Say Goodbye to Rockbottom (an Eminem Fanfiction)

10) My Bad...

I've been working with Dre in the studio nonstop for this upcoming album. Today, I finally had off. It was time I needed a break. Just a little time off to focus on myself again. And by that I mean, wild the fuck out.

I've decided to go clubbing. I mean, my fiancé is all the way in Detroit. It's making me go crazy. If I don't at least look at another female in the next few weeks, my penis will fall off.

Not to mention I wanna talk to other people here in LA. I've been so antisocial working in the studio with Dre and the Bass Brothers. I haven't really done anything else. I need to get out there and just have a good time. Who knows, once this fame shit kicks in, I might not ever have time to do what I wanna do.

***

I slip into on a white t shirt and grey sweatpants. I don't really care about presenting myself nicely since I'm just going to a strip club anyways. I rub my face and look at myself in the mirror. I notice my normally short brown hair is starting to overgrow and is sticking out all over the place. I take a hair brush from out of the sink drawer and begin brushing my hair forward. I make a mental note to do get a haircut when I have the time.

When I walk into the club, I realize it's nothing like anything I am used to. This place looks safe and clean, unlike the strip clubs in Detroit. The bright colored lights seem very extravagant and the bar area looks pretty dope too.

I decided to make some small talk with a few white guys that looked around my age but they seemed a little too fruity for my liking.

"So what do you do for a living?" one of the guys asked me while taking a sip of his drink.

"Uh, music." I said, clearing my throat. "I do music."

"You do music?" one of the guys repeated in confusion.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I write rhymes."

"Oh, wow." The guy blinked for a second. "And you get — payed for that?"

"Yeah." I answered with a tight lip.

"Awesome...." he nodded his head. "What was your name again, Marshall?" He stroked his chin. "Why haven't I seen or heard of you before?"

I got distracted by the strippers that were dancing on the poles. I wanted to leave with one so bad but knowing I was engaged, I figured I probably shouldn't. I looked back at the guy.

"Well, I don't mean to brag but uh, I've recently signed a record deal with Dr Dre." I boasted. Both guys looked at each other and laughed. "I'm serious. I've been working with him in the studio." I snapped angrily.

"I think you might've had a drink too many, pal." The guy patted my back then walked away with his friend.

I rolled my eyes, then headed toward the bar since I actually didn't have anything to drink yet.

Who cares if those two fruitcakes don't believe me? — I thought to myself. — They'll see me on tv eventually.

I took a seat on one of the stools, waiting for the bartender to finish helping another man in a biker jacket. In the meantime, I checked out some of the girls making their way past.

"What would you like to drink, sir?" The bartender asked while wiping down the counter with a white rag.

"Anything that'll get me knocked up." I chuckled. "I think I'm feelin' for a coconut rum."