Grand Theft Auto
by Embitca

Globe magazine reports Eminem treated his bodyguards and pals to $30,000 worth of clothes at the Fox Hills Mall in Culver City, California. He got everybody hip hop style clothes, and Nike Air Jordan's. While at the mall, Slim signed autographs for hundreds of fans.

Faith was pissed. It had been three months since Angel had been to see her, but she thought for sure he'd be there on the day she finally got out of prison or that he at least would have sent someone for her seeing as it was daylight and he would have burst into flames if he'd driven there himself. Stupid fuck had to drive a convertible, didn't he?

Well, a convertible was just the thing for Faith and that's what she was looking as she prowled mall parking. She hadn't seen anything yet to grab her interest that hadn't also been too public, too visible. Damn mall had too many people in it. Didn't anyone work during the week anymore? If this had been the Sunnydale Mall she would have had a sexy convertible 20 minutes ago and would now be tooling her way towards the coast. But no, she was stuck in Culver City because she'd taken a lift from another girl released today. Chick's ride had actually been waiting as soon as they'd stepped outside, beefy Mexican guy, husband or boyfriend. Faith couldn't remember and didn't care. But at least she was away from where she'd been imprisoned for two years, not far enough away, but it would do for a start.

Oh, there it was. This was promising. A sexy sable Mercedes Benz convertible, parked in the shade and hogging two spots. They'd left the top down. There wouldn't be anything in the car worth stealing. Faith took a quick glance around and then headed over to take a peak. Jackpot! An obvious rental. It wouldn't have anything in the way of real security because the rental agency would get tired quickly of having to rescue their stupid customers every time they forgot how to work the security features. Faith was in the car and busting open the steering column in a matter of seconds. Slayer strength was so handy.

The bodyguards were talking and laughing, swinging their booty from arm to arm, flush from a spending spree with someone else's money. Proof was just wondering how it was they'd manage to guard Marshall's body with their hands full of shopping bags when he noticed the Mercedes had an occupant. He nudged Marshall. "Hey Em, check it out."

Marshall squinted. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but he could see well enough that there was someone in his ride. "What the fuck?" Voice climbing, "Hey, you! What the fuck you doing to my car, bitch?"

Faith paused when she heard the shout, cursed briefly under her breath. She really just wanted to get the hell out of there, and quickly get far away from Los Angeles. But it was obviously going to be another few minutes before she'd be driving off. She slid smoothly up the leather seat and then swung her legs over the car door and landed lightly on the pavement. Five guys, three of them enormously huge black men, one skinny black man and one slightly built and very pretty blond. Well that was certainly a combination you didn't see often, except for maybe gay porn. It was the blond who'd shouted at her, she just knew it. She lifted her hands and held them out, then gave him a winning smile. "This is a rental."

The blond snorted. "Yeah, and so?"

Faith shrugged, smiled wider, maybe more predatory than winning. "So it's not your car. It's a rental."

Marshall and Proof exchanged a look and then Marshall turned a frown towards his posse immediately behind him, all of them still carrying bags. "Do you wanna get this bitch away from that car?"

Busted now, the three burly members of Em's crew started setting bags down and then stumbled forward in a group towards the hot little brunette that was taunting them so cheerfully.

Faith was happy for the first time all day. This wasn't gonna be a fair fight at all, but that was fine by her. She needed the exercise. She hadn't had a good hard fight out of doors in over two years. It was always covert attacks in the dark of night in small cramped prison cells or hallways, occasionally the shower. She always won, but those hard bitches inside had given her a run for her money. These boys would be easy. They were big, but they looked soft. Fat instead of muscular, they used their size to intimidate. Their size would only be a disadvantage when facing slayer reflexes and speed. Hell, she would have given better odds to the blond who'd sicc'ed them on her. He was small, delicately featured, but up close it was clear that he was lean with muscle and very fit. She'd rather tussle him than these three jokers, but she'd make do with what was offered. Time to get the party started. She put her arms out in welcome and said, "Hey, boys, come and get me."

Marshall watched as his security goons went into action. Proof hovered behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Always watchful, Marshall thought. Always making sure he wasn't going to get his ass thrown in jail. Marshall preferred to fight his own battles, but his temper always got the best of him and he'd leap into the fray swinging and punching without paying any mind to the consequences. He'd nearly paid dearly for it though so it wasn't gonna happen anymore. He didn't need Proof to hold him back, but he appreciated the concern. He wasn't going anywhere.

Unfortunately, neither was the bitch trying to steal his ride. Marshall watched in stupefied wonder as she made short work of his posse. She'd struck first, driving a leg into her first opponent's knee and sending him to the pavement. After that, she was simply a fury of elbows, fists and feet. She never shut up the entire time either. She was either cracking wise or laughing her damn head off. He found himself enthralled, possibly even turned on, but then quickly berated himself. This wasn't good. His entire fucking crew was on the ground, for fuck's sake. Useless, all of them. And she'd barely broken a sweat. Hell, she wasn't even breathing hard. When she was done, she kicked one of them like she was disappointed it was all over. Then she looked up at him, smiling again. "So, you want a turn, baby?"

Marshall just looked at her for a moment, then raised his left hand, closed it into a fist then flexed his fingers open again. "My hand's cramped from signing autographs all day, I'll pass."

Proof chuckled and poked Marshall in the back. "Looks like you're gonna need some new security."

The feisty brunette barked a laugh and crossed her arms over her chest, rocking back on her heels. "Honey, if these were your bodyguards, I think you got a bum deal."

"Looks like it." Marshall shrugged. He shot Proof a questioning look, but then didn't wait for an answer. "You available?"

Faith grinned. "Was that my job interview?"

The blond slid his eyes over the men on the ground, all of them groaning and holding various parts of themselves, and then fixed a direct blue gaze on her. He was so pretty. Mind obviously made up, he walked toward her, reaching into his pocket as he moved. She braced herself for a weapon, but the hand came out holding a set of keys which he dropped into her outstretched hand. "Might as well not ruin the steering column."

"Too late!" Faith laughed, whipped the baseball cap off his pretty blond head and set it on top of her own, then bounced into the car. She turned the ignition on and idled as she waited for the blond boy and his skinny black friend to gather most of the packages together and stick them in the trunk. When the black man hopped into the backseat, the blond walked over to where his former posse were sitting on the ground, tossed a few hundred dollar bills at them and then she heard him say, "Come by Dre's tomorrow, I'll cut your severance checks, you useless motherfuckers."

As he slid into the passenger seat beside her, Faith was going through the CDs in the glove box and tossing the ones that didn't interest her onto the floor. She was just about to toss another aside when a well-manicured hand reached out and grabbed it from her. "Hey, don'cha wanna know who you're working for?"

Faith grabbed the CD back from him and looked at the cover, "The Eminem Show". There was a picture of the man sitting beside her on the cover, dressed in a suit and looking incredibly hot. She'd never been turned on by suits before, but there was a first time for everything. Looking at him again, she said, "So I guess you're Eminem?"

"Just call me Marshall. That's Proof in the backseat. You got a name?"

"Faith." She flipped the jewel case open and then slid the disc into the player and cranked the volume. By the time she was pulling out into traffic, "White America" was blaring out of the speakers. It was good, so very good. Looked like her day was gonna be five by five after all. A car, a job, a pretty blond boy beside her. What more could a recently liberated slayer ask for?


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