Tell Me You Love Me

It Was a Terrible Idea

"Look, Mike, I know you're upset, but this isn't one of your best ideas," Frank said as the car rolled to a stop on the side of an abandoned street. A single light post jutted from the sidewalk dimly illuminating the pavement. He was sitting next to Michael in the back seat. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder out of concern.

"I just want to be alone," Michael responded flatly, his eyes fixating on the fabric of the seat in front of him.

"I get that," Frank replied reassuringly, "but it's not a good idea for someone with your degree of fame to walk alone in the streets at night."

Michael shook Frank's hand off his shoulder. "I'll be fine. The streets are empty and there's no sign of anyone," Michael said softly as his eyes slumped down to his hands folded in his lap. "I appreciate your concern, I do, but I think I can take care of myself."

"Mike, that's great. I love your confidence, but seriously though, what if you get mauled by fans or the paparazzi? You know they will tear you to pieces." Frank pulled a cigar and lighter out of his jacket pocket and rolled down his window a smidge. He lit the cigar and took a big puff out of it. He dropped the ashes out of the window. Michael watched as the smoke filled the car. "I just don't want you to get hurt." Frank grabbed Michael's bicep. "You're my little buddy, a good pal o' mine. I don't wanna go to your funeral and see your mangled body. You die, and I'm out of a job!"

Michael offered a small smile. "I'll be fine. If I need anything, I'll give you a call." Michael grabbed the door handle, and Frank's grasp on his arm tightened.

"Michael, a petty little fight with Prince isn't grounds for suicide."

Michael laughed. "I just need fresh air and time to clear my head! I'm not tore up about Prince. I'm fine." Michael offered one last chuckle before opening the car door. "Gosh, Frank. You're so silly! I'll be fine." He stepped out of the car and slammed the door before Frank could get in another word of protest. He then motioned for the driver to drive away, and soon he was left alone on the side of the street.

He began walking down the poorly lit road littered will trash that moved a few inches in every direction each time the wind blew. The only sounds the world around him had to offer were the sounds of the leaves brushing against one another in the tree tops and the sounds of small animals scurrying about. Crickets chirped here and there in the grass of the unkempt lawns. The night was warm and still. It was peaceful and calm, and it was exactly what Michael needed to ease his nerves. He was still wound up about the earlier incident, but not because of the way Prince acted or the things he said, but rather it was his own actions and words that disappointed him. He shouldn't have stooped down to Prince's level of pettiness in the first place, and even though he did, he didn't go low enough to properly defend himself. He just couldn't believe he resorted to physical confrontation. After all, he was a lover, not a fighter. But it's hard to love or tolerate someone so arrogant and rude. He couldn't believe he even considered working with the jerk.

Michael reached the end of the street and turned right onto a road with no street lights. He didn't stop, but he did consider the potential danger and thought about turning back. But he decided he already went too far, so he might as well keep going. He took in his surroundings carefully. There were only a few houses on either side of the street, and they all looked small, old, and sort of worn down. It almost reminded him of his old neighborhood in good old Gary, Indiana. Almost.