Who knew

Casanova

'Hi, my name is, what? My name is, who? My name is, chka-chka, Slim Shady...' I was humming the words loudly slipping into my blue high-waisted jeans and grabbing my make up from the nightstand. I stopped near the mirror to put some mascara and eyeshadows since I preferred my eyes to pop and picked a mat nude lipstick. My hips were swinging to the melody of the song which was more like some random movements than the actual dancing. Good morning, world.

I was feeling quite strange after that moment between me and Marshall on the court and somehow had an urge to prolong whatever state of human relationship we appeared to be that day. I didn't know how make up or anything appearance-related could help that happen but I was feeling a need to do at least something since I had no idea what else could play a role of panacea for me. I was afraid of it being just a one-time thing as if we spent the night together and I didn't want to wake up in the bed alone. Wait, what's the metaphor all about?

Understanding that my thoughts suddenly took a wrong turn, I grabbed my things and left the apartment catching myself on a risky feeling that I was looking forward to seeing Marshall. So, when I saw his car parked near my building, I tried to gather myself and behave naturally. Oh, when someone decides to act naturally, it doesn't happen that way, does it?

'Good morning' I greeted Marshall when I sat in the car, giving him my usual nice but not too nice look which should have been suited the situation fine whatever mood he was in. God, I was thinking too much about such unimportant details all of a sudden. As if I was preparing myself for an important job interview.

'Morning' Marshall answered calmly looking at me briefly, and I could tell he probably saw the unwanted effect of nervousness on my face because a little soft smirk hid in the corner of his lips. I didn't know if that was actually a good or bad sign but it was definitely better than arguing. 'I don't know if Paul told you, but today I have an interview on TV so now we're going there' he added when the engine started and I was about to keep silent all the way to the studio. However, it was much more interesting since I had no idea about the interview.

'Okay, cool. I didn't know about it, but whatever' I told him carelessly, and the atmosphere in the car felt almost normal. Marshall simply nodded at me in response, and we spent the rest of the ride in unusually comfortable silence. Sounds quite unreal, right?

When we arrived at the destination, I saw a huge building where the set was located. Marshall gave me a gesture to follow him since it wasn't the first time for him to be there. I wondered how many interviews Eminem had in his life and if that number was more than one thousand. That would be mind-blowing.

'I like interviews in the actual studios with the audience a lot better' Marshall told me when we stepped in the elevator of the building. His low tone sounded a lot deeper in the small space of the elevator and it felt like something unfamiliar. Or was it because he spoke first?

'To what do I owe the pleasure? You're starting the conversation, that's new' I cocked an eyebrow at him in a sarcastic way not wasting a chance to comment. Maybe, that was a bit dangerous to talk to Eminem himself like that but why not? He'd acted like an asshole some days before and I didn't want to let it slip that easily. First of all, we were people and then worldwide stars and journalists.

'Oh, that's because you seem to forget about your responsibilities and I'm trying to save the situation' Marshall answered with a pure smugness in his tone as if my words didn't affect him at all. Throwing a look at the space between us I suddenly noticed that we could almost touch with shoulders and elevator seemed to be slow like a snail. Cool.

'How nice of you. Didn't know you were caring about the articles that much' I told him with a mocking note in my voice feeling some kind of pleasant tension between us.