When I got to the studio on Monday, everyone wanted to know if I'd seen the latest butthurt shots a washed-up rapper had taken at me over twitter. Opinion seemed to be divided. Half wanted me to respond and smoke him. The other half didn't think it was worth my time.
Mostly it was just one more thing I didn't need right now. Songs for the next album were my priority as the album deadline was approaching faster than I'd like. Needing a total of at least 12 songs, I currently had five finished to my satisfaction.
"Hey dawg. Did ya know you were a white rapper? I read it on Twitter last night!" Denaun laughs as he comes in.
"Yeah. Real newsflash," I grumble.
"Come on. Shit's funny! Don't let it get to you," he grinned.
"Just wish talentless motherfuckers would quit taking shots at me."
"If they quit, it'd mean you weren't relevant anymore," he pointed out.
"I'm not gonna be relevant if I don't finish this damn album," I said and we got to work.
Around noon, Denaun headed out for lunch. I promised to join shortly, still hung up on a hook.
All morning my phone had been buzzing. I finally looked down at it. Nat. Again. She'd started texting me cute memories and happy pictures of us.
Sighing I slipped the phone into my pocket. I knew what she was doing - bombarding me with all the good times to make me doubt my decision to call things off. The problem was, it was working. It hadn't been all bad. Maybe I was making a mistake in calling it off.
Groaning I dropped my head into my hands.
When we'd first met, she'd been married and I was in a relationship. Still I thought she was the most perfect girl I'd ever met. I dreamed of being with her, pursued her behind her husband's back. Eventually we started an affair, sneaking out to have sex. We carried on for years... But she refused to leave her husband because of their three young kids.
Pulling my phone back out, I scrolled through the pictures she'd sent, remembering how happy I'd been when her marriage finally blew up. Her husband found out about us and gave her an ultimatum of never seeing me or they were done. She'd chosen me. That perfect girl had chosen me.
I really thought she was the one. Yet once we were together, it wasn't like I imagined. Real life is never as good as the fairy tale. Still it was good. Until the doubts crept in.
We'd gotten together by cheating on our partners. So we both began suspecting the other of stepping out. The accusations, the fights, the breakups. Only to apologize after and makeup. It was a never-ending cycle played out over too many years.
The irony was, I never cheated on Nat. I was ready to settle down. But she couldn't or wouldn't believe me. The final straw came when she cheated on me and threw the evidence in my face to get back at me.
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to scrub my mind of her.
I missed her. I felt guilty over wrecking her marriage then dumping her. Hated letting down her kids. Angry she'd cheated. And tired of all of it.
I wasn't sleeping well, the album deadline was looming ever closer and the situation with Natalie was stressing me out. The anger was back, thudding in the back of my mind and steadily building even as I tried to tamp it down. I felt like I was losing control of everything.
"Fuck!" I swore as I stood. The tech at the other end of the room looked up at me. "I gotta take a break." He nodded and I headed upstairs.
After grabbing a diet coke from the break room I wandered down the hall to Paul's office. "Hey," I said, standing in the doorway. "Ya busy?"
"I'm always busy," he said, looking up from his desk. "What do you need?"
Shrugging I walked in and settled in a club chair across from him. "Nothing really," I said, looking around.
"Marshall, what's up?"
Sighing I looked at him. "Is there anyway to push the album deadline?"
Paul frowned. "Why?"
"There's some stuff going on and I'm worried I won't have it done in time."
"What stuff?"
"I broke up with Nat a week ago."
"I hate to say it, but that's nothing new. You've put out other albums while on the outs with her."
"I'm done man, for real," I said, shaking my head as if I hadn't doubted my resolve only minutes ago.
Paul's eyebrows shot up. "Why?
"I'm tired of all the drama."
"You thrive on drama," Paul pointed out.
"It's exhausting! I'm too old for that shit."
Paul regarded me for a moment.
"What?" I snapped.
"Let's see how the next couple weeks go. Then if you're serious about pushing the album deadline, I'll see what I can do."
"Okay," I nodded. "Thanks man."
Paul hesitated a moment. "How is Nat doing? Should we be preparing for any retaliation?"
"She's ... not dealing especially well. But it's nothing to worry about," I said, hoping it was true.
"And you?"
"I'm through with relationships man," I scoffed, dodging the question. "Strictly sex from now on."
"Just don't do anything stupid," Paul sighed. "Are you ready for the meeting?"
I stared at him, my mind scrambling to remember what meeting.
"You forgot, didn't you?" Paul said.
"No. Maybe," I said, licking my lips nervously. "Yes. What meeting?"
"About the proposed changes to the Marshall Mathers Foundation. We're due in the board room in 30 minutes."
I groaned, seeing the rest of my afternoon in the studio disappearing. "No, I don't have time for that! Can't you handle it?"
"Final decisions are needed and my name's not on the foundation," he said, gathering up papers. "Let's go."
The meeting was important and I tried to remain focused, but the pressure of the unfinished album continued to gnaw at me. Anxious to get back to it, my leg jiggled under the table and I almost missed the silent vibration of my phone ringing. Sliding it out of my pocket, I checked the identity of the caller. Upon seeing Madame Josie's name, I frowned and hit decline. Why the hell was she calling me?
But the call cast my mind back to that girl. I hadn't even gotten her name, but I'd been thinking about her a lot. Picturing her bent over the bed taking my dick in that tight pussy. She wasn't at all like I'd imagined escorts. She'd even been funny. Wouldn't mind repeating the experience.
In fact, that was exactly what I needed to release the pressure of Nat and the album deadline. Before I exploded and did something I'd regret.
Alone in my office later, I called Josie back. But before I could say anything, she was rambling.
"Oh Mr. Mathers, I'm so sorry! The stupid girl. She got mixed up and went to the wrong hotel. She just confessed to me now, you see, that she never kept the appointment. So sorry to disappoint you. This is such a horrible way to be introduced to our service. Please, let me make it up to you. Anything you want. Please."
She finally took a breath and waited for me to speak. But my mind was trying to make sense of what she'd said. The escort had gone to the wrong hotel? So ... she hadn't shown up?
"Maybe you'd like two of our best girls? Free of charge, of course."
"Uh, no. Thank you," I said, drumming my fingers on the desk. "Do you have a short girl, curvy with dark blonde hair and freckles?"
"That does not sound like one of our current girls. But we can certainly make arrangements for future appointments."
"No. That's fine. Don't worry about it. I've got your number if I change my mind."
I hung up while she rambled on with offers of other girls.
If the escort had never shown up, who the hell had I fucked?
Rubbing my hands over my face, I thought back. I'd been pissed she was late and decided to leave. Then I ran into the escort outside my room. But ... she'd never actually said she was the escort, I just assumed she was.
So who the fuck was she? Just some chick walking past the room? Leaning back in my chair, I couldn't think of any other possibility.
I shook my head in disgust. I'd propositioned some random bitch out of the blue and recognizing me, she'd agreed. Sluts were all the same. So fucking easy, whether they were getting paid or not.
Pushing the girl from my mind, I went back down to the studio to work late.
That evening I was pacing in my bedroom, trying not to shout into the phone. Natalie had called to talk and it quickly escalated into a fight.
"After all these years, you're just going to throw us away?" she yelled.
"You cheated on me!" I shouted.
"Only because you cheated on me!"
"Nat I didn't," I said.
"Yeah right. I gave up my marriage for you!"
"I know! I'm sorry!" I said, rubbing my forehead. "But we've tried over and over. It just doesn't work!"
"And the kids? What about them?"
I closed my eyes. That was the hardest part of all this. Natalie had three years kids and I'd watched them grow up over the last seven years.
"I'll always be there if they need anything," I said. "I'm not cutting them or you out of my life. We just can't be together... like that."
"Why? Is there someone else? Tell me Marshall. You owe me that much!"
"There's no one else Nat," I sighed. How many times had we had this same conversation?
"You're a fucking liar!" she cried.
"Look, it's better this – hello? Hello?" I stared at my phone. The bitch hung up on me. "Fuck!"
The last bit of calm I'd been holding onto dissipated as the rage returned. I wanted to fucking hit something.
Flopping back on the bed I looked up Josie's number and stared at the 'call' button, my thumb wavering. What was I waiting for? I wanted to fuck. I needed to fuck.
I thought again of the blond girl and my dick jumped. Nah, there was no way to find her, even if I wanted to. Besides, one whore was the same as the next. Didn't much matter.
Still I stared at the call button.
If the girl hadn't been an escort, then my record of never paying for pussy was intact. As ridiculous as it was, I was glad to have that back. It was a matter of pride.
I tossed my phone down and reached into my sweatpants. Yanking my dick, I thought about the girl, how her pussy had stretched to fit around me, the tightness, wishing again I could have fucked her bare. Her smile as she teased me about being 'the customer.' Guess the joke was on me, since she wasn't an escort.
I woke the next morning to several texts from Nat saying she was sorry, she just missed me so much. I sighed. Part of me missed her too. That's what made this so fucking hard.
