20. Think With Your Head

Marshall's P.O.V.

"Do you know what your problem is, kid?" Paul asks me, gruff voice coming out in an exausted huff as the big dude stands towering over me. The fucker sounding like he's been climbing hills and running for miles on a mission to cockblock me from being balls deep in the rhinestone chick, whom I've left waiting for me in the penthouse's bedroom. Butt-ass naked underneath the sheets I threw over her mere seconds before Paul's giant frame was bursting through the goddamn door like he was on some bookie shit. You'd think I either owed him money or forgot to sign his last paycheck.

Standing in front of me now, Paul practically facepalms himself, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose in exasperation while I stare up at him blankly, sort of struggling to focus. Truth be told, my head is still foggy as fuck from all of the shit I've been getting into with that fucking girl last night. The shittone of drugs I took, all of the Bacardi I drank and whatever the fuck else I was on had fucked me up on some other level type shit. Ain't wanna show it too much, but yeah. I'm damn near out of it.

No wonder I've no clue where my fucking notebook is.

Goddamn. I need to find that shit and quick.

"What's my problem, Pauline?" I ask my manager just to be funny, just to get under his skin, and knowing damn well he was gonna tell me anyhow.

"You think with your dick instead of with your head," Paul is quick to sigh in response, causing me to smirk. Dude must not know that the sky is blue or some shit. "That girl right there," as if to emphasize his point, he now gestures towards the hotel room door, "she isn't good for you, Marshall. Something is off about her, she's got an agenda for messing with you, and I can smell it. Not to mention that she's bad for you professionally. Just think for a second of how it would look like if the reporters got wind of you hooking up with the same woman that's repeatedly dissed you in public."

A faint feeling of rage starts to rise in me almost instantly then.

Part of it brought by what Paul just told me, part cause of the memory of how fucking livid I was the first time the imitation diamond chick had played herself calling me out like she was a big shot or some shit.

Not even gonna lie, shit infuriated me, yo.

And I just knew then that I had to make her mine just to teach her stupid ass a lesson.

Come to think of it, I'm also pussed off that Paul is even talking shit to me about her in the first place.

"Wasn't it you and the label that organized that lil publicity stunt with me chasing after the goddamn girl all over BET, dawg? You yaself told me the fans was gonna eat the shit right up. Now you saying it ain't gonna look good for me if motherfuckers found out I mess with her? Man, how that even make any goddamn sense?"

Pushing my way last Paul, I pace around the hotel room, this weird ass anger and rage continuing to rise inside me, threatening to seep from my every pore, and I ain't even know what's exactly causing it.

All I do know is that I'm pissed that the fucker had to pop-up like this and interrupt what I was about to get into with rhinestone.

And also that I ain't like how he keeps talking about her.

"That was merely a publicity stunt in order to get the general public to speculate on the actual nature of your feud with her, Marshall," Paul huffs and puffs behind my back. Dude needs to chill with all that for real, before he ends-up having a heart-attack or some shit. "And it was a one time thing meant to capitalize on her attacks towards you and actually make the narrative all about you again. But it wasn't meant for you to actually allow that woman to continue to play you and for you to keep spending time with her."

More rage clouding my head, making me wanna punch something. And I can physically feel my jaw clench so hard, my top teeth grind against my lower ones, and my mouth instantly goes dry.

"She ain't playing me, man! Fuck you on? You for real think imma let some dumb slut play me?! You fucking for real, dawg?"

"What ARE you doing with her then, Marshall?" Paul sounds rough and exausted. He plops down on one of the chairs behind him, his huge frame practically slumping in it.

I can feel the corners of my mouth stretch into a shit-eating grin.

"Just having fun," I state nonchalantly, scratching at the back of my head with one hand.

Paul facepalms himself.

"Is that why you keep missing important label meetings and interviews?" He practically bellows at me.

Motherfucker needs to chill for real.

"I ain't miss no meetings. Fuck you on about?"

"Are you serious? Marshall, I've texted you about an interview I ended-up having to cancel today on your behalf due to you being a no-show. You want to explain that to me?!"

I try to think, try to concentrate, but my gpddamn fogged up brain is coming up with nothing but blanks once more. Goddamn. Way overdid it with the damn drugs last night.

Refusing to admit as much to my manager though, I just stand there, my face stiff as hell, thinking of ways of getting him to get the fuck out.

Eventually just throwing both of my middle fingers up.

"Real mature," Paul sighs, "Now let me ask you something, Em. Since when are you ignoring calls from your wife in favor of some random female you screwing? What, you don't care to hear about your own daughter anymore?"

Those last words the bald fucker just spoke obviously meant to strike a cord within me, and they do.

Cause fuck he mean I don't care about Hai?!

"Fuck you said to me just now, Paul? Cause let me tell you something. You ain't know shit! Only reason I'm still speaking to Kim IS in fact cause of Hailie. But you know what that slut did? She sent my daughter away on a school trip I ain't even authorized just to fuck with me. I can't talk to Hailie until she returns, so I ain't got no reason for returning any of Kim's calls right now. Fuck her."

Rubbing his bald head for what must be a hundredth time today, Paul shuts his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Pretty sure he just asked himself why he ain't quit working for me yet.

"Alright," he finally states. "I'm not gonna get involved in your personal business, Marshall, cause frankly it's not my problem. But as far your career goes, fucking get yourself together. No more missing important meetings, no more bullshit. Remember why you got into this life in the first place. And stop allowing that girl to mess with your head. I've rescheduled that interview you've missed for 4 hours from now. As well as a label meeting. Go take a shower, sober the fuck up and be there later. And you better show up this time or so help me God."

By the time I make my way back into the hotel room, Harmony is laid up across the bed, looking up innocently at me as I enter. Her long hair hanging over her tits, her head propped up with her hand, tiny waist accentuated by a perfectly curved fucking hip. She ain't got not a piece of clothing on, and she had pulled back the bedsheets I had previously covered her with.

I stop in my tracks and just stare at her for a few seconds, my eyes roaming her body involuntarily, almost like an instinct, and I feel my cock instantly stir in my pants, coming back to life and rubbing uncomfortably against the inside of my boxers, aching to get right back in that tight wet pussy.

Unexplained anger bubbling up inside me at the same time, cause fuck is she playing at? How she know it was gonna be just myself to enter the room, how she knew Paul wasn't coming in with me? And yet she still laying there in her birthday suit not giving a fuck just like the dirty little slut that she is.

Then another thought occurs to me.

"Was you eavesdropping on my conversation, girl?" I ask, my voice coming out raspy and almost strained for some reason. Finally making my way over to her. I stop at the edge of the bed and continue to just stare at her hard.

She doesn't even try to deny it.

"What if I was?"

Smiling up at me, she now crawls up closer to the edge of the bed where I'm stood and looks up at me from where she kneels on the bed, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that almost appear innocent. If only there wasn't a goddamn devil deep inside of them that ain't all that hard to spot at all. This goddamn girl is trouble and she knows it damn well that she is.

She bites her lip, her tiny hands traveling up and down my chest before making their way to my pants and she starts pulling them down along with my boxers, and I just watch her. My eyes

And that's when it downs on me that maybe Paul was right. The fucker can be a real buzz kill, but one thing about dude is that he do know what the fuck he's talking about. For the most part.

Maybe I have in fact been letting the little rhinestone chick fuck with my head.

Don't really know why.

Shit don't even makes sense.

All I ever wanted to do was just hit it and put the bitch in her place. Shut her mouth, stop it from talking shit. And I been did that. So why am I still messing around with her? Why i do i keep dragging her with me everywhere, partying with her, sitting in a car with her like she was my goddamn girl, allowing her to spend the night at my hotel room, barely even seeing the fellas no more cause I'm always with her crazy ass?

Shit's embarrassing, yo. And maybe I was in fact thinking with my dick and not with my head.

"Yo, hold up."

Just as she was about to pull my pants all the way down, I grab at her hands, my fingers easily wrapping around her tiny wrists and pull them off of me. Her brown eyes instantly looking back up at me with an amused expression in them.

"What's wrong, Em?"

And goddamit, my dick is still hard.

Maybe I need to let her take care of it for me before I kick her ass out.

But nah. Cause then she'll just suck me in again. Like a dumbass.

"Tell you what, Harmony. Whatever the fuck we doing, baby, I think we ought to take a break," I say to her, my voice coming out hoarse for whatever reason, the saliva in my mouth suddenly thick as hell.

Rhinestone chick look up at me, the confusion on her face morphing into an amused expression causing my jaw to clench, locking in place. I fucking hate for any bitch to look at me like this. Like she's mocking me or some shit.

Who the fuck she think she is?

"And what is it that you think we are doing, Em?" The question rolls off of her lips easily while she looks up at me, playing with the ends of her long hair. She narrows her eyes just slightly. "Cause I thought we were just fucking and having a good time."

I nod, smirking down at her.

"And we was. But you know how it goes, baby. All good things come to an end."

Her eyes look onto mine again as Harmony smiles. I study her face, watching her closely, trying to gauge her reaction.

If she's upset at all, then she doesn't show it.

"Okay cool," she finally states, getting up from the bed.

I scoff involuntarily, clearing my throat right after.

"That... all you gotta say?" I huff out, jaw locking tight once more.

Harmony stares back at me, letting out a soft giggle before looking around the room.

"What else did you want me to say, baby boy? We had fun together, and it was good while it lasted, right?" She asks me softly. She then starts picking up her clothes off of the floor and putting them on. And I just stand there and watch her like a creep. She slides one of then stupid lollipops she loves sucking on so much into her mouth once she's dressed, almost as if to compliment her look.

And then she's out of the door, just like that, causing me to scratch my head as I plop back down on the bed.

Damn.

I had thought she'd be more upset about this. Girls usually are, but I guess I should've known that Harmony won't be. She ain't like a normal broad after all. Something is wrong with her..

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This was just a filler chapter to set up for some future messiness and drama in the story lol