Impossible Is Nothing (An Iggy Azalea/Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 22: My Name Is

Year 1999, July 3rd

Marshall's P.O.V.

I hate to say this, but shit happens as time moves on. Brittany and I weren't together anymore.

The main reason was because we needed time to focus on ourselves and explore personal differences and whatnot. It was a mutual decision between the both of us. We agreed it's what'd be best for us, to get our lives and careers on track a little bit. For me, personally, I thought it ended up being the right move. (Or had it?) For her... I wasn't a hundred percent sure.

It's been years since I last laid eyes on her or even talked with her. I thought about her every day. I still had her number and I always wish I could take the time out to give her a call but I've just been so damn busy and things kept coming up with me or I'd be preoccupied as fuck and just forget about it. She knew I was, too, which is why she never bothered to drop a call, either, which is fucking depressing. Now, if I tried, I know it'd be awkward because of how long it's been. It sucks.

I missed her. I hope she was doing well on her side. But, you wouldn't believe it. During that time, on my side of things, I exploded:

The birth of Slim Shady wasn't too long ago. That was my new name, personality, alter ego, whatever you want to call it. Proof came up with the idea of our Dirty Dozen crew that each of us come up with another one of us. I literally came up with my "other" on the shitter.

Shady was me, but a much more crazy, dangerous, and raunchy version of me. Kinky, too, why the fuck not. He was an outlet, a side of me I've kept in that'd been raging to come out all along. It's hard to explain. Just think weed, vodka, hair bleach—and there you got him.

I became pretty popular. Chicks dug me, even the dudes. Not in that way; or, who the fuck even knows anymore? I tried it out with my Slim Shady EP, then with a Slim Shady LP newly released about six months ago. It was either the "famous and well-known" Jimmy Iovine or the "one and only" Dr. Dre who found one of my tapes under a bunch of shit, which, by listening, got immediately interested in me by it (I think the story goes). And with some reaching out, contacting, getting together and arrangements later, I got signed by Dre. Probably the greatest accomplishment of my life.

The whole deal was crazy. I was still adjusting to this new "fame" thing. Seemed like people knew who you are where ever you went, and they wouldn't stop bothering for autographs sometimes. Getting used to it was a hard pill to swallow.

Was it worth it for everything? For the things I ended up sacrificing and giving up, and the energy, time, and money I used and spent to getting where I was now? My answer, in a way... yeah. I thought so.

Anyway, moving past that, right now I was on my way over now to a Target (I was driving in my car as I was looking back on all this shit). I wanted to complete this one secret task I had planned. Also, I wanted to check up if my album was still on the shelves and see how things were looking from a customer's eyes and standpoint.

Once arriving in the parking lot, I tried to keep low-key, although my bleached blond hair was as noticeable as a who-knows-fucking-what. White tee was what I had on, loose black sweats, and cap pulled down to cover and conceal my face; if I could.

I moved slowly and cautiously around the store. Thank the Lord it was nearly empty on this Saturday. I picked one location that wasn't too populated around Warren. Continuing on with my plan, media and electronics section first, here I come.

It being in the way back of the store, I finally got to it. My eyes searched every part of where the CD's in particular were stored until it fell on the hip-hop/rap genre. And there, right in the fucking front, it was. It was loaded, all with the Slim Shady LP. Still, six months later, huh? Damn, that's a hit.