The 80s

Italians After Rocky

What Are U Doing My Love ~ Prince

I could still see the note right now, lavender card marked by a purple metallic symbol. His symbol. I can see it, still attached to the pictures he sent me. They were of us. All they did was make me cry and reminisce about the good times, the love. The sex. The late night conversations. Those pictures made me miss him even more. Even when I wanted to hate him, I couldn't.

Me and Eddie Murphy, and Danny Terrio from Dance Fever are standing by the bar talking. I don't know why we're talking to Danny Terrio, but I digress. I zoned out a while ago so I have no clue what the conversation is even about.

I looked over my shoulder and I saw some girl staring at either Eddie or Danny. She was a pretty girl, long, dark wavy hair, dark eyes, tan skin. She looked pretty Italian, as Italian as they get. She looked like a Prince girl. That's his type, if I didn't know any better I'd say she was with Prince. 

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the boys. 

"Yeah so we could have a meeting about it tomorrow say....lunch?" Danny suggested.

"No problem man, no problem." They shook hands, sealing the deal.  "You wanna dance?" Eddie turned his attention back to me. 

"Bout damn time!" I grabbed his hand and started off to the floor. It was all good until some guy came over and grabbed Eddie's arm.

Eddie snatched his arm away. "Man what the fuck is your problem?" 

"You got an eye problem you fuckin' mooley. Why is my girl lookin' at you huh?"

This man was speaking in the most Italian accent I have ever heard. I let go of Eddie's hand and stood back to watch this unfold. 

"I don't know why yo' girl is lookin' at me? Why are you in my face when you should be in hers?"

"Yeah!" I rooted, backing him up.

"Aye you stay outta this ok bitch." he pointed, sternly.

"Awww shit," I chuckled, taking off both my earrings and handing them to Eddie. "I don't know who this white man talkin' to," 

"Oh no." Eddie shook his head, knowingly. He knew exactly what kind of attitude I possessed. 

I grabbed onto Eddie's forearm and stepped out my heels. "Or who he callin' a bitch..but," I picked up one Louboutin off the ground, tightening my grip on it. "I guess this is the night bitches die." 

"Come on." he beckoned me with both hands. 

My mother never lied when she said I acted just like my father. It's not something i'm proud of but it's again, who I am. But when he tried me, my adrenaline kicked in faster than my logic, I jumped at him, ready to cave a hole in the side of his head. I really should be more professional, I try. I really do but this damn attitude keeps getting the best of me. 

"JASMYN NO!!" Eddie ran up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, restraining me. My legs kicking in the air, wildly.

"Stop! Your better than this..." He smoothed down my wild curls and kissed me on the forehead. "We're gonna go home and you gonna--" I zoned out, all I could hear was my breathing. I looked over Eddie's shoulder to see the guy, hysterically enjoying my little tantrum. I pulled off my other heel and aimed it at the back of his head as he was walking away. It hit him. He turned around angrily and stomped over us.

"Aye mooley, control the bitch alright."

"Bitch?!" I jumped up, but Eddie pulled me behind him.

"Don't call her a bitch no'more alright, or we're gonna have a problem."

He laughed. "Bitch..she's a bitch. Your a bitch, both ya' moms are bitches."