Chapter 2
With one last look at the doors closing behind her, she
approached the security desk. “Hello,
I’m a temporary secretary for Aftermath Records…”
“Name?”
“Vanessa Wilson.”
“Go on up, seventh floor, office that says MM.”
“Thanks,” she replied, not at all surprised at his abrupt
attitude.
She found the elevators and punched in the numbers. The shaft stopped at the third floor, and a
man stepped in.
Vanessa held in her awe. It wasn’t just any man, it was Dr. Dre. She pretended to mind her own business,
despite the occasional glances she took at one of America’s
idols. So far in her awe she nearly
missed the ding that signaled her floor.
“After you,” he said gruffly.
On autopilot, she stepped out of the elevator. Phones were ringing and there was the low hum
of conversations and hushed voices. She
wasn’t sure where the elusive MM office was located, but she did a quick scan
of the premises. As soon as her eyes
landed on an unoccupied woman, she made a beeline for her cubicle. “Hi, I’m looking for MM’s office…?”
“Oh, are you the temp they sent over?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Name?”
“Vanessa Wilson.”
“I’ll show you in.”
Apparently, MM’s office was in the back corner. She let out a sigh of relief, thinking that
whoever she was working for wasn’t a major part of the company’s
production. “What does MM stand for?”
Vanessa asked the woman she was following.
“They haven’t told you?
Marshall Mathers.”
“Eminem?” she choked.
“Yep. My kids just love
him. They love me working on his floor
even more!” the woman laughed.
Vanessa politely laughed with her, but her mind was racing. How could Mara do this to me?
In Vanessa’s mind, there was no bigger star, musically, than
Eminem. His status was already
legendary. Her hopes of working for
someone who wouldn’t be demanding or egotistical were dashed. Instead, she already felt her blood pressure
boiling.
The woman knocked on the door, even though it was only
half-closed.
“Come in,” a man’s voice replied.
“Mr. Mathers, your temporary secretary is here.”
“Good, send her in.”
Now or never.
Vanessa slinked into his office, with elegance, poise, and a feminine
sway in her hips. She prepared herself
for meeting a teenage icon, but despite her dislike for celebrities,
butterflies still fluttered in her stomach as her adrenaline accelerated.
“Hey,” he said as he clamped his hand over the receiver of the
phone. “Give me a sec,” he whispered
while motioning for her to sit down. “Whatever, settle this matter. Don’t involve me. Don’t even try to involve me!” he
warned into the phone. He settled the
phone back into its cradle, and turned to Vanessa. “Your name?”
“Vanessa Wilson.”
“Marshall Mathers, but I’m sure you realized that.”
“Uh, it’s hard not to,” she replied sheepishly.
“You’re not going to go starstruck on me, are you?”
“No, Mr. Mathers.”
“Marshall. I don’t do that formal thing usually.”
“It did come as a shock, Marshall,
but I assure you my job performance won’t be compromised by who you are.”
He laughed.
“What?” she replied hotly.
“Nothing. Now that that’s
settled, let’s get down to business. As
my secretary, I expect you to coordinate my day-to-day schedule, including some
personal meetings or appointments. I
hope you’re prepared to travel? Things
are pretty fast here. Nothing we do is
slow.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
“I assume Aftermath picks up my travel bill?”
“Of course,” he mimicked.
She turned her head to roll her eyes.
“Don’t think I didn’t see that,” he remarked.
“See what?”
“Yo, forget it. Company
codes says dress casual, by the way. So,
you can lose the suit.”
“I wasn’t informed,” she said, her tone even but still a bit
edgy. “I’ll make note of it for
tomorrow.”
“Dress how you want, nobody gives a damn. How’s your shorthand?”
“Up to speed.” The edge
in her voice wouldn’t fade, despite her energies spent trying to dispel it.
“All right, I get it. You
don’t want to be here. That’s
good. It means you’ll work and won’t
play—which is what I need. I don’t need
you vying for my attention or some office romance.”
“I didn’t mean—“
“Save it, honey. I don’t
need your politesse, so spare me all those manners you’ve learned in
secretary school. You do your job, I’ll
do mine, and we’ll get along.”Chapter 3
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Author: zines@aol.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.