Eminem Fan Fiction Shorts - I

Mr. Mathers' Conversation

"I hear Hailie set you up with a cook." Paul said to me four days later. We were working out the details of a tour for next year. I was looking at heading back to Australia and we had to select the forums from the dates that were available. I grunted at his question rather than answering, and he stopped and looked at me closer.

"Em?" He asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, she got me someone." I said, working to keep my tone noncommittal. D had been by earlier yesterday. She'd been wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and an AC/DC fitted shirt behind her apron and I'd been just a little too focused on how far up her tan went.

"Is she not working out?" Paul asked and I shook my head.

"Nah, man. She's great. I'm going to need to work out more, the way she cooks." I admitted and Paul cocked his head, trying to figure out my hesitation.

"So, then what's the problem?" He asked and I sighed and rolled a hand over my eyes.

"She's fucking gorgeous." I said and Paul leaned back in his chair as he looked at me.

"Is that right?" He asked, his lip quirking slightly. I flipped him off, shaking my head as I looked away.

"I think she might be afraid of me." I said quietly, staring down at my hands as I admitted out loud the thing that had been plaguing me since I heard the conversation with her friend. Paul leaned forward.

"What do you mean?" He asked and my lips twisted.

"I overheard her talking to a friend the first day. D wouldn't tell her who she was working for so her friend asked if she were safe. D hesitated." I explained, the thought that the woman would be concerned for her safety around me hitting me square in the guts.

"Aw, man." Paul said and I nodded, looking off to the side.

"It's my own fault." I said quietly. Paul looked at me with sympathetic eyes. He knew a lot about me, both good and bad.

"Well, only time will fix that." Paul offered and I nodded again, knowing it to be true.

"She works for me, though, so I shouldn't even be thinking this way." I said and Paul's smile was wry.

"Yeah, but you can't help what you feel." He responded. "Just, be careful, alright?" He asked. "Be damn sure that you want something more than a good time if you're going to go for her, because her position really complicates things if you don't." He paused and I cut off the rest of what he was going to say.

"Yeah, I know. I could end up with a lawsuit if she's not down." I noted and Paul murmured his agreement before turning back to the schedule we were looking at, the conversation on D done for now.

---

"We're not going to take it. No! We ain't gonna take it. We're not going to take it anymoooooorrrrreee." I heard coming from the kitchen as I walked into the house.

Today was the last day of the first week, trial run with D. I'd come home a little early so that I could talk to her about how it was working on her end. From my own perspective, it was a no brainer:  she cooked like an angel and I was more than good seeing her fine ass in my home. Not that I could tell her that, but I'd come up with something appropriate to say I was sure.

"I get the feeling you prefer rock to hip hop." I noted, finding her dancing around in the kitchen while Twisted Sister played from her phone on the counter. She squeaked and turned, moving quickly to turn the music down and shook her head.

"I need to sew bells into your pant legs or something, sheesh." She muttered and I rose my brows.

"You can sew?" I asked and she smiled as she got back to rolling out some kind of dough.

"Enough to patch things only. I'm no Martha Stewart." She replied and I nodded, stuffing my hands in my jean pockets.

"So, it's the end of the week." I started and she nodded, looking at me over her shoulder as she tossed a dishtowel over the dough.

"It is. Are you cutting me loose, Marshall?" She asked, getting right to the point of it and surprising me. I wasn't sure if she would try to avoid the conversation or convince me to keep her around, but I didn't expect her to just come out and ask me.

"I like your cooking. If this is working for you, then I think we can keep going." I responded and she grinned.

"Great!" She said, dancing a little on her feet. "I was hoping you'd say that." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Any changes that I need to make?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, are you good with the schedule? Do you need additional meals made, or fewer? Does the timing work?" She questioned and I nodded, picking up what she meant.

"Nah, it's all good." I said, hesitating a little.

"Nope," she said, pointing at me with narrowed eyes. "You paused. What's up?" She pushed and I sighed.

"As much as it pains me to say this, you should probably go easy on the sweets." I admitted and she laughed and flicked a hand towel in my direction.

"You worried your fan base is going to notice a few extra pounds, Marshall?" She teased and I shook my head, enjoying that she was comfortable enough to joke.

I was pretty sure that she was still a little leery of me, but I'd noticed as the days went on that she was less tense in my presence. She didn't speak as easily to me as she did to her friends when she was on the phone, but progress was being made. Her willingness to tease me about flab was a good sign.

"Well, I do have women in the base who like the ink. It'd affect sales if they got all stretched out because I have no will power." I responded and D laughed and nodded.

"Hm." She said, putting a finger up to her lips as her eyes shone with humor. "It'd be a shame to do that, and your fan girls wouldn't thank me for it, so how about I only do desserts on Fridays?" She asked.

"That's probably best." I responded, my own voice carrying my amusement. "So, rock only?" I asked, curious to know more about her. D shrugged slightly as she got back to moving around the kitchen.

"I like it all, really. I have a group of girls that I go out with pretty regularly. We tend to hit clubs that play hip hop more than anything else." She said and I had a flash of jealous curiosity. I wanted to see her in a clubbing outfit, but also didn't like the idea that other dudes had.

"Which clubs?" I asked, keeping the conversation going.

D and I talked the rest of the time she cooked, her telling me about the places where she and her friends would go let off steam and me chiming in with suggestions here and there. It was nice, just talking with her. The conversation turned to other, light topics and continued up to the point when dinner was ready, at which point D put everything out and then smiled at me.

"I'm glad that you decided to keep me around, Marshall." She said and I nodded.

"Me, too."