Electric Echoes: A Melodic Tango of Love and Reluctance

The Problem With Women

Chapter Ten

Minneapolis, Mi

June 10th, 1984

"Come on, James, I don't have all day," Prince calls into the bathroom as I'm changing.

I roll my eyes and walk out in the dress he picked out. "I don't like it."

"Oops, I'm sorry. That one isn't for you," he says, covering his laugh. "Go on, I'll get something good this time."

I give him one last glare. "You better. I'm supposed to be the arm candy, remember?" I remind him of the reason I'm going to the Grammy's with him in the first place.

To be honest, I was kind of surprised that he asked me to go. I thought that he would take Apollonia for PR, but it seems he kicked her to the curb since Purple Rain is done.

Then that leaves his fiancee, and he doesn't want her on his arm either. I guess so he can appear to be a single man to his little fangirls. The problem is, if we keep getting seen together like this, then they will think we're dating. Which defeats the purpose. But hey, it's his world; we're just living in it.

"Here, try this one," comes his voice from outside of the door.

I open it a crack and grab the garment. Wow. It's a purple metallic piece. Prince has really cornered the market on tacky, let me tell you. Slipping into the dress, I look in the mirror.

Okay, so it isn't as bad as I thought. I walk out of the dressing room and turn my back to him. "Zip me up, please."

I feel his hands on me instantly. The dress fits me like a glove. The look on his face alone tells me that he approves.

"This is the one," he says, twirling me in a circle.

I roll my eyes and giggle. "Finally. We've been looking all day," I say, walking back into the bathroom.

"You really think I'd let you walk down the red carpet with me looking ordinary? And here I thought you care about your brand," he says teasingly.

I put the dress back on the hanger and get redressed. "If you would let me pick something for myself, we would have been out of here an hour ago."

"Nope," he says, popping the 'P'. "I seem to remember you having something to say about my clothing choices during fashion week. All I was doing was sitting in the front row. You're getting pictures taken with me, so you need to look irresistible."

I smack my lips and exit the bathroom. "As if I've ever been resistible," I say, handing the dress back to him.

"And so modest too," he says, swatting my ass.

I glare at him. "The next part of your body that touches me will not be given back."

"I'm shaking in my heels," he says, handing the dress over to his assistant so the final alterations can be made.

Only his team of stylists could come up with that flashy piece of tin foil. Okay, It's not that bad, but it's not my style. I'm only wearing it for him. I just hope it doesn't hurt my image... I kid.

But seriously, now that I'm almost nineteen, I'm trying to get into national ads, and maybe even get a long-term deal with a major fashion brand. The runway is fun and everything, but I want more. I want my face in Times Square. It's my time now.

"James?" Prince shakes my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head and look at him. "Sorry, I was thinking."

"Come on, daydreamer," he says, pulling me along.

We have been up in his apartment above his rehearsal space here in Minneapolis, and by now, the band will be in the rehearsal space waiting for The Man. We get in the elevator, and he places his key in and turns it three times to the left.