Melody's P.O.V.
When I wake up a second time, Marshall is sleeping in bed next to me, fully dressed. I am too, I'm still wearing my damn dress from the night before.
And I also have to pee. Like crazy!! That is actually what woke me up this time, feeling like my poor bladder is about to explode.
I jump out of the bed like a mad woman and make a sprint towards the bathroom.
"Yo, what's your problem?!" Marshall sleepily exclaims, but I ignore him.
Right now I have tunnel vision, and the only light I want to see at the end of that tunnel is the damn toilet.
I barely make it too. By the time I finally sit down on the toilet, I swear it would've been like one second more and something truly horrible and embarrassing would've happened to me.
Well, maybe there's still time for embarrassing.
Just as I'm finishing up wiping myself, the bathroom door swings wide open and Marshall nonchalantly walks in.
"Do you mind!!" I shriek, fumbling with my panties, trying to pull them up and fast as I can as I simultaneously try to pull down my dress as fast as I can.
"Oh please," he smirks. "Like I haven't seen your pussy before. Now do you mind? I gotta piss too," he gestures for me to move and I gladly stumble out, feeling absolutely mortified.
I had no time to really get around to it all the day before, but now that it finally clicks that I am now facing Marshall again after having sex with him. Sneaking out on him before, protected me from ever having to think much of it. And I, of course, never thought that I would ever see him again. Not in person anyway. Just on TV.
But now waking up in his bed again, all kinds of flashbacks come rushing back in my head. I can practically feel him touching me all over and the pain and pleasure I had felt when he entered me.
Great. I need to get out of here.
I quickly look around the room and locate my little hand bag. I pull out my phone to see if my friends called me, but it is apparently completely dead, and I don't have the charger with me.
Doesn't matter though.
I fix my clothes once again and get ready to sneak out once again, when Marshall pokes his head back in the room.
"Yo," he says pulling his t-shirt off over his head. I try hard not to stare. He does have a really nice body. Fuck my fucking life. "Imma go take a shower real quick, then I gotta go. I have a lot of shit I gotta do today."
"Yeah, I have to go myself," I quickly nod my head. "I need to get back home. Thanks again for yesterday. I..."
Just as I'm about to head for the door, I hear him say:
"You don't have to leave, you know. I wasn't saying you were. I was just letting you know imma be gone for most of the day. But you can, you know, stay here."
"What? Em..."
"Marshall," he sighs.
"Marshall. I can't... I can't stay here!"
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing... I have to get home and call my friends. My phone is dead and they are probably wondering what's happened to me last night."
"Please," he scoffs. "Them bitches ain't worried about you at all, that I can promise you."
"Why would you say that?" I raise my voice rather defensively.
"Look," he steps closer to me. "I don't know you like that, and I don't know your friends like that. But they just left you yesterday. They left you to fend for yourself with that fucking dude, and I just think that was real fucked up."
"Well, you are right. You don't know them!" I say, continuing to be defensive. I'm a little taken aback by how angry he suddenly looks.
I take a step back from him.
"So what's with you anyway," he asks, eyeing me rather hostile like. "You just shake your ass at local clubs and pick up guys to come home with now?"
I suddenly feel more irritated with him than anything.
"Well no! Not that I have to explain myself to you, but my friends practically forced me to go out with them. I didn't really care to go. Nor did I care to even talk to that guy."
"That explains why he had to drug you to get in your pants, I guess."
"Can we not talk about it, please!" I exclaim.
"Aight. So, what were your other reason why you couldn't stay here?"
"Huh?"
"Well, you said, the first reason were them two hating ass bitches you call your friends. What's your other reasons you couldn't just chill here for the day?"
"I mean... look at me!" I point down to my dress from last night. "I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. I feel nasty as hell and I need a shower."
"So go home and change. Then you can call your two... friends", he makes quotation marks with his fingers. "And then just come back. I'll put you on the list at the front desk so you will be able to just let yourself in."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you... want me to stay?"
My question throws him off guard for a bit. I can tell that he is just as confused as I am right now.
"To be honest with you, Melody," Marshall finally says. "I don't really know. I'm just not ready for you to go yet, I guess."
That throws me off guard. I want to ask him again why, but think better of it.
"So, you don't think I might have work to go to today?" I ask him sarcastically. I lie though, I don't actually have work today, it happens to be my day off.
"Call in sick?" Marshall casually replies. "What do you do anyway? I don't think I've asked you that before cause I ain't care."
His bluntness makes me crack a nervous smile even though I don't want to.
"And now you do?" I ask, still smiling.
"To be honest with you I don't really," he replies and my smile drops. "But what do you do?"
"Well I... I work a bunch of part time odd jobs actually," I suddenly feel very out on the spot and embarrassed. "I do hair at this beauty shop, I waitress at a bar, I work in a clothing store," I trail off.
"Listen, you don't have to be embarrassed about what you do for a living," Marshall says, suddenly putting me at ease. "I used to buss dishes at a pizza place in Detroit, among other things. Before I caught my big break with rap. So I ain't gonna judge you. You gotta do whatever you gotta do to surviveand put food on the table."
"I'm also signed with a modeling agency," I add. " But I don't think that would ever go anywhere."
"Why not?"
"Apparently, I'm too short," I say bitterly, causing him to smirk again. "That's not funny!" I exclaim, offended.
"Well, ain't model's usually like 6 feet?"
"I mean, I guess for the runways. But I could still do like commercials or something. Editorials, I don't know."
"Shit, yo, you probably could. Cause you are," he doesn't finish his sentence, just looks at me like I'm supposed to already know what the fuck he means.
"I am what?"
"Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I was gonna say," he gets an attitude with me again, then changes the subject. "So like I was saying before, just go home and change, then you could come back. I can arrange a car for you to take you to your place and back."
"But you said you won't even be here most of the day anyway?" I ask him, confused once again.
"Nah, cause I gotta do this interview for TRL. Matter of fact, I should be living soon. But I'll be back later, obviously. "
"So... That's crazy you would leave me here by myself though. What if I wanted to rob the joint? Seems like you got a lot of nice expensive things here."
"I don't think you would do that."
"No?"
"I'm pretty good at reading people and you don't strike me as that type of chick. But if you were to do some shit like that after I done saved your ass and take advantage of my hospitality, I will kill you," he says, and he sounds dead ass serious too.
I damn near choke on my own saliva.
"Well good thing I ain't that type of chick then," I say sarcastically.
"Yeah, good thing. So do you want me to arrange for a car for you or nah?"
"Um... okay, I guess. I just kind of figured you would want me gone..."
"If I wanted you gone, would I fucking ask you to stay?"
"I guess not."
"Ok then," I can hear the annoyance in his voice and it kind of cracks me up.
"Yo what's so fucking funny?" he snaps, deeing me chuckle to myself.
"I just.. can't believe this is happening, I guess."
"Melody, it's really not that big of a deal. I like you, ok. I want you to stay the rest of the day here. No more and no less."
"Okay..."
"Oh and I just wanted to say something to you," he suddenly looks unsure on how to proceed. "I don't always, you know... bust as quickly as I did that time we fucked. It's just that you had probably the tightest pussy I've ever had and it kind of caught me of guard..."
"Wow!! I so did not need to hear that!"
"What? It's a compliment!"
"Marshall," I say carefully, feeling way more uncomfortable by this than he probably is. "I wouldn't know if you... um... busted fast or whatever. I have nobody to compare it to. I've never had sex before, remember?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. So, what made you do it then?"
"I... don't have an answer to that. It just had to be you," I say honestly.
"So... I am that hot then?" He says smugly and I feel like throwing something at him.
"Shut the fuck up!!"
I take Marshall up on his offer and have his driver take me to my place and back. I take a shower, change my clothes, try to call Jasmine and LaLa, they don't pick up, and then head back to the hotel.
I lounge around on a very comfy feeling sofa in front of the TV. Em mentioned something about doing a live interview on TRL, so I turn it on. It feels kind of surreal to watch him on TV after sharing his bed not once but twice already. Of course, the second time around, we didn't do anything but still...
I watch him crack jokes as he answers the interviewers questions, and I have to admit... He is kind of cute. Especially with these lil glasses he has on. I don't know he wore glasses. They make him look...Kind of adorable, actually. He tries to portray this tough image, but I can't help but to think he actually looks so damn... what would be the word? Almost innocent like?! No, that's not it. But pretty damn close?
But then, of course, in real life, he does seem to have this huge attitude problem.
But then he helped me out last night, when he really didn't have to, cause he doesn't even know me like that. So I guess he's just full of surprises, huh?
***
The door slamming wakes me up from my slumber. I guess I kind of dosed off in front of the TV earlier...
I sit up on the couch and watch a very pissed off looking Em stump his way into the room.
Laying eyes on me, he actually looks displeased to see me.
"Oh, you ain't left?" he grumbles angrily as he stares me up and down.
What the fuck?!
"I thought you said you wanted me to stay?"
"Oh yeah, I did..."
I have no idea what's going on in that head of his, but he now looks like he's regretting ever telling me that, and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. I feel extremely awkward and self conscious and my first thought is that I need to now follow my instincts from earlier and just take my ass home, just like I had planned to do originally.
I start to get up, but instead of walking out of the door like I should, I walk towards him instead.
"What's wrong?" I ask. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Huh? Why would I wanna talk about it with you?" he fires back so evilly that I am immediately very taken aback by it.
"Well shit, fuck you then. I was just being nice."
"Well don't be. Ain't nobody asked you to be nice to me. And yo watch how you..."
"Watch how I what?!" I cut him off, beyond annoyed. "Talk to you? You seem to like to say that a lot. Yo watch how you talk to me" I mock. "Why should I? Cause you're Eminem? I don't give a fuck about that. And you just fucking contradicted yourself. You say you don't want me to be nice to you, but I should watch how I talk to you? Which is it? Pick what the fuck you want!"
"Yo I ain't got time for this..."
"Well neither am I..."
I start heading towards the door now, exactly the direction I should have taken in the first place.
"Aight, hold on," he grabs my wrist.
"What is it?!" I spin around.
"Look," he sighs, "I just had a real shitty day, aight. But I ain't mean to take it out on you."
"Well, it's not my fault that you had a shitty day! So don't take it out on me," I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. "But that's exactly why I asked you, what's wrong?"
"You wouldn't get it."
"Try me."
Marshall stares at me for a few seconds as if contemplating whether or not he should confine in me.
"You do remember you signed that NDA with my lawyer before, right? So if you open your mouth to anybody..."
"So you trust me to lounge around your hotel room all day unsupervised around your stuff and personal belongings, but you don't trust me to not blab about whatever it is you're about to tell me?"
"Fair enough. Well, it's this damn interview I just had to do, man," Marshall sighs heavily as he sits down on the couch.
"Oh, I was watching that on TV, " I take a sit next to him. "I loved it, it was great!"
"Yeah, you would say so. You ain't the one that has to sit there and act all engaged and shit and answer their questions."
"Well, what was wrong what they were asking you?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he scowls. "It's the same fucking questions! Every place I go to, every interview I give, they ask me the same fucking questions. Every. Single. Time."
"Oh, I get what you're saying. That has to suck."
"Then," he continues to rumble, "As it turns out, I can't even take a shit now without somebody standing right by the fucking bathroom stall waiting for me to come out so I could sign something for them. I mean, I get it. I fucking get it. I used to be a fan too. That's why I always try to sign all them fucking autographs, for everybody. But when I'm fucking shitting in the toilet?"
I can tell that all of those things must have been weighing pretty heavily on him lately and right now he just kind of... snapped. And I just happen to be right there, so here's venting to me. And I do understand where he's coming from. I mean... I can't exactly relate, but I do understand.
"I'm sorry about all that," I go to wrap my arms around him, but he suddenly pushes me away.
"I ain't say you could touch me! And I don't need you to be sorry about shit. It ain't like I'm terminally ill or some shit."
"Okay, that's it!"
I jump up from my seat at the couch as quickly as I can and begin to gather my purse as I head towards the front door.
"Yo where the fuck you going?!"
"Where do you think I'm going?! I'm getting the fuck out of here, as I should've been done. You got some fucking issues, you really do."
Before I can make another move, I feel his arms wrap tightly around me in a bear hug that I struggle to get out of.
"Did I say you can touch me?!" I mock.
"Yo, I'm sorry, aight. I don't want you to go," he pulls me closer to him, leaning his chin on my shoulder.
And if I'm being honest, I don't really want to go either.