An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
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Congratulations on finishing this whirlwind of a journey we now know as the first book in the D.M.S.R. series. The next book is titled Old Friends 4 Sale. You can find it on my page or under the reading list I've titled Lyric & Prince. For now, here's a sneak peek at what is to come.
~•~
I'm a little tipsy and, baby, there is no doubt about it. I'm not drunk, but I have been sipping on my wine for the past two hours and my mind started to wonder as my body loosens. The sun is down as the moon beams into my bedroom. I lie across my bed in my bra after losing control of my bodily temperature's regulation system on drink three. Thankfully, I didn't call anyone I shouldn't have on the telephone as my cognitive system becomes defunct. I can't make any outgoing calls anyway as Prince has been tying up my phone for the past hour.
First, he called to check on me. My personal life being in shambles does not stop anything for my business life. The show must go on. Contractual negotiations, television offers, sponsorships that come with advertisements to be shot. I'm still in the full swing of things. I don't have time to think about all of my broken pieces until I'm preparing the lay my head down and in this luxurious condo I'm renting from Diana Ross, that surely won't be happening. I'll drink myself to sleep before I sit up here and cry. I'm not bullshitting either because I've already done it. Prince can see that I'm down and after he also flew in, he's called me almost every night that Susannah's fallen asleep while he couldn't bare to get any rest.
"What you doing over there?" Prince's voice is low and raspy from his lack of breaks between his current recording schedule. He sounds exhausted. I can relate to how I imagine he feels all too well.
I lie on my back, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Usually when you ask some what their doing at two in the morning the conversation turns sexual." Prince snorts in entertainment, my own laughter follows quickly behind his. "But maybe that's just my perverted mind because I need to get laid," I joke.
I should be asleep. I know I should be asleep. Sadly, I couldn't sleep after the night I've learned what I've truly lost in this entire ordeal. Whenever I try to clear my mind, resting in a moment of tranquility, I am swallowed alive by my dark thoughts. Those thoughts, thoughts I'd rather not speak on, taunt me all throughout the night as I am left tossing and turning. The constant nightmares are too much to bare. It has gotten to the point where I either have to take three shots before bed or cry myself to sleep... And I just hate how my nasal passages feel after crying.
Tonight, I am sitting here on the phone with Prince and somehow that swiftly substitutes the idea of getting drunk or being in pain.
Through the phone, he softly laughs. His immature sense of erotic humor has always had a weak spot for sex jokes, especially the self depreciating kind, "It's that bad?" I refuse to address my dry spell in my sex life. Silence of mine says more than I can. "Oh, come on. You act like we don't talk about this stuff all the time." Prince wants me to spill the beans.
"I know what we talk about." I grew somewhat flustered with the topic awaiting me. I quickly realize this is something I can't handle while inebriated. I change the subject, immediately, unsure of why I brought this upon myself. "Where's Susannah," I ask him.
~•~
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