𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 [𝐌.𝐌]

-VII-

Was this jealousy I was feeling? It couldn't be, it wasn't possible. If she was feeling jealous she'd probably be over thinking the situation more then she currently was. She'd been pacing up and down for ten minutes now, she wondered if Marshall was wondering where she'd gone to. Oh wait, she forgot, he was a bit preoccupied with somebody.

A few minutes later, Marshall came outside. His cheeks were red, and he looked angry. "You saw didn't you?" He muttered, looking at Amber bitterly. She sighed and nodded, and averted her gaze. Of course she saw him and a random woman making out.

"It wasn't what it looked like," She stopped him before he could continue his sentence. "You don't have to explain yourself to me." She started, and walked towards the car. "Are you ready to go?"

Marshall sighed, and got into the car. She was reading the entire situation wrong, the woman wasn't who it probably looked like Kim. It wasn't her, it was a fan who had followed our car to the studio. Just a fan, just another obsessed fan.

"Can we keep the roof down from now on, that woman was a fan who followed us here." He said, quietly looking out of the tinted windows. Amber began to sigh in embarrassment, she didn't realise a fan had pushed herself onto him, if she would of known she would of came in and stopped her.

"Does that happen very often?" Amber asked him, relaxing her fingers on the steering wheel. "From time to time," he murmured, pulling a cigarette and a lighter from the pocket of his jacket.

"You seriously gonna smoke in here, Marshall? At least open the window." Amber groaned, as he turned his lighter on. He mumbled, and then switched his lighter off. Putting the mic cigarette and lighter away. Even better, she thought.

"So where do you wanna go to lunch?" Marshall asked her, leaning his arm out of the window in boredom. "McDonald's?" She suggested hopefully, it wasn't anywhere fancy like Marshall was expecting but it was somewhere she loved to eat.

"A multi millionaire, just asked you out for lunch and you suggested McDonald's? But sure let's go there, it's been a few years since I've had one." Marshall said, he seemed moderately happy that he was having a McDonald's, it was cute, but she wasn't going to say that aloud.

"Let's have a drive thru, I don't want someone catching photos of us together." She said, driving to the nearest McDonald's. Thankfully, the queue wasn't very long for so they were only waiting for five minutes or so. Amber ordered a Big Mac like usual and Marshall ordered some chicken nuggets.

They sat in the carpark, and ate their food (Amber especially cautious in case she spilt something). "How is it?" She asked Marshall, as he took a bite of his fries. "It's not bad," he said, licking his lips.

Giggling, she opened the car door and took out the packaging and brought it to the nearest trash can. Upon returning, she heard Marshall singing. She'd heard him rapping on the radio, but she'd never heard him actually singing.

He had a beautiful voice, it was hard to believe that he was a rapper. It brought a soft melody to her ears. "I didn't know you sang." She said, as she made herself apparent. He almost jumped back, in surprise and shock. "Sorry I didn't realise you were listening."

"No you're good, really good actually."  She applauded him, strapping herself into the car seat. "Thanks I guess," he muttered, also strapping himself in. "Are we going back now, don't you have an interview to prepare for?"

He nodded, and they drove back. The sky was dark and the day was drawing in. The day felt like it had gone especially fast, and it had been especially stressful. It felt like that fan kissing Marshall was playing on repeat in her head.

The way the woman had her hands grasping his neck, and the way her lips were pressed against his. The way their bodies were so close. She needed to stop thinking about this now, she knew she did. It was stupid, it was just a dumb obsessive fan who decided to follow us here, that's all it was.

As soon as they arrived back, Marshall poured them both a drink. A small glass of gin, Amber wasn't that into alcohol, but she wasn't in the mood to decline. If the alcohol, would help drown out these stupid thoughts then count her in.

"Are you sure you want to drink this? Are you really planning on showing up wasted to your interview?" She asked, already slightly drunk on half a glass. "I'm only planning on having a glass or two, it'll take more then that to get my drunk.

It didn't.

A glass or two later they were both rolling on the floor, giggling and talking nonsense. They weren't only  wasted, they were high now. They started smoking, and then they starting doing pot. It was getting insane.

"Don't- don't you have an interview in an hour?" Amber slurred, looking at clock as blurry as it looked. He jumped up, almost sobering up in a second. "What?"

He walked up to the clock, analysing it for a moment. "Fuck-" he ran upstairs to his room, and got into the shower hoping that the water could help him sober up.

It didn't.

He knew that he couldn't come to a meeting drunk, never mind high. He put on a suit, something he wouldn't of picked if he were sober. It was black, similar to what he wore when he met Amber for the first time. It started to bring back memories.

Once he came downstairs, Amber wasn't still rolling around the floor. She had got a change of clothes, and was drinking some water in hopes of sobering up. "I can't believe I fucking did that, I've never gone as far as that." She exclaimed glancing at Marshall.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" She laughed, "They're going to laugh at you tonight, mark my words!" She remarked, making Marshall scowl at her. "Shut the fuck up."

"As my bodyguard you've got to come, so come on, you're not driving us you're too pissed." He groaned, as they waiting outside the house for the driver. And of course, he promptly arrived.

Unexpectedly, it wasn't the black car it was a white one. Similar shape and size, but the smell of drugs wasn't as noticeable. He clearly knew where he was going without question.

The whereabouts of the interview was a good hour outside of Detroit. Marshall spent the majority of the time, staring emptily out of the window. Was this how he acted when he was drunk? "You ok?" She asked him, tapping his shoulder.

He turned around and looked at her, his eyes were lazily open and his skin was a pale colour. Then he grabbed her collar and kissed her.

He kissed her.