me.”
“I’d rather show you.”
“Oh,” she hissed as the cool chocolate syrup splashes onto her stomach.
“I want to worship you,” he whispered. “Kiss you head to toe and stop in between for a little nibble—a snack.” Marshall dribbled more of the syrup across her breasts, swirling her nipples in the sweet sauce.
“You remind me of those chocolate Easter bunnies—I don’t know where to start. Top, bottom, side, front, or back…”
“Anywhere sounds great right about now,” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I’m going to suffocate out of need if you don’t do something soon,” she clarified.
He chuckled. “You’re always so eager. I love that.”
Marshall flicked her taut nipple with his tongue, tasting the syrupy sweet on his tongue as he laved and rolled it within the caverns of his mouth. He moved down to her stomach, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her sticky skin.
“Marshall,” she sighed.
“You know, keeping with the Easter theme…I sort of feeling like I’m on an egg hunt… and here’s the grass,” he murmured as his hand traced alongside her slick entrance. “And here’s the egg,” he said as he pressed his thumb against her clit.
“Uh huh, I’d say you found the treasure all right—”
//
She was flushed after remembering their steamy encounter. “That reminds me, I think I should indulge you with your fantasies more often.”
He laughed. “I think you wouldn’t like some of them.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t. We’ll see.”
“Uh huh. Okay, let’s get to more neutral ground. I’m starting to get all hot, and Hailie’s in the next room—it’s so not good to feel all lusty now.”
He laughed again.
“I’m glad you enjoy my suffering,” she replied dryly.
“I’m suffering just as much as you are, sweetheart,” he said grimly.
“Good! Anyway, neutral ground, remember? Remember when you broke your wrist?”
//
“Hailie, come back!” Marshall yelled as he ran after his crying daughter.
[I don’t know why this world keep turning Round and Round
But I wish it would stop, and let me off right now
Yes man
As the World Turns
We all experience things in life
Trials and Tribulations
That we all must go through]
“I hate you!” she screamed as she stopped, tears running down her face.
“I’m not the one who’s flaking on you again!”
“It’s all her fault!”
“Who’s fault?” Marshall asked innocently.
“That stupid bitch!”
“Hailie Jade, watch your mouth!”
[When someone wants to test us
When someone tries our patience
I hang with a bunch of hippies
and wacky tobacco planters
Who swallow lit roaches
and light up like jack-o-lanterns]
“And just who are you referring to?”
“Contessa.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Mama said she was a no-good whore! And she is!”
“Baby, mama just doesn’t understand…”
“You’re always with her! You never spend time with Mommy!” Hailie whined.
“It’s not her fault, baby. Your mom and I just don’t get along anymore. You know that. I thought you liked Contessa?”
“I did! But it’s her fault Mommy won’t come to my birthday!”
“Come here, Hailie,” he said, kneeling and opening his arms.
“No! I hate this! Why can’t you and Mama and me be a family together again?” she cried and ran out of his reach.
[Outsiders baby, and we suing the courts
Cuz we're dope as fuck and only get a 2 in the source
They never should've booted me out of reform school
Deformed fool, takin the shit, now warn Bulls
They threw me out the Ramada Inn
I said it wasn't me, I got a twin (Oh my god its you! Not again!)
It all started when my mother took my bike away
Cuz I murdered my guinea pig and stuck him in the microwave
After that, It was straight to the 40 ouncers
Slappin teachers, and jackin off in front of my counselors
Class clown freshman, dressed like Les Nessman
Fuck the next lesson, I'll past the test guessin
And all the other kids said Eminem's a dishead,]
Marshall sighed and took off after her.
[He'll never last, the only class he'll pass is phys ed
May be true, till I told this bitch in gym class
That she was too fat to swim laps, she needed Slim Fast (Who Me?)
Yeah bitch you so big you walked into big Tanny's and stepped on Jenny Craig]
“Watch it!” Contessa yelled as Marshall collided into her, sending them both sprawling to the ground.
“Oh, sorry, ‘Tessa… I gotta get Hailie.”
“Where’s she? I’ll get her…”
“You better not—she’s just…she’s not gonna wanna talk to you. Fuck, why does my arm hurt like a bitch?”
[She picked me up to snap me like a skinny twig
Put me in the headlock, then I thought of my guinea pig]
“Maybe because I fell on it?” she suggested. “Let me look.”
He let her inspect his arm.
“Does this hurt?” she asked and tentatively pressed around his wrist.
“Jesus! Don’t do that—it hurts like hell!”
[I felt the evilness and started transformin (RARRRR!)
It began storming, I heard a bunch of cheering fans swarming
Grabbed that bitch by her hair
Drug her across the ground
And took her up to the highest diving board and tossed her down
Sorry coach, its too late to tell me stop
While I drop this bitch face down and watch her belly flop]
“I think you might’ve broken a bone.”
“Oh, just great. My daughter hates me, I have no fucking clue where she went, and I broke my wrist right before I shoot a video. Fucking marvelous. I feel like I’m fucking Ja Rule—missing a limb. Although, not having a dick is a little worse than a broken wrist—”
[As the World Turns
These are the days of our lives
These are the things that we must go through
Day by day]
“Potty mouth. Always gotta get a diss in, huh? I’ll get her, and you’ll see a doctor real quick. It won’t take long,” she promised.
[We drive around in million dollar sports cars
While little kids hide this tape from their parents like bad report cards
Outsiders, and we suing the courts
Cuz we dope as fuck and only get a 2 in The Source
Hypercondriac, hanging out at the laundromat
Where all the raunchy fat white trashy blondes be at
Dressed like a sailor, standin by a pale of garbage
Its almost dark and I'm still tryna nail a trailor park bitch
I met a slut and said "What up, its nice to meet ya"
I'd like to treat ya to a bagel and a slice of pizza]
“Hailie?” Contessa called out, hearing suspicious muffled cries coming from a neglected area of the set.
“Go ‘way!”
“Come on, Hai—”
“Don’t call me that! You aren’t my Mom!”
“Baby, it’s just a nickname—I’m not trying to be your Mom. I couldn’t be…” she sighed.
[But I'm broke as fuck and I don't get paid till the first of next month
But if you care to join me, I was bout to roll this next blunt
But I aint got no weed, no phillies, or no papers
Plus I'm a rapist and a repeated prison escapist
So gimme all your money
And don't try nothin funny]
“Please come out, Hailie? Your daddy’s very worried about you,” Contessa said, sitting on the ground with her legs folded under her bottom.
“No, he isn’t! He just cares about you!”
“Now, honey, you know that that’s not true! He loves you so much. You’re everything to him!”
“Really?” she sniffled.
[I fell through the glass doors
Started causin a scene
Then slid across the floor and flew right into a washin machine
Jumped up with a broken back]
Contessa deliberately gentled her voice. “Your daddy hurt himself when he ran after you. Don’t you wanna take him to the doctor’s?”
“Doctor’s?” Hailie repeated, her voice quavering.
“Yes, honey. I think he may have broken his wrist.”
“How’d he do a silly thing like that?” she asked and gradually began to come out of her hiding place.
“He was running so fast that he didn’t see me, and boom, there we were, both on the floor. I’m afraid I may have landed on his wrist. I’m sorry, Hailie… I didn’t—I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“It’s—it’s okay.”
“Is it? You’re still upset with me.”
[Now I wanna kill her
But so I gotta catch her first
Ran threw alleys, parkin lots, and took a shortcut
Saw the house she ran up in
And shot her fuckin porch up]
“Hailie!” Marshall yelled. “There you are!”
“Marshall Mathers!” Contessa admonished. “I told you to go to the doctor! You need to get your wrist set otherwise it won’t heal right! And you would totally fuck up your hand! Oops—sorry, Hailie, I didn’t mean to swear.”
“It’s okay, ‘Tessa,” she said slowly.
[And as we go along
Throughout the days of our lives
We all face small obstacles and challenges everyday
That we must go through
These are the things that surround us through our atmosphere
Every Day
Every single day the world keeps turning]
“I’m—I’m sorry I called you a bitch,” Hailie whispered.
“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse,” she replied with a smile and opened her arms.
Hailie went into her embrace and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry Daddy… I was just upset… ‘cause Mama wasn’t gonna come…”
“Don’t worry about it, baby.”
“Still love me?”
“Always and forever,” Marshall replied without hesitance.
“Hailie? You know I love you, too—always and forever. Just like Marshall does and will,” Contessa added.
“I know. I love you, too!”
//
“I never had the urge to yell at her before then,” Marshall replied dismally.
“Well, it all worked out in the end.”
“I still came out with a broken wrist.”
“Which is healed now.”
“So?”
“So? You didn’t have fun? I mean, since you aren’t ambidextrous, didn’t you have fun with me using my hands as yours? I bet jacking off was never as fulfilling,” she teased.
“All right, we keep remembering all this bad shit. Remember the awards?”
“Which ones?” she wiggled her eyebrows.
“The Grammy’s.”
“Oh, I definitely remember those. How could I forget?”
//
[You know I just don't get it
Last year I was nobody
This year I'm sellin records
Now everybody wants to come around like I owe em something
Heh, the fuck you want from me, ten million dollars?
Get the fuck out of here]
“Marshall, why are we still backstage?” Contessa complained.
“I don’t wanna go out there—”
“Why not?”
“It’s not like I care about anyone out there. The only person I want to see right now is you.”
[You see I'm, just Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
I'm just a regular guy,
I don't know why all the fuss about me (fuss about me)
Nobody ever gave a fuck before,
All they did was doubt me (did was doubt me)]
“Oh, really?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Uh huh. C’mon, I know you probably wanna meet some famous punks, but I just…”
“Marshall, I came with you. To support you. I didn’t come to catch the fame.”
[Now everybody wanna run they mouth
And try to take shots at me (take shots at me)
Yo, you might see me joggin, you might see me walkin
You might see me walkin a dead rottweiler dog
With it's head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar
Hollerin at him cause the son of a bitch won't quit barkin
(grrrr, arf arf) or leanin out a window, with a cocked shotgun]
He closed his eyes. “How’d I get so lucky?”
“God turned around,” she smiled.
[Drivin up the block in the car that they shot 'pac in
Lookin for big's killers, dressed in ridiculous
Blue and red like I don't see what the big deal is
Double barrel twelve gauge bigger than chris wallace
Pissed off, cause biggie and 'pac just missed all this
Watchin all these cheap imitations get rich off 'em]
“You know, I hate all these fuckin’ award shows.”
“Why bother to go?”
“If I win shit, I can’t not accept it. Plus, I usually end up performing.”
“Don’t you enjoy winning? Performing?”
“Of course!” he said, his voice level raised just a notch. “I just hate seeing some of the morons that are allowed in here. Especially the ones who win shit.”
“Jealous?” she taunted.
“Hardly. Like that Avril whatever-the-fuck wins shit? What’s up with that?”
She laughed. “Marsh, like it really matters. You think the public’s stupid to begin with. You give them more credit if you think they can distinguish between manufactured and genuine so easily.”
[And get dollars that shoulda been there's like they switched wallets
And amidst all this crist' poppin and wristwatches
I had to sit back and just watch and just get nauseous
And walk around with an empty bottle of remi martin
Startin shit like some 26-year-old skinny cartman ("god damnit!")
I'm anti-backstreet and ricky martin
With instincts to kill n'sync, don't get me started
These fuckin brats can't sing and britney's garbage
What's this bitch retarded? gimme back my sixteen dollars]
“I mean, depending on who you talk to, some people think you’re just a big fake—saying whatever you can to stir up trouble,” she added.
“Fuck them. They don’t know shit.”
“No, they don’t know anything,” she agreed. “But that’s life, and you know that. You know it, so you work them.”
[All I see is sissies in magazines smiling
Whatever happened to whylin out and bein violent?
Whatever happened to catchin a good-ol' fashioned
Passionate ass-whoopin and gettin your shoes coat and your hat tooken?
New kids on the block, sucked a lot of dick
Boy/girl groups make me sick
And i can't wait 'til i catch all you faggots in public
I'ma love it.. (hahaha)]
“Smart ass.”
“Sometimes, I really don’t understand you,” she sighed.
“I don’t even understand me all the time. And, don’t even get me started on how little I understand you. Christ, women need to come with a manual.”
“Perhaps. Only if men came with one.”
“Oh, that’s never gonna happen. You females already wear the pants in the family. We don’t want to lose our manhood, too!”
“I wouldn’t dream of losing your manhood. I do enjoy it. Quite a lot, actually,” she flirted.
“Keep talkin’ like that, and you’re gonna wind up in a dark corner with your dress wrinkled—”
“That sounds a lot like a threat,” she mused.
[Vanilla ice don't like me (uh-uh)
Said some shit in vibe to spite me (yup)
Then went and dyed his hair just like me (hehe)
A bunch of little kids wanna swear just like me
And run around screamin, "I don't care, just bite me" (nah nah)]
“More like a damned promise, so keep those dirty words to yourself.”
“What? You don’t want to take me backstage? How utterly unlike you. Are you ill?”
“You’re such a comedian,” he replied sarcastically.
“I think I should take your temperature,” she continued, and placed her palm across his forehead. “Cool to the touch.” She moved her hands down to his belt buckle, and pressed just below. “You’re burning up,” she crooned.
“You tempt me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Keep it up, and you just might get to add ‘backstage’ to your list of places you’ve tempted Marshall Mathers.”
“Goody.”
[Is it because you love me that y'all expect so much of me?
You little groupie bitch, get off me, go fuck Puffy
Now because of this blonde mop that's on top
And this fucked up head that I’ve got, I’ve gone pop?]
“Come on,” she tugged his jacket, and smuggled him into one of the dressing rooms. “Better than a dark corner, huh?”
“Who’s dressing room is this?”
“Yours.”
“I had a dressing room?”
“Uh huh.”
“Funny, I didn’t know anything about it.”
“That’s because I just had them give you one when you went out to accept the award.”
“Witch.”
“At least you’re using a W and not a B this time.”
[A half-brother and sister who never seen me
Or even bothered to call me until they saw me on tv
Now everybody's so happy and proud
I'm finally allowed to step foot in my girlfriend's house
Hey-hey! and then to top it off, i walked to the newsstand
To buy this cheap-ass little magazine with a food stamp
Skipped to the last page, flipped right fast
And what do i see? a picture of my big white ass]
“So, Marshall, are you going to take advantage of me? Or am I going to have to take advantage of you?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m up to either,” he grinned.
“Oh, I think you’re up to it,” she murmured and pressed her body against his. “Yes, I’d definitely say you’re up to the task.”
“I’m glad I hate awards,” he groaned as he felt her hand slip into his boxers. “And that I hate the public.”
“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”
“Not when your hand is doing those type of things—god!”
She squeezed.
//
“What a trip,” he said as he placed his magazine onto the coffee table. “Come here, baby,” he commanded and patted his thigh.
“So?” she said, settling into his lap.
“I think we need to create some more memories, if you know what I mean,” he replied, raising his eyebrows.
“Marshall!” she blushed. “Hailie’s not even ten feet away from us.”
“You’re so damned maternal.”
“I’m not her mom.”
“You might as well be.”
She laughed. “I love her. If I ever had a daughter, I’d want her to be exactly like yours.”
“Hm…maybe that can be arranged. Now, Curtis is in town. Think he’d mind babysitting?”
“Marshall—”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said and kissed her nose. “Right now, let’s go play with Hailie for a bit.”
“All right,” she replied. “I’m so happy we’re together.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too,” he echoed.
The End.
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.