New year. New image. New era. Despite only sharing three years together, I learned Prince's routine like clockwork. Obviously, my husband worked through studio time again, but with The Revolution gone, other people arrived for musical purposes.
I never complained, ready for this fresh start.
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Michael would finally release the next album this year. I almost dropped the phone during our conversation and squealed, joyful on his behalf.
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"Not until August." Michael warned on the other line, quietly hoping that my excitement would calm down soon enough.
"What's taking you so long?" I rolled my eyes. Even Prince would've jokingly cackled in his face by now.
"I'm still recording, girl." Mike's voice loosened up. "It's not my fault that your husband works faster than everyone else in show business."
"It's in his blood, Michael. Nothing will change Prince's creativity." I defended my husband.
"It's hilarious, actually. He puts out records before I can blink." Michael laughed, definitely smiling in person.
"Catch up." I scoffed, giving my only advice.
"How many albums has Prince released so far? I'm curious." Michael seemed to laugh on the phone once more
"Eight records at this point." I still kept count with the biggest on my face.
"Damn." Michael slipped under his breath.
"You curse now?" I arched my brow, noting his previous irony. In '84, Jackson would never swear around my presence.
"Times have changed, Rochelle." Mike kept up this slight attitude and I surely respected it. Now, he seemed more comfortable expressing himself.
"That's clear." I shouldered this phone, but noticed that Prince stood in the doorway of my bedroom. "Gotta go."
"Wait, what?" Michael's voice cut off as I hung up the phone
