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Adjusting	By : Bia Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 7351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Lance eyed the phone in disbelief, and just a little worry. He hit his memory two button.

Chris growled at the ringing phone, but pulled back from Dani. It was Lance's ring. "What," he snarled into the phone. Half his attention still on Dani.

"I just got the strangest call from JC," began Lance, nervous fingers tapping on his lover's thigh.

"Jayce," said Chris, forcibly drawing his attention away from Dani. "What's wrong?"

Lance sighed. "Nothing, I guess. He called and said he was going to stay with some guy he'd met tonight."

Christ sat up, a grin lighting the elfin face. "Hell, yeah! Way to go, Jayce. Finally getting laid," he crowed.

"I don't know. I mean he sounded drunk," Lance said hesitantly. He was a little disturbed. They'd never seen JC drunk.

Chris worried at his lip for a second. Then shrugged it off. Last year had been stressful for all of them, especially JC. JC had been one of the main reasons they hadn't all imploded after Pearlman and the onslaught that was N.S.A. They'd survived only for Justin to turn around and leave him. If anyone deserved to cut loose it was JC. "Well, good for him. He needs to have some fun."

Lance thought about it. He was so used to JC being the responsible one. Even Chris cut loose now and then. They'd all been drunk before. Maybe this was just JC's turn. "Yeah, good for him."

"Night, Lance," muttered Chris, hanging up. Immediately lost once again in Dani.

Rick had watched in outraged dismay as the cab pulled off. He turned a disbelieving look to Switch, who was currently trying to calm down the guy whose cab Em had jacked. The other security members gathered behind him, he motioned toward a semi-private alcove. When Switch arrived the five of them eyed each other warily. Finally Switch spoke, “Whose calling Dr. Dre?"

It was after midnight, more than likely Dr. Dre and Mrs. Young were at home. That meant disturbing Mrs. Young during a romantic evening without the kids around. There was a chorus of negatives. No one wanted to. "Fine," sighed Rick. "Short straw does."

Staring at the short straw, Rick cursed fluently. He pulled out his cell, and Switch started to hum the funeral march. Rick elbowed him, as the phone rang the tried to get his thoughts in order. He knew his boss would want answers; problem was he didn't have any. "Switch," he muttered, "Call the cab company. Ask 'em about cab number 2341. See what they'll tell us."

It was several long minutes before the phone was answered. A husky feminine voice growled out over the line. "This had better be life or death. Or I'ma make it life or death."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Young," said Rick, quickly. "But it's very serious, Mrs. Young."

The voice sighed in disgusted resignation. Rick could hear a muffled conversation on the other end.

"This had better be fucking important," snarled Dre into the phone.

Rick winced, "It is Dr. Dre. Uh see..." He didn't even know how to begin. How the hell guarding one man, was so hard he couldn't even begin to explain.

"Spit it the fuck out." Dre snapped, sitting up.

He was a professional, but Rick still nearly swallowed his tongue. One didn't disappoint Dr. Dre if one could help it. "We arrived at the Viper Room, per your instructions. Five minutes in, Mathers situated himself at the bar dismissing Switch and I. Because of the placement of the bar mirror, and Mathers' own paranoia the extra men you ordered where unable to get close. From what I observed, he sat down beside an unknown dark-haired white male. They conversed for several min--"

"Motherfucker if your ass don't get to the fucking point," growled Dre, glaring at the phone. Behind him he could hear his wife, sitting up and scooting closer. Nichole rubbed at his back, trying to soothe him. He shot her a grateful look. She mouthed, 'what'. "Slim," he growled.

"Mathers and the stranger left the club. We arrived just in time to see Mathers shoving the reluctant and drunk man into a cab," he finished, quickly. He wondered if that really sounded as bad as he thought it did. When his boss roared in his ear, he was pretty sure it did.

"Goddamn. Motherfucking shit. Are you telling me Slim fucking abducted someone and you did shit?! Why the hell am I paying you," screamed Dre. "Tell me you know where he is now. Tell me that's why your ass is calling."

Rick glanced over at Switch. "They won't know until the driver returns or calls in," Switch whispered.

"We should have the information in a bit," Rick said.

"Find Slim's ass. Find him the fuck now," snarled Dre, slamming the phone down.

He glared at, and his wife put her hand over it. "You are not destroying another phone. What's wrong?"

"Fucking Slim Shady. I knew I shouldn’t have let him out," barked Dre. He shot to his feet, pacing the length of the bedroom. "He's fucking abducted someone from a night club. Goddamn menace!"

"Baby, I'm sorry but I need to start making calls," he groaned, reaching for the phone when it rang again. He snatched it up, snarling into the receiver. "Tell me you know where Shady is," he hissed. "Or your ass is so fired."

"Mr. Young?"

Dre sighed, recognizing the night guard’s voice. "Sorry, Thomas. Em's been misplaced, and my patience is short."

"Actually, sir that's why I was calling," began the gate guard. "You wanted to know about anything strange concerning Mr. Mathers. Well, he arrived home half an hour ago in a cab, with a man I've never seen. But about five minutes ago he left again, in his S.U.V with Ms. Hailie in the front seat. I thought I saw the man slumped in the back seat."

"Thank you, Thomas." Dre hung up, and told Nichole what the guard said.

"Slim knows better than to drag Hailie into anything too illegal," her dark eyes narrowed. "It better not be too illegal. Dre grinned at the mother lioness look in her eyes.

"Regardless, I should still alert the lawyers. P.R. definitely needs to be told to be ready for anything," he muttered, reaching for the phone yet again. Nichole caught his hand, pulling him back onto the bed.

"Later, honey. Tomorrow is soon enough."

Dre looked at his wife, splayed out on the bed. Oh, yeah tomorrow was soon enough, he thought.

Em carried Hailie into the house first; she'd fallen asleep halfway through the three-hour drive. Making his way easily through the darkened rooms as familiar to him as their place in Detroit. More private than the house in L.A.; a place for him and Hailie to get away to when he couldn't take her back to the 'D'. With a soft kiss to her forehead, he tucked the sleeping child into bed, then went back out to the car.

Chasez hadn't stirred since he'd first dumped him in the backseat. The kid slept like the dead, or the heavily inebriated. With a sigh he opened the back door, making sure he wasn't within swinging distance. He nudged the kid. Chasez shifted, snorted and rolled over, back to him.

"Chasez get your ass up," snapped Em, he was too tired to keep being polite. Chasez's eyes flew open, and he looked around wildly. Eyes wide like a panicked horse's. He spotted him, and cringed back. Em frowned, not liking that reaction. He wasn't the abusive bastard. He didn't like anyone cringing from him, well unless he meant for them too.

"Knock that shit off," he muttered, backing up a little. "We're here. Let's go. I'm tired. I'm cranky. Ready to go to sleep."

JC watched Em warily. He knew what the rapper meant. Half asleep or not. Seeing as the man hadn't offered any violence, which was more than he could say for his lover, he vowed silently to at least try. JC swayed suddenly.

Em slipped an arm around his waist. JC flinched. Em sighed. "C'mon," he muttered. "You're about to fall on your face."

They moved through the dark house, with JC slouched against him. He knew the kid was too drunk to realize what he was doing. Which was a blessing and a curse, 'cause when he finally sobered up they'd have to go through his all over again.

Em didn't bother with the lights, remembering his own reaction to bright lights when drunk. Up the stairs to the guestroom on the other end of the hallway. He knew his guest would want some privacy. Inside the room, he dumped his all ready half asleep burden onto the bed. Yawning, he made his way to the bathroom.

After filling a glass with water, he dug through the medicine cabinet until he found what he wanted. He pulled out the bottle, studied it for a second then dumped out one. He paused for a second, staring into the cabinet for a long second then pulled out all of Kim's old prescriptions. He dropped them into his pocket, grabbed the wastebasket and headed back into the room. He sat the water, and the Vicodin on the nightstand. The basket by the bed. He moved to the door, "This room is the furthest from the others, it's got it's own bathroom. But there's a basket by the bed, in case you can't make it that far. There's a lock. If you--"

The J.D finally caught up with JC, and he passed out halfway through Em's speech.
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