Queen Bee

August 2003 (1)

It had been about two months since Marshall got home from Europe, which meant it had also been about two months since the first, and only time I've ever told him he needs to go to rehab. Every time we get even a little too close to the conversation, I freeze up or we just start fucking instead. To be honest, I'm scared shitless of saying that to him again. He was just so mean last time, and what he said to me about the kids has yet to leave my mind for even a day so far. I know he was lying, I know it was bullshit, but still it's stuck with me. Hence why I either freeze up or we have sex. 

Sex is a lot easier than having to approach that conversation too. I know that's why we ended up fucking the last time I brought it up to him, I just wanted to forget about it. I wanted to ignore it, avoid it... 'Cause it's not real if I'm cumming, right? For at least a minute my brain is totally and completely empty, feeling nothing but such a euphoric fuckin' state, brought to me by Marshall. The man who used to always make me feel that way, both in and outside of sex. But now it's almost like I only get that feeling from him when he fucks me, 'cause the rest of the time between us is pretty much just spent fighting. And not even just about the pills anymore. Or his work. Or my work. Or the kids. Or him being gone all the fuckin' time. A lot of it is just dumb, stupid shit now, which honestly hurts even more. 

And I know me and Marshall have never been ones to shy away from a fight, but it's hard when I think about how we used to be. When we used to meet up in L.A. and I would be so fucking excited to see him. I remember as soon as he would walk through the hotel door, I would immediately bolt towards him, jumping on him as fast as I could. Back then, we could have spent literal weeks just smoking weed together and and having some of the best sex, at least I've ever had. It was all just so simple at the time. The worst thing he had done to me was cheat, now the worst thing he's done to me is not be there. Choose drugs over me. Over his kids. I keep telling myself we can get back there as long as I continue fighting for us, but am I really fighting anymore if I just keep avoiding the conversation? I don't think so. And also, if I'm the only one fighting to save us, what good is that gonna do? Nothing. We'll be in the exact same spot we are now. Honestly, I don't even know if Marshall realizes there's a problem between us to begin with. I know in his eyes it's always just me being a cunt, but he's gotta get it at least to a degree? He's a man, but he's not stupid. 

But, regardless of how I've been feeling, it was my birthday today which meant I had to try my absolute hardest to just ignore everything and hopefully have a good day. And honestly, it hadn't been half bad thus far. This morning, Marshall and the kids made me breakfast, gave me a few presents, then we all just hung out until I had to start getting ready for tonight. Of course, as soon as we were alone upstairs and Nate was watching the kids for us, Marshall was quick to start eating my pussy and fucking me, even making me cum three times. It was absolutely perfect, but I couldn't help the slight nervous feeling that today could easily blow up in my face, but who knows? Everything's gone fine thus far. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

Sitting in the VIP section of one of the boys' most favourite clubs in Detroit, the music was blaring through the speakers as me and Zoe were taking some tequila shots together. Everyone else had dispersed to either go hit on the poor waitresses, piss, or smoke, so all that was left was just us two, as well as Marshall and Denaun. 

Feeling incredibly drunk, Zoe asked me if I wanted to go dance with her. Immediately, without a second thought, I knew I had to say no. As soon as I get up from this couch, it'll be Spins City and I'll definitely throw up if I'm not careful. Pouting, Denaun agreed to go with her, leaving just me and Marshall alone in an overly crowded room. "Come here." His voice was smooth, pulling at my waist telling me he wanted me in between his legs, just as he always does when he's drunk. 

Smiling, I complied. I love this Marshall, the Marshall that's clingy and touchy, the Marshall that only ever just wants to be around you and love you. It's my favourite Marshall. Truth be told, it's this side of him that got me to fall in love with him in the first place. The unfortunate thing is is now this side of him is pretty much reserved only for drunk Marshall. I don't remember the last time he was like this sober, if I'm being honest.

Leaning against his chest, he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck. "Can I ask ya somethin'?" He asked, his head directly beside mine so I could hear him better. 

I giggled, gripping his forearms. "What?" 

Releasing one of his arms from around me, he gently removed my left hand from him while his thumb ran over my ring. "Ya thought anything more 'bout this?" Bringing my attention down towards my hand, I realized what he was asking. "I ain't tryna rush ya, I know this is hard for you, but I just- You've had it for almost a year now, y'know?" 

Closing my hand, I pulled it away from his grip and brought it down towards my lap instead so it was out of my view. "Can we talk 'bout this later?" I asked, moving my head slightly so I could look up towards him. 

"Why?" His voice turned slightly sharp. "'Cause I ain't gon' like the answer?" 

"No, I just- I can't give you a simple yes or no yet." 

"Yeah? How come? What'd I do now, huh?" Scoffing lightly, I shook my head as I pulled myself from his clutches. "Nah, what is it? Tell me." He demanded. 

"Shut the fuck up, Marshall. We're in public." 

"Nah, I ain't give a fuck where we are! Spit it out, Angel! Ya ain't wanna have another baby with me, ya ain't wanna marry me-" 

"It's 'cause of this!" I yelled over him, immediately forcing him to be cut off. "It's 'cause ya need to go fuckin' rehab but refuse-"

"Really?! Ya gon' bring up this shit again when ya sittin' here just as fuckin' drunk as me?!" 

"It's not about the alcohol, Marshall, you know that!" 

"Nah! I don't know that 'cause you makin' up new problems every fuckin' day!" Rolling my eyes, I pushed myself off of the couch, stumbling a few steps as I attempted to find my balance. "If ya ain't fuckin' love me, Angel, just say it!" Grabbing my drink from off the table, I began carefully making my way around it. "SAY IT YA FUCKIN' CUNT!" As soon as that last word left his mouth, I immediately spun around on my heel, quickly jerking my drink outwards without even thinking, and within an instant my entire glass and all of the Hennessy contents inside of it were thrown directly onto his white t-shirt that read 'Obie Trice'. 

As everything started to move in slow motion, both pairs of our angry, hate-filled eyes met, and immediately I watched as he popped up from the couch as aggressively as he possibly could. Spinning back around, I quickly began shoving my way through all the people who were either watching us in shock, or were too drunk themselves to know what was going on. With the further and further I got, I could still hear him yelling random shit at me, but I was far too focused on getting the fuck away from him to even comprehend what he was saying other than all the screaming and cussing he was doing.

Pulling out my phone, I quickly texted Marshall's driver asking him to pick me up. Thankfully he was right around the corner considering it was almost 2am, and he figured we would be done soon. Bolting towards the door, I didn't tell a single soul I was leaving. Instead, I just continued pushing through the crowds, until I eventually made my way outside and hopped in the car as fast as I could. "Should we wait for Mr. Mathers?" Jacob asked politely from the front seat. 

I shook my head, feeling as tears began to brim. "No." Nodding in agreement, he threw the car in drive and began transporting me towards the house. "Uhm, can ya take me to a hotel, actually? It doesn't matter which one." 

He nodded again. "Of course." 

"And if ya could... Don't tell anyone." 

A small, empathetic smile washed across his well worn features as he looked back at me through the rearview mirror. "You're secrets safe with me, Ms. Jones."