XXPLOSIVE

Deja Vu

January 2004

“I can’t deal with this. This cannot be happening again, how many times have we done this? She can’t avoid me again; we’ve been through this before! That fucking hoe, she’s got it coming today. Tonight, yes tonight I’m going to show her who the hell I am, she thought she was gonna get away with this?” thought Marshall, as he seethed with pure rage while pacing in the room.

He jumps in his Ferrari and puts his hood up as he asks the security to open up the gates. He drives by and spots the neighbors but is too angry to notice anything or anyone. His heart races with adrenaline, as he thinks “I actually wanna fucking kill her.”

As he is about to pull up in her driveway, he notices that the lights are switched off. Letting out a loud sigh, he desperately tries to think where she might have gone.

As his anger turned into self-doubt, he pulled the car over on a secluded street. Was he that bad of a fuck up that no one could stay with him? Suddenly, he remembers to check if she was at their spot in Detroit. Yes, their spot! Could Chloe be there, even after so much time? He had no way to find out but check for himself.

Suddenly, a car hit him from the behind, as he jerked loudly. “Fucking asshole!" came the response from both drivers. Marshall gets out of the car, release his wrath on the bastard, when he recognizes the car through his mirror. Aha, I knew the bitch couldn’t leave.

She was in the same dress as last night, however her dress was ripped and she had a huge gash of blood down her leg. Although he wished to literally break her neck, he just stared at her, not with rage but with disappointment and a twinge of bitterness. She responded with clogged, teary eyes and a look of pain, but a steady lip, determined to throw anything he could accuse her of in his face.

None of them said anything; it was almost unnerving, when he gave her the tiniest signal for her to get in the car. She opened her mouth to shut it faster than expected as she reluctantly sat in the car beside him. They sat in silence, as Marshall reversed the car and drove back to his house. “We gotta sort some serious shit out tomorrow”, he said, in a low and gruff voice as he parked the car and left her alone with her thought.

October 2000, The Anger Management Tour, E Rutherford

Chloe’s POV

I stand back to appreciate the masterpiece I had just made. The house looked picture perfect. I wait for Lindsay to come and give her stamp of approval as I roll my shoulders and stretch my arms out. I’m so exhausted. Jumping in my arms, Lindsay screams, “This is literally perfect! God, where have you been all my life, I’ve been searching for a competent partner for so long!”

I chuckle. “Come on girl, don’t act like you didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but the shading on the sides was your idea, I wouldn’t have even thought of approaching it that way to make it pop. You’re an actual genius, you know.”

“Ay shut up, stop making me feel all warm and gushy inside. Okay hold on, I'll just keep this porch door part in the storage room to dry.’’

As I walk through the hallways with a huge piece of cardboard in my hand, the smell of weed hits my nose from the next room. I keep the cardboard door in the room and the smell gets stronger! Now, I’m not into a lot of drugs, but I have had a fair share of experiences back in college. I peek into the room timidly, not knowing who to expect.

I see no one in my line of sight, which makes me push the door even further. “Oh, I thought the groupies came after the show every night?” a husky voice behind my back emerges, as I freeze like a child who had been caught stealing cookies from a jar at midnight. I sheepishly turn to face the person. “I was just- “I stop talking as I realize the person standing in front of me was technically my boss. Who was also the super famous and well-known emcee, Eminem.

“Yes, go on.”, he stared at me with crossed brows. I gulped.
“I thought I smelled weed and wanted to see if what I thought was true.’’ I confess honestly.  

“Damn you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he says with a slight chuckle while I turn slightly pink.

“Want a drag?” I look at him for a while, debating if smoking weed with my boss or with Eminem in general, was a good idea, but graciously accept the offer. Maybe it’ll help me relax, as I still had a lot more work to do.

“I take it that you feel relaxed.” he says as I feel my shoulders relax with an exhale. Wait, he knows my name?

“How do you know my name?’’ He points towards my name tag which said “Hi! My name is Chloe Miller” mirroring the style of his first single’s cover. I can feel his eyes skim from my chest to my ass through my jean overalls. I cough knowingly which makes him stop checking me out.
“Do you usually prefer smoking weed at 2 p.m. in the afternoon or was today a special occasion?”

“I ain’t got anything to do. Besides I feel nervous as a motherfucker. Why, what’s up mom?” he asks, emphasizing on the mom.

I ignored his mom comment and retorted with some of my own sass.
“Aw is Slim Shady, the “gangster”, scared?” laughing, as he frowned.

“Nah I’m just pulling your leg. What you so worked up about? It’s your fucking show!”

“Yes, but I’ve never performed in front of so many goddamn people before! Have you seen the damn stage out, it’s humungous! The pressure is fucking crazy.” He said, shaking his head.

I do get it. Being a socially awkward kid for a long time, I always felt so vulnerable and judged in front of people, although they were very supportive. I always felt that I wasn’t being funny or I couldn’t carry myself better, or worse, I was just making a big fool of myself.

“I do understand how you feel. Not exactly on the level you are talking about, but I understand how it feels to be so…open out there."
“I bet you do."

Before I can decipher if the comment was supposed to be sarcastic or not, I heard Lindsay’s voice calling me for helping her with a the big ‘D12' sign we were finishing up.

“Shit, I gotta go, I’m sorry. Thanks for the drag, it was…very much needed.” He shrugs and sits back down, as he suddenly scrambles to find a pencil and jots down something shabbily on the notepad in front of him.

I leave the room and shut the door. Maybe I should comfort him. I open the door again.

“Just a small tip though, remember that people out there, support and love you and that you are passionate enough in your rapping to make ‘em forget about a few fuck ups they do. Oh, it also definitely helps that half of the crowd is gonna be on something for sure.”

“Hey, what else can you expect from the fans of Slim?”, he chuckles. “I’d thank you for the tip, but you have too much motherfuckin attitude so imma let you go without it."

Oh.
“Sure.” I say, unsure of what to use as a comeback.
I’m usually good with comebacks, but I got caught off guard today, the fuck?!

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Jqheuegeyw I'M SUPER NERVOUS ABOUT THIS BUT OKAY WE'RE DOING THIS🥵🥵

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