1998
The Artist
Would Rochelle ever excuse my actions? No. Did she truly forgive me? Of course not.
By the time our video shoot ended, she let go of my hand and walked down that beach in a pretty dress, leaving me.
Seeing my best friend vanish from sight almost hurt more than when she sent out our divorce papers only two years ago.
Rochelle didn't even kiss my cheek to say goodbye. Maybe she just wanted to heal by herself again.
After firing Mayte without warning, I flew back home to Paisley Park and nearly locked myself in the studio, devastated.
Venting through journals one night, I came up with an early rendition of "The Dance," a song dedicated to my wife.
Not some long-ago ex. Not an old flame. My wife.
My adlibs near the end weren't even pulled for this record anymore. My voice was raw, missing her bad and tripping out like '84.
U gon' really just stand there.
And act like u don't want this?
Baby!
If u do, then u know...
I don't wanna care.
Oh, baby.
I won't find another.
They just aren't everywhere.
Oh, baby!
They might not have ur smile, girl.
And all that pretty hair...
Ro....
They won't spend all day in my closet.
Tryin' 2 find somethin' 2 wear.
They won't wanna make love.
Like we do.
Hotel rooms!
On my back!
Up at 2:00!
Oh, baby, baby, baby, baby!
It's just not fair.
It's just not fair!
When my voice squalled out loud and music faded away, I dropped back into this chair to lower my head, silently crying.
***
For once, I didn't even send that track to her.
Work somehow distracted me, at least for a little while. Rare TV interviews. One-off shows. More studio time with no sleep.
While leaving this genuinely nice B.E.T. interview with Tavis Smiley, I looked right up in the hallway to see a familiar face.
My ex-wife.
Of course, Rochelle looked beautiful once again. My heart almost dropped.
Light makeup accented her face and the hoop nose ring was still around.
Locs almost reached her shoulders as one v-neck shirt tucked into dark pants. Boots clicked every time that she walked here.
"Hi." She greeted me first with another lipstick smile.
"Hey." I told her.
"You look good." We offered each other the same compliment like a united duo.
To break tension, even my bodyguards laughed real quick, but still concentrated on work as we headed towards the parking lot.
"We'll talk. Good to see you." I gestured my hand.
Rochelle nodded just before sliding into the backseat of her own limo.
"That's my wife in this car, all right? Drive safe tonight, man." Looking at the chauffeur, I quickly arched my brow.
"Of course. Take care." He promised. We dapped each other up instead of shaking hands.
***
"Got your own limo driver now, huh?" In another hotel room, I called my baby later that night. No shame whatsoever.
"Late to the party." Rochelle chuckled on that other line. "He's our driver from the wedding. You don't remember him?"
Oh, my...
"When did he have a growth spurt? That brother looks taller than me now!" I laughed, surely remembering that night.
In 1985, the driver was fresh out of college and needed more money. We paid this young cat just to pull our limo around.
He was able to cover apartment rent for more than two years once our check reached his mailbox.
"Stop lying!" Rochelle was still humored on the phone by this point.
"I'm not. He's probably 6' feet tall and some change, Ro." I jokingly rolled my eyes.
"All jokes aside, He's doing great." Rochelle told me, definitely smiling again.
"Glad you're able to help." I genuinely answered.
"What's going on, you're still in town?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah. Leaving tomorrow." Rochelle cleared her throat.
"You close by? Maybe we could....." I stopped speaking because she hung up out of nowhere.
***
Somehow, only twenty minutes later, she knocked on my door.
Forever in love, though, I let her walk through without hesitation.
She left a sweet bubble bath and wrapped her Locs up high, wearing a silk robe with cute slippers. No makeup is worn at all.
My wife looked so pretty, even if marriage let her down.
"What should we do?" Ro looked at me
as we sat together in the living room soon after.
"I'll do whatever you want." I told the truth. Enough was enough.
"I didn't want to leave, y'know?" She lifted her bare hands, making me notice this sad chapter without wedding rings from me.
And it was all my fault.
"Of course not." I sighed. There was no one else to blame, not even her, always my best friend.
"What was so special about her? You never told me." Rochelle furrowed her brow, disappointed in me.
"It started out like another muse inspiration, but I...I really don't know what happened after that." I struggled.
"Mayte got pregnant, and you couldn't walk out." Rochelle deadpanned her voice.
Damn. I thought to myself. She caught on.
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "It just became worse for Garcia after Amiir passed away. Firing her right away would've been too much."
"You kept her on for two years, Pop." Even as Rochelle used a nickname for me, I still knew that her tone was serious
"Guilt." I admitted. There was no other choice.
"Fair. At least you're willing to acknowledge the problems, but I'm still not coming back to you." Rochelle put her foot down.
"Baby...." Ro flinched away from me and stood up to leave, walking down the hallway alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Price of Fame || Prince/MJ
Fanfiction"Everyone has story, but what about mine?" - Rochelle Davis
