Living With The Enemy

Chapter Eight

February 17, 1990

As Prince packed his final bag that was full enough for one month - probably two - he tapped one of his feet on the floor to a familiar beat in his head. He had been humming the tune for days leading up to his departure from Chanhassen. He felt like he'd heard it before, but didn't know where. Pulling the suitcase by the handle and off of the bed, he walked out of his large room, through the hallway, and into the main side of the house. There, he saw Xendrea jotting down tidbits and notes into a brown composition book. She looked up and set down get pen to genuinely smile at her boss. Peeling off her glasses, she walked over to him and smiled.

      "Well, boss, I'll see you in a month. I have everything situated; the NPG are almost ready to come and rehearse, the tour is still into play, and...hmm," she tapped her chin in thought. "I think I'm forgetting something," she said. 'Forgetful X' was what Prince always called her. 

      He chuckled. "Whatever it is, you call me, alright?" he said. She nodded, and he leaned down and kissed her temple. He leaned his head back up gave her a warm smile.

      "Have a nice time, P. And bring me back something nice," she giggled. He clicked his tongue and nodded a single time before walking out of the kitchen and to the front door. Little did they both know, that little "thing" that Xendrea had forgotten about would be vital to the both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      The plane ride was a long one, and Prince surprised himself by falling asleep. Sleep - that was something foreign to him. He worked countless hours around the clock on new music and sounds, but never gave much thought to sleep. Stretching his body with a yawn, he noticed that he was almost to the runway.

      Damn, already in Santa Barbara, he thought. He regained his posture while in and got his seatbelt off of his body. When he felt the plane coming to its end, he stood in his sequined heels to leave the plane. He soon felt the plane rolling and knew that they were now on the runway. He walked to the door, and it automatically opened. He looked down to see one of his bodyguards in a suit and tie, finally noticing that he was the one that opened it.

     The stairs were already down and out, so all Prince had to do was walk down them and go to the...limo? Finally reaching the ground, he noticed that it wasn't his own black Thunderbird, but a black limousine?

      Looking to his bodyguard that had his two suitcases, he said, "What the hell is this? Where is my car?" he demanded. Trevor, the bodyguard, shook his head with a shrug, then walked to the limousine and opened the trunk before placing the large, velvet bags inside. After closing it, he went back to Prince and perched his shades atop of his hairless head.

      "Mr. Jackson called us last minute and we were told that a limousine would be here to pick you. When I asked if he had spoken with you first, he told me that he did and that you were more than okay with it." Prince just shook his head in disbelief and disgust - mostly disgust. He walked to the limo and as the driver was about to get out to open the door for him, Prince had something else in mind.

      "No!" He slammed the driver's door back and opened his own before sliding inside. Trevor was just left confused as Prince's designated driver. When Prince closed his door after getting inside, he had more for the man. "You call that slick son of a bitch and tell him to have his ass ready for me at that damned carnival he calls a home," he hissed. The driver nodded his head with a smile: he was getting paid whether Prince was pissed off or not, so it didn't really matter to him.

      Prince's mood was obviously altered as soon as he stepped off that plane. His head softly hit the seat as the chauffeur drove off. As the car drove on the road, Prince began to look out of the tinted window. His anger was still evidently in him, and he was itching to jump out of the car to run to Neverland and beat Michael out of his skin. 

      Petty was what he was, so petty was what Michael was going to get. 

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M

      Warm phlegm moved down Michael's throat as he watched the limousine pulling up. He was standing in the opened gates of He was excited and nervous when the vehicle stopped, because one: he knew an angered Prince was waiting to curse him out for switching his ride; and two: he could finally come and get this first month over with, and get ready for the other possible two. 

      Slamming the door with all his might, Prince stamped his way up to Michael's body, and gave him the evilest look he could muster. Patience inside of him had already worn thin like thread, and just seeing Michael smiling at him (though he was acting like a fool) made him want to commit arson.

      "You damned bastard, you!" Prince yelled. Michael's smirk grew as Prince's look became nastier.

      "Awww, is someone cranky from their long ride?" Michael teased, and patted Prince's cheek for more effect. Prince imediately slapped his hand away and growled, with the corner of his mouth going up with his teeth bare. "Don't be like that. Come on, let's go inside and you can nap all you want." 

      "I can't believe you changed my fucking ride, boy! I had everything planned, but here you come to fuck it up!" He was livid. "You know what, Jackson? Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" Prince snarled. Michael feigned a hurt look with his hand on his heart. His lips went into an even bigger smile when Prince walked around him, and into the open gates of Neverland. 

      I think I may enjoy this a little more than I should, Michael thought as he turned his palm towards the driver as a signal for him to wait while he was to get his guest's things. 

      Let the fun begin.