You're a Supernova [Eminem Fan-Fic]

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I woke up with a violent jerk, as when you do after a terrible nightmare, to find myself pressed against a cold flooring, sweating like a gluttonous pig. As my eyes fluttered open slowly at first and then wide as I saw a vaguely familiar figure retreating. I jerked myself up, dismissing the cold sweat and painful headache.

“Marshall get back here! We have to leave. Now!” I screamed after him, as events of last night swarmed over my brain, but very, very vaguely.

But he only responded by hurrying over to god knows where.

Marshall’s POV                                                                            

“Oh god, please be empty. Please be empty.” I turned the knob of a door, and alas to my wishes, it was an empty bathroom alright. I pulled open the toilet seat, and down came the zippers of my pants, not withholding I let out my-

“Hey ya seen my bra some’ere?” A chick’s head poked out from the curtains. I jumped with a yelp, covering my-

“Oh sorry.” She emerged out of the tub, her hands covering her bare titties but failing completely, lucky for her she still had the skirt on. She quietly toddled up to the door and went out in a daze.

When I got back to where I’d left Jade yelling after me, she was there glaring at me fiercely as if any moment now she would optic blast me like Cyclops.

“I had to. I looked fuckin’ pregnant with my bladder full to its brim.” I reasoned.

“We got no time for that bullshit now let’s just get outta here.” Soon as she finished, we made a dash for the front door.

Jade’s POV

“I’mma drop you off at Gilbert’s. Hope you don’t get fired.” I blessed him as I revved up the engine and heard him snicker bitterly from the side.

Then it suddenly clicked. I did a double take, looking at his still half clothed body, with only the jeans on. “Yo you don’t wanna tick your boss off any more.” He followed my gaze and looked back up at me looking like he just realized he didn’t have his shirt on all this time.

Fuckin’ clown. His expression just made me want to crack up.

“Fuckin’ great, now you gon’ tell me I fucked thirty fuckin hoes.” Then it completely hit me; this person beside me was completely different from the one that took over him last night when he was on alcohol and probably… drugs. This person was Marshall. I know I was incredibly drunk myself last night but I did remember a bit of this and that.

But my head hurts like a goddamn constipation. Wait, what?

On the road, there were few people this early in the morning. It looked like the sun had just popped up, but in Detroit it is always like that during daytime in October. I took in few of the pedestrians like I was watching some boring television show, and I suddenly jabbed my foot on the brake as the car screeched to a halt.

“Mother-fuck, jade?!” Marshall said, completely shaken from barely avoiding his head make a contact with the windscreen. I ignored him for his own sake, opened up a locked compartment where my Glock laid and extracting it, I slipped it in my paddle holster in my belt then got out of the car. The car was parked by the sidewalk, not really the engine was still running, I walked up to a skinny Irish guy who had stopped on his way watching me come up cautiously. I didn’t clearly know this guy but I thought his shirt would look good on my baby. I mean- Marshall.

“I need your shirt.”

He threw me a baffled, “the fuck” look. “Whaa?”

I anticipated this. So I pulled out the gun on his face. His eyes went bananas as out of reflex his hands shot up, he backed up, trembling on his legs. “Whoa whoa! motherfuck! Please! Getting mugged in the fuckin morning… don’t you guys have a fixed fuckin’ time or somethin’ please don’t shoot me, please don’t shoot me I am young, I haven’t lived my life yet, please I could do a lot for this country…”

I shoved the gun in his face. “SHUT THE FUCKIN’ FUCK UP! I just wantcho shirt, come on.”

By now, Marshall had seen the scene unfold and-

“OH HOLY FUCK, JADE WHATCHU DOIN’ WITH THAT SHIT-“ oh you didn’t just see me pull it out that compartment in front of you?- “PUT IT DOWN! YOU GON’ KILL HIM! JADEE! PUT IT DA FUCK DOWN NOW BEFO ANY ONE SEES US!!”

He makes it seem like I was really gonna kill this guy. This was just to scare him, idiot.

But the guy did as I had commanded, before the gun could get any closer to him, he handed his black Mossimo t-shirt to me which I thought would be a fit for Marshall. Anyway, he wore clothes three sizes bigger than him so I don’t think it would be a problem.

I left the guy stranded to his spot, scared and close to tears and got back in my car. I threw the shirt over to Em as I slid in, and he continued to give me that look as we got in motion.

When he still didn’t wear it, “WEAR IT FOR FUCK’S SAKE, MARSHALL! WE HAVE NO TIME.”

He still looked at me like I had grown balls out. “We had no time to make a u-turn and have you get a shirt this quick any other way so just be happy and grateful to me. Fuck you.”

“Ya know… I got mugged once and they took my pants.” He spoke in a low tone. “I know what it really feels like to have your shit taken from you.”

But I just wanted to help him out. Oh shit, I overdid it. I always overdid things.

“I’m sorry.” I only said, my eyes on the road and my face flustered.

“But fuck it, thanks I actually don’t give a fuck about him. Living in a harsh environment, you learn not to give two shits about people you don’t know.” Marshall smirked at me, and finally wore the shirt and as I expected, he looked fuckin’ beautiful. Wait, Jade, a guy doesn’t look fucking beautiful! Say, cute. He looked cute.

“You wanna tell me what that fuckin’ gun was for?!”

Great. Now he would ask questions, like a curious bitch.

“Safety. Woman in Detroit.” I laughed nervously at the end. Oh what an excuse.

He stared at me like he didn’t believe me but I was grateful when his head turned to the window.

After leaving Marshall at Gilbert’s, I had gone home to my apartment. Frankly I was tired as fuck and I didn’t want Luigo or any one else to disturb me or my plans for the day which was indeed to sleep the fucking day the fuck out. The hangover was killing me, it felt like someone was drilling shit into my head from the side. Literally drilling.

After a glass of refreshing water, I called him up from the cell phone that was meant to be secret, and hidden somewhere safe, like in my case I hid the phone on the wall behind the fridge beside the socket, (so it would at least be out of view) in a hanging cell phone holder I had to order customs made. I clearly had no secretive places in this apartment other than the air vents where I liked to keep my cash safe. But keeping the phone and the cash both in the same place would be a bad idea, terrible idea. When found out, it would be one thing to have people know you have incredible amount of cash. And another, to have them know that money was made through illegal means. That is, unless you badly wanted to fuck up.

But when I switched on the phone, I noticed I already had a message. Just one.

Urgent. Call me up. Damon’s guy dead.