2000
Rochelle Davis-Nelson
"You never cared about me!" I yelled at him back in the apartment. "All we had to do was stay friends, even back in the day."
"I couldn't do that." Prince said. "You know that I couldn't."
"Why?" I asked. Enough was enough at this point.
"You..." Prince tried to hold my hand, but I flinched away.
"We keep going back and forth with each other, Prince. Do you love me or not? I'm tired." I shook my Locs, beyond frustrated.
"Of course." Prince struggled for a moment while looking at me.
"You give me no reason to stay every time we argue. As much as I love you, what's the point? Mayte showed up and you never told the fellas to kick her out, either." I ranted. There was no other choice.
"I warned security, but she just flat out refused to leave." Prince settled his voice.
"And even though I wanted to fight..." I still continued, but Prince cut me off.
"I wouldn't let you ruin your reputation just because she was angry. Assault charges could've been brought up, too." My husband went on.
Damn. I thought to myself.
He was right.
If emotions truly interfered on my birthday, headlines could erupt and Mayte would've definitely pressed charges at some point.
My life would be completely different now and his rationale saved me.
***
I stayed home the next day, not immediately running away from Prince.
I couldn't.
He silently played an acoustic guitar, sitting up near the foot of our bed.
My heart dropped as I remembered these chords:
"Sometimes It Snows In April."
When I checked my calendar to see what he could have meant, my eyes teared up.
Amiir passed away four years earlier.
Prince wouldn't sing, but I mouthed the lyrics to myself regardless.
After playing, he packed that guitar away and returned to bed, cuddling my waist to sleep.
****
We didn't even talk about what happened this morning yet. It was far too soon.
"Going back on the road yet? Vegas will end that first leg." I asked, eating favorite pancakes with him.
"Um-um." Prince wipes his mouth before answering. "Raptors game tonight. Wanna go?"
"Sure!" I beamed. It was actually our first bit of good news in quite a while. Of course I'd go.
_____
We flew just for the game. That's how dedicated he was.
Courtside Date Night. There was no better feeling in the world.
Fans cheered out loud when we showed up on those Jumbotron screens at first, but by the second quarter, people outright left us alone.
"Used to play in high school." He'd lean near me once in a while and tell stories, drifting to the past.
"Cool." I smiled, already imagining how my husband was before his music career even started.
_____
The Raptors won.
Prince made sure of that achievement by only side-eyeing those refs on bad calls. His silence proved hilariously lethal.
We flew right back to my apartment in Los Angeles without thinking twice, just relaxing in the private jet together, even if I'd fallen asleep.
_____
Somehow, I woke up again the following day, jetlagged hours later.
Prince left another sweet note.
Ro,
Thank u 4 helping me smile again.
I love u.
Eternally urs,
-Husband
PS: U looked so pretty last nite.
I laughed to myself.
At the game last night, we coordinated in Velour, also sporting layers to battle Canada's evening chill.
I styled my hair with updo Locs again and chose hoop earrings to match the nose ring. Custom sneakers lined up my steps to avoid slipping on that court.
He wasn't around, or at least I couldn't find him waiting in typical spots like Studio A. He wasn't even finishing pancakes in the kitchen.
"Backway." The receptionist told me. We shared a silent nod and I bolted through a maze of to other locations.
Bingo! Echoed from a large closed door, shuffling sneakers revealed the hideout.
I opened that same door to find this man, my husband, shooting layups. M
"Uh-uh, baby. Don't come in here unless you're looking for work." He'd styled his own hair upward to avoid frizz, but continued dribbling that basketball in front of me.
"Skating wasn't my only hidden talent, Pop. C'mon." I played back, already wearing sneakers, too.
_____
Final Score: 50 - 45.
I lost, but Prince was happy.
"Vegas soon. Are you still going?" Prince asked me. I nodded feverishly as an absolute confirmation.
We planned to head upstairs using the lobby elevator, but incoming footsteps stopped everything.
His attorneys showed up with our marriage counselor in tow.
_____
"Ms. Garcia is writing a book." One lawyer had told us.
Prince and I cackled out loud together, dipping away towards the office building's hall.
"She can't be serious?" I still laughed, wiping away humored tears.
"C'mon...don't laugh no more..come on. We gotta go back in, Ro." Even Prince struggled through his own response, definitely tickled as well.
_____
We genuinely apologized during the meeting and sat back down, listening to everyone on purpose.
It wasn't a joke anymore.
Mayte scouted aides and publishers not long after my birthday party.
Even one of the potential blurbs seem to exaggerate:
"Former Paisley Park dancer Mayte García chronicles a whirlwind tale of determination and personal storytelling."
Time and again, his lawyers explained that we couldn't sue. I couldn't stop Mayte from publishing anything either, but my husband flinched away every time I looked towards him.
"You put countless dreams in her head and now I have to deal with the consequences." I lowered my voice. Enough was enough.
"No, you don't." He whispered, not wanting to yell during such an important time.
*****
I left that meeting drained and slept off my anger.
Prince hid downstairs in Studio A, knowing that I didn't want to talk yet.
Around midnight, he shuffled back upstairs with nearly bloodshot eyes.
"I'll be in Vegas. Promise." I spoke first, hugging a pillow as Ghostbusters played in silence on television.
"I know. C'mere." Prince laid beside me and ignored the movie, heartbroken.
YOU ARE READING
The Price of Fame || Prince/MJ
Fanfiction"Everyone has story, but what about mine?" - Rochelle Davis
