Rally 'Round the Rap God - Fan Fic Eminem

Marshall's Escape

She walked through the glass doors of the penthouse room as if she were sneaking out of her house as a teenager, glancing back over her shoulder in a not too subtle attempt to discern if anyone had noticed her disappearance from inside. Pushing the door closed, she stepped quickly away from the light that was falling from inside through the glass and moved toward the edge of the balcony. As she got closer to the edge, she heaved a sigh and leaned down, her smooth navy dress gaping slightly to show the tops of her breasts as she pulled her heels off her feet. She held them by the straps of one hand as she crossed her arms over the ledge and looked out over the city.

I'd come out here to get a breath of air, not really comfortable with the men and women of the event happening inside. Paul had told me that I needed to start making the rounds again and he was probably right. It didn't make me like it, however. So, I'd made an obligatory appearance and had stayed visible for a while before coming out to escape. By the looks of the woman before me, she'd had the same idea.

She was blonde, though the thickness of her hair suggested that it wasn't her natural color. It dropped in curls down her back, only giving slight glimpses of the expanse that was uncovered by the formal dress she had on. Save for the fact that the dress was backless, it was fairly conservative. That didn't stop it from accentuating her beauty, though.

Without her heels, she probably came up to my nose. Her skin was smooth and dusted with freckles across the tops of her shoulders. Her face, which was in profile to me now, was symmetrical and calm – as if all she'd needed was quiet. With her figure and her aura, she reminded me of the women portrayed in the Renaissance portraits. She had a classical kind of beauty that lead one to think of purity – maybe not of the body, but certainly of the soul.

I shook my head at myself as I thought that last part. If anyone could read my mind, they'd think I was crazy. I'm not prone to fits of romance. This woman, however, had stirred something in me with her serenity that was captivating.

I must have made enough movement with my thoughts that she sensed something, because she turned to peer into the corner of the balcony where I was standing. Tilting her head, she smiled just slightly and then turned back to the city lights in front of her.

"I see I'm not the only one who wanted some air." She said softly, her voice thick and smooth, like honey poured from a dipper. I stepped forward, coming up to stand next to her as I looked out at what she was watching.

"I'm not big on these things." I admitted, though I wasn't sure why. This woman could be press, for all I knew. She nodded as she continued to look away from the party behind us.

"Me, either." She said with a sigh. She turned to me slightly and cocked her head. "Do I recognize the Rap God?" She asked, her voice curious. I nodded as I looked at her. Her eyes were a deep, galaxy blue.

"Yeah," I answered aloud and she smiled wider. She uncrossed her arms and offered her right hand, which I took without thinking.

"I'm Rally." She said and my brows came together. I was certain I'd heard that name before, but I couldn't place it. She must have seen my confusion, because one side of her mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "I have a single out right now on the pop and country charts." She explained and I nodded.

"Your first hit?" I asked, because I was certain I'd remember a woman like this being in the industry. She shrugged and looked away.

"Yeah." She said, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Her tone was unhappy, which is odd for someone who just made it.

"You don't sound too pleased about that." I said, interested as to why she wouldn't be living it up right now.

"It's not that." She said, pulling her lip into her teeth as she thought. "It's just," she paused and looked behind us toward the party. "It's hard to see." She explained as she looked back up into my eyes. "There's so much around, but most of it is illusory." She finished and I nodded.

I knew what she meant, though I was surprised that she'd come to that conclusion so soon. Then again, she didn't look like one of the Disney kids just coming up. If I had to guess, I'd put her in her early thirties, which was frankly on the late side to have a hit finally take hold. Maybe, however, having it later in her career would mean that she wouldn't get eaten alive by the vultures.

"How long have you been doing it?" I asked, curious. She chuckled and shook her head.

"Six months." She said and my face must have given away my surprise because her laugh became stronger. She nodded and looked away for a moment before turning back to me. "I was discovered in a karaoke bar six months ago. I was a teacher before all this." She said, the hand not holding her heels sweeping toward the glass doors.

"You're kidding me." I said and she twisted her lips in a smile.

"Nope." She denied. "I did a cover of an old Hank song. There just happened to be a producer having drinks with his buddies there." She lifted her shoulders. "He convinced me to come in to his studio and put a track down, though he didn't love it when I told him I'd only sing things I'd written." Her eyes twinkled now, like stars were shining within them. "He changed his tune when it made the top 40 in the first week."

My lips twitched a little at that. Perhaps, it was because she came from another part of the world that she wasn't afraid to tell the producer she met that she'd only do her own stuff. Or, maybe she was just strong willed naturally. Either way, it made me glad to hear that she got here on her own. Oddly, I was proud of her.

"What song is it?" I asked and she leaned down to her leg and lifted the skirt of her dress a little. I was confused for a minute until I saw her pull a phone out. I raised a brow and she grinned a bit.

"I didn't want to carry a purse." She explained and then opened it up. In just a few types, she was playing a song that I'd heard blaring from a few teenage cars in the last week or so.

It was an angry kind of power song – full of feeling about an old love and the sense of pride that comes from walking away and doing better for oneself. Even if it wasn't really my kind of music, I could hear the quality in her voice. It was the kind of song that a person could empathize with; I had no doubt that she knew exactly how it felt to do exactly what the persona in the song was doing. After the chorus, she stopped the song and moved to put her phone back, but I put a hand to her shoulder.

"Let me give you my number."