Who knew

Birthday party with a little action

I've figured that waking up for work, even in the early morning, is much more pleasant if the day before you had a nice conversation with Marshall Mathers. I had to explain it as nothing but an enigma and convince myself that it wasn't connected to the way I was feeling around Eminem and the effect his witty persona had on me. However, something in those awful excuses was wrong and with every day I was feeling it stronger and stronger.

The next morning Marshall picked me up just like any other day before that. I was hoping to play in our favourite game of words with him to make sure that the last night connection between us could become a normal thing and not disappear with the magic of the evening like some Cinderella charms.

But the destiny or whatever ruthless thing that was ruling our lives that morning had other plans. As I got in Marshall's car, I spotted Paul and one of the people from Marshall's management crew sitting on the backseat of the car and discussing something enthusiastically. I was introduced to the man briefly and the whole ride kept silent as three of them were talking about Eminem's promotion plans for the next week.

Marshall, on the other hand, greeted me with a small smirk but soon was distracted. Surprising myself, I felt my mood going down, realizing that I wouldn't be able to have some time alone with him, and turned to look from the window, displeased with my own thoughts. Well, there was nothing else to do.

The day appeared to be a busy one. Paul managed to make like five or six interviews for Marshall for different types of media in one Detroit building and keep him focused for each one of them which, as he later told me, was a hard thing to accomplish. Paul also persuaded me after the first 3 interviews to come back to the studio and work a little there. He was convinced that after I'd had a taste of what Marshall's communication with a press felt like, I needed some time to take notes and write more about the day before.

I knew he was right. It was all my work and with things happening almost every day I had to make sure to have everything in front of me just in case I would need that for the articles. I couldn't help but felt upset about that, though, because after such a nice moment with Marshall, unfortunately, I had no chance to talk to him and banish all my hesitations. Deep inside I was afraid that we could go back to be all distant and uneasy with each other.

But when I came back to the studio, the news brought by no one else but Denaun and Royce were already waiting for me. Both of them were very excited to announce that that evening they had a birthday party of their producer friend to attend. The main points stated for me were: I was "definitely fucking going", the party was at the strip club, both of them would "not act like jerks" because "man, we learned the lesson" and "that jerk Marshall is invited too". Guess, all of a sudden, I had plans for the night.

So, all of those things mentioned above lead me to the point where I was sitting in the booth of one of Detroit's strip clubs and tugging my simple but tight velvet black dress with straps down nervously, anxious about the way it looked. My outfit along with black stockings the ends of which were disappearing under the edge of the dress and black heels wasn't that revealing or fancy. I couldn't help but felt a little uncomfortable, though. Maybe, because I was waiting for the approval of a certain person. But, unfortunately, that certain person still couldn't be found.

The atmosphere around was completely the opposite. The girls on the poles were going up and down graciously, shameless in their movements, aware of the sexiness they radiated as the Rihanna record was playing on the background. The smoke of weed was fogging the picture, making their movements slower and more tempting, promising the viewer a little more for his money that could wait for him in a private room.

Changing the pace and feeling the beat, the strippers were making their own movie with the dance they were performing, often created with the improvisation of the moment. And even though all of it was just a well-made act, there were a few moments when you could believe that with all that nudity there should have been no lie. However, those moments would usually disappear just as soon as the song had come to its logical ending.