Survival of the Fittest

 

Author's Note: this is for Savannah Rae, who won the July 222 contest... and is the most patient woman in the world. I'm sorry it took me so long to start posting this!

And - this is just fanfic. Please don't take certain stereotypes I've applied seriously. I don't mean any harm.

-----//

 

Chapter 1

 

“C’mon Marshall, let’s just get it over with.”

 

He looked over at his manager, Paul Rosenberg, and scowled. There were days he truly hated his superstar status, and today was one of them. Marshall Mathers, a.k.a. Eminem, had an appearance to make at a luau on Waikiki beach. And even worse, it was a meet and greet. “Tell me again why I agreed to this.”

 

Paul tossed an impatient glare over his shoulder. “Because you owe Steve a favor, and you were going to be in Hawaii anyway. Now can we please get a move on?”

 

He got up from where he sat sprawled on the couch, tossing his notebook aside and growling under his breath. “Fucking Steve. Man can’t do nobody a favor without collecting ten times over.”

 

“Marshall.”

 

“A’ight, dawg! Don’t cream your jeans over it. Shit.”

 

That earned him a look, and Marshall smirked. “What’d he do? Promise to get you laid if I show up on time? You got some hot little honey waitin’ on you in Waikiki?”

 

Paul stopped walking and turned to look at him. “What? No..”

 

“Uh huh. Is that why you’re standing there lookin’ guilty as all hell?” He laughed.

 

The door slammed in his face, and Marshall couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such a rise out of his manager. Maybe the day ain’t gonna be a total waste after all, he thought. At least I got Paul to fuck with once we get to Waikiki. I should tell his woman he got the herpes or somethin’.

 

He left the hotel suite with a grin on his face. The worst part of a meet and greet was the boredom, and Paul had just dropped the cure right in his lap.

 

~*~

 

Marshall’s good mood was short lived. Five minutes after arriving at the luau it was apparent the guest list encompassed all of the Waikiki Hyatt Regency, and he was immediately swarmed with fans. Paul raised the event coordinator on his cell phone and read the man the riot act for not providing better security or at least warning them to bring their own. Marshall had people grabbing at him left and right, and at one point some rich, five carat diamond-wearing old broad actually tried to grab his dick. He turned to Paul, “I’m outta here, man. That old lady just tried to grab my-."

 

“Hang on a sec, Marsh.” He cut him off. “They’re sending security in now and closing the doors. The event coordinator promised they’d thin out the crowd and boot anyone without a paper invitation.”

 

Hardly pacified, he continued to sign autographs and get groped for the next hour and a half. By the time security had done its job, his arms were actually scratched up and he’d been stepped on more times than he could count.  “I don’t fuckin’ believe this.” He muttered.

 

Paul snagged two beers off one of the waiters when he passed by with a drink tray and handed him one. “I know. This was piss poor planning on Steve’s part, and you can bet I’m gonna say something to him about it. Shit, look at your arms. Are you okay?”

 

He glanced down at the numerous scratches, most of which were angry red welts – but a few of them had actually drawn blood. “Fucking vampires. Them rich bitches are the worst. Gimme a girl from a trailer park over any one of them, any day. I’m tellin’ you, the one’s that got money think they own the whole fuckin’ world and everything in it.”

 

“Including you?”

 

“You got eyes, don’t ya? Did you see the one tried to grab my cock? Jesus. I didn’t think I’d be able to pry her loose!”

 

Paul chuckled softly. “She was determined alright.”

 

“It ain’t funny. Christ, I don’t remember the last time I met a woman that wasn’t nothing but a goddamned groupie. Hell, your secretary flops her tits in my face every time I come in the office.”

 

Paul choked on his beer, “She does?”

 

He laughed without humor, “Oh yeah. Shocked the hell outta me first time she did it, too. And now? Now it’s just part of the routine. Marshall comes in the office, Brooke let’s the dogs out…”

 

Paul shook his head, “Unbelievable. Want me to fire her?”

 

“Hell no, at least I’m used to her. It’s the surprises I hate. And ya know, I swear I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way most women act around me now.”

 

“Hey, just let me know if she ever gets to be a problem…” He paused. “It looks like you’ve got a temporary reprieve, Marsh. Why don’t you check out the buffet line and get something to eat. Maybe you’ll feel a little better with some dinner in you.”

 

“Pusher.”

 

Paul laughed, “So you keep saying. But you haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

 

“No. Hotel food is shit no matter where you go. And this ain’t gonna be any different.”

 

“Yeah, but you still need to eat.”

 

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was right. He did need to eat something before he decided to kill something. “Low blood sugar my ass,” he growled, and then stomped off to the buffet with the sound of Paul’s laughter following him.

 

~*~

 

It took all of five minutes. Marshall was standing in front of the buffet, staring at all the food disdainfully when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down.

 

A very pretty hand it was, with perfectly manicured nails painted in light polish.

 

And it was resting on his arm, dammit. Uninvited, unsolicited, and unwanted – no matter how goddamned pretty it was. And it was pretty. His eyes moved slowly up her bare arm, stalled at her chest for a brief second (hey, he was only human) and made their way to her face.

 

She looked a bit startled by his expression, and snatched her hand away. He smirked. “Yeah, honey? Did’ja want somethin’?”

 

Irritation flashed in her eyes, and she looked pointedly down at his arm where she’d touched it. “You should get that cleaned up. It could get infected…” She said, indicating the bloody scratches.

 

He raised his eyebrows knowingly until she said, “In fact, I hope it does. Asshole.”

 

It had been a long time since a woman left him with his jaw hanging open, but as he watched her walk away – his bottom lip was practically on the floor. She held her head up, shoulders back, and walked like she was fucking Queen of Sheba. All five foot two of her.

 

Marshall gave chase, but she wasn’t easy to catch. He finally caught up with her halfway across the dance floor, and immediately realized his mistake when people started cheering, clapping, making catcalls. They apparently thought he was there to dance.

 

Yeah, right.

 

“Hey! He shouted over the noise, just as he caught her arm and swung her around.

 

She looked at him expectantly, “Yeah, honey? Did’ja want somethin’?”

 

Throwing my words back in my face. Cute.

 

He looked down at this dark eyed beauty, with her long hair streaming down her back, and her little sundress hugging a body that ought to be declared illegal – and something occurred to him.

 

He, Marshall Mathers, who made his living on words – couldn’t think of a single damned thing to say.

Chapter 2

 He fumbled, stuttered. Scowled at her when she just stood there grinning at him. “You, I – when you… Fuck.” He muttered.

 

“Eloquent. Was there something you wanted?”

 

“Why’d you do that?” He demanded.

 

“Do what?”

 

“You know! Come up to me and, and…”

 

“Molest your arm? I thought maybe you’d toss me up on the buffet for a quickie.” She innocently replied, and he knew she was laughing her ass off at him.

 

Marshall moved closer, invading her personal space. “You don’t look like the quickie type,” He smirked, baiting her. “But, ya know – if that’s what you was hopin’ for…”

 

“Back up, ingrate!”

 

Ingrate? Who the hell went around calling people ingrates? “Is ‘at the best you can do for an insult?” He laughed.

 

Hell, she was cute. Even with her eyes narrowed and her face all scrunched up in anger. She jabbed her finger into his chest, “No, you arrogant, bleach blonde headed, ain’t I special, sold a million measly records, pants falling off my skinny ass, jerk!”

 

“I sold more records than that!” He shouted.

 

“But the rest is all true, isn’t it?” She said sweetly.

 

He moved even closer, and pushed his face down at her so they were practically nose to nose. “You don’t know me.” He bit off.

 

She shrugged, and didn’t back up an inch. “I don’t think I want to, either.”

 

“I don’t think I want to, either.” He mimicked in a high pitched female’s voice, and for a second there – it looked like she might laugh.

 

“Marshall.”

 

He turned at the sound of Paul’s voice and barked, “what?!”

 

Paul stopped and looked him, and his eyebrows went up in question. He held out a phone, “Hai’s been trying to get in touch with you – the hotel just called with your messages.”

 

He snatched the phone away from Paul and turned back around. “I need to make a call.” He announced.

 

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

 

Marshall dialed Kim’s number, but the signal was bad. He motioned for the woman to give him a minute, and she looked at him like he was a brick shy of a full load. “I need to get back to my friends. It was so nice to meet you.”

 

The line connected on his second try, and he heard someone picking up. “Just wait for a goddamned min-.”

 

But then Hailie answered the phone in tears, and the next time Marshall looked up – the woman was gone.

 

~*~

 

“Let me get this straight. You met a woman, she doesn’t like you, and we’re looking all over for her because…” Paul was saying.

 

“She got the last word.” Marshall muttered.

 

His manager rocked back on his heels and grinned, “Really bit your ass, didn’t she?”

 

“Shut-up, sasquatch.”

 

That just made Paul laugh, and they did another circuit around the crowd looking for her. It was no use though – she’d left the party.

 

Alone?

 

“Why the fuck should I care?” He snarled.

 

“Uh.. Marsh?”

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind. Ya wanna get going, or look some more?”

 

He realized he’d spoken out loud and grunted, “fuck,” one more time.

 

Marshall turned around and started stomping towards the parking lot. He didn’t see Paul’s grin.

 

~*~

 

He tossed and turned all night. He couldn’t get comfortable, and he damn sure couldn’t fall asleep. Yeah, well. It ain’t because of her. He punched his pillow and threw himself around on the bed for another hour before he finally dozed off.

 

The alarm went off an hour and a half later, and he woke up bleary-eyed, tired, and crankier than any two year old. He stubbed his toe on the way to the bathroom. “Motherfucking shit!”

 

~*~

 

“Marshall? Marc Watts and Eric Rollins from Sony are here!” Paul hissed. “Move your ass!”

 

“Up yours.” He muttered, and pushed the bill of his baseball hat down over his forehead. He stumbled out of his room into the living room area of the suite where Paul was doing his song and dance, better known as “legal mumbo jumbo.”

 

Once the introductions were over with, they headed out for a breakfast meeting in the V.I.P. lounge. Marshall stood towards the back of the elevator on the way down, and try as he did – couldn’t seem to follow along with the conversation.

 

The elevator stopped after a few floors, and he blinked his gritty eyes and shifted tiredly when a flood of people crammed in with them. Some things were no better no matter how much you were paying a night. “I wanna private elevator at the next hotel, Paul.” He growled.

 

“Awww… look at that, girls. My favorite little rapper is grouchy this morning. Poor baby,” a woman’s voice purred.

 

It was her. He woulda recognized that voice anywhere.

 

Marshall heard Paul’s startled laugh, and the two Sony executives were coughing fitfully, obviously trying to stifle their own laughter. His head came up, and his mouth opened – he was ready to blast the bitch.

 

“Savannah Rae!” One of the other women admonished, and then ruined the effect by collapsing into giggles.

 

His mouth went dry at the sight before him. She was wearing a bikini, had one of those little skirt things tied loosely around her hips, and her hair slid like silk against her naked torso with every little movement.

 

And her tits. God help him, she had the most gorgeous tits. His eyes still hadn’t made it past her chest when she said, “they don’t talk, hon. But you can try if you want.”

 

The humor in her voice wasn’t exactly what you’d call subtle, and Marshall felt heat spread all over his face. His neck was burning with it when his eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Savannah Rae, huh?”

 

She cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah.”

 

“Lotta stuff rhymes with that. You got a man, Savannah Rae?”

 

She didn’t look the least bit put off, and smirked at him. “No.”

 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

That ruffled her prissy little feathers, and Marshall grinned inwardly. He leaned across her friend slightly and whispered in her ear. “Want my jacket?”

 

“What? Why?”

 

He let his gaze drop pointedly, “Your nipples are hard, baby. You might take someone’s eye out.” He paused. “They wasn’t that perky a minute ago. You happy to see me?”

 

The elevator came to a stop, and Ms. Savannah Rae was still sputtering when he stepped out of the lift behind Paul and the guys from Sony.

Chapter 3

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Author: jenn@shadyfiction.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.