Becoming the Female Shady

Chapter One- The Record Deal

Next update! Sorry for the wait. Uh, on #MMLP2 what track are y'all most excited for? For me, The Monster 'cuz I have a feeling it'll get really popular and they'll play it on the radio and everyone will know it. Like Gangnam Style. Faggot ass song. Gangnam Style, I mean, not The Monster. Anyway! Uhm, also, this story will now be in Issa's PoV. The prologue was the only exception. MAYBE there will be a epilogue like how the prologue was but eh... ok. Also, yay! There's a word count now! Okay, enjoy. 

My fingers tightened around the backpack in my hands as I jolted forward; this was the result of the taxi coming to a sudden and dangerous stop at a red light. I thanked God I had my seat belt on for once. This cab driver guy was either drunk, crazy, had to take a shit, or all three. 

As we pulled up in front of the Shady Records building, he pounded his foot down on the brake and I flew into the headrest on his seat, hitting my jaw. 

"Dammit!" I shouted, rubbing my jaw and scowling.

"Sorry," he mumbled, though it didn't sound sincere.

I grunted in acknowledgement and leaned back in my seat, glancing at the small, unimpressive building. Who knew such a simple building could hold so much... hell, what was the word? Talent? Magic?

"Why ya here?" the guy interrupted my thought process rudely.

"None of ya business," I snapped, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the only money I had left from my pocket. I handed him the twenty dollar bill and watched regretfully as he snatched it out of my hand.

I opened the door and stepped out, automatically shivering when the cold Detroit air hit me. I longed for the heater in the taxi, but I was never getting back in that cab with that dick of a driver. 

I didn't even have time to fucking get to the sidewalk before the guy was off, nearly crashing into a black Honda that looked painfully out of place in our trashy world of taxis and buses.

I now took the time to turn around and look at the building. It was squaty and short, almost easy to overlook in this world of big and tall. No sign told me it was Shady Records, but I knew. 

Now, this wasn't the real Shady Records building. That was in New York, with Mr. Rosenberg. No, this was even better. This was the office and studio of the Detroit half of Shady Records- D12 and Bad Meets Evil. Meaning Eminem.

I'm gonna meet him. I almost fainted at this sudden realization that had never really come to my mind before. I'm gonna meet him, and I'm gonna be his label mate.

Oh my God.

Swallowing my anxiety, I started towards the building, but stopped when I caught a glance of myself, reflected through the dark glass. I looked like shit.

I attempted to smooth my hair down, but then said a quiet, "Eh, fuck it." and just flung my purple hoodie over my head.

I glanced down at my outfit. A pair of tennis shoes- my only pair- that I'd had for three years now protected my feet, looking like faded grey flats with laces when they were originally shiny black Vans. I had a pair of baggy grey sweats on because, frankly, it reflected me and who I wanted to be recognized as, and it was all I had in my grocery bag of belongings. Yeah, I'm that broke.

I wore a cropped black tank top, but it was cold as a motherfucker and it was too classy for me, so I threw on my crappy purple hoodie over it, zipped it up, and was done. 

I had my bag of belongings with me now, because I was hoping one of the guys would pity me and take me in until I could afford my own place. I don't like manipulating people or anything, and I definitely didn't want them pitying me, but I had no other options. To make it worse, winter was coming, and winters here, in Detroit, are fucking deadly to someone without shelter.