Say Goodbye to Rockbottom (an Eminem Fanfiction)

12) My 1st Single

October 14th

Marshall's POV

My first single had finally been released and it still hadn't fully hit me. I couldn't believe slowly but surely, all my hard work in the studio was starting to pay off. I couldn't wait to see how the world would react.

I knew I wouldn't be some big mega star simply due to the fact that I was way too left field for mainstream channels to endorse. I was fine with that. I mean, I didn't want to be some mainstream pop artist. I did hope to make it somewhat big. At least I knew I got an underground fanbase supporting me in Detroit.

***

I had just finished making a call to Tori. She said she was on her way to the airport and wouldn't be here till five hours from now. Thank God I had work to do in the studio so the time would fly fast.

Before I headed to the studio, I had some things to take care of. For instance, my hair. Dre suggested I should touch it up a bit since some of the blonde was already washing out along with my roots getting darker.

It was funny. Dyeing it was honestly just the mistake of an overdose. But Dre insisted that fans would "love it".

Once I finished dying my hair and letting it dry,  I changed into a black t-shirt and black athletic pants with white stripes on the side. I then waited for Mark and Jeff to meet me outside my room so we could leave to the studio.
***

"Ayo whaddup, Slim." Dre greeted while giving me a pound-hug.

"Sup." I greeted back as we broke apart.

"How you guys' doin'?" Dre asked Mark and Jeff as they took a seat on the sofa.

"We're good." Jeff said, nodding his head.

"Good, good." Dre clapped his hands together. "Aight, Em. Now, before we get to work in the studio, I have to talk to you about a couple things."

I shoved my hands into my pockets.

"Aight," I shrugged a little nervously.

"Follow me." He said as he grabbed the door. I exchanged a look at both Mark and Jeff but they just smiled at me deviously. The fuck? I shrugged it off and followed Dre out the door.

We started heading down the hallway when Dre began to speak.

"Now as you know, we released your single Just Don't Give a Fuck and Brain Damage--"

"Wait, we released Brian Damage too?" I asked raising my right eyebrow.

"Yeah, we put it on a double sided cassette."

I knitted my brows together in confusion. "Was I s'pose to know bout that? 'Cause no one told me.."

We stopped walking once we got to a certain room.

"Yeah, but don't sweat it, it ain't yo' fault." He said patting my shoulder with a smirk. "That's the kinda stuff a manager's s'pose to tell you." He smiled even more intensely. I looked at him with a blank expression. "Which is why," he pushed the door open as I waited through a small but lengthy silence, my mind flooding with questions "I'd like to introduce you to your new manager."

At first I was hesitant to step in. I gave Dre a tepid smile, then stepped into the room. I looked in and saw a big guy facing away on the phone.

"Ehem" Dre cleared his throat obnoxiously, crossing his arms over his chest.

The guy quickly ended the phone call and turned around.

"Paul!" I exclaimed out of excitement. We exchanged a pound hug with one another.

Paul and I go way back. He was basically  my 'manager' back when I was recording the Slim Shady EP with both Bass brothers in Detroit. He even featured in on one of my skits.

"How'd you get him here?" I directed my question at Dre, who was now standing beside us with a big smirk.

"It was Mark and Jeff's idea. I told them it's time you get a manager and they agreed and, well, suggested Paul."

"Word." I released in a light breath. Really? Just 'word'? Wow Marshall, you're fuckin' great at expressing your gratitude.

"When I got the call that Dre wanted me to work for you, I couldn't believe it. I mean, I came driving all the way from Detroit in my old American Auto."

I remembered that rusted old thing, brought back memories..

"Well Slim, we got a lot of work to do in the studio and not that much time. You only got like 4 hours." I looked at Paul, then back at Dre.

"Uh, Dre, go on ahead, I wanna catch up with Paul real quick. It'll only take a minute."

"If you say so." He sighed, leaving without me. I turn back to Paul.

"Well if it isn't Paul Bunyan." I laughed while crossing my arms.

"Well if it isn't Marshall Mathers but with oh," he lightly ruffed up my hair. "blonde hair?"

I chuckled and flattened my hair back down. "Yeah, Dre told me it's my 'new look'." Paul raised his eyebrows. "Aight, I might've overdosed and did it by accident..but Dre loved it. He had me feature it in the My Name Is video."

"Man, you know how I feel about you abusing." He lectured, referring to my earlier statement.

"I know, I know." I rubbed my left eye with my hand. "I just needed a night to get my mind off of missin' Tori and being stuck in the studio."

"Speakin' of her, how is she? You still engaged?"

"Of course Paul, she's pregnant. Didn't anyone back home tell you?"

"No." He grunted. "The dipshits back home forgot to mention it." He joked referring to the members of Dirty Dozen. "But that's great to hear man, congrats." He reached his arm out for another pound hug. I grinned as we broke apart.

"Yeah she's actually comin' up here in 4 hours, I gotta pick her up at the airport."

"Oh damn. You need a ride?" He offered.

"Uh, sure. If it ain't too much trouble."

"Of course not." He swatted his hand. "I'm your manager now, I gotta get use to dealin' with your ass for hours on end."

"Gee thanks Paul. That's so generous of you." I sarcastically muttered He gave me a hard pat on the back.

"We should probably head back to the studio now." He suggested. I nodded my head in agreement as we both walked back to the studio room.

***

"Aight Slim, you ready to get down to work?" Dre asked while taking a seat by the mixing board.

"Hell yeah." I smirked after impersonating Dre's voice. I then walked into the live room, closing the door behind me. I stepped toward the mic while reaching into my pocket and pulling out my notepad.

"Yo Dre, I got the altered lyrics to My Name is." I announced through the mic, holding up the notepad. "I got the less-dirty dirty version, and the clean version. Wanna record 'em?"

"Waita go Slim, on the ball as usual." He nodded his head and started playing the beat to My Name Is.