~> The story written below is purely fictional. Not a fraction of truth is riddled between these words nor does the author imply that there should be. Most of the events in the pages to follow are created in the author's mind and thus should not be taken as fact in any way. He takes no responsibility for any illegal activity such as underage reading because it is done without his knowledge or sanction. The story's solitary intention is that of entertainment and nothing beyond.
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The Sun is barely on the horizon to the east but he is startled awake. His thoughts will not let him sleep because he feels too guilty about what happened last night. The G-Unit member blinks a few times before looking over to see who he is sharing the bed with. His heart sinks and his insides shake to the very core of his essence when he sees 50 so close to him. It did happen. He did cheat on Ludacris. He rubs his temples as he hangs his head, trying to wake up from the nightmare he finds himself in. That satisfaction will never come and when he realizes it, his stomach is in one huge knot and his brain just wants to give up. Lloyd Banks easily slips the coverlet away from his naked frame and gets out of the bed; he speedily walks out of the room, never turning back once. It is his sin to bear. How will he ever face the southern rapper again? How will their relationship survive this? Only negative thoughts occupy his mind because he is not worthy of any kind of positive ones. How could he have been so stupid? So weak? It will destroy their relationship.
In his room, the slender rapper immediately heads for the shower to try and scrub his skin off. Try and scrub off every kiss, mark, and other thing 50 Cent left on his body last night. Why did he allow this to happen? He loves his boyfriend and not this other man. At least, not anymore. Things will never be the same with either relationship again and it is his entire fault. Warm water falls over his body and he will not give in to the urge to cry. Hardcore thug rappers do not cry. Banks uses a bar of soap to wash every conceivable inch of his skin; it will wash the memories of the past night away. It has to. He wants to leave this place right now, before 50 gets up, and never look back but it is easier said than done. He cannot handle this and just wants to run away. Run back to Ludacris and kiss him. When the shower starts taking away less and less of his pain, he gets out and grabs a nearby towel to dry off. It is tricky but he manages to brush his teeth without looking in the mirror once. He knows he will want to shatter it into a million pieces if eye contact is made.
Lloyd Banks finds a shirt and pair of shorts from his boyfriend’s clothes and quickly puts them on over his body. It makes him feel that much closer to the man he just hurt. Water is forming itself behind his eyes but he will not allow them to drop for the world to see and judge him for. The impulse of running is soaring through his veins at a supersonic speed and he honestly does not know what is keeping him in the house right now. It is too delicate to delve into at the moment so he leaves it alone for the time being. The young rap star wants to understand it all but nothing is coming to him. Does he still have feelings for him? Does he still want him? Does last night prove that and more? Down the stairs and in the kitchen, he fixes a large bowl of cereal before going into the grand room to watch some television. It is barely eight o’clock in the morning and he is restless. Banks flicks on the TV and tries to forget all the problems he caused for himself. He wants more than anything to talk to his man but what can he possibly say? He messed up again; and with 50 again.
A cold shock slithers down his spine when he hears 50 Cent say, “You’re up early.” His once resting heart is exponentially increasing and he suddenly wants to throw up.
“Couldn’t sleep I guess.” He does not dare watch as the other man enters the room and sit next to him.
“Yea. Why?” It is a horrible lie.
“You shakin’ like crazy.” The large room hears a slight laugh.
He looks over to see the buff rapper for the first time of the early morning. He is tantalizingly wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms. “Naw.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because it happened again last night---”
“What you tryin’ to do?” Banks asks out of nowhere and completely cuts him off.
“Huh? What you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“Why’d you kiss me last night?” They are directly staring at each other now.
“It was the right thing to do.”
“Us. For you and me.”
A once suppressed rage begins to flourish in the younger rapper’s voice. “No it wasn’t.”
“Because you don’t want me like that.”
“That’s not what I said last night. Or feel now.”
“What the fuck changed?”
“You’re upset Chris. Why?” 50 asks in a sincere tone. Things are not adding up like he thought they would be.
“Because this shit isn’t supposed to happen. It’s a mistake.”
“Isn’t this funny. After the first time I said it was a mistake and you sayin’ it’s a mistake now. Tryin’ to play hard to get kid?”
“Fuck you. I moved past this shit and now you tryin’ to play with me like this?”
“I’m not playin’ with you baby.”
“Don’t fuckin’ call me that! You planned this didn’t you?”
“No. Not in the beginning.”
“You ain’t gay nigga. What you frontin’ for?” the G-Unit member states matter-of-factly and looks away. Things are beyond the level of complicated now and he really wants to leave the house. He has to.
“Ain’t frontin’. Dunno if I’m gay or not but I know I want you.”
“This shit ain’t makin’ any sense. I’m in a bad nightmare right?”
“You can’t deny it Chris. What you think I tried to do after the first time? Shit doesn’t work.”
“Why are you doin’ this to me?” Banks feels like he is on the verge of a breakdown. His body is still shaking and his breath and heart rate are drastically increased. He really needs to leave this place now.
“What you talkin’ ‘bout? This is what you want. Now I want it too.”
“No! No! I gotta get outta here.”
“What? Where you goin’?”
“I came here because part of me felt guilty ‘bout all the fights we had in the past. I wanted you to get better. I didn’t want this shit. I got somebody---” the more than agitated rapper slips up and says.
“You got a nigga? Who?”
“Don’t fuckin’ matter.”
“You right. And it didn’t matter last night when I was kissin’ you and you was ridin’ my dick.”
The impulse is there and defeating him to punch the older man in his face. “I’m gone.” He gets up and begins walking to the front door.
50 gets up and follows behind him. “You always runnin’ Chris. Don’t you see nigga? This shit was meant to be.”
“Fuck off! I ain’t with that destiny bullshit.” They are almost to the point of arguing now.
“So you just gonna leave me after what happened.”
“Don’t want you.”
“Who’s this nigga? Lemme go fuck him up.”
Instead of heading for the door right away, the frustrated G-Unit rapper heads up the stairs and to his old room to gather up all of his boyfriend’s things. He follows him up there and they are still talking. Once in the room, clothes are thrown into suitcases and everything is hastily rounded up for his departure from his sin. 50 looks on and tries to talk to him while everything is going on but it is all moving way too fast for either of them to control. Banks flips his phone open and calls for a driver to come and pick him up and he immediately drags all his suitcases downstairs and rests them by the door. He physically cannot afford to stay in the house for much longer because anger, resentment, and hurt are forming together to cause serious pain. He wants Ludacris. He wants everything to be right with them. The buff superstar continues to follow him until his mind has enough and his body snaps. Lloyd Banks will not walk out of his house and his life again because he will not allow it. On the first floor, 50 Cent grabs and pushes him into a nearby wall, pinning himself there.
“Where you goin’?” His tone is caring but the slender rapper does not hear that.
“Let me go Curtis. I can’t do this shit.”
“Talk to me Chris.”
“No. Nothin’ left to say.”
“Why’d you let last night happen if you got a nigga huh?” 50 glares deep into his eyes. Anger is there but he also sees subtle hints of fright.
“I---” his words are stumbled over and seem coerced.
“You ain’t got an answer for me. This cat don’t mean shit to you.”
“You don’t know shit so shut the fuck up and let me go!”
A complete shock takes over his body when the ebony rapper forces their lips together for another stint in time. “You ready to walk away from that? From me?” he asks when they break apart.
“Let me go.” Banks voice is still calm but he is unsure of how long it will stay as such.
“I was stupid before. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting you. I love you.”
Silence fills the air of the Connecticut mansion. Lloyd Banks stares into the other man’s eyes at the last words and does not know whether he wants to punch him or embrace him. It is too late for that. Their relationship cannot be salvaged simply because he uses the special three words. He will not go back and undo everything he did and everything it took him to get to the point of forgetting about 50 Cent. He loves Ludacris and only him. The G-Unit founder lets go of the tight grip on his shoulders and backs off while the air is still heavy with admission. They cannot stop looking at each other and the only thing to break the moment is when a car horn screeches from outside, letting them know that the driver is in their presence. Banks dissipates their critical eye contact and makes a slow move for the door. 50, overpowering every urge in his body, lets it happen and lets the man he loves walk out of his home and his life. He is still confused and wants to hold the slender rapper back but he cannot force it. The car speeds away from his large home.
He always runs. This time is no different but it is different. He messed up and now his mind will not let him forget it. Fleeing to New York, the young star finds a hotel for the night so he can think and try to come to grips with what is now going on in his life. 50 Cent has already called him no less than twenty times but each goes unanswered for the simple fact that he is not ready for the conversation. He doubts he will ever be. The day slowly drags on until the Sun disappears; Lloyd Banks can do nothing but think about Ludacris. He already lost his boyfriend once to 50; it cannot happen again. An overpowering guilt consumes him when he realizes that he just made the decision to lie to the southern rapper about his affair with his once best friend. It will eat him alive but for his love, he cannot say anything. Darkness drips against the numerous windows of the suite as Banks lies there and ignores another series of phone calls. Weakness gets the best of him, both last night as well as this one. Sleep serenely surrenders him into an abyss.
A few days go by with no one hearing a single word from the jaded rap star. He has not left his hotel suite to go anywhere. The night replays in his mind over and over while it starts to scratch away at his sanity. His face is unshaven and his eyes are bloodshot because of the lack of sleep. He is burning himself out and making himself sick because of the constant bombardment of that single thought. That solitary night of pleasure and pain. Banks orders himself a light lunch but does not eat much of it. His body sees a warm and relaxing bath but it manages to do very little for him. All his time is used thinking of what to say to 50. How he can lie to Ludacris so as not to lose him all over again. Minutes stick together and hours takes eternities to past before it is nightfall on the busy metropolis once again. The G-Unit member shuts off all the lights to his room and sits on the sofa in the living room. When his eyes start to give up on him, he turns off the TV and falls asleep on the piece of furniture. He is too weary to walk to the room. It is a few minutes before nine.
At around two in the morning, a loud noise ricochets off the room’s walls and bangs into his eardrums. His phone on the other end of the sofa is going off. “Hello?” the young rapper’s voice is weak and incoherent.
“Chris! What the hell?” Ludacris snaps without hesitation. “I’ve been callin’ you for the past three days.”
“Where the hell have you been?”
Lloyd Banks shifts his body and rubs his eyes a little before finally realizing who he is on the phone with. “Hey.”
“That’s all you got to say nigga? I’ve been worryin’ my ass ‘bout you.”
“That’s it? How ‘bout an explanation kid.”
“What explanation? You ain’t my father,” he says before thinking and almost instantly comes to regret it.
“No. I was sleepin’.”
“What’s goin’ on? You still up there in Connecticut?”
“Naw. I’m out here in NY.”
“When’d you leave? Why didn’t you tell me Chris?” the older man is more concerned than anything else. “Everythin’ aight?”
He hates himself for what he is about to do. “Yea babe. Everythin’ good. Been too busy catchin’ up on shit to call anyone. Sorry.”
“Damn. You had me worried baby. I thought somethin’ happen---”
“Where you at?”
“H-Town doin’ some press junkets. He got better?”
He does not want to talk about 50 Cent and sighs to himself before saying, “Yea. He got his bandages off the other day.”
“It took long enough. They ever catch the nigga that did that to him?”
“Naw. Talk ‘bout somethin’ else.”
“Y’all niggas fight again? What happened?”
“Nothin’. I just don’t wanna talk ‘bout him.”
The DTP rapper sighs before commenting, “It’s a lie. Somethin’ botherin’ you and I know it has to do with his ass.”
“I don’t wanna do this.”
“Do what? Talk to me?”
“Talk to you ‘bout him.”
“What the fuck happened Chris? He did somethin’ to you.”
“I’m straight Bri. Just tired as hell.”
“Okay---” He still does not believe his boyfriend.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I got caught up.”
“I’ll kill you if you scare me like that again,” the other rap star muses on the line. He is finding their conversation hard because he knows his man is lying about something.
“That was my fault. When you gonna be outta Houston?”
“Hard to say. Beside the press, I got some serious producin’ to do down here before I go anywhere. Maybe you can come down here like you did in ATL. I promise I’ll act surprised and make it worth your while,” Ludacris tries to sound convincing. It is all too adorable and the guilt starts to suck more of his life away now.
“I want that but I dunno. I can try---”
“You too busy lil’ G-Unit boy.”
“When you gonna tell me what’s botherin’ you?”
“Huh? I told you. Nothin’,” the G-Unit rapper lies again. He is digging himself deeper and each subsequent lie makes it that much more impossible to get out of.
“Baby I love you.”
“I know you do.”
“Why won’t you let me help you then?”
“Because you can’t. I wish you could Chris but you can’t. No one can.”
“Fuck this shit. I’m comin’ to see you. Stay in New York for a couple days.”
Banks’ heart starts to beat faster. He cannot face his man now. The longer he can avoid him is the longer the lie will be able to work. “Don’t do that. You gotta work.”
“Fuck work. You ain’t tellin’ me shit over the phone and I know I can get it outta yo ass if I see you.”
“Babe. Please. Don’t. I need some time by myself.”
“What the hell is goin’ on with you?”
“Nothing. I’m gonna go back to bed.”
“Okay. I love---” The line is dead.
Lloyd Banks gets up and walks to his room in the dark with his phone clutched into his hands. He physically cannot say those three words back to his boyfriend because he is not worthy to do so. He is not worthy to feel that kind of joy and happiness because of the mistake with 50 Cent. The mistake he is still feeling deep down within his stomach. His fingers can still feel the man’s muscles on their tips. How long can he avoid Ludacris? How long can he put off telling the truth and telling the real man he loves what he did? The slender rapper crawls into bed against the darkness cascading outside and tries to fall asleep for the second time in one night. His conscience scolds him for being so selfish but he cannot accept losing his boyfriend over his weakness. Over something that was never supposed to happen again. He means too much for Banks to give him up. It is selfish and underhanded and tricky but he is getting to keep what he wants more than anything in the world so that makes it right on some level. He needs time to sort it all out.
50 Cent looks back at his house while standing at the front door; he reminisces about all the time he was there. All the time he spent there with Lloyd Banks. They have to work it out because he loves him. He can say it freely and honestly now. A driver in dressed in black stands by the door to the long limo parked on his driveway as he says his final goodbye to the house and all the memories in it. The elongated car pulls away and he is immediately on the phone with his publicist; she informs him that there are no new substantial leads in his shooting case and he immediately gets upset. The New York police force is failing him and it frustrates him to no end. The muscular rap star answers a few text messages from both Dr. Dré and Eminem on his way to the airport. He is going back to the state where he has been shot ten times now. His stomach is fully healed and he no longer needs any type of medication for the pain because it is gone. His night with Banks stays on his mind always. 50 will never again begin to feel like that with anyone else.
Checkout through the airport is as smoothly as can be expected and the private plane is scheduled to leave almost immediately upon his arrival; that is the convenience flying privately. The G-Unit founder walks onto the tarmac and up the folding staircase into the plane with no luggage on him. He came to Connecticut with nothing in his hands and is leaving the Constitution State as such. A routine check of the aircraft ensues and once the pilot’s voice is heard over the speaker, 50 instinctively buckles himself into the seat and gets ready to go back to his home state. It is not for work or for money or even to comment on his recent shooting to the press. It is about seeing Marquise and letting the little boy know that his father is stronger than ever and ready to get back to his life. The cabin rumbles as he is plucking a glass of champagne from a tray held by a flight attendant and before anything else, they are in the air together. 50 Cent gulps the bubbly drink and looks out a nearby window to see a few birds flying alongside the airplane. He only smiles.
Their night was magnificent. More than magnificent. Perfect. How can he turn his back on that? How can he turn his back on 50 telling him that he loves him? It does not make any sense. His mind sees the night over and over as well as the morning after. The morning Banks informed him that he was in a relationship with another man and ran out on him. Who is he involved with? The ebony rapper sits there in dead silence with his eye piercing the atmosphere outside as his minds feeds him thoughts after thoughts on how to work this situation out with his best friend. He knows the other man wants him because if he did not then that night would have never happened. He closes his mind off when the pilot informs the plane that they are about to land in New York. The excitement courses through his veins to see his son; he cannot be any more discreet. A silver Escalade awaits him at the airport and it is nearly four in the afternoon when he is en route to his former girlfriend’s home. Marquise should be out of school now and he cannot wait to see the six-year-old.
Closed knuckles tap against the door. “Curtis. Hi. How are you feeling?” his once girlfriend asks when she opens the door. She hugs him immediately.
“Damn good. Real good.”
“That’s great to hear. You look stronger.”
“Come in. He’ll be so happy to see you back to your old self again.”
“I miss him so much,” 50 honestly admits.
“I know. Make yourself at home and I’ll go get him.”
She smiles warmly before heading up the stairs to get their son. Anticipation is boiling over within himself as he sits on a chair at the table in the kitchen. “Daddy? What are you doing here?” his son’s voice booms as he walks into the kitchen to see his father.
“Came to see you of course Twenty-five Cent,” he says as the little boy rushes and hugs him tightly. It feels better than he can ever expect.
“Are you okay? I mean, are you still hurt?”
“Naw lil’ man. I’m good. Even better now. Hug me tighter.”
It happens. “I was actually about to go out grocery shopping. Do you boys want to stay home until I come back?”
“Okay mommy. Bye.”
The pair watches her gather her keys and wave her goodbye from the front door. “I’m so glad you’re all better daddy.”
“Me too,” the buff rapper agrees when they reach the living room and sit on the sofa together.
“Does it hurt?” Curiosity gets the best of him.
“Nope. Not anymore. You wanna see?”
The G-Unit founder shifts his body gently before lifting up his shirt so his son can see the result of his latest bullet wound; the black ring. “See? It’s all healed now.”
“Would it hurt if I touched it?”
Marquise extends his small hand and touches his father’s wound. His soft fingers caress it for s short while before he pulls away. “It feels rough there.”
“That’s how the skin healed up baby.” His shirt covers his muscular body once again.
“I couldn’t stop crying---”
“I know but it’s all over now.”
“No it isn’t. They still didn’t catch the guy who did this.”
He looks down toward him. “How do you know that squirt?”
“I heard it on the TV. Is it true?”
“Oh. Yea. It’s true.”
“Are you scared daddy?”
“No. They’ll catch him.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so buddy. So what did you do in school today?”
Marquise smiles up at his father before he starts to explain his day. “I did math and I had to read in front of the class---”
“Yep! I’m a good reader daddy.”
“I know you are. So what else did you do?”
“I had lunch and played outside and that’s about it.”
“Sounds like you had a busy day.”
“Yep. I’m glad it’s over,” the six-year-old says as he snuggles closer to his father. “I’m glad you’re here daddy.”
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else Tré.”
The pair continues to sit closely to one another and talk about anything and everything that comes to their minds; the TV is on but neither is paying much attention to it because of their conversation. Being around his son makes him feel more like himself and he cannot get enough of it. The hours inconspicuously slip by while they play, laugh, and have a good time with each other. Marquise starts crying as a result of all his laughing and concedes defeat under 50’s skillful hands on many occasions. When his mother returns from the grocery store, they help her bring everything into the house as she packs it away. The recovered rapper offers to give his boy a bath before bedtime and ends up getting sprinkled with water; it is payback for all the tickling earlier. Once in his pajamas, they return downstairs so he can do his homework. The six-year-old finishes his homework with the aide of his father and they all sit down to dinner like a real family; it is the only family he has left in the world. 50 Cent cannot remember the last time he had a good home-cooked meal.
It is almost past ten when his mother informs him that he has to get ready for bed because of school tomorrow. The youth groans but it subsides when the buff rapper offers to walk him upstairs and stay with him until he falls asleep. He jumps on his father’s strong back for a piggyback ride and gets dunked onto his bed when they reach his room. He pops back up for a surprise attack but it does not work and before he knows it, he is already tucked into bed. The G-Unit rapper smiles and grabs a nearby chair to sit at the edge of the bed with his little boy. Marquise yawns and kisses him goodnight before they talk a little more; he can tell that his son is worn out and ready for bed. 50 traces his thumb across his small forehead as he sees his eyes closing. It is the most innocent thing in the world to him. He yawns again before closing his eyes for the night. The father in him wants to stay but he has been away from the game for far too long and he needs to get back into it. 50 Cent still sits there and watches his son sleep away. The light dances off his soft skin.
“I love you Marquise Jackson. My son,” he says softly before kissing him on the forehead where his thumb was just rubbing against.
50 Cent leaves the house after a hug from his former girlfriend and hops into his limo to be taken to his hotel room. His publicist will most likely set up a press conference so he can address the media himself but it is something that he is not looking forward to. All the questions and insinuations will drive him crazy. And on top of it all, he has to be extra cautious because he is a man in love and people tend to sense that no matter how hard it tries to stay hidden. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for him but the superstar rapper must endure it for his fans and mostly, himself. He has been away from all the pressure and excitement and frenzy that usually come with being his rap alter ego for far too long and he wants it back. 50 slips a hand into his pocket to retrieve his almost dying phone and finds Lloyd Banks’ name on it. The call is sent and he puts the device up to his ear. One ring and then two go by without anything. Another two happen and still nothing; it goes to his voice mail shortly after that. The call severs after and his mind is deep in thought.
It is around eight the next morning when he is ready to give his first official press conference since being shot in a dark alley that faithful night. It is a pure circus with cameras, microphones, and scurrying bodies scattered all over the auditorium hall. 50 sits backstage with Eminem by his side. It is loud beyond the drawn curtains and he starts to feel small butterflies in his stomach. Dr. Dré is out of the country with Young Buck and Olivia and Banks is not returning his calls. They have not spoken since that night and he does not even know where his best friend is at their present time. He assesses that things cannot possibly get any worse between them but he loves him. So damn much. It has to work. The superstar rapper sips water from a cup while him mind rehearses what he is going to say in front of the masses only mere feet away from the pair. Slim Shady gets up and goes for a cup to get some water as well and sits back down in silence. He knows how hectic and crazy these press conferences can get. Hopefully they will be done and out of here fast.
“What you thinkin’ ‘bout?” the white rapper asks his discovered talent.
“Huh? I want this shit over with already.” The words knock him out of his thoughts.
“I know the feeling.”
“Damn. I want them to catch the bastard already.”
“The nigga won’t get away for long. They’ll catch up with his ass eventually.”
“You right white boy. For once,” 50 says as he smiles.
“I’m here tryin’ to help yo ass and you gonna go there kid?”
“Aww, did I touch a nerve? Sorry sexy Slim.”
“Fuck you! You gonna stop callin’ me that bullshit!” Eminem warns with a slight edge to his voice. It is too funny seeing this scrawny white kid try to be intimidating.
“Can’t sexy Slim Shady. You a sexy ass nigga,” he resumes messing with his boss’s mind.
“Can I feed you to those sharks out there already? Damn those was some good weeks when yo ass was out.”
“Well now I’m back white nigga so get used to it.”
“Damn oxymoron. How the hell can you be a white nigga?”
“I dunno. You one so you tell me. Damn reversed Oreo.”
“Black ass wannabe nigga. I’m outta here---”
“Aww come on Marsh. You know ya boy just teasin’.” He again smiles that alluring smile that is too damn sexy to even try to refuse.
“What you gonna say out there?”
“I’ll know when I’m out there. This shit need to go by quick.”
“I know. I ain’t tryin’ to be seen with yo ass all day.”
“Look here white boy. I’m the best thing you got goin’.”
“Fuckin’ cocky bastard.”
“Damn right! Now come gimme a kiss sweetheart.”
“Bitch! Get away from me with that shit!” Eminem says as he laughs. He and 50’s relationship will always be this way. They are brothers, no matter their opposite skin colors.
He feels the butterflies start to diminish because of his relaxed and carefree conversation with the other rapper besides him. They always make each other calm and tranquil before appearances where they know that they are going to be nervous or have no idea what they are going to say. Eminem offers to rub his shoulders a few minutes before the press conference is scheduled to begin and he allows it to happen because then his mind can be free and able to come up with what he needs to say to the world. His white hands glisten against the ebony skin of 50 Cent as he attempts to knead his muscular shoulders and neck. The G-Unit member hangs his head low and tries to relax his muscles to coax them into enjoying the massage he is now receiving from yet another of his best and most trusted friends. It feels good, especially to have someone touch him this way. The white rapper works his magic against his colleague’s hard muscles for a while more until he feels them tenderizing under his touch. 50 lets out a soft, unheard moan because of the satisfaction.
“Aight negro,” Slim Shady announces as his fingers stop working. “The massage shop is closed for the day. Get yo ass out there and do what you came to do.”
“Oh that’s messed up Slim. You just gonna leave me hangin’ like that when the shit was feelin’ so damn good.”
“You think I was gonna let you get away with talkin’ to me like that?” A sliver of a smile adorns his now innocent looking face.
“I see how it is. You lucky I gotta go boy.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
The rap persona 50 Cent enters the overcrowded room to numerous pictures being taken as well as cameras recording his every move. He is live all across he United States and walks up to the podium to say his piece to get it over with. He starts with the words embedded in his head and speaks them into the microphone for everyone to hear. Eminem looks on from the side of the stage and he finally notices how many people are out there listening to his best friend relive his ordeal and address it. After explaining, and mostly clearing all the rumors up, the buff rapper takes a few questions from the reporters he is directly talking to. Most of them are the same, just worded differently, and he gets annoyed fast but takes it in stride. Some even dare to venture and ask about his personal life; 50 refuses them right away without any hesitation. The purpose of this meeting is not to gossip about Curtis Jackson or anything about him. Flashbulbs blind him once again as he exits the stage and makes his way behind the curtain. It is over and a huge weight is left on the stage.