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Whispers Two	By : Queenie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 6350 -:- 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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Marshall and I locked eyes for a moment, before I gave him a quick nod and rushed into my room for my clothes. “I’ll be there in a sec!” I called to the policemen outside my door, stumbling into a pair of jeans and a clean top. When I got back into the lounge room, Marshall was nowhere in sight, but my bathroom door was closed, I guessed he’d disappeared in there to get changed.

I took a deep breath, combed my finger through my hair, and opened the door, a confused and slightly irritated smile on my face. “Yes?”

One of the police officers, I . Hi. His name was Bradley; he patrolled the streets I worked on, and he’d often asked me where he could find this that or the other whore, dealer or pimp. We had a vague understanding of one another, but I definitely didn’t trust him. The other officer looked barely older then myself, was Asian, maybe Japanese, and was surprisingly very cute for a copper.

“Jason, can I come in?” Officer Bradley asked, already heading past me and into my flat.

“Why sure, make yourself at home,” I said with false cheer, gaining a secret delight as I saw they were sitting down right on the spot where I’d just fucked Marshall. “What can I do for you boys today?”

They took off their hats and looked around with barely veiled contempt at my tiny flat. “I’m sure you know why we’re here, Jason,” Bradley said as I took a seat in my tatty old armchair, “A young boy was found murdered outside your flat this morning.”

I nodded solemnly, chewing my lip. I didn’t have to fake the look of sorrow and fear I was no doubt displaying to them. “Yeah,” I said quietly, “little Danny Muir.”

“That’s right,” Bradley said, “Now, we don’t really think you had anything to do with it, Jason, but considering you’re both in the same…business, and he *was* found just outside, we have to investigate just a little.”

I sighed and leaned back, crossing my legs. “I understand,” I said, “Shoot.”

The younger officer cleared his throat and shot me a serious look. I had the feeling he was under Bradley’s wing, still learning the ropes, because the older man shot him an indulgent smile and sat back, letting him take charge. “Mr Bexley, my name is officer Katsura,” he started, sounding just a little bit nervous, “I’m just going to ask you a few routine questions, ok?”

I smiled gently. It was almost like I was deflowering a virgin, “Ok,” I said softly, “Ask me whatever you like.”

Katsura glanced down at his pad and cleared his throat again. Bradley and I exchanged an almost amused look. “Right. First, where were you between the hours of two am and six am this morning?”

“Easy,” I said, “I was at The Westbourne Hotel in Notting Hill. I was there between eleven last night and around eleven this morning, actually.”

Bradley shot me a disapproving frown, and, to Katsura’s chagrin, interrupted for a moment. “What were you doing there, Jason?”

“I was visiting with an old friend,” I shot back smoothly, “I know what you’re getting at, Officer Bradley. It wasn’t a trick.”

Bradley blushed, but didn’t look convinced. He let it drop for the moment, though, and gestured to Katsura to go on. The kid, I noticed, looked a little sickened. Apparently, he had something against prostitution.

“Erm, do you have anyone who can verify your whereabouts? Who were you with?” I could tell by the slight scorn in his voice that he meant, ‘Who were you fucking?’ but I refused to take the bait.

“An old friend, like I said,” I replied, “His name’s Marshall Mathers. In fact, he’s around somewhere now, if you’d like to speak to him.”

Katsura’s raised his eyebrows. “Marshall Mathers? Like Eminem, eh? Coincidence…”

I smiled, “No, it’s not,” I said cagily. I was cool on the outside, but inside I’d started to panic. Katsura was a fan, and I was willing to bet, a homophobe. Already, I could see the endless tabloids and newspapers with Marshall’s and my faces splayed over them, headlines about ‘Homophobic rapper caught up in gay affair.’ Marshall was going to come out of this hating me; I just knew it.

Speaking of Marshall, he chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, neatly dressed and looking vaguely curious. “Jason? What do they want?” he asked me, sitting down on the only other seat in the room.

“It’s about Danny,” I said, “They need to know where I was last night, and stuff.”

Marshall nodded wisely, and turned to the cops. “He was passed out in my hotel room. The kid can’t hold his liquor,” he said casually. I held my breath. We were on dangerous ground.

Katsura, meanwhile, looked as if his eyes were going to fall out of his head. His mouth curled into a delicate sneer as he asked his next question, I could practically hear the disgust dripping off his voice. “What, exactly, were you two doing in a hotel room for twelve hours?”

Marshall and I exchanged a glance. “Drinking,” I said, “Catching up. We’re friends, like I said.”

“What are you implying? What do you think we were doing?” Marshall asked, and his voice had suddenly become deadly, his American accent more pronounced. His face had an expression of outrage mixed with anger, and it was then that I realised what a good actor the man was. I hoped, for his sake, he could pull it off.

“No need to get upset, Mr. Mathers,” Bradley said hastily, “But, well…Jason hasn’t got the cleanest record. It can’t hurt to be sure.”

“I haven’t got the cleanest record,” I repeated flatly, “Christ, officer, why don’t you just say what you mean? I’m a whore. Therefore, every man that I spend any time with *has* to be a trick, yeah? Even the notoriously straight Eminem. Right. Next fucking question.”

Bradley shook his head. “Jason, can you blame me for asking?”

“And compromise the integrity of a good friend of mine? Yes, I can. Next question.”

The officers looked at each other, and Bradley sighed in resignation and sat back. Katsura took it as his cue to go on. “Ok, we’re going to need verification that the two of you were, in fact, together in that room for the whole night,” he said, almost smugly, “We’ll be checking up on that. What hotel did you say it was?”

“The Westbourne. In Notting Hill,” Marshall replied sourly, watching Katsura write it all down in his little book, “I booked the room under the name Clyde Mathers.”

I looked at him in surprise, I hadn’t known about that. I thought the choice of name was cute, though.

“Any particular reason for the secrecy, Mr Mathers?” Katsura was asking. Marshall rolled his eyes.

“You try being famous. I always check into hotels under false names.”

“Look, who’s being questioned here? Me or Marshall?” I said, trying to come to his rescue, “This is about Daniel, not me and my friends. So could we please get this over with? Marshall has to go soon.” I paused, and then added meaningfully, “He’s meeting his girlfriend.” Bradley looked a bit sheepish at that, but Katsura just seemed more determined to make trouble.

“Well, actually, that might make things easier,” he said with a false smile, “Instead of checking it all out with the hotel staff, we could just ask your girlfriend. Your girlfriend does know where you were last night, doesn’t she, Mr. Mathers?”

I froze. ‘Shit,’ I was thinking, ‘Oh, Christ, this kid’s good…’ But Marshall didn’t seem too phased. A brief look of panic flashed over his face, one I hoped only I had noticed, and then he relaxed.

“Donna only arrived in London today,” he said smoothly, “She’s been in New York. I have know idea if she knows what hotel I’m staying at, or not. It’s probably best just to check with The Westbourne.”

We all stared at each other for a moment, at a bit of an impasse. Bradley, I think, just wanted to do his job, getting me in trouble for something would be an added bonus. Katsura wanted to prove that Marshall and I had been fucking, and was trying desperately to figure out how he could while making it seem like he was being professional. Marshall, while he didn’t want trouble, looked ready to jump the two of them at a moments notice, and probably would if he thought he could get a way with it. I just wanted it all to go away.

Katsura eventually continued the interview, asking me some more normal questions about how well I’d known Danny, whether I knew if he had any enemies, crap like that. Routine, routine. No more insinuations, thank god. I didn’t relax until he finally snapped his notebook shut and glanced at Bradley.

“I think that’s everything,” he said uncertainly, “Unless you have something more to add…”

Bradley looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, than shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, “Thank you, Jason, you’ve been very helpful.”

“Really?” I muttered, “I was under the impression that I didn’t tell you shit all.”

Bradley laughed, and even Katsura managed to crack a smile on that pretty face of his. “Well, at least we’ve pretty much eliminated *you*” he said, “That’s something.”

I gave a slight nod. “Yes that you have,” I murmured, thinking to myself, ‘But at what cost?’

The interview was apparently over. Bradley and Katsura stood up, shook my hand, nodded at Marshall and headed for the door. I waited until Katsura had exited before jumping up.

“Officer Bradley, wait a second.” He paused and turned, regarding me with a raised eyebrow.

“You have something to add, Jason?”

I glanced at Marshall, then shook my head. “No, not exactly. I just…” I dropped my voice and moved closer to him, looking up into his eyes and hoping mine were doing their best ‘big, blue and innocent’ act yet. “I just want to know…this is gonna be in the tabloids by tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Bradley sighed and gave a little shrug. “I can’t promise you anything, Jason. The press have ways of finding this kind of thing out.”

I frowned, “The police records aren’t exactly secure, are they? Can’t you keep this kind of thing confidential?”

“I can try. But I really don’t think I’ll have a lot of influence.” He shook his head apologetically, “I’m sorry, Jason. But if it was that important, maybe you should have left him alone.”

“I didn’t fuck him, Officer,” I said automatically, but my heart wasn’t really in it. I hated him for being right.

“Of course you didn’t, Jason. But you might want to practice saying that a little more convincingly when you talk to the tabloids, ok?”

I flushed and gave a quick nod before shutting the door behind him and leaning my head against it. We were screwed. Or, to be rather more accurate, Marshall was screwed.

“It’ll be ok.” I turned around and shot him Marshall a weak smile. He held out his arms to me. “It will be, you know. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. That’s what my PR people are for, remember?”

I went to him and crawled onto his lap, feeling him wrap his arms around me, feeling him kiss the top of my head. It felt like nothing could touch us at that moment. He made me feel safe, safer than I’d ever felt in my life. I didn’t want to lose that.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I burst oaughaughing. Marshall looked at me like I was insane. “What’s so funny?”

“Those cops,” I gasped out, “Sitting right where I fucked you. On the exact same spot!” I rested my head against his shoulder and tried to get my breath back. “Oh, Christ, Marshall. It was priceless!” Marshall grinned, giving me a quick kiss.

“You have almost as sick a sense of humour as me, kid,” he said in admiration, “I love it.”

I grinned back, then let out a short sigh. “Fuck. I guess you’ve got some phone calls to make, right?”

He nodded and after gently pushing me off him, stood up, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Shit. You don’t mind if I use your phone, Jase?”

“Go for it,” I replied, “It’s in the bedroom.” I watched him disappear through the door, and sank down onto the lounge with a soft groan. It was starting. The shit was starting, and I had no idea what was going to happen to us. I was scared, yes, because I had a sick feeling that Marshall was going to come out of this despising me. And that was something I would not be able to handle.

Half an hour later, Marshall emerged from my room looking like he’d gone three rounds. He flopped on the couch next to me and closed his eyes. “Well, they know.”

I froze. “They know what? Who knows what? What?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “My management know that a rumour is about to start that I was fucking a nineteen year old rent boy,” he said hollowly.

“So they all think it’s a rumour, then? You didn’t tell them the truth?”

“I told one person the truth. But I can trust him.”

I bit my lip. “You sure, baby?”

“I told Dre, Jason.”

I sat up in shock. “You did what? How’d he take it?”

Marshall smirked. “He said, and these were his exact words, ‘Marshall, I don’t care who, or what, you fuck, but if your sales drop, you can find a new fucking producer.’”

I blinked, and took his hand. He gave it a little squeeze, I think to show me that he wasn’t upset with me. I was grateful. “So he…doesn’t mind? What?”

“He was shocked. He said I was the straightest guy he knew, and wanted to know if I was on drugs. I don’t think he was happy about it, but we’re tight, he’ll learn to deal.” Marshall let out a sudden laugh. “He asked if I thought he was hot.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him he wasn’t my type.” I giggled dutifully, but inside I was worried for him. Dre hadn’t exactly kept his views on homosexuality a secret, and, unlike Marshall, had never given himself a nice little disclaimer in any magazines by saying, ‘Actually, no, I don’t have a problem with gays. It’s all an act.’ I was scared for their friendship, I was scared for Marshall’s career, and, frankly, I was scared for his safety.

“Ok, so what’s gonna happen?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They said I shouldn’t be seen with you at all. They want me to stay the fuck away from you.”

I nodded, I’d been expecting that. “That makes sense.”

“It’s fucked,” he shot back, almost viciously, “It’s not fucking fair. I want to be with you. Why is that so fucking hard?”

I pulled him into my arms, shocked to see tears spilling from those beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t know, baby,” I whispered, “I really don’t. I wish it could be different, too.”

“But it’s not,” Marshall said, trying to keep the sob out of his voice.

I stayed quiet. I couldn’t think of any wo the there was nothing I could say that would make it better. All I knew was that this was tearing us both up. And tearing us apart.

“So do they know where you are?” I asked eventually. He shook his head.

“No. I didn’t say. But I have to be at…Donna’s hotel tonight. I have to be seen with her as much as possible, you know?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. Fucking Donna. I wondered if she had any idea of what she actually was to Marshall, nothing but a cover, a way to stay out of trouble. I wondered if she loved him half as much as I did. “I guess you should be going soon, then?”

“I should be, yeah,” he sighed, but made no move to leave. “But Donna’s not expecting me for a while.”

I paused for a bit, chewing anxiously on my lip. I had stuff on my mind that I really didn’t want to bring up. But I just thought he should know. “Marshall,” I said slowly, “You…you’re gonna be spending tonight with Donna, anyway…and I don’t even know if we’re gonna be seeing each other anymore-”

“Jase…”

“No, I have to tell you this…’cause I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Marshall turned and took my face in his hands. “No. Not tonight, Jason. Don’t you dare go out on the streets tonight.”

“I have to live, Marshall,” I said patiently, “I have to eat, you know? How else am I gonna get money?”

“I’ll give you what you need. You know that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Marshall, you are not a trick. I am not your whore, ok? You do not have to pay me.”

“I know I don’t gotta pay you. But I fuckin’ want to.” Marshall’s voice was childish, petulant almost. “Why is it so hard for you to accept help, Jason? Ever since I met you, you’ve had this fucking stupid *pride.* I don’t understand it.”

“Maybe my pride’s all I have,” I said quietly, a little hurt, “Maybe it’s all of me that’s worth protecting.”

“That’s bullshit, Jason, and you know it. Why would I be so fucking in love with you if that was all there was to you? Why would this shit hurt so much?”

I just shook my head. We’d said it all before. We knew it hurt, we knew that it was going to hurt from the first time we were together. We accepted that, maybe stupidly, but better or for worse, that was how it was.

“Maybe you should go,” I said softly, “It’s only going to get harder.”

Marshall gave me a funny look. “This isn’t the end, Jason,” he said, “They’re gonna fucking lock me away before they stop me from seeing you.”

I blinked. “But…”

“No buts. I don’t give a fuck, ok?” Marshall looked at me, this determined glint in his eyes. “I don’t care what I have to do. I’m not giving you up.”

“But your career…Marshall, Christ, think about it, will you?” I was determined not to get my hopes up. He obviously wasn’t in his right mind.

“It’ll be ok, Jason. We can do this without it going public.” I noticed his tears had started again, “Shit, Jase, we have to find a way.”

I winced, I hated seeing him like this. I wanted the cocky Marshall back, the bold, brazen, outspoken man I’d fallen in love with. I wanted the funny, tender, sweet side of him. I didn’t want to see him cry. I couldn’t handle it.

“Ok,” I said softly, taking his hand and pulling him towards me, “Ok, Marshall. We’ll make it work. If you really want it…us…”

“I do,” he sobbed, “Fuck, Jason, you have to believe that. I do.”

We held each other for a while, until Marshall’s tears died down and I finally felt like I could let him go.

“I need to see Donna,” he sighed, sitting up and running his hand through his hair, something that seemed like his signature gesture. “It’s gonna suck.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “Of course it is,” I said, “What are you gonna tell her?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. That it’s over. She doesn’t have to know everything.”

“It’s probably best that she doesn’t,” I agreed, “She’d be straight to the tabloids, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Anything to get her face in the papers, with Donna. It’s the only reason she’s with me, anyway.”

I was almost pleased to hear that. It justified my hatred of her somewhat, my jealousy. And it also gave some small justification to the fact that I’d just screwed her boyfriend three ways from Sunday.

I stood up, pulling Marshall with me and wrapping my arms around his waist. “This isn’t it for us,” I said gravely, looking him in the eye, “And it’s not it for your career. And it’s not it for your fans. Because we can do it. We can make it work without anyone knowing.”

“That’s so unfair on you, Jason,” he said, burying his face in my neck, “I shouldn’t ask you to live a lie for me.”

“Oh, shut up,” I murmured, stroking his hair, “I want it as much as you. Don’t worry about *me* for gods sake. You’re the one with everything at stake.”

He pulled raised his head and kissed me sweetly, lightly dancing his lips over mine. “You’re worth it, Jason. You’re worth anything.”

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, “I still don’t know what you see in me. But thank you.”

Marshall shot me a stunning smile and stroked his thumb over my cheek. “No. Thank *you* Jase,” he said softly, then gave me a quick wink. “Don’t go nowhere, kid. I ain’t finished with you yet.”

I rolled my eyes as he headed into my room to grab his jacket. “What, haven’t I worn you out yet, Shady?”

He reappeared with a cheeky grin on his face. “It takes more than an hours worth of sex to finish me off, Jason,” he proclaimed, “Which I’ll prove to you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” I said truthfully, still standing in the middle of the floor as I watched him walk towards the door, “I’ll be right here. Whenever you need me.”

“I’ll always need you,” he said, “I’ll call you tonight, ok? Later.”

“Yeah, later,” I echoed, smiling as he blew me a kiss and disappeared out the door. “I’ll be here, Marshall.”

And I would be. No matter what happened, I knew that I would always be there for Marshall, I would always be the kid that loved him, the kid that would give up anything for him. I didn’t expect the same sacrifices from him, I didn’t want the same sacrifices from him. I just wanted him to know that whenever he needed someone to hold him, someone that he didn’t have to hide his true self from, I was here.

I thought back to the first time we’d parted, to telling him that I wouldn’t be able to give myself up for him. To refusing to follow him around like his own private whore. I’d been an idiot, I decided. I was too unsure of myself, and too unsure of his love to be able to risk that. But I knew now that I’d do it in the blink of an eyelid. Because I wasn’t unsure about anything anymore. Well I mean, of course I was unsure about what was going to happen, whether Marshall would be able to weather the publicity storm that was bout to spring up around him for one. But I was positive of my love for him, and his for me. I was positive we wanted to be together. Everything had changed so dramatically, everything was so different. A thousand times scarier and a thousand times more beautiful.

We *would* get through the media shit together. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, I wouldn’t allow it. And even if it tore us apart, I’d still love him. Even if he couldn’t see me, I’d somehow make sure that he knew I loved him.

Because our kind of love couldn’t be killed off by distance, or solitude. It was too strong, too stupid and too stubborn for that. I smiled to myself. Just like Marshall and me,. Strong, stupid and bloody stubborn.

Suddenly, though, my euphoric feeling vanished, leaving me feeling as if I’d been dropped a thousand feet. Marshall had left before I’d had a chance to explain that I really was broke, and that I really was going to have to go out on the streets that night. The thought left eelieeling sick, but I had no choice. My rent was due, and I’d already had the two previous nights off. I need drug money, and food money, and I had the feeling that it wasn’t just going to appear out of nowhere.

“Shit!” I wailed, throwing a mini tantrum in the middle of the lounge room. “Fucking hell, why this? Why bloody now?” I hated my profession, but it seldom had a chance to hurt as much as it did then. “That’s what you get for fucking falling in love, Bexley,” I muttered to myself as I stomped into my room, “Well it’s too late now, isn’t it? What other choice do you have?”

I had to smile though, and roll my eyes, when I saw Marshall had made my bed for me, albeit it quite shoddily. I could never be arsed. I was still a teenager at heart, with the theory that I needn’t bother when it was just going to get messy again anyway. But Marshall had straightened up the covers and even found my old teddy bear, which had been lying abandoned on my floor for some weeks, and propped him up against the pillows. It was achingly cute. I vowed to myself again that I wasn’t going to let this man go.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and fondly picked up the teddy, cuddling him to my chest. What I saw underneath him, though, made me freeze, then toss the poor thing across the room in frustration. Marshall had left a wad of bills nestled under the stupid bear. I picked them up and counted, over a thousand pounds. The bastard. The annoying, stubborn, sweet, amazing, beautiful, perfect *bastard.*

I didn’t want the money. No, that was a lie. I didn’t want the money from him. I didwantwant to feel like a prostitute with him. I just wanted it to be love, no money had to change hands, just for once. It’s not that he made me feel cheap exactly, it was just…I’d never been in love before. I wanted it to be different to the tricks I was with every night. My life seemed to center around sex and money. Just for once, I wanted it to center around something else.

On the other hand, I was grateful for the fact that I didn’t have to go out tonight. It wasn’t fair on Marshall to know that I was doing that. I should just be happy with the break.

I grinned suddenly. It *would* be a good night. Maybe I was just worrying to much about nothing. Tory always accused me of doing that. But things didn’t have to be as bad as I thought they were. Marshall’s PR people were paid a lot of money to do…whatever it was they did. I’m sure they could handle things. Dre and Marshall had been close friends for a long time, they could survive this. His fans never needed to know.

It was going to be ok. I could finally tell myself that, in all honesty and faith. In a moment of complete regression, I jumped up and grabbed my teddy, hugging him to my chest and spinning round my room. Marshall loved me, I loved Marshall. It was going to be ok.

Heading back into the lounge room, I switched on the TV and kicked it until it started working properly, deciding I’d spend the rest of the afternoon watching bad soap operas, and then order a pizza. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I’d *ever* done it. But things in my life were changing.

I spent the rest of the day shooting up and watching TV, curled on the couch like a kid, laughing at all the awful acting. Everything seemed funnier when I was high. Everything seemed easier, softer, hazier. More beautiful. I could handle life if I lived it through a needle. But I was also starting to think I could also handle life if I lived it through Marshall, instead. For the moment, though, heroin was safer.

At about eight-thirty, I was awoken from my heroin drenched stupor by my phone ringing. I was going to ignore it, but then I realised that it could be Marshall, and jumped up to run into my room.

“’Lo?” I answered breathlessly, twisting the cord in my fingers. The voice that replied, however, was very definitely not Marshall.

“Hi, is this Jason?” It was a woman, an American. I didn’t know and American women, though, so it was a bit weird.

“Yeah, ‘tis. Who’s this?”

“Jason, my name’s Donna. I think you know my boyfriend?”

I froze, speechless. Donna? Marshall’s Donna? How…why…how could she be ringing me? I sank down to the floor, resting against the phone stand.

“Jason? Are ya there?”

“I’m here,” I whispered, then coughed a bit. “I’m sorry, I’m here. How can I help you?”

I could hear Donna smoking a cigarette on the other end, inhaling and slowly breathing out. “I need you to stop fucking my man.”
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Whispers Two