The Unexpected Encounter (An Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 48: ***hole

Marshall and I were walking by each other's side down the street back to the car.

I was normal, walking with my hands in my pockets, while Marshall, with his jacket, fully covered himself, hood completely over his head; cap on, as well. He was slouching in a bent posture as he strode along, keeping his head down at the ground the entire time.

It made me feel bad how fame affected him this way. I was already grateful that he went out in public like this for me; however, if one single person walking down this street noticed who he was, he'd be in a big mess. We had none of his body guards with us, and the hour at which it was, there was a larger population of people on the streets at this time. Surrounding Saint Andrew's Hall which we left from in particular since a line-up was already forming for the concert happening later for it.

Engaging in small talk with Marshall now and then, moving to get to the car as soon as we could, a male all of sudden was seen full-on approaching me from afar. That was the very last thing I wanted to have happen. I was completely puzzled as I tried to take the figure in. I tried to avoid this character at first but it had soon appeared to be no use. The man began to yell at me as he drew nearer, his face becoming clear. Marshall just stepped away for now, concealing himself the best he could, most likely assuming that I knew this person already, which I didn't; I thought so.

The man shouted at me lively, having stopped me in my tracks. "Hey, it's Martin!" he cupped his hands around his mouth, hollering. "From the club! You remember me? It's crazy bumping into you like this!"

As he finally came up to me, his features, face, and everything became noticeable to me now. My face just went blank. This man was indeed the one that night from the club. The one who abruptly joined me at the table that night, the one who gave me his number, the one who tried flirting with me, pressuring me to leave with him. It was him. My eyes had widened substantially. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. What were the chances of us running into each other like this?

"I was just on my way over to the concert," I heard Martin tell me. "Hey, how come you ditched me that night?" he asked. "Did you lose my number?"

I began to hear Marshall off to the side of me, mumble things to himself. "Wait a minute..."

I was about to open my mouth when Martin stopped me from doing so, inputting his own unnecessary words. "It's cool, I'll just give it to you again. You got plans tonight, boo? Want to join me?" he winked, all coming in inches closer with every word. And after that, that was when he made the move: he reached over and grabbed my tush.

I yelped in outrage, smacking Martin's hand away, fumed. But all in a sudden, worst coming to worst, Marshall had stepped in, getting himself involved. "Back the fuck up, motherfucking bastard! Not you, again," Marshall hollered. "What makes you think you can pull that disgusting shit?" Marshall shoved him hard.

Martin, looking at the man before him now, couldn't believe his eyes. "Eminem? Oh, man! I saw you at that same club and you were so sick! Can I get your autogra—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Marshall gave him yet another shove, unable to take it anymore. He was hovering over him, right up in his face.

Martin resisted, hands raised in fear. "Dude, I don't want to fight you! No hard feelings? I didn't know she meant something to y—"

Marshall shouted, "How the fuck do you expect me to act like nothing happened with what you just motherfucking tried? When a girl says no, it fucking means no! What don't you get about that? Do you need me to knock some fucking sense into you?" he grabbed the collar of his shirt.

In between this commotion of me getting them both to stop, I had noticed that this had drew the attention of people passing by. There was murmuring heard as bystanders crowded around, wondering what all the commotion was about, recognizing who it was

Marshall finally took to notice the people gathered around. He turned completely pale. "We got to leave, now," Marshall interrupted, speaking to me, as he grasped my arm so hard that it hurt. Without further ado, me fidgeting from it, he went and yanked me off. Marshall had stopped suddenly and turned back around to face Martin for the last time. As Marshall went to flip him off, he along with it yelled these last words, eyeing him hard in his dejected face. "Thanks for the support, asshole!"

I scolded Marshall, telling him that doing that action had been completely and entirely unnecessary. Right then, however, two foxy females in their twenties (a blonde and a brunette) came running up near where Martin was, screaming at Marshall to get his attention. "We love you!" they called out in unison.

That got his attention, all right; however, right then, they both simultaneously decided to lift their shirts up, flashing their covered, full-loaded bosoms at Marshall. Their breasts were nearly falling out of their tiny bra's they wore as they continued to call out more things, flirtatiously. Marshall just stood there frozen, ogling the girls, not making any movement. The look on his face described it all; even I could tell beneath his stern exterior that he had been captivated by them.

Were you kidding me right now? Un-fucking-believable.

Once we got moving, we continued sprinting down the street until we reached his car once again.