Don't Wanna Try
Chapter 30
“Come on,” Vanessa replied, pulling him out of the limousine.
“Why’d you bring me here?” he asked, glancing at the enormous mansions that lined both sides of the street.
“Every time I come home, I have to really come home,” she explained.
“I’m still confused.”
She started up the steps to one of the more lavish homes—with high, slender ivory columns in the front, black shuttered windows, and mahogany double-doors for an entry. Jogging to catch up with her, he waited behind her as she rang the doorbell.
A teenage boy opened the door with a wary glance. “Uh, can I help you?”
“Hey—I was wondering if we could look around your house? You see, I used to live here several years ago…”
“Oh, uh…”
Thinking quickly, her eyes sparked as she came up with an idea. “Are you a fan of Eminem? He’ll sign something for you if you are,” she replied with a smirk.
Marshall rolled his eyes. “Hey,” he added.
The boy’s eyes widened to saucers as he noticed the rapper on his doorstep. “Yeah, sure, come in!”
“Damn, this house is huge,” Marshall murmured.
“I know,” she said.
“You used to live here?”
“Right up until Daddy died. Then they took the house to pay off his debts.”
“If he was still alive…”
“I know, Marshall,” she said softly and with a hand on his arm. “May we go upstairs?” she asked the boy.
“Okay,” he nodded but led the way.
“That was my room,” she pointed to a room at the end of the hall as they stood on the landing.
They entered her old room, and she wanted to cry. “I remember, thinking, I want to marry a man just like my Daddy so he could buy me a big house with big bathtubs for little princesses…”
He nodded with a sad smile. It reminded him of his own daughter’s wishes.
“I stood here all the time,” she informed him, motioning to the balcony. “I talked to God and the moon…the stars. I was so foolish then.”
“You like the house,” he remarked.
“I loved this house. Even if he wasn’t around a lot, I always had this house—it was home. It justified his absence just a little more. He had to work to pay for such a gorgeous house, right? I wasn’t even a teenager, and that logic was more than enough. I remember when we had to move out… I was crying and begging my mother to stay. I promised her I’d be good and never cause trouble. I even told her that I’d pay for it! What a silly thing to say when the mortgage alone is most people’s yearly income!”
Marshall looked at her thoughtfully, kissed her forehead gently, and sighed.
“You know, even after we moved, when I first thought about having children—not then, but when I was older—I told myself that she’d have a bedroom just like mine…a bedroom of dreams.”
“Thank you,” she said to the boy. “It meant a lot to be able to see the house again…”
“It’s, uh, not a problem—um, could I actually get a picture with you, Eminem?”
He laughed, “Sure. Grab a camera.”
The teenager dodged into his own room, and came back with a digital camera. “Could you?” he asked Vanessa.
“Of course,” she replied and took the machine from him. “Smile!”
Marshall gave the camera a sly, half-smile, and the boy grinned insanely.
As they started out the front door, Marshall lingered behind.
“Please give my card to your father. Tell him I’d like him to call me next Friday. Make sure you let him know that it’ll be worth his while.”
“Thanks for coming with me,” she told him when they arrived back at their suite.
“No, thank you for taking me with you.”
She kissed him softly. “I can’t believe we’ve only been here for a few days!” she exclaimed as they began packing their belongings into their suitcases. “Is your daughter coming into JFK or LAX?”
“Here. I don’t like her going on long plane rides…”
“Is she on your plane?”
“Yeah…I don’t trust people—I don’t want to chance that they recognize who she is…”
“That’s understandable. So, I get to meet her?”
“Yes.”
“Should I act any different?”
“Um… No, I don’t think so.”
“Does she know that you and I are…” her voice trailed off.
“No, not yet. I’ll tell her when she comes.”
“We don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to…”
“I want to,” he assured her. “Let’s just hope there’s no turbulence on the way back!” he winked.
She blushed. “You are an effective distraction,” she murmured.
Marshall waited eagerly at the airport, cleverly disguised with his hood drawn up and dark sunglasses. New Yorkers were too rushed to even notice him, he hoped.
He had pulled a few strings and managed to gain permission to wait in front of the terminal instead of the baggage claim—partly because he was a parent with a young child, but the clincher was his celebrity status—not to mention, it was his plane.
“Hailie!” he yelled as he saw his daughter come out from the gate.
“Daddy!” she screamed excitedly and ran towards him.
“Hey, pumpkin! The flight okay?” he asked, picking her up into his arms.
“Yup! I loveee your plane! It’s so big and has so much to eat!”
He kissed her on the nose. “Well, we’re about to go right back on, so I hope you didn’t eat everything already!”
“There’s still a chocolate bar left for you! I saved one just for you!”
He laughed and twirled her around.
Vanessa watched the scene from afar; it was very tender and heartwarming, as well as painful—to see such unconditional love in full bloom. She had seen him in so many different modes.
The business man: astute, calculating, challenging, and intelligent.
The celebrity: aloof, cocky, observant, and quiet.
The lover: gentle, rough, seductive, and wanting.
The performer: enthusiastic, passionate, raw, and stupefying.
But him, as a father, with his childish tone talking sweetly to his young daughter, his arms holding her tightly to his chest—the sight was heartbreakingly beautiful.
And her heart constricted, wondering just where her relationship with Marshall was going.
Chapter 31Author: 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.