After nine years of being attached at the hip, Lyric and Prince finally split. Now, on the road to recovery, she learns a new way to view life as Prince is forced to face the music of a song he never wanted to played aloud. Join them as they learn a...
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September 10, 1992 New York, New York
"Aaliyah, I'm gonna throw up," I warn into the phone while Honey touches up my roots. My hair curled up after last night's club adventure. A relaxer and flat iron is vital when it came to maintaining my hair these days. So easily do my deep waves sprout at the roots of pixie cut. I'll go from Little Miss Lyric to Little Michael Jackson in a matter of minutes.
My sister laughs through the other line of the phone. I can't see why she thinks of my situations of stress as such amusing times. "I think you should slow down. Stay home and heal," she tells me. Frankly, I'm getting tired of that recycled line.
'Slow down,' she keeps saying. 'Stay home and heal.' She told me that during a lecture back when she thought I was sleeping with Tupac. I took her advice... And about a month later Prince was back in my bed like usual. It wasn't that I thought her advice was no good. It's that her advice doesn't work well for someone in my career field. There is no slowing down. I have to go. I don't have the option to take the day off when I wake up feeling sad. If anything, sadness makes me want to work more.
Slowing down also meant I'd be wallowing in the splinters left over from my heartbreak and that is the last thing I'll do. So, today, I'm going to do this quick morning press run like life is perfect and then I'm going to get drinks with an attractive man because this is what I've been designated to do for the time being.
"Stop telling her that," shouts Alexis. This is a very important three-way phone call. "She tried that and all that mothafucka was doing was moping around crying. Let her try and see if this is the right move."
In recent times, Alexis has been the more understanding one when it comes to my ways of life. Aaliyah's softness wouldn't get anything done in my position and Alexis sees that, usually following behind her statements to provide the more realistic approach we know I need.
Aaliyah sighs into the phone for the fifth time this morning. I can hear the stress in her breath. "Alright, but I'm team Jason— Now matter how cute DeVante is. He looks like one of Eddie's little friends."
"Girl, DeVante is a grown man. He's older than Pac and you never opposed to that.... So, I'm rooting for DeVante."
In a complete shock, I rapidly blink away the sudden bets being thrown out in the name of my love life. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't even know there were teams. I'm not a Super Bowl ring!"
"Liyah, you want to tell her or should I?" Alexis snickering doesn't help her statement's tone.
I jump in, "Tell me what?"
The two ignore me as Aaliyah starts, "I'll do it." My eyes roll around the tired sockets above my pouting lips. "You know this'll become a competition. You're going to like both, be torn, and be in your first love triangle. We're picking sides now. This is part of the new chapter I told you about!"
