I could only hear the snap of cameras. As Brenda and I stood on that red carpet, questions swarmed regarding her own album. "Rollercoaster" would emerge in more than a week at this point. Brenda and I stood side by side in the most elegant dresses. Her management team lurked in a nearby corner to somehow dodge those flashes. I never understood why given their occupations.
I soon found out that Michael would escape the photographers and head inside to find his seat. I understood and prepared to see him within that illustrious audience. Everyone from Whitney to Skip had been nominated, of course. On the other hand, another one of countless limousines pulled up.
Moments later, quite a few cameras turned away from us to see who'd depart that same vehicle. As if on cue, a chauffeur ran around to open that back door. A velvet rope separated this man from all of us, but when he exposed that star, voices shouted all over again.
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Brenda and I grinned from cheek to cheek at the sight of Prince. As soon as he rounded the corner, paparazzi gathered, just screaming at us. Prince squeezed in the middle between Brenda and me, smiling as if he'd felt shattered beforehand. I didn't know what to think of his happiness right now, but remained cordial.
I'd never seen the man grin so widely. Playing along, Brenda and I planned to kiss both of his cheeks. Prince caught wind of our adorable idea and nodded feverishly. This wonderfully talented and sexy man had been nominated for "Sign O' The Times" three times after all. We all prayed for success, but Prince vowed to stay humble. Anything could've happened this year, even with Michael.
I knew that a snapshot of our assembled trio would circulate by the next morning. Yet, even after we stopped posing, Prince headed toward me with the biggest grin. Brenda stepped back to occupy herself with other cameras located elsewhere. Prince held both of my hands to greet me and we embraced soon after.
Regardless of our complex bond, I'd missed that smile. I'd miss his cologne. I missed the sense of his low voice humming against my ear. I'd topped my curly hair with an up-do this evening and he immediately noticed. His finger slyly reached over to twist around one stray coil. Space closed between and I found every urge to kiss the man in public. Nothing would've stopped me from allowing him to take off my dress. Honestly.
"I missed you." he almost dropped his voice even more. I couldn't even leave his arms after Prince held me from behind. Once again, I found myself distracted by someone who could never love me. As I've said, there was always someone else around him.
I was never good enough, especially after remembering our truth. He didn't miss me. Prince Rogers Nelson missed the convenience of me. Even on tour, if I wouldn't open my legs, someone else would. All the while, I still grinned his arms for Prince even buried his face into my neck and glanced forward.
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Brenda and I ruined mascara when Michael finished performing. Jackson tore down this place with intense renditions of "The Way You Make Me Feel' and "Man In The Mirror." I've never seen Brenda stand up so quickly in a dress before. "Man In The Mirror" prompted that woman to shout and cheer with the toughest version of her New Jersey accent. Michael transitioned from needed lip-syncing to clear Acapella and Bren just lost it.
"You better sing, Dammit!" Brenda shouted right next to me in the crowd. Accompanied by a chorus right after the bridge, Jackson ended up jumping and improvising to the sound of handclaps and even more soulful. At one point, he fell onto both knees after landing the most electrifying spin.
In that moment, I slowly began to wonder if Mike would ever get up while still singing. Almost as if the man blacked out musically onstage. I'd never seen something so mesmerizing, even after viewing his own concert. By the end of the song, I immediately stood up with B and everyone else. Onstage, Michael bowed and didn't smile again. Of course, I wouldn't dwell on his inaction right now.
Throughout the ceremony itself, Brenda and I just glared toward one another. Prince and Michael didn't even win. Yet, we grinned after Whitney scored. When Diana Ross presented "Album Of The Year," I peeked a few seats down to view Michael facing forward. U2 scored the title with "Joshua Tree" instead.
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Michael and I barely traded eye contact. My heart broke piece by piece as I witnessed the level of sorrow he felt. Skip placed to my left. We squeezed hands in the name of reassurance. I could never imagine this kind of disappointment. Even Brenda lowered her own eyes with a sinking heart.
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Prince and Michael would not allow me to leave their sides. I'd planned to stay in New York for Brenda, but she understood when I wouldn't join a Grammy afterparty. Instead, I changed out of this dress and prepared myself for knocks on the door. Drowned by silence, I relaxed with a page-turner and topped my curls with another messy bun. Just waiting.
Nearly an hour later, knocking finally reached my ears. I scooted off the bed and sniffled for a moment. It wasn't long before I headed to the front room and opened that door. Mike looked at me with a sadly reddened face. Even his eyes still glossed because of tears.
