In the summer of 1990 Sasha Pierce gets the opportunity of a lifetime to interview one of the biggest entertainers of the '80's. She was sure it would be the defining moment of her up and coming career. It ends up being that and more.
This is a tale...
A/N: Sorry for any errors. Tension building is so hard to write between characters. Anywho, thanks for all your likes and comments 🫶🏾
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It's been an hour since soundcheck started and I still can't get over the production of the show. There are only a few people that have the wherewithal to produce a show like this and Prince is definitely one of the best. He easily guided the band to their fullest potential and pushed himself to entertain the thousands of people that showed up to watch him every time.
I heard of people following his every stop on tour and now I know why. I'd personally never been as I was too busy studying the artists I would write about.
For the past twenty minutes I have been taking pictures to go along with the interview. As I wonder backstage to get pictures of the dressing room doors, I'm stopped by one of Prince's bodyguards. "Boss wants to see you." I agree and follow him up and out to the stage. Most of the band is gone but Rosie and Miko. Prince sits at his baby blue piano, his fingers having a mind of their own because his eyes are closed as he listens carefully. He has tied his hair back to keep it from his face and the top buttons of his jumpsuit has come undone. The summer heat has also gotten to me as I've rid myself of my jacket, just sporting a black tank top now.
I take in the scene, writing the intimate details of his perfectionism. As the song comes to its bridge, my eyes look up to meet his and he nods me over. His hazel orbs follow me while I make my way behind the piano and he points with them for me to sit next to him. I put my notepad and camera on top of the piano then he leans in to my ear, "I know you have to know this one."
I nod, watching him work the cords flawlessly. Of course. It's Gershwins' Summertime and I can remember the ache in my fingers as a preteen from practicing it for my first piano recital.
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Prince leans in again, his thigh gently touching mine and his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. I try to ignore the feeling that goes on in the pit of my stomach but it is there nonetheless. "Take the melody."
He's testing me. I take a deep breath and lean into him to warn him. "My right is not my dominant."
He shakes his head, not wanting to hear any excuses. "I believe in you." Just as he says it, his right hand moves from the keys and I quickly take over the melody. It's simple but I am still scared of messing up in front of someone like him, especially so close like this.
To calm my nerves I think back to the mantra my piano tutor would always say to me, "Practice makes permanent." I know Prince gave me the melody because as it goes on you're supposed to improvise. Without a second thought, my fingers tap the keys I'm most familiar with.
"That's beautiful." He whispers, as if not wanting to mess me up. I hide the grin wanting to spread across my face with a smirk. We both must feel when I'm almost done because he brings the microphone to his mouth. "Ms. Sasha Pierce ladies and gentlemen." He says into the mic to give me my props. "Miko."
