𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 [𝐌.𝐌]

-X-

Write a song together? Amber blinked in surprise, writing a song with Marshall sounded absurd. She was his bodyguard, not someone for him to collaborate with. Besides, from previously listening to his music, she knew he only did collaborations with big artists.

Big artists like Rhianna or Kendrick Lamar. Those kinds of artists, Amber didn't even consider herself as an artist, she was just someone who sang and wrote music as a hobby.

"Funny joke Marshall, It's Amber Lakeside you're talking too not Skylar Grey." She said sarcastically, peering over at him. He laughed at this, even though it was hardly funny.

"Just think Amber, I could really help you. You could end up being something way better then just my bodyguard." He smirked, placing his arm around my shoulder. It was tempting, she knew it was. If she were to become an artist under Eminem's label she would get big, she knew she would.

She'd be what everyone was talking about, she'd slither her way into conversations, she'd be asked to attend many interviews. Yet, she'd never exactly cared for fame, it seemed more like a burden then a gift.

Marshall didn't enjoy it as much as he seemed, she knew it. He had an enough money for a life time, and a few more after that. But there were more negatives then positives in the rapper life.

He wasn't able to wake up when he wanted, neither could he eat what he wanted. It wasn't the sort of contained life she wanted. "Maybe I'd get more money- but do you really think I'd sell my freedom for a couple million?" She asked him, not shrugging his arm off this time.

"You're so stubborn you know that right?" He took his arm from her around her shoulder, "At least let us do a song- we don't have to produce it if you don't like it." She was going to be bored all day, so why not. "Sure."

His face began to light up, maybe he was just as glad as she was to be able to get their minds off of last night. He guided her up to the first floor, she had never really looked into much depth here.

There was a few rooms, like all the other floors. But at the end of the floor there was a black door, it created a huge contrast with the other doors here, which were all a cream shade.

He opened the door to this room, meekly Amber followed him, unsure of where the door was going to lead. To her relief, it lead to a studio. It had an enormous similarity to the one she visited yesterday, but she didn't want to think about that now.

The carpet was firm, and dark. It was the sort of flooring you'd expect a man like him to have, expensive and classy. The walls were painted a cream, the exact same shade to the other doors on the corridor. There was a separate room inside this one, it must be where he records when he's at home.

There was a long row of mixers and mics, instruments she didn't know how to use. Well besides the guitar, she could play that decently. "Welcome, to heaven." He sighed, taking a seat on black leather chair that was on wheels.

She spent a few more seconds looking around the room in awe, before pulling a serious expression. "I have no fucking clue on how to use any of this shit." She admitted, as if she was confessing to something he wasn't already aware of.

"Then I'll teach you- why don't we first write some lyrics or something. Just freestyle." He mumbled, passing her a pen and a pad, before reaching for his own. His pad was well used, and had lyrics filling the majority of the pages, his pen was chewed at the end.

She was a bit unsure of what to write, Marshall hadn't specified a specific topic, so she had a feeling their lyrics were going to be quite different. While she was here, lost in thoughts of what to write, Marshall on the other hand was writing down lots, he'd almost filled the page.

She didn't dare look at what he was writing though, she didn't want to seem like she was copying him. After a few more minutes of thinking, she decided to start writing about her life. She starting with her early life in Detroit, the days when she was bullied. The days when she was coerced into drugs, all of it.

"Are you done?" Marshall asked her, as she placed the pen and pad back onto the table. She nodded, what she had written wasn't as detailed and clear as Marshall's, but it did mean something to her.

"So what did you write?" She asked him, glancing over at his pad. He looked at her and smiled, "I just wrote about this girl I like." She groaned, she could only hope it wasn't her. She rolled her eyes, "Mines about my life, nothing that interesting."

"Tell me about it." He interrupted her, a curious expression on his face.

Amber wasn't an only child, but she was the youngest child. She had a brother who was three years older, who she didn't like that much. She didn't hate him, hate was a reasonably strong word, they just didn't get along that well.

He was rather rebellious, he would get detentions daily, and get into all kinds of mischief. But when Amber was only fourteen, he got arrested. He was arrested for drug use, and once he was sent to prison, her parents marriage just drifted further away.

Her dad started cheating and decided to leave, and her mother only went into a downward spiral. She began to stay at bars till late, and she'd come back home drunk with strange men.

So as soon as she turned eighteen, she got a job and moved out. She hadn't seen her mother for a few years now, she didn't even know if she was alive or dead. But at this point she didn't care.

Marshall interrupted her, it was if she was lost in her story, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Are you okay?" She reached over to him and pulled him into a hug, her tears wetting his clothing.

(I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't as long or as high quality as other chapters- I'm going to try improve in the next chapter ✨)