The Fairy Godmother

By Chen

 

Rating: PG-13, for language, angst and suicide situation. (Nah.  No S-E-X.  I don't know how your circulatory systems can take it.)

Pairing:  Paul Rosenberg/Em  (See?  I was only concerned of your well being.)

Disclaimer:  Some scenes/names may coincide with the events/persons in real life but trust me.  This shit didn't happen.  Em's arrest happened but the rest?  Nuh uh.  Just had me thinking one day.  One of those 'What if' moments.  Don't sue.  I'm a fucking bum.  It ain’t worth it.

Feedback:  chenstigator@yahoo.com

 

Note:  Not beta'd.  So, let this be a warning that this may suck and can get incredibly mushy.  Prepare a barf bag.

 

---

 

Summer 2000.

 

It's 4 am.  I'm in New York.  On tour with Cypress Hill.  Making sure that the band is being treated right by the producers.  Making sure that the contract is being followed to the lines.  Making sure that the band follows their schedule.  Handling a whole lot of shit that goes with being a musician's manager.  A rap artist's manager.   But despite all the work and the pressures of the tour, I cannot focus. 

 

The Paul Rosenberg has his mind set miles and miles away.  In Detroit.  Thoughts drifting away on what his other ward might have been doing this time.  I try to concentrate on the task at hand but shit.  I can't.  This is... This is different.  I don't know why, but a feeling of dread has suddenly filled me. 

 

 

---

 

I've been Em's manager since 1995.  Em.  Eminem.  Marshall Mathers.  Slim Shady.

 

I remember it clearly.  The day I "discovered" him.

 

It was the usual chilly Detroit night.  Like any other nights.  That night, I was at the Hip-hop Shop.  I was on my second year of law school.  Against my parents' wishes, I majored in Music Law.  They've been skeptical about it.  I don't blame them.   I mean, how many people succeed in this shit?  Not many. 

 

That night, like many others, I was checking out ciphers.  Rap battles.  To look for fresh talent.  I've been a fan of rap for as long as I can remember.  Even tried rapping myself.  That didn't work.  Oh well.  Might as well look for someone to whom I can apply the knowledge imparted me by UDM*.  I decided that this is where I'd specialize in.  Where I'd prove myself.  Where one day I can go back to my parents and tell them I've made the right decision.

 

The battle toiled for hours.  Rappers faced each other.  Rapper after rapper after rapper.  But nobody, nobody had 'It'.  I was starting to think that I've wasted my time.  Again.  Nobody had that special star quality.  I was getting bored by the minute and was about to leave and call it a night until the host introduced the defending champion.  The audience cheered for the champion.  I can't believe the response this guy's getting.  He hasn't appeared on stage yet but the audience can't wait. 

 

"Whoa, I need to check this guy out," I remember saying to myself.

 

The champion appears on stage to defend his title.  I can't really see clearly the performers on stage since I was seated at the back but there is no doubt that the champion who appeared onstage is white.  A white MC!  What the fuck?  That can't be right.  What's this?  Vanilla TwIce?  Fuck it.  I'm leaving.  I should've just went to St. Andrews instead.

 

But just when I was about to leave the champion began to spew his rhymes.  And my jaw just dropped.  That was the most amazing thing I've ever heard.  This is what I've been looking for all this time.  

 

"I have to meet this guy.  This M&M."

 

I waited for him to come out at the backdoor.  I went out as soon as he was again declared champion.  I will never forget that night.  It felt like it was destined to happen.  That it was fate that brought me here.  Fate that brought him here. 

 

I remember how young he looked for his age.  I'm a year older than he is but it looked more than that.  He was 23 but he looked like he was 16.  Maybe even younger.  He was a bit on the heavier side that time but nonetheless beautiful.  His fiery blue eyes stood out.  I wasn't able to speak for a few seconds.  I was just... there.  Staring.  In awe.  I can't believe that someone this beautiful can also be gifted with such talent.   Despite the grime on his face, the weary look in his eyes, his beauty radiated from beneath it.   That's what he was.  Is.  Beautiful. I chuckled at the thought.  It reminded me of that stupid fairy tale - Cinderella.  And I, Paul D. Rosenberg, shall be a fairy godmother.  I had to feign coughing a few times to control the laugh escaping my lungs.

 

From then on, I knew.  He'll change my life and that I would change his, too.

 

Not leaving the Hip-hop Shop that night would be one of the greatest decisions of my life.

 

---

 

I wonder what he's doing right now.  Hopefully, out of trouble.  This feeling of dread won’t leave me.  I'll call him later.  It's too early.

 

I let myself drift in thought.  My Cinderella.  I smiled.  My Cinderella has finally been revealed at the ball. 

 

I can't believe what a long way we've gone since that dark and chilly night in Detroit.  Em has won 2 Grammies and 2 weeks ago, Em's album sold 1.7 Million copies on its 1st week.   

 

Nothing could go wrong now.

 

My musings were suddenly interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by the tour manager.  I have a phone call.  It was Em.

 

"Paul.  I'm in jail.  I've got into a fight over Kim.  Get me out of here.  Please."

 

I didn't like how his voice sounded.  It almost sounded like a whimper.  It felt like a stab directly aimed at my heart.  And just like that, I took the next flight to Detroit.  I know a lot will be pissed but I didn't care.  All I can think about is that I need to be there as soon as possible. By Em's side.

 

-

 

I arrived about 2 hours later.  He was all alone in his cell.  A fallen angel.  There is no sign of Slim Shady here.  No sign of that foul-mouthed evil alter ego of his.  Just Em.  Just Marshall.  He couldn't look me in the eye.  He looked messed up.  That John Guerra left a nasty bruise on his eye. He was choking back tears.

 

"I had a fucked up day, Paul.  More so than the usual.  Kim and I went to this Radio store.  There's this guy who's with ICP and he called me a fag.  And it's just... It's all a blur, man.  It all came rolling from there.   Went to do some shit and when I came back home the bitch ain't there. And I don't know where she left Hailie at.  Her mom said she was at Hot Rocks so I went. She was kissing the bouncer.  The fucking bouncer, man!  How could she do this to me?  What more does she want?” And with that, the tears spilled.

 

"I'll get you out of here, Em."

 

"Thanks dawg.  I don't know what else to do.  The cops, while they was fingerprinting me? They was asking for my autograph and taking pictures.  The worst moment of my life and they're asking for my autograph?  The fuck?  I'm a human being, Paul.  Not some motherfucking spectacle."

 

-

 

His bail was placed and I paid for it.  We left using my car.  Em didn't want to come home so we went straight to my place.  It was complete silence along the way.

 

We were in the living room, sitting on the couch.  The TV was on but we weren't really watching. 

 

"Where's Gary at?" Em broke the silence.

 

"He went home.  I took care of it.  Don't fret."  I answered, reassuring him.  Gary.  He was the one who's driving.  One of Em's best friends.  I like him.  He's a good kid.  Loyal.  He tried to hide the gun when it fell.  Someone saw him though.

 

"I fucked up Gary's life, too."  It came out so soft, I almost didn't hear it.  I was worried.  I looked at him.  He's lost.  He's sitting beside me but he's not.  It felt like sitting next to a hollow shell.  I held him by the shoulders and gently shook him, calling out his name.  His eyes shift a little and he looks through me.  I silently cursed Kim.  After all these years, she still gets him.  She knows where he's weak and she never hesitates to use that knowledge to her advantage.  Despite everything he's achieved, she made him feel like a loser.  Worthless.

 

I moved my hand to brush it against his hair letting it fall gently against his cheek.  Trying to soothe him. 

 

"You did not.  Gary will never think that.  Rest.  Go to sleep."  I stood up and gently pushed him.  Coaxing him to lie down.  No objection came from him.  His eye was swelling so I decided to go to the kitchen to get some ice.  When I returned he was no longer there.  I was about to panic when I heard some movement in the bathroom.  Some rustling.  I went by the door and knocked.

 

"Em, you okay in there?"

 

There was no answer.  Just more rustling.  And then I heard some faint sobs.  Concern creeping into me.  I tried knocking again and still no response.  More sobbing. Louder.  Glass breaking.  Panic rising in me again.  That night in '97.  Visions of Em throwing up in the bowl flashing through my mind.  It can't be.  No.  Don't let this happen.  Not now.  Not ever. 

 

The door's locked.  I kick it once, twice until it finally opened.  I found Em lying on the floor.  In a fetal position.  Tears flowing uncontrollably.  The bottle of Tylenol lying shattered on the floor. 

 

"My life's over.  I fuck it all up.  Everything."

 

No. Please.  Oh my God.  No. 

 

I ran.  Gathered him in my arms.  Half cradling him.  Rocking him gently.  My mind reeling. 

 

"How many Em?  How many?" I asked but dreading to hear the answer.

 

"I can't do it, Paul.  I couldn't.  Hailie." Em answered brokenly.  In between sobs but I understood.  I didn't realize that I was crying, too.  Relief rushing through me.  Resting my chin on the top of his head.  My hold tightening around him, still rocking him.  Whispering assurances in his ear.  We stayed like that until I felt the tremors racking his body slow down.  Then entirely stopping.  I looked at his face and saw that there are still tears streaming down his cheeks but at a slower pace now. 

 

The bathroom floor had become uncomfortable and with that I decided to take him to my guestroom.  Once again, I did not receive any objection from him as I carried his weakened body down the hall and into the bedroom.  His lithe frame not giving the slightest strain on mine.  I gently lay him on the bed and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders.  Closing the blinders to block the sunlight now seeping from the windows, I turned to leave.

 

"Paul?  Could you stay?  Stay until I fall asleep."

 

And I couldn't.  I couldn't refuse him.  I can see his blue eyes looking at me.  Pleading.  And I couldn't say no. 

 

I turned and started to walk towards the sofa on the side of the bed when I heard him say no.  Confused, I looked at him and saw that he has scooted to one side of the bed.  He gently patted the now vacated side and motioned for me to come over.  I looked at him skeptically at first but finally relented.  A sigh escapes his lips as my weight settled on the mattress. 

 

I lay beside him.  On my back, looking at the ceiling.  I watched the glimmers of sunlight that managed to creep through the blinders dance as the air-conditioning blew.  I felt a sense of peace.  I turned my head to look at Em.  Lying on his back.  The same position as I am.  He was already asleep.  Finally. 

 

I watched Em sleep for a few minutes.  Marveling at how little he's changed physically.  He's lost weight.  He's a blond now.  He has a lot of tattoos.  But overall?  He looks the same.  5 years.  It's been 5 years, and he looks the same.  Innocent.  His appearance undermining the weight he's been carrying.  I smiled in amazement.  I watched him sleep for a couple more minutes, listening to the calming sound of his even breathing and then the events of the past hours finally overtook.

 

-

 

I slept for what felt like hours.  A lot of hours.  I looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table.  It's 4 p.m.  The sense of peace still settling in me.  I realized that I have shifted in my sleep.  I now lay on my side.  I looked down and saw that my right hand has encircled Em's waist.  My chin once again settling on top of Em's head.  Em's hands lying gently on my arm around him.  His head tilted towards my chest, slightly angled upwards.  Like he's looking at me although his eyes were closed. This startled me, at first.  But I made no move.  This...  This felt right.

 

5 years.  5 years of this.  I've been handling the ins and out of Em's career.  The ups and downs.  People wonder how I've lasted this long.  With Em's reputation and all.  There are a lot of reasons.  Every person that asked, I gave a different one.  But none of them that's even remotely near the truth.  I've never told anyone the real reason.  Never.  Not even Em. 

 

I felt Em shift a little.  I look down and was met with glittering blue eyes.  He smiled and I melted.

 

"B-Real's gonna fucking kill you." he said with a hint of laughter.  I had to laugh.  I noticed that he didn't make a move to remove my grip around his waist nor his hands above it.  I hold on.  Tighter.

 

"I know."  I told him and smiled.  He looks away.

 

"Thanks Paul. For staying.  I'm sorry.  I know you have other shit to do.  You can go if you..."

 

"Do you know why I stayed, Marshall?" I interrupt him.  Suddenly feeling the need to tell him.  Feeling that the moment is right.

 

Moving my left arm.  Letting the elbow rest on the pillow.  I lift my head, resting it on my palm.  I look down, regarding him. 

 

He looks up at me again.  Shakes his head. Confusion in his eyes.  I can also see fear.  I soothe him by lifting my right hand to his cheek.  Caressing it.  I hear him sigh.  I lean closer.  Hovering above him.  Hearing him exhale.  His breath on my face.  Slowly, I lean again.  Closer.  Closer still.  Closer.

 

My lips brush against his.

 

"I'll stay for as long as you need me, Marshall." 

 

I pulled away and look at him.  The smile has returned.  Understanding in his eyes.  Acceptance.  Relief. 

 

I returned to my previous position beside him.  My chin once again on top of his head, my arm encircling his waist.   

 

"You're safe with me, Marshall."

 

And that is the truth.  The reason why I stayed.  Because from then on, I knew.  From that dark and chilly 1995 night in Detroit.  I knew.  He'll change my life and that I would change his.

 

I felt love on that day.  Seen love in the most beautiful package.  Enough reasons for me to stay.

 

-END-

 

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*UDM - University of Detroit Mercy