1985 - California
MICHAEL
Brenda and Prince just walked away without even saying goodbye to me. Awkward silence filled the beautiful room otherwise.
I slammed down my own napkin and tipped a waiter generously before leaving out with this personnel.
Behind me, Frank bobbed a cigarette in his mouth while trailing with Bill and his security team.
I chose Frank Dileo as my newest manager last year. This chubby but stern and helpful employee aided my presence time and time again so far, especially during the "Victory Tour."
Joseph and his management group seemed almost hell-bent to keep me around, but Frank and Bill smirked every time. I'd be forever grateful.
Even now, Frank knew all about my current situation. He'd shake his head before relating stories of his own longtime marriage.
I understood that need for distance from couples as a single man, but Brenda deserved someone who wouldn't brainwash her usually open minded thinking.
"Mike, let it go. She's happy whether you believe it or not." A slight Pennsylvania accent left the voice of my manager. I shook my head once more as we all moved towards the parking lot.
Knowing damn well that insomnia would kick my ass again, I chose to stay out that night. For once, I'd head to the closest nightclub or lounge. Just feel less reclusive.
I only cooped up at home while busy, completely shy, or just distant. This time, energy and frustration coursed through my entire body. I needed commotion. I needed a spotlight.
Or else, I'd probably go insane.
__
My Loafers stepped into purple and blue fluorescence around midnight. Bass rumbled as glanced around, fighting to through the otherwise colorful darkness.
Frank already discovered a home among this noise by sitting near poisonous vapors. Bill and his security team scattered throughout this place to watch from every angle.
I suddenly felt as if this location deemed out of the ordinary. Near the bar, ladies topped stools in extremely tight dresses. Each outfit varied in color and design. At the view of me, everyone smiled and welcomed my presence.
It wasn't until I reached the upper levels that many celebrities packed the area. I'd seen everyone from Madonna to Culture Club.
Lo and behold, Kim and Charlene swayed hips in rectangular cages when I looked upwards. "Word Up" by Cameo already began playing.
My teeth awkwardly smiled as these women blindly dance without even noticing my existence. Fellow superstars waved in my direction and servers offered drinks, but I calmly sat down to observe the upward side show.
Kim tousled curly hair with both hands while grooving in one black dress. Sequins glimmered between those colorful strobe lights.
Charlene nearly vogued with the music, lost in her own realm. Her own dancing body squeezed into this sleeveless neon crop top. Leather hot-pants curved around hips that I'd probably never experience.
Before long, the music faded out and these women carefully departed those cages. Below, square platform throbbed to rhythms in changing neon shades.
Who designed this brilliant place? I thought to myself.
One short and descending stairwell guided Kim and Charlene back to this floor. These ladies most likely planned to retrieve drinks when Kay noticed me out of the blue.
She'd snatched a nearby purse and fished out Aviators to top her now messy but curled hair. Not once did this fine-ass woman greet my presence.
Damn, girl.
***
KIM
"Kay, it's me again. Look, I'm so sorry about what happened. I'm sorry for neglecting you. Can we please try again? I promise to show you that I'm better now. And not to sound arrogant or change the subject, you looked good tonight, Baby. Really good. I miss you. Please call me back, Sweetheart. I'm done playing games. I'm yours. Bye."
"Bullshit!" Charlene yelled out loud once the answering machine beeped and stopped. I spit my beer while sitting on the couch at home. After one quick glance, Char and I immediately began laughing.
I would never forgive Michael. Charlene soon turned up the music on my stereo and danced in the middle of carpet. I then joined in, snapping fingers to "Raspberry Beret."
We drunkenly sang along with Prince as he recounted the millionth "love song" for Brenda.
I was working part-time at a five-and-dime.
My boss was Mr. McGee...
As of late, the happy couple focused on respective solo careers. Otherwise, powerful duo images still swarmed mainstream media. At least Prince retrieved some form of personal joy while his brilliant music overtook the industry. I'd always exude pride toward collaborating with that incredible man.
There was no better feeling than to even breathe near his creative air. All kinds of influences rested within my own compositions now.
When Charlene left out for the night, I plugged in my home keyboard and fumbled with keys and lyrics.
In that moment, I immediately called Prince.
You need another lover.
Like you need a hole in your head.
Baby, Baby...
("Another Lover" by Kimberly "Keys" Walker -- Song Composed for Prince Rogers Nelson, 1985. )
