Paint My Walls and Shade Me (Eminem)

Chapter 3 - Paint My Walls and Shade Me

Chapter 3

"You do know that we're not dressed for this, right?" I asked him. I wasn't wearing anything special today and so was he. I was just wearing a pair of blue-washed jeans, white tank-top with a light pink blazer over it and black platform pumps. With the way I dressed, everybody could tell that I was an editor whilst Marshall on the other hand looked like himself. He was Eminem after all, almost everybody knew of him.

"So what?" he scoffed.

"What do other people might think once we get inside then?" I asked him. "There are some beggars in the restaurant?"

"Okay, okay," he turned around to look at me. "First of all, we do not look like beggars. You're too beautiful to be like that and second of all, I'm Eminem and I don't care what they think of me, rapper or not,"

I didn't know what to say. Did he just call me beautiful? I got a compliment from a famous rapper such as him? That was unbelievable. I bet he already dated many girls after his wife. "You're right," I nodded. "Who cares about what they think?"

"Off you go, mi' lady," he bowed down and gestured to the restaurant's door. The door opened and a waiter greeted us, "Hello, Mr. Mathers, table for two?" he eyed me like I was a foreigner.

"Yes, Alejandro," Marshall patted the waiter's back.

"Please follow me," he walked and we tailed behind him. Marshall pulled out a chair for me and I sat on it after muttering a 'thank you'.

"What do you want to order?" Marshall asked.

"You decide,"

"We'll order two Pico de Gallo and two of your legendary tacos," Eminem told the waiter. "Drinks?" he asked me.

"Just water, please," I responded.

"You know what to get me," Marshall smiled at him.

"Is that all, sir?" he asked him.

"Yeah, Alejandro," and with that, the waiter disappeared.

I took a look at my surroundings and they were looking at us. No, they were looking at Marshall. Some of the waitresses were looking at him, totally checking him out and some of them were glaring at me. I decided not to mind them despite of the killer looks they were giving me, "Do you eat here a lot?"

"How'd you know?" he narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you a stalker?"

"Funny," I rolled my eyes at him. "I just noticed the waiter staring at me like I was some kind of alien and he knows you, which is stating the obvious,"

"He was staring at you because it's the first time I brought a girl here," he explained. "And yes, I do eat here with some of my friends like Andre. But a girl? Never brought one,"

"Am I supposed to feel very special because of that, Marshall?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You do,"

"I'm not," I lied. I was very flattered to be the first girl that he had ever brought here. A sudden flash then surprised me. I looked outside where it came from. After that, the photographer was gone. "What the hell was that?"

"Paparazzi," he answered. "Guess they'll tell the media about me dating you,"

"You can't have a private life, huh?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Here's the thing. They're going to say shit about you. Not the paparazzi, but my fans,"

"Let me guess," I acted like I was thinking of something deeply. "Fan girls?"

"Yes..."

"Couldn't care less about them," I admitted. "They don't know me,"

"Do you know you're not like any of the gir—"

I cut his sentence off. "Women."

"—any of the women I've ever seen?" he continued like he didn't say something wrong. "I keep forgetting that we're already old,"

"You're the only one who's old here, Marshall," I mocked.

"At least I'm as good-looking as any of those fucking shits out there. No, even better. They don't know anything about life. Justin Bieber? One Direction? They don't know anything about life. At least I already tried everything, drugs and such. And I'm proud to say that I lived my life to the fullest,"

"Don't die on me, Marshall," I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't give a speech like you're nearing death,"

He raised both of his hands in defense. "Just stating my opinion, woman,"

"This is weird..." I whispered whilst looking at him. "Really weird,"

"What's weird?"

"This!" I snapped at him.

"What's this?" he raised an eyebrow at me in confusion.

"I'm here in this fancy restaurant eating with you!"

"Don't like it?" he asked me curiously.

"I like it," I admitted. "I just find it really weird,"

"You really are different, you know?"

Confusion flooded through me so I decided to ask, "And why is that?"

"First of all, the women that were seen with me kept complaining about the hate my fans were giving them. But you, you don't even give a damn about them,"

"Give me a reason of why should I?"

"Exactly," he smiled and Alejandro, the waiter, came back with the drinks. He placed a can of mountain dew in front of Marshall and water in front of mine before he left.

"Favorite drink?" I asked him.

"Absolutely," he took a sip of the soda then looked at me dead straight into the eyes once again.

"Do you have any idea about the plan your friend and my friend made?"

"I think I already know what they're doing," he told me. "They're trying to get us together,"

"What?" I laughed. "That's insane. I can't imagine a black rapper going down to being Cupid for his friend,"

Alejandro came back once again with the food. Marshall and I decided to eat but we continued the conversation as well. "Andre's closer to a brother than I ever had ever since my best friend, Proof, died,"

"Everything happens for a reason. Maybe if Proof hadn't died, you wouldn't be this close to Dre...though I doubt it that everything's fine,"

"Another thing that makes you different from other girls," he smiled at me once again. "Whenever I tell the girls that my best friend died, they'll all say that they're sorry and everything's going to be okay. But you, your answer is really different,"

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Or are you saying that I don't think like a girl?"

"A little bit of both,"

"That's low! I think like a girl, woman perhaps, but smarter than the others,"

"Obviously,"

"How many women have you been with after the divorce? You are divorced right?"

"We're divorced and as for those women..." he started to think deeply. "I couldn't even count,"

"You're unacceptable!" I playfully said and he just laughed at me.

"But honestly," his expression turned into a serious one. I wanted to look away from his eyes but I found it rather hard to do so. It was like he was going to say something about me, "I've already fucked many girls after the divorce...and believe it or not, I've kind of regretted it now,"

"Please, you regretting something?" I changed the atmosphere. I didn't want all these seriousness around us. "You're Eminem, you don't care about what other people think,"

"True," he nodded.

My mind still lingered about the time when he said that he regretted fucking many girls after their divorce. Why did I have the feeling that he was talking about me?