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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August 22, 1993 Barcelona, Spain
Well, this is different.
The same thought loops in my mind as I watch what's happening in front of me. Tony, Damon, and Kirk's absence as the female lead was allowed to stay was one starting point. A freshly curated horn section was another. The swirling nests on the both of their heads that distracted me whenever I'm staring for too long. So many things about what I'm experiencing is... Different. It's different and I don't really like it.
"Where are her pants?" I shoot a knowing eye into Buffy's direction as she emerges from the shadow of Ike, shrugging her shoulders at the random leg kicks on the stage. "No, really. What's going on?" I'm talking more so to myself than anybody else as my shaking head comes with a disappointed scoff.
It just seems that he can't seem to figure out how to scale his shows back these days. They get bigger and stranger as time goes on. The reveal of his damning habits makes me pity him. He can't seem to figure out when enough is enough and this, what I see now, is art imitating life. His typhoon losing its savoir fare as its become a teased pixie cut attached to a rat tail bouncing around as he cuts his singing of what some consider one of his most charismatic melodies to date all in the name of him chanting about some half-assed go-go dancer making her 'booty boom' is nothing more than art imitating life.
The shit show is spreading.
I see Prince begging to be resurrected, possessing his body's new hist through outstanding vocal and instrument performances. Being forced to accept that he is somehow no longer in his prime as far as a full collective is a hard pill to swallow. It makes me fear the chances of someone saying the same about me, adding on to the multiple reasons I want to step away from the bright spotlight beaming on me. I'd rather walk away than let them think of me the way I'm thinking of him right now.
~•~
He looked at me too long... Or maybe I noticed him too much. He, who chooses not to be named, could spot the difference in my behavior. Storming out of DeVante's place drunk, pissed, and not getting a single call since leaving, leaves my relationship status in the air. With no true boundaries in the front of my mind, I revert to what I know when it comes to the way I act and speak in this kind of an environment. After the long glances and the one too many smiles, two slick tongues verbally agreed to meet again in the privacy of whatever suite has been refurnished in the name of the ActII tour coming to Spain.
As discreet as most thought we were being, that short conversation was clocked by those same envious eyes that watch me. I felt Mayte's stare from across the room and it only intensified when I ignored her. Feeling too much pity for the girl still being introduced as a friend to everyone we know, I didn't need to step out of character to passively antagonize her. My existence left her in awe. My being here is enough for her to be seething. The man who introduced us knows, I can tell by the way he speaks to me in her presence. Slick innuendos and a form of Pig Latin he knows only I can decode become his primary language as she's intentionally left in the dark.
