Read My Lips (Eminem Fanfic)

8. Hurt My Pride

Marshall's P.O.V.

Watching the little blonde groupie chick grind in my lap, I pull my hand back and smack her ass lightly, indicating for her to get up. The girl turns towards me and smiles, straight white teeth exposed, green eyes clouded by whichever drink she just dawned straight to the head.

"Are you ready to go, baby?" I ask her. Being nice for now. I'm always nice to groupies until I fuck them.

"Yessss," the girl slurs her words a little bit, looking dreamily at me.

I look across the V.I.P. and watch Proof, Denaun, Bizzy, Kuniva and Swift all knee deep in bitches of their own. Bottles of liquor being passed around and all kinda drugs taken. Loud ass rap beats blasting from the speakers and bright lights flashing. We do the same shit every night it seems. I'm high as a motherfucker and the girl that's entertaining me truly looks fine as shit to me right now. I know she probably won't look so in the light of day. Or maybe she would, who the fuck knows. Either way, she's the exact carbon copy of bitches I usually fuck.

I don't like to change things around too much, I guess. Change ain't always good.

I take the groupie with me to the back of the club somewhere and make her get down on her knees and auck my sick then fuck her against the wall. Once I'm done with her, I send her on her way. Making my way back to the V.I.P., I get the waitress to bring me another bottle.

Proof plops down next to me with two bitches on each side of him, clinging to him like their life depends on it.

"Yo doody, you good?" He asks me.

"Yeah, why you ask," I shrug, staring around the club lazily.

My manager, Paul then plops down next to us as well. Looking all kinds of ways fucked up. I smirk to myself a little, regarding his sweaty head and bloodshot eyes. As uptight as this motherfucker tries to be for the most time, as much as he loves to preach to me and the guys about being responsible, he at times parties just as hard as us if not more. Nevermind his wife to be at home, nevermind that license he's got to practice law, matter of fact, he would be disbarred already if only those suits knew how much drugs this man takes with us at times.

Right now, he does wanna play like he's one of those suits though.

"Marshall, you do remember that we have all got to catch that early morning flight, right? Going to New York?"

"Yeah, I so know that, dawg," I shrug, taking a swig from the bottle of Bacardi in my hand. "To do another bullshit ass interview or whatever the fuck. Yeah, I know. Very well aware."

"Okay, just checking, son" Paul nods then, eyes looking glossy as hell and damn near falling out from his chair.

I smirk to myself, pulling out my phone and flipping it open. Eyes scanning through contacts, staring at the same name I've been staring at for months, thumb hovering it but never pressing the button to text it.

Cause fuck that girl...

Amari made a true sucker out of me. She made me feel like I actually cared. A lil too much for my liking cause I wasn't looking to catching feelings for no bitch.

And yet, I still wanted to take her with me when I left LA that day.

And she fucking turned me down, and that fucked with me hard.

At first, when I had cut all contact with her and stopped replying to her texts, I was being petty. Just wanted to punish her, I guess.

Then I had convinced myself it was better that way anyway.

Cause I ain't need that shit in my life.

Don't need no girl making me weak like that. Telling her she was mine and all that shit, and I have just met her? Nah, fuck that. Truth be told, I fell for her way too hard way too soon, and that pissed me the hell off.