Whatever You Say
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Eminem/Marshall Mathers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
5,152
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Eminem/Marshall Mathers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
5,152
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! I really appreciate them, and hope that you like this chapter, also. Oh, yeah, and I forgot a disclaimer, so here- I do not own Christina Aguilera, Eminem, or anyone else that you recognize that is a real person. I used all of this to entertain myself on a thirteen hour drive to Florida. Thanks again!
Chapter 2-
Eminem shook his head as Henry Johnson, an Interscope exec, once again commented that this particular song was all wrong. Apparently, a first single should cause just enough controversy to keep the public's interest up, make them want to know what else is on the record. If you let out something that insults the President, Justin Timberlake, Beyonce`, Ja Rule, Slim's mother, Pink, Shitney, and Madonna all at once, he said, no one will want to hear the rest of it.
Marshall tuned out the annoying monotone of Johnson's voice, allowing Dre to handle him. He let his mind run back to earlier that night, when he had bargained with Christina Aguilera. He had to admit to himself, those jeans really did her justice. And, while he was being honest with himself, it was nice to see her hair blonde again. Not to men-
"SLIM!" His eyes snapped up to rest on Dre.
"What the hell are you yelling about?" He asked.
"I've been trying to get your attention for five fucking minutes now. What do you think?" The older man asked.
"About what?"
"EM?! Jesus Christ. We were wondering if you are willing to spice up the song with an extra verse or two, a faster beat, a collaboration maybe..." He suggested, hesitantly.
"With who?" He asked tiredly.
"I was thinking Lil' Kim." Dre answered quickly.
**Oh, Fuck. Of course it'd be somebody you don' like, Marsh. You aren't lucky enough for someone you do.**
"Yo! You know I don' get along wit her. And the fuckin' song is DONE." He argued.
"I know, Slim." Dre agreed. "Which is why I also though we should throw in Kim's friend Mya and Curtis, too. They keep the peace, you know?" He finished.
Em took a sec seconds to consider the deal. That'd be fuckin' hot, he just wasn't sure if listening to the female rapper's mouth would be worth it. He stood up and walked over to the window, weighing the verses, already deleting two, ready to allow one for him, one for Kim, one for Curtis, and backup for Mya. It would be good, but it could be better. He was seeing it now... two more people, a verse each, the song about four minutes long... but who?
Finally, he spoke.
"Yeah, okay. One condition. You've gotta be in it too, Dre, and we need one more woman. Prolly a vocalist, and a good one at that. Aight?" He asked.
"Perfect!" Johnson exclaimed. "You up for it, Dre?"
"Why not?" He replied. "Who do we want for our vocalist?"
"I don't know. Let's get everyone together, then decide. Dre, you gonna make arrangements? I need to make a call." Marshall explained. He really wanted to get a hold of Aguilera, before she forgot she had to make his daughter's birthday. He was half expecting he ref refuse to come.
**She prolly will, too. She is incredibly hot, but she's still almost as big a bitch as your ex, Slim.** He reminded himself as he went into the hall. Getting his cell out, he paused. **Fuck. I don't have her fuckin' number. Whore prolly knows it too.**
He swore to himself a few more times, then walked to the front desk. The receptionist, a red headed twenty-something, looked up from her romance novel.
"Mr. Mathers!" She squeaked. "What can I help you with?"
He inwardly rolled his eyes. They got the most IDIOTIC people to work here.
"I need to know where Christina Aguilera is." He said smoothly.
"Um, sixth floor, Studio 7. Anything else?" She a, bu, but he had already turned to go.
A few minutes later, he was outside Studio 7, the sound of a guitar solo filling his ears. After a few seconds of trying to place it, he moved to open the door and stopped.
~Your love is like a tidal wave, spinning over my head
Drownin' me in your promises, better left unsaid
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be~
He quietly opened the door and crept inside, smirking as he saw the former teeny-bopper concentrating on her own voice. She was curled up in chair with a notebook, occasionally nodding or frowning.
~You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream ma lov love taker
Don't you mess around - no no no!
Your love has set my soul on fire, burnin' out of control
You taught me the ways of desire, now its takin' its toll
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around - no no no!~
The music, which had been about the same as the original version, suddenly turned to a high piano tune, then stopped all together. The next few words were sang acappella, held out with long runs at the end of each line, showcasing Christina's unbelievable voice.
~You're the right kind of sinner, tleaslease my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!~
The bass faded in, backing up her voice once again. Slim stood in the doorway, still watching her.
~You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Heartbreaker!~
As the last note faded, Ma, Marshall clapped quietly. Christina looked, up startled.
"What are you doing in here?" She questioned, her alarm evident in her voice.
"I came to tell you that Hailie's birthday is tomorrow night at 7:30. Do you need directions?" He asked.
"This is not calling." She said.
"I know. I don't have you're number, dumbass." He retorted.
"You could have asked, asshole. And no, I don't need directions, just give me your adress." She ordered. He realed it off and she wrote it in her notebook.
"Anyway, that song... who's it by originally?" He inquired.
"Pat Benetar. She's one of my mom's favorites." She answered.
"Well, your version sounds okay, I guess." He said.
"I'll choose to take that as a compliment. I'm gonna get going, Ron already left." She added, switching off the equipment and pulling on her hoodie again.
"Aight. Hope you wreck." He teased.
"Hope I crash into you." She replied, walking out the door.
Christina's POV
**Oh, shit.** She thought as she climbed into her car. **What am I gonna tell Ron tomorrow?**
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~SI~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Next time-
Hailie's party
The collaboration starts
Your regular old club scene, except no one knows who is who!
~Song credit- tbretbreaker- Pat Benetar
Chapter 2-
Eminem shook his head as Henry Johnson, an Interscope exec, once again commented that this particular song was all wrong. Apparently, a first single should cause just enough controversy to keep the public's interest up, make them want to know what else is on the record. If you let out something that insults the President, Justin Timberlake, Beyonce`, Ja Rule, Slim's mother, Pink, Shitney, and Madonna all at once, he said, no one will want to hear the rest of it.
Marshall tuned out the annoying monotone of Johnson's voice, allowing Dre to handle him. He let his mind run back to earlier that night, when he had bargained with Christina Aguilera. He had to admit to himself, those jeans really did her justice. And, while he was being honest with himself, it was nice to see her hair blonde again. Not to men-
"SLIM!" His eyes snapped up to rest on Dre.
"What the hell are you yelling about?" He asked.
"I've been trying to get your attention for five fucking minutes now. What do you think?" The older man asked.
"About what?"
"EM?! Jesus Christ. We were wondering if you are willing to spice up the song with an extra verse or two, a faster beat, a collaboration maybe..." He suggested, hesitantly.
"With who?" He asked tiredly.
"I was thinking Lil' Kim." Dre answered quickly.
**Oh, Fuck. Of course it'd be somebody you don' like, Marsh. You aren't lucky enough for someone you do.**
"Yo! You know I don' get along wit her. And the fuckin' song is DONE." He argued.
"I know, Slim." Dre agreed. "Which is why I also though we should throw in Kim's friend Mya and Curtis, too. They keep the peace, you know?" He finished.
Em took a sec seconds to consider the deal. That'd be fuckin' hot, he just wasn't sure if listening to the female rapper's mouth would be worth it. He stood up and walked over to the window, weighing the verses, already deleting two, ready to allow one for him, one for Kim, one for Curtis, and backup for Mya. It would be good, but it could be better. He was seeing it now... two more people, a verse each, the song about four minutes long... but who?
Finally, he spoke.
"Yeah, okay. One condition. You've gotta be in it too, Dre, and we need one more woman. Prolly a vocalist, and a good one at that. Aight?" He asked.
"Perfect!" Johnson exclaimed. "You up for it, Dre?"
"Why not?" He replied. "Who do we want for our vocalist?"
"I don't know. Let's get everyone together, then decide. Dre, you gonna make arrangements? I need to make a call." Marshall explained. He really wanted to get a hold of Aguilera, before she forgot she had to make his daughter's birthday. He was half expecting he ref refuse to come.
**She prolly will, too. She is incredibly hot, but she's still almost as big a bitch as your ex, Slim.** He reminded himself as he went into the hall. Getting his cell out, he paused. **Fuck. I don't have her fuckin' number. Whore prolly knows it too.**
He swore to himself a few more times, then walked to the front desk. The receptionist, a red headed twenty-something, looked up from her romance novel.
"Mr. Mathers!" She squeaked. "What can I help you with?"
He inwardly rolled his eyes. They got the most IDIOTIC people to work here.
"I need to know where Christina Aguilera is." He said smoothly.
"Um, sixth floor, Studio 7. Anything else?" She a, bu, but he had already turned to go.
A few minutes later, he was outside Studio 7, the sound of a guitar solo filling his ears. After a few seconds of trying to place it, he moved to open the door and stopped.
~Your love is like a tidal wave, spinning over my head
Drownin' me in your promises, better left unsaid
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be~
He quietly opened the door and crept inside, smirking as he saw the former teeny-bopper concentrating on her own voice. She was curled up in chair with a notebook, occasionally nodding or frowning.
~You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream ma lov love taker
Don't you mess around - no no no!
Your love has set my soul on fire, burnin' out of control
You taught me the ways of desire, now its takin' its toll
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around - no no no!~
The music, which had been about the same as the original version, suddenly turned to a high piano tune, then stopped all together. The next few words were sang acappella, held out with long runs at the end of each line, showcasing Christina's unbelievable voice.
~You're the right kind of sinner, tleaslease my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!~
The bass faded in, backing up her voice once again. Slim stood in the doorway, still watching her.
~You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Heartbreaker!~
As the last note faded, Ma, Marshall clapped quietly. Christina looked, up startled.
"What are you doing in here?" She questioned, her alarm evident in her voice.
"I came to tell you that Hailie's birthday is tomorrow night at 7:30. Do you need directions?" He asked.
"This is not calling." She said.
"I know. I don't have you're number, dumbass." He retorted.
"You could have asked, asshole. And no, I don't need directions, just give me your adress." She ordered. He realed it off and she wrote it in her notebook.
"Anyway, that song... who's it by originally?" He inquired.
"Pat Benetar. She's one of my mom's favorites." She answered.
"Well, your version sounds okay, I guess." He said.
"I'll choose to take that as a compliment. I'm gonna get going, Ron already left." She added, switching off the equipment and pulling on her hoodie again.
"Aight. Hope you wreck." He teased.
"Hope I crash into you." She replied, walking out the door.
Christina's POV
**Oh, shit.** She thought as she climbed into her car. **What am I gonna tell Ron tomorrow?**
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~SI~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Next time-
Hailie's party
The collaboration starts
Your regular old club scene, except no one knows who is who!
~Song credit- tbretbreaker- Pat Benetar