I'm Yours (PRN)

xviii

"And that's when Suzie lost it," chuckles a reminiscing Prince as he kicked off his boots at the end of Monica's bed.

It's the first time she's seen him, in the flesh, in two days. Her sour attitude wafts around her bedroom, though it is consistently pushed behind her every time Prince smiles at her. His statement that he and Morris were doing a record was taken as fact, and surely she never expected him to half-ass anything having to do with music. Nonetheless, her expectations were light after missing his introduction to the focus that comes with producing and recording an album, something he mastered when they were separated. She underestimated his dedication. Monica is thrown into the deep end. She must now learn he will continue to obsess over the record until it's finished.

Her eyes dart from her highlighter to Prince, her short study session interrupted by her thoughts. "Wait, who's that?" The names of women associated with him randomly thrown out by Prince are becoming a problem. She can't keep up. Every other day, someone new is thrown into the mix.

Still at the foot of her bed, Prince's head turns. "Who?" He has thrown out plenty of names in the last ten minutes of updating Monica on his recording process.

"Suzie."

"Oh. Sue," laughs Prince, falling to his chest. He props his hands underneath his head, gazing up at her as he awaits their next conversation.

He doesn't get off as easily as he expects.

"And who is Sue," questions Monica. She shuts her book closed with a pencil inside, too little room around herself as she is trapped within a circle of notes, she sternly stares him down.

In genuine disbelief of her suspicions, Prince sits up on his forearms, elbows sinking into Monica's mattress enough to shift her papers. "Sue Ann?" He repeats her name in its entirety as if it'll ring any bells. "My friend that I met years ago," he says, his words nearing the sound of a scoff as creases fill his forehead.

An aloof Monica removes her papers from Prince's reach. "I've never met her." Her jealousy puts a plug in his bag on most days, charging his ego up to fulfillment. Today, it places a damper on his parade. He spoke his friends up with the expectation of Monica supporting his joyous day. Sue Anne's excitement came as a result of the chord change he was describing.

Rolling over, desperately in need to face any direction aside from her's, Prince lies on his back. He props his head up with stacked palms. "You also ain't never around when we record." Monica's exponential decline in interest of Prince's recording process isn't lost on him. He's watched her elation falter little by little. Each night he came home late was another strike against him.

Their fluent conversation is assassinated in cold blood by the sharpness of Prince's smart mouth. In their hostile environment, Monica scoops up her books and drops them into her backpack, pulling herself from her bed as she dresses for her day. She settles at the best vanity her money could buy. It holds no light to the one in her abandoned bedroom back at her mother's home but it gets the job done. Prince stares at the ceiling, periodically taking peripheral peeks at Monica as she pulls her hair up into the kind of ponytail Barbie wears.

A sudden thud against the wall shared between Lauren and Monica's rooms catches them off guard. Prince raises an eyebrow as he looks to the sound's source. A hair-raising moan tells of Lauren's occupancy, likely not recognizing Monica's home. She's never been as loud as she is, making Monica's scowl form in disgust rather than frustration. To combat the sound, Monica clicks down on the radio resting to her right. Anything is better than the echoing sounds of Lauren's sex life.

Sitting up on his elbow, Prince points to the wall. "You hear that?" Monica's ear drops to her shoulder. Her deadpan is one of an unamused woman. "That's what it's all about," he tells her. "That's what we should to be doing, not fussing at each other. That's what's happenin'." A roll of her eyes isn't enough of a response. She knows her silence speaks in greater volumes. "Why are you getting all dolled up?" Prince raises from the bed, head lifting to peer into her makeup bag. The best products are sure to be swiped in due time.