If I Had (Eminem Fanfic)

Chapter 23- One Opportunity

Pristine's POV

I woke up with a jerk, sweating profusely, and looked out the  arched window by my side. I'd somehow managed to fall asleep during the one and a half hours journey from Detroit to here.

New York.

Ignoring the passenger to my right, I buckled myself up, obeying as an announcement about a further turbulence was established.

As the turbulence subsided, one of the flight attendants appeared in front of the cockpit, spitting out instructions about landing. This being my first time flying, I listened attentively to her monotone run-on sentences.

After a safe and sound landing, another announcement was made about the time and temperature which I discarded and tapped the edge of my seat, waiting for the Captain to turn off the damn sign.

Beside me seated was a man with shortly cut blonde hair, dressed in a grey tapered suit, making out to be the stereotypical business man whom I've ignored all this while. I wasn't judging; dude seemed important enough to stay away from.

The sign was turned off and we were allowed to unbuckle. I practically bolted out of my seat. Blame the nerves.

Afterall, it still was unbelievable that they got my flight tickets covered. Or so the other man had told me; the one who had rang up a day later Proof had, who was called Paul Rosenberg.

They were fast, not hard to deduce as the tickets arrived in a day's time, making me not believe my fate.

"Let me help, love." The man with the blonde hair piped, reaching out into the bins overhead to retrieve my bag for me.  Muttering a thank you, I picked up the other bag from under the seats ahead.

Cracking a small smile at him, I looked more closely, and discovered his foreign-ish features.

"French. Bred in England." He chuckled, handing over the bag to me. I shifted under its weight before balancing myself.

"American. Bred in poverty."

That caught him off-guard but he held the smile before it faded. "Music artist, aren't you?"

I tiltled an eyebrow, questioning. "Sony headphones dangling off your neck and not to mention, I noticed you scribbling down something on that piece of paper before you shoved it away in your pockets upon catching me staring."

I had to praise him on his spot-on observation.

"I'm an attorney. It's kinda my job to know people." He chuckled lightly. "Francis. Call me Frank, sounds 'Merican."

"Wow, man. Pristine Douglas. As of now, a worker at a stamping factory, but wait- that was, actually my last job. Now I'm a hopeless music artist about to roam NY streets."

Soon enough we were exiting through the tunnel with the crowd. "You sing?"

"Rap."

"You rap?"

I nodded.

"Wow. Where you off to?"

"This place called Shady Records..."

***

"I ain't knowin' how good you can suck,

But I do know chicks like you fuck for a buck

What gives me the right to pass this judgement? Beside the fact I'm one wife-free husband

All it took is one call to bring you here all the way from Detroit,