Nick had lost the bet. He sighed. He was constantly reminding himself that he should never bet against AJ. The man always won. He had like psychic abilities or something. Nick
shoved his hands in his pockets and thought to himself that AJ should play the fucking lottery instead of making bets with him. He looked up at the numbers on the door. 1537. One large bodyguard stood outside the door looking rather menacing. Nick sighed
again. “Hey,” he said to the bodyguard. He got a nod inresponse. Nick cleared his throat. “Um, can I knock?”
“Mr. Mathers does not want to bothered right now,” he was told.
Nick nodded again. “But you see… I need to talk to him..um… about something…”
“Here we are again… It’s been a year. I brought you some flowers. I didn’t remember which kind were your favorite. So I just brought the um… fuck… what’d they call it? Oh. Spring Bouquet. It’s got um.. daisies… um.. some purple flowers… some pink flowers.. yellow flowers- daffodils I think. A bunch of stuff. I think you’d like them. They’re all.. I don’t know.” Eminem sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed.
Lance stretched languidly out of the limo. He smoothed his suit down and looked up the red carpet and around at his bandmates.
Eminem saw them arrive. Light shining off them as if they stole it from the sun itself. Momentarily he thought to himself how much heat he radiated tonight. It varied with how turned on he was. Em smiled to himself. When Lance was hot, his flesh was burning. Then he noticed who got out of the limo after him. Blond girl. ‘Die,’ he thought. He saw him wrap his arm around her waist and smile for a picture. Just last night that arm had been wrapped around his waist, bringing his hips down to … Eminem shuddered involuntarily.
*NOTE: This story does not seek to pass judgement whatsoever. There is a fine line where kink can evolve into abuse. This is a story about that fine line.
Eminem cursed as he got out of the limo. “Fucking paparazzi. Fucking award shows. Fucking everything.” He ran his hands down his shirt. He looked over at Dre who nudged him forward. Slowly he made his way down the red carpet, answering questions of the reporters, nodding in all the right places. Funny how being a rebel still means fitting between the lines. Running his hands down his face he walked through the front doors of whatever the hell building they were in this time. `Fuck they all run together,’ he sighed. The young girl led him and Dre and the four other large black men to their seats. He slumped down into his seat. He let out another sigh and Dre looked down at him. “Dude, think about it this way: this is research for future albums.”
Em laughed. “Good point, but fuck Dre, I hate these damn things. They’re all fucking rigged anyways.” Dre flicked him in the head and leaned over to talk to the man on the other side of Em. Continue reading
Eminem grumbled as he walked into the Waffle House. The last thing on this earth that he wanted to do with his life was be a mentor to some guy from AA. Just because he had graduated from the program didn’t mean he wanted to be any part of it now. Looking around the restaurant, he tried to locate the guy that the lady on the phone had described. `Fucking-A there’s a lot of people here,’ he thought. Em shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He hoped no one recognized him here. `Why the hell would I want to be a mentor? Why the fuck did I agree to this?’ Sighing again, he looked around. “Tall guy, blond hair, blue eyes,” he muttered underneath his breath. “Healthy build… blond hair…. fuck where is he?”
“Excuse me, sir?” the waitress interrupted.
Em wheeled around on her. “Yeah?”
“Are you looking for someone?” Em gave the woman a once over. Her name tag said Marjorie. Continue reading
Marshall stared across the bar, the Crown and Coke being watered down by the melting ice from the heat of his hand. His eyes were fixed on the two men leaning too close, smiling too much, blushing, touching. Jealousy and rage sung through his veins.
Oh god, I wanna be that
Marshall ordered another Crown and Coke after determining the last one was lost to the cause. Dre came over and sat down. Tired, guarded conversation between the two men. Dre nudged him. Marshall grunted, “Don’t worry about it, Dre.” The older man just nodded and left the bar stool. Marshall sat and drank, still staring at the two men across the room.
‘Cause I hate to be alone
And if you’re out there with him
somewhere and just about to kiss
JC came up to the bar right next to Marshall and ordered a drink. He glanced over at the rapper and nodded in acknowledgment. Marshall grunted and shifted his gaze back to his prey. Nick sat in the corner still, waiting for JC to come back with the drinks. Continue reading
“You’re here,” Nick whispered.
Marshall scratched his head through the hooded sweatshirt. “Can I come in?”
Nick stepped back to let him enter.
I missed you so much
That I begged you to fly and see me
You must’ve broke down
Nick could feel the lines forming in his skin as he was pressed against the door handle from the force of Marshall’s kiss. A single tear collapsed onto his cheekbone. He couldn’t believe that Marshall was here, had risked everything, just to make him happy. And no one had seen him. Continue reading