Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 41

Marshall's POV

Groaning, I stretched out in bed, feeling the dull ache settling into my muscles. No denying it—I'm not in my 20s anymore. A full night of mind-blowing sex is always gonna take its toll the next day.

Still... I've definitely still got it.

Lifting my head, I noticed the rumpled sheets beside me were empty.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered, sitting up and glancing around the room, hoping to hear the sound of the shower. "Again?"

Nope. Silence. She really just dipped out after that?

I rolled my eyes, cracking my neck, when something on the bedside table caught my attention—a folded note, sitting next to Leila's dog tag. I reached over and picked it up, already bracing myself for whatever part of her twisted bipolar bullshit she'd written down this time. Not that it was a problem; her unpredictability was what kept things exciting.

I unfolded the note, eyes narrowing as I read:

Marshall,

Before you freak out, no, I haven't ghosted you again. When you're ready, bring my tag back, and I'll explain everything. But be prepared—you might not feel so great after learning about our past together.

Leila.

I grimaced, tossing the note down next to me as I rubbed my face. This could be about anything. If it was from the late 2000s, hell, I was that messed up back then.

What if I had a hidden kid or something? Nah... she's crazy, but not that kind of crazy.

Still, the thought lingered. What if she had kept something like that from me?

I glanced at the clock. And now I was late. Perfect.

Jumping out of bed, I grabbed a pair of boxers, sweats, and a T-shirt, hopping around while shoving my feet into socks and sneakers. I snatched the dog tag off the nightstand, jogging out of the room and straight to the kitchen to grab my keys.

Sliding into the car, I started the engine just as my phone rang through the speakers.

"Where the fuck are you? You're late," Paul's voice crackled.

"Good morning to you too, Paul. I'm doing great, thanks for asking," I snorted. "I'm on my way now."

"Marshall, I'm tired."

"Maybe try getting some sleep? I don't know, man, I ain't a doctor."

"Fuck you, just hurry up."

The call disconnected, and I smirked. Ain't nobody killing my high today. Well, except maybe whatever the hell Leila's got to tell me.

I pulled the dog tag out of my pocket at a red light, rolling it between my fingers. Whatever she's holding onto, it's definitely not gonna be good. The light turned green, and I stuffed the tag back into my pocket, driving the rest of the way to the studio.

After parking, I jogged inside, nodding at the receptionist who gave me a startled look. Heading to the boardroom, I could already hear the low murmur of voices from behind the door. I took a breath, grabbed the handle, and stepped inside.

"Marshall, so nice of you to finally join us."

"So, wanna tell me why you were late?" Paul asked, sitting across from me at my desk.

"Slept in," I shrugged, flipping through a magazine.

"You look like you've been up all night."

"What I do in my free time is none of your business."