Addicted

Chapter 35

Camilla-

The next day I decided to get up early to got to my studio. My boss basically told me that my relationship with Eminem was great for publicly, so good job on my part, but to make myself better, I can't slack off and I need to write more music.

Now, this is what I hate. Just because I'm famous everyone thinks that I'm just dating Marshall for the fame, the title, the rising up farther in Hollywood, to be able to tell everyone I've dated the king of Rap. But, what they don't understand is that I love him so much, that even if he lived in a cardboard box on the street or was just a divorced   dad I would love him to the moon and back. 

I slip my black pumps back on the sore feet, get up from the chair and straighten my skirt. Damn this skirt! Why are things so sexy so fucking annoying and tug up all the time? I pick up my coffee cup and head outside in the hallway. I need more coffee. Every time I try to write a song it just doesn't come out right. I want to write a song about Marshall and I, (yes, I know that's sappy)but I don't want it to be so obvious. 

I walk pass studio to studio glancing in the windows. Songwriter are at hard work, writing, earrings, fixing, singing, and oh what is this? I look into a studio on the left closer and see a woman sitting on the table and a man in front of her and why is her head bobbing up and down and mo- oh shit, never mind Camilla, this ain't no peep show.

I fee my crotch getting warm, imaging Marshall and I doing this same thing as I walk pass his studio and see him writing how lovely, how studious.

Wait! Marshall? Hello, hot sex in his studio here I come!

I knock and he glances up with no smile . It's normal, I'm used to it already.

"Hey." I say and smile like a dumbass, actually like  the dumbass I am. 

"Hey, Cammy." He says and scribbles something down and my heart shoots up. Is he writing about me? Did my presence just inspire something?

I sit on his black couch next to him and watch him write.

"So," I say, beginning convo, because I know if I don't say anything, he'll just sit there the whole time ignoring me. "How was breakfast with the girls?" I ask

He just stares at his paper and then looks at me and rubs his neck. "Yeah, that's what we need to talk about."

And by the look on his face I know it's not good because between me and his daughters, no matter what, he'll chose his daughters.