D.M.S.R. (BOOK 1) || PRN

(25) On A Loop

Now, remember when I said the problem of Omar not knowing where to call came up and solved itself?

Omar ended up calling my hotel, though I still have no idea how he knew the number, and I told him to meet me at Prince's house because that was exactly where we were. I came with the intent of doing some things that I'd never done before in Minneapolis but got stuck in my comfort zone at Prince's house. It ended up not mattering anyway. I was the only twin in the house with the exception of the male gemini I spent time with. Both Susannah and Aaliyah ditched me. Susannah found a flight home. Meanwhile, Aaliyah was Uptown hanging out with Sheila and her little friends. I told you that girl was the epitome a social butterfly. She could make friends with a chip, paperclip, and tissue. So, upon Aaliyah's absence, it was just Prince and I lounging in his house.

My legs were crossed at the ankles. I stood in the mirror applying a moisturizer I was sure would brighten up my face to combat my infamous long nights. "Why are you standing in such a' awkward position?" He chortled as he walked past. I saw his reflection while he watched me from behind. He, too, applied his quick coat of foundation and eyeliner except that was all he wore. I was full blown painting my face.

"If I stand regular my butt's gone stick out and I really don't want to hear your lip about me getting fat," I truthfully admitted. Prince was great at finding true things to pick at me about. Sometimes, they weren't even necessarily bad things... There was good stuff that he somehow how found a way to flip on me. 'There is too much of a good thing,' he'd tell me. Prince was a trip and I, eventually, decided I was not taking any of his shit. It was my first real date in what was roughly two, three years. I was celibate to the third degree and I couldn't let Prince mess up my head.

"In that robe? Yes." He pointed to the robe I had on. It was his robe, a long burgundy color, silky on the outside but warm and fuzzy on the inside. The robe felt as expensive as it looked. Chipmunk was loving that Purple Rain money and I somehow also reaped the benefits.

"Prince, it's your robe," I pointed out to him, eyes staring deeply into my reflection. I carried a great focus as I shaped up my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers.

Nonchalantly, Prince strolled around the room in search of one extremely specific notebook he sought after. "Maybe if you showered at your own hotel then... You know..." A playful attitude rose within him. I'm telling you, the man is all jokes on a nonstop loop. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you, nigga." My slick reply got up and flew away. Something about the way his diction flipped when he got like that cracked me up. It's part of the reason Morris' got millions.

"Can you go in my bag on your bed and tell me which one of those outfits I should wear?" I couldn't choose and I liked his perspectives on my outfit choices when he knew how to be serious. He usually chose the one I wanted but wasn't quite confident enough to pick on my own just yet. Prince wasn't my fashion crutch for long but the short period he was boosted me up to carry myself for the rest of my years.

Prince reluctantly walked out to the main area of the master bedroom, the bed, swinging his notebook to show me he'd found it. I was applying my eyeshadow to my right eye, I remember because what he said next stuck forever. "You brought jeans?" Prince stood over my clothing squicked. Had my eyes been closed, the harsh dismay leaving his vocal chords would have worried me. It caught me off guard.

Through the mirror, ceasing all motions, I was legitimately wondering what about the concept of denim pants would have made him react the way he did. "What's wrong with jeans?" I put my tweezer down as I shifted my focus to be only Prince. I needed to hear it.

"You're a star now," he told me. Nobody'd flat out said that to me so he had my attention from the first sentence of his explanation. I'd been told I was in the business, I'd been praised for making it to Hollywood. I was never called a star to my face. Prince was the first. "You have cameras looking at you all day, all the time, every day. You need to look your best as much as you can." He lectured from the other side of the room until he'd walked over to his window to open the curtain to see my attire choices in better light.