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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February 14, 1993 Chicago, Illinois
I stood on the door step of my sister's house as I am being hit. Swat after swat, she makes her mark against my flesh in a state of a hissy. Her little pudge stays in place as everything else swings at me. Her hair is already growing shinier, her nails growing longer, her skin glowing more than it did the last time I saw her.
"You just met that boy and you got matching tattoos!"
My acting skills pave the way for for me as I seek a reaction from her. Her shock in my actions is the greatest entertainment I could ever ask for. "He's a sweetie," I whine, pleading the best case I can for DeVante. "I think it's really cute. If we stand side by side, it's even cuter. You don't like it?"
"Chanel, are you stupid?"
The look her face breaks my character. "No, I'm joking." I laugh as her face softens. Her relief comes swimming in the waves brought by the tsunami that would've destroyed me if I'd legitimately gotten a matching tattoo with him. "It's a temporary tattoo," I giggle, lifting my arm for her to further inspect.
"I almost murdered you," says Aaliyah.
I roll my sleeve down. "It only lasts ninety days." I shrug as she still side eyes me.
Aaliyah doesn't like this joke at all. I'm positive that she almost shot me out here on her front door step with no mercy. This morning, I told Buffy that my sister would lose her mind when she saw it and that's what she's done. We have the same core views on tattoos and piercings. My sudden going against my preached beliefs would've sent her head spinning off of her body.
"That's still a long time..." Her face exposes how skeptical she is of my temporary tattoo. I already told her it was a joke. What else am I suppose to do? The more upset she appears to be about it begins to plant the idea in my mind that this is a lot more about the man involved in the scheme rather than a fake tattoo. "How does Jason feel about this," Aaliyah asks.
I shrug, not giving Jason's thoughts or feelings any kind of thought. "Who cares? He's not my boyfriend, fiancé, or my husband." His opinions on my body shouldn't matter. I learned the hard way not care what a man thinks I should look like.
"He's your valentine."
She is right. Jason did ask me on a date for Valentine's Day. I accepted his offer, of course, considering how many other times we'd gone out since I moved in the house next door to him. I like the way things go with him. Nothing is too fast and nothing is too slow. We're moving at a nice, moderate pace as I'm continuing my tour. There's no way I'd shut down a date with him. In fact, I flew back to Chicago for that specific reason as I'll be on the first flight to London tomorrow at noon to get back on the road.
