I don't know for how much I stayed at the door just staring at him trying to understand if I'm hallucinating or if it's really him standing in front of me waiting for me to say something.
"I brought you the tape with the beat." - he makes the cricket chirp stop when he speaks and shows a CD case with my name written in black ink over a white tape.
"You could have left it at the studio." - my voice comes out shaking. Something that happens when I'm nervous. I was never aware of my nervous voice until Blair brought it up someday when I had a presentation to do in front of our class in high school. I messed the thing up because I started to notice the difference in my voice.
"I wanted to see you." - he says then, taking me off guard. His smile is peaceful and it kind off reaches his eyes for the first time since I've known him.
Could I have asked him why and make him go away? I could have. But I choose not to do that. I am aware of how much trouble he carries on his back for me. It's like a bad Santa Claus with a bag over his shoulder full of trouble but as much as it made me want to escape as much it attracted me towards him. I take a step back and clear the path for him.
"Come in."
He doesn't move for a moment. And the silence starts ping-ponging between us again. He finally takes a step forward and is inside my apartment. I notice him checking it out but he doesn't say anything about it. I know my apartment is bigger than his 2 story house in Detroit.
"Take a seat. Do you want something to drink?" - I point the sofa where I have been sitting all day watching every slander they were giving me.
He sits down. He has a weird way of sitting, he is almost laying on the sofa. His arm resting at the backrest and his legs wide open occupying a huge space. I don't know what to call it. He thinks for a bit and I am kind of sure he was thinking some brand of alcohol I wouldn't have and start teasing me about it but then decides to not be an asshole and ask for a glass of water.
"Are they slandering me on TV for coming at you?" - he asks while I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water for him.
"Quite the opposite. They took your word." - I give him the glass of water and he brushes his fingers against mine when taking it. I quickly take my hand away. I don't need a vivid reminder of how it felt being touched by him. As he takes a sip of the water I sit at the far corner from him. It makes him chuckle. I notice his skin a little red and purple where I've had my lips on his neck and his eye starting to get bruised.
We stare at each other for some minutes waiting for one another to speak first. I don't know what to say to him. I don't know if I should talk to him about the booth, about Suge or ... Anything would turn in an argument because I already know how different we think.
"I'm sorry for saying those things about you. I don't think you are a bitch. I just..."
"You wanted to get to my dad. I get it." - I finish the sentence for him happy he broke the silence again.
"Partly, but I was mad you was avoiding me." - the look on my face probably gave it away that I was not expecting him to say that at all because his movement shows a little regret. He probably wants to take what he said back and I want that too because it makes my blood start boiling just like it did this morning.
"And talking shit on TV was the only option you had?" - he never fails to get on my nerve.
"I mean, you didn't take my calls when I tried to talk to you. And don't make me get started about when we saw each other. And you always hit me up when I say something about you." - oh God help me. His perception on particular situations is so divergent. It seems like his mind works in a different kind of way from everyone else.
"I had security with me Marshall. A security that was instructed to knock you out if you would come near me." - I raise my voice at him. "What do you want me to do? Let you come near me, security makes a scene and we end up in magazine covers. If you haven't noticed I've been trying to avoid scandals my whole life."
He doesn't say anything for an uncomfortable amount of time so I puff a little and shake my head.
"We can't be friends, Marshall." - he looks up at me confused as if he had not said the same thing some days ago. "You and I are damned to work in the same environment and avoid each other at all costs. We can't even act like colleagues. We have too much going on." - I try to explain what I mean "The press won't believe we are friends and that's a punch at my career. Then there is my dad and my uncle. You know... " - I gesture his ongoing bruising eye trying to get my point across.
"I don't want to be friends with you." - he interrupts me. I quiz him with my eyes.
"Then you don't have any rights to be mad at me for not talking to you."He looks at me like I'm a kid. A naive kid and I get kind of feel more frustrated at him for being so complicated. I don't understand him. I don't understand what he wants.
"Should I make you mad again to make you understand what I want?"
I snap my head up to look at him. I have to look him in the eyes to understand if he means what I'm thinking he means. I need to take every movement of his face to know if he is joking and just teasing me about it. I feel stupid for having a weird stomach pain and for pressing my thighs together over his serious an octave away from whispering tone.
"It doesn't matter what you want or what I want. It can't happen."
He chuckles a little and as he takes his eyes off of me to watch the TV he eases his short hair. I take a look at his profile. His nose looks cuter in profile. The movement of his jaw tells me he is clutching his teeth and then he nods his lips tightening like he is super disappointed at what I just said. What does he think? He would ask for that type of thing and I would forget he has been an asshole to me all this time?
"You have a girlfriend." - I point out even though it might not be the smartest thing to say.
"I can break up with her." - he shrugs and turns to look at me again brushing his lower lip with his thumb. Is he trying to look sexy because if he is it is working?
"That's not even the point Marshall." - I look at him and laugh out of nerves. He doesn't move from the spot he set down since he got here, in the same position. His gray sweatpants don't help me think of something smart to say.
"You think it doesn't fuck with my mind? I... You're Anthony Shields daughter and Suge Knights niece but the more you put me through the more it turns me on."
Everything that comes out of this mans mouth ticks my brain the wrong way.
"The more it turns you on? So it's just that... turn on... lust?" - I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Do you want me to say I love you, you are my moon and stars? I won't cause clearly I don't feel like that an' I'm not here to play games with you." - stare at him a little offended even though there is nothing to be offended by. His straightforwardness is offensive. "We can go out and see where it takes us."
"What part of we can't, don't you understand?"
"Why can't we? You are a grown-ass woman and you are allowed to date any motherfucker you want."
"Why do you think I want to date you?"
"You didn't say you don't want, you said we can't. And there must be some type of feeling going on." - he moves his hand in the air while talking.
"I don't feel anything for you Marshall."
"It didn't seem so in the studio!" - you see everything has to be a fight with him. We can't have a civilized conversation.
"I was angry at you."
"You sure have a pretty interesting way to show anger." - the irony on his voice makes me want to slap him. How many times have I slapped and punched this man? I don't even remember because I have been thinking about punching him an unhealthy amount of time that the line is blurred.
"And you are disrespecting me in my own house." - I cross my arms over my chest. I won't allow him to be rude to me. He moves a little and puts his hand just where my arms cross and pulls me in the middle of his legs. I bite my inner cheek trying to keep my composure while the fabric of his sweatpants brushes against my bare skin almost 6 inches above my knee. The goosebumps start showing all over my thighs.
I try to move away so he can't keep brushing his knee against me and notice the effect of it on my skin. But his hand tightens around my arms keeping me in place and looks up at my face.
"I'm sorry baby. I didn't mean to disrespect you." - His thumb brushes my forearm while his other fingers are pressed between my crossed arms and my chest, and his eyes look soft. I really should start wearing a bra.
"You seem to apologize a lot about that Marshall, and you don't mean it since you keep doing it over and over again." - my voice calm and I feel my eyebrows relax. I had pulled them together unconsciously while arguing with him.
His forehead drops to my tummy and his other hand flies on my thigh. My eyes grow big at his action. His "I know" is almost deaf to my ear while I gaze at the back of his perfectly shaped head. I grab my biceps to stop myself from running my fingers through his bleached hair.
"I really don't mean to, baby. I just..." - he takes a deep breath and I hope for him not to hear my heartbeat going crazy on my chest. "I was twatted."
He was fucked up on Molly. That's his excuse. He was twatted. Like I don't know, like his the size of a black hole pupils didn't give that away. The crack on his voice makes me uncross my arms and put my hand on his head soothing his hair. His grip on my thigh relaxes a bit and as I move my fingers slowly on his head he copies my mechanism and does the same thing on the back of my thigh.
"Why would you be buzzing at 7 am? That's messed up." - I really like how the shape of his head feels on my palm. I should stop touching him.
"I know. I just... I practically didn't go to sleep from last night so I needed some energy. I have to be at my best on those TV shows." - he keeps his head against my tummy while speaking in a really low voice.
"You literally looked fucked up." - I drop my hand at his neck and ruffle his hair there.
"Exactly."
Is he telling me he is supposed to look high on his interviews? We all are given an image to wear in front of the audience by those who know more than us in this industry and if they had to feed a young man ecstasy since dusk they would do it without batting an eye. Just like they have done with great rockstars. The more of a destroying machine the star is, the more money is in store for them.
I don't know how much I stayed thinking about that but it was his voice who pulled me out of my thoughts. I meet his gaze when I look down.
"Now everybody pissed."
"Who is everybody?"
"Jimmy, Steve, Paul, Dre even Proof." - he counts them on his fingers.
"Why would Proof be mad at you?"
"Cuz he thinks that's why Suge paid the visit today."
"Isn't that it?" - I ask confused and drop my hand from him.
"Nah baby. Motherfucker just using that as an excuse."
"Excuse for what?"
He scolds and I almost laugh at how annoyed he is looking.
"You are better off when angry. Now you asking too many motherfucking questions." - his rudeness strikes a cord so I bring my hand up again and smack him at the back of his neck. He howls and gets away from me quickly rubbing his skin where my palm smacked him so the veins in his forearm make themselves visible. I tell him he is immature and that he can't keep a normal conversation. I try to get away from him but his grip tightens around my thigh while he laughs showing a slight dimple on his heft cheek his right one seems incapable to do so.
"Don't touch me!" - I slap his arm to let go of my leg but he doesn't instead he pulls me more toward his body and makes me sit on him.
I struggle to get up and away from him but he keeps me in place laughing "I'm just joking baby!" Marshall slams his face in my cheek and gives me 2 kisses in the same place. I am not getting used to his affection. It takes me off guard. As my attempts of getting away from him are just making me rub myself on his lap I stop trying and take his jaw to take his face away from mine.
"Are you on something?" - maybe he is still under the influence of some type of drug hence the sudden affection. I look at his eyes while Marshall shakes his head and drops his eyes at my mouth. I know what he is thinking because when he looks up it is written all over his eyes and his grip tightens around me.
"I'm on you baby." - he whispers and if it was possible I'd be melting on his arms. My breath catches on my throat as he brings his fingers to my cheeks and brushes them against the warm skin of my cheekbones. The mixing of wood, weed, and some female perfume fills my nostrils. Groupies probably have been all over him all day.
God I want to kiss him, again. But I will not be the hotheaded I was today in the morning and abuse him. So I kind of wait for Marshall to make the move while acting like I don't want to be that close to him. I think he can read minds because he puts a sideways smirk in his face and bites his lower lip a little before having them on mine.
Even though we kissed just this morning. I don't feel familiar with his lips. They are not harsh and fighting. The kiss is gentle and so are his hands. We are not trying to beat each other this time and as good as angry make out can be there is nothing that can be compared with a gentle one. There is a smile traveling around his lips, I can feel it rambling between us so I open my mouth to catch it. I curl my toes to stop myself from moaning when his tongue softly slips against mine. It doesn't work. The sensation of his warm and soft kiss sends wild tremors along my nerves causing some dizziness. His hand grabs at my curls to keep my head from falling back while his other hand travels up my thigh which works goosebumps all over my body. He grabs a handful of my butt as we keep our mouths on each other and the flattering feeling in my stomach grows bigger.
Marshall nips on my throbbing lower lip while I grab on his shoulder after having had my way through his platinum hair. He pulls me more toward him seeking more closeness, his fingers dipping on my skin, as we breathe on each other's lips panting and keeping them close enough to brush. The giddiness still swimming around my head. I open my eyes to take a look at his face so close. His freckles around his nose and his slightly pink cheeks are more visible from here. His lips touched with almost the same color as his cheeks. I pass my fingers along his neck where I left a mark this morning than press my thumb hard against his lips. Oh his blue eyes staring down at me this close... I forgot every word I might use to describe the exact feelings that are going on.
As my head starts to get clear like the sun dispatching the fog to bring in sight the blue sky, his open mouth gets in my throat hungry and consuming, where my breath is caught just to bring block the clarity again. My heartbeat as usual thumps in my ears. I put pressure on Marshall's back head as his wet lips suck gently on my pulse. Damn the bra I don't use. Every time he crosses my chest with his hands I feel as if I was naked. The make-out session is making my breasts more and more sensitive and he is passing his hands on that area more and more. Damn him for knowing where to touch.
The sound of my heartbeat gets louder in my head, banging against my brain and I almost lose sense in his arms. It's stunning how your consciousness works because it hasn't been the beat of my heart banging in my head but the door. Someone is banging at the door! I jump on my feet as soon as I am aware of the sound. I almost fall back in him when the blood doesn't work fast enough to reach my brain. Who is it?
"Who is it?" - I yell running to the closest mirror. I do look like what I have been doing. My lips are too swollen and my neck is red. When my father responds Marshall gets on his feet too, while I feel my daddy's voice hit me like a truck.
"Oh God we are going to die!" - I whisper, panic making my voice tremble. Marshall comes to me catching my shoulders.
"No one is going to die. Get yourself together."
The discomfort in my chest blurs my vision. His lips are moving frenetically but I am too scared to make sense of what he is talking about. Suddenly I am following him somewhere and he is asking me something.
"What?"
"Where is the bathroom? Freshen up and calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down when you are here." - I whisper through my clenched teeth. My father knocks on the door again. "And I look like this."
"Put your hair down, it will cover this." - he touches his work in my skin. "Get me in a room and I will stay there until they leave."
"I don't trust you."
"Do you have a better plan?" - I don't respond. "That's what I thought. Now where should I go?"
I point the guest room but then my brain starts finally functioning. If my father decides to stay he will have to sleep in the guest room so just in case I push him in my room. And order him to not touch anything and be quite. I close the door of my room and then run to the bathroom splashing water in my face. I also soak my hair and let it fall down my shoulders and back.
When I open the door dad is backed up by Nikolay, Jason, and Dylan.
"Why it took you so long?"
"I had to put on some clothes." - I lie avoiding everyone's eye contact playing with the towel in my hand. They invade my living room and inform me that Vlad will be here soon with food. The chances are at least one of the securities will stay the night if both of them came.
I take the spot where Marshall was just moments ago while the others make themselves at home. He has the chance to finish me. He can just come out from my room and I know my dad would have a heart attack. I look over the direction of my room for a moment, to make sure he is not just at the corner.
My dad changes the Tv channel and then hugs me. He whispers an "I love you" while giving me a kiss on the forehead and assures me everything will be alright. Suddenly I want to cry. Just like I did when I was ten, just like I did 4 years ago too. Crawl up like a ball by his side and cry while he held me and whispered again and again that everything would be alright.
Jason brings Justin up. Apparently Justin has been calling him after my sudden text. My dad's mouth twitches when he hears we broke up for good but he doesn't ask questions. Jason informs me that he had to talk Justin down because he took offense on the way I broke up with him.
"Just tell him Heather has too much going on, with the album, with a degenerate and other problems so she will respectfully break up with him later." - as my dad speaks with a very serious tone Jason nods and keeps notes.
"Talking about the degenerate. Do you want to release a statement about it?" - Dylan asks. I don't know if he is talking to me or my dad but when dad looks at me waiting for a response I shrug. Isn't he going to tell me about what uncle did?
"I don't think it's a good idea to acknowledge his statement." - I finally say after scanning my dad's face.
"If we don't acknowledge it they will assume we have something to hide." - Jason interferes.
"But if we do they will say we are trying to justify ourselves." - Dylan says understanding my point. Dad is being silent.
"And we will keep going back and forth with him."
"Maybe we should just stop blocking his studio." - I look at daddy when I decide to say those words. He is not expecting me to say that. Probably because he thinks I don't know. Jason and Dylan look at him too. They have been thinking the same.
He acts like he doesn't know what I'm talking at first so we go on an argument. Dylan then jumps in taking my side. Vlad finally comes with the food. A lot of food. While I'm thinking about how is Marshall going to get out of here if they are planning to eat all this food, my dad stops talking about Marshall's studio probably thinking we will forget about it.
I prepare the table in the dining area and once it's all set I call them to eat. I have to check on Marshall and tell him what's going on. The five men move from the sofas to the table looking really hungry. We eat in silence for a while then my dad asks me to not leave anywhere without Nikolay or Vlad. He was not happy that I ordered Nikolay to stay away from me today.
"So about Eminem's studio?" - I bring it up again to avoid them all scold me for moving around without security.
"That's not in our hand." - my dad says popping a shrimp in his mouth.
"Who's hand it is then?" - he looks annoyed by my question. "I don't think he is attacking us just because."
"It's in Suge's hand." - Dylan says and I roll my eyes. Of course it's on his hand but I don't understand why my dad has to be involved. We get it Suge is like a brother to him, and if he asks my father for something he will be by his side because that's what family does. But Suge must know because of his game other people are being thrown in the way. Like my career for example.
I tell my dad all of that and what I hate most about this debate is the fact that my dad is not listening to what I'm saying at all. He is determined he is doing the right thing.
"What is Suge's problem with him anyway?" - I get a sideways look in response. Neither Dylan nor Jason comment on it.
"I think we can negotiate with Paul. Aitch is right. We can ask them to not mention Aitch anymore in exchange for the studio."
"That doesn't sound smart at all." - my dad says and once again I roll my eyes. How is that not smart? That's exactly why Marshall is coming at us, apart from the part where he just wants to see me angry.
"Okay dad what's your plan then?" - I place my fork in the table. All this conversation is making me lose appetite.
"Eminem was handled this morning. He knows better than mentioning you now." - A snort comes out of me. Of course my father is aware of Suge's piece of work. But what doesn't fail to amuse me is the fact they think violence is going to back Eminem down. They are just adding fuel to the fire. They are just giving him more and more material.
"We can arrange an interview and you talk about Shields Foundation future plans. That will help people understand what Slim Shady said is bullshit." - Dylan suggests. I shake my head almost immediately. I don't want to talk about my foundation. I don't want to brag about it.
"That's a good idea!"- Jason agrees.
"No. I don't want it to be public."
"Aitch!" - hisses my dad not happy about my protest.
"They will ask the why's and the what's things I don't want to talk about. I don't want anyone to pity me."
"That can be arranged..."
Shields foundation is my nonprofit dedicated to kids, teens and young adults to protect their mental health after they experienced traumatic events in their life. That was the first thing I wanted to do once I would be financially independent. We have been partnering with the school system to reach everyone who needs our services. Lately we have been thinking to expend the target and mentor combat veterans and their families experiencing PTSD too.
I don't want the foundation to be associated with my image, because I don't want people to ask questions about it. I don't want them to ask about why exactly a foundation about post-traumatic stress disorder, if I had experienced something similar and all those kind of questions that will make the audience pity me.
They are talking about which TV show is most likely to have this type of conversation and what kind of plan to follow. I am already hating it. All this because Suge and my father messed with someone who won't take their shit.
"Aitch!" - Jason is looking at me waiting for something. All of them are looking at me and for a moment I think they know Marshall is here. "Oprah or Conan O'Brien?"
I stand up and sigh in relief starting to clean the table. "Whoever agrees to not ask questions I don't want to answer." There are topics I don't discuss on interviews. I didn't do it 4 years ago when I first came up and I will not do it now either. Somethings are better buried and never brought up for the public.
"Good, I'll talk with them tomorrow and then inform you." - I nod placing the plates in the sink uninterested where will I have to put a show on. I know for a fact they will choose Oprah which loves drama and the more her guests cried on her show the better. But right now I need to know when are they going to leave.
"Dad are you staying tonight? I'll have to prepare the guest room." - I ask as casual as possible.
"No I'll go back to Beverly but Nikolay and Vlad will stay."
"Both of them?"
"Yes!" - I don't pressure the topic anymore because I don't want him to suspect anything. Marshall will have to wait until Vlad and Nikolay fall asleep to get out of here.
They stay a little more in my living room planning things out while I prepare the guest rooms for Nikolay and Vlad. The thing is nothing ever goes by my plan because as soon as my dad, Jason and Dylan left I thought Nikolay and Vlad would go to sleep but only Vlad does so. Nikolay decides to stay up a little more in the living room to watch some TV. I say my goodnight's to them and go back to my room.
"Marshall, you will have to wait." - I whisper closing the door with my hip. He is lying face down in the middle of my bed, facing the door and he is asleep.
Great!!!
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I want to know if I should keep describing the parts where they get intimate or skip them? What do you prefer?
Oh and I just noticed I'm having readers from New Zealand, Sweden, South Africa, Egypt. I'm so happy to see the Country demographic grow.