Ole Foolish Pride Girl (Eminem Fanfic)

27. You Just Don't Get It

Marshall's P.O.V.

"Yo wassup, Free. Fuck you doing here so early in the morning?" I ask curiously, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I let her in.

"Early in the morning?" Free repeats after me incredulously. She looks around my hotel room, the penthouse to be exact. "Marshall, it's like 1pm right now."

"No shit, for real?" I blurt out. I ain't realize it was this late, the fuck...

I'm surprised Paul ain't call me yet to wake my ass the fuck up.

"Um, yes, Marshall," Free smiles, still looking around herself appreciatively. "Ugh, this is really nice," she smiles.

"Aight yeah, so did ya want something or..?" I decide to cut straight to the chase cause she's confusing the fuck out of me.

"Well, yes, actually, I wanted to talk business with you," Free smiles again. She invites herself to sit on one of the couches and crosses her legs.

Now, I don't know what she wants, but I'm statting to realize I can't be fucked with right now.

"What kinda business, yo?" I frown.

Free quickly gathers herself.

"That documentary you are supposed to shoot soon, for MTV?" She raises an eyebrow at me. "About making your next album with D12? I want to be the one interviewing you for it, Marshall."

I internally groan to myself cause to keep it 100, I don't even wanna think about that whole documentary shit right now even if it's all set in stone. I just want a goddamn motherfucking break from any and everything.

Clearly, I ain't gonna get it though. I'm a fucking wind-up toy, the never ending showman, I have to keep going forever like the energizer bunny. Ay, that's what I have sold my soul to this demon for after all, right yo? The show must go on forever.

Still, I ain't wanna be reminded of the damn shit right now, at this moment, at my rare day off.

"Yo Free, if that's what you want then you gotta speak to Paul not me," I shrug, not really caring. My head is still pounding like a motherfucker, practically killing me, squeezing my skull in a wise like grip. "Paul is the one managing shit," I shrug again.

"Um yeah, but like, Marshall, aren't you the one in charge of your own shit?" Free smiles teasingly, tryna provoke me no doubt.

And I ain't gonna lie, she does succeed.

"Shit man. Course I'm in charge of my own shit. Just can't be bothered with it, to he honest. That's what I got Paul for anyway. To manage shit I'm not wanting to be fucked with for me," I blurt out angrily then shrug.

"Well just think about it, Marshall. Please?" Free makes puppy dog eyes at me. She smiles and gets up from the couch walking up to me. She smiles again and runs one of her hands down my cheek. "Honestly, Marshall? I am sick and tired of hosting that damn show on BET. I feel like I could do so much better than that, and I think also that you are able to help me with that, you know? Like, this is my chance."

I can sympathize with that.

"Aight, Free," I shrug. "Imma speak to Paul about it."

It don't really make no difference to me who interviews me for this thing, so aight I guess. Whatever.

"Thank you, Marshall!!" Free stands on his tip toes and kisses my cheek.

She pulls away from me and looks in my eyes.

Oh fuck me...

I recognize this look, she's looking at me just like a typical groupie bitch.

Goddamit, why now? She ain't never been interested before, so why the fuck now?