Spotlight || MJ/Prince

Spotlight || Chapter 16

1997

Angela "Angie" Powell

Nothing else would be more adorable than the scene that unfolded before my very eyes. My heart swelled with joy as I watched from the driver's seat, even though Skip wanted his own chauffeur to take the steering wheel from me that morning.

"Pinky promise that we'll be friends forever?" Using her little voice again, Jamie stood on this curb wearing a Disney backpack and one cute dress that I picked up last weekend. Meanwhile, Skip knelt to meet my daughter's height. Bodyguards secretly patrolled the entrance. My motor still ran from the car as I waited.

"I pinky-promise. Have a great day at school, okay?" Grinning, Skip interlocked pinkies with my daughter and opened both arms to share an embrace. Jamie had finally forgiven him for what happened last year with Mayte. I told her that friends couldn't be mad with each other. Only mean people loathed one another, of course.

"Okay. Bye, Paisley. Bye, Mommy! I love you." Jamie blew the sweetest kiss towards us prompting each one of us to smile. As we both declared love and said goodbye, it wasn't long before a teacher led my daughter to the building. Skip then returned to that passenger seat of my car and this engine roared as he buckled.

"I love her so much." Once Jamie was safe inside, Skip then looked towards me with the rarest smile on his face as we left from the curb. I'd planned to see him for the first time in quite a while, especially knowing that Jamie started kindergarten.

"I know." I said. Horns blared. Voices yelled. The man alongside me looked too good. Even as he wore that gorgeous wedding band, for the first time in years, I felt jealous. I still knew that his current marriage wasn't really authentic, but damn.

"I still care about you, too." Skip told me with that signature low voice soon after. With his sweet words, I didn't face him and slipped into traffic to turn up the radio. My heart thumped either way, but I still focused on the road ahead. Another bodyguard watched from the backseat. Again, silence reached my personal car.

As if on cue, "Seven Days" by Mary J. Blige, a song I'd written in the past for my album, began to play. I'd composed other tracks for Mary before. Some records even traced back to "What's The 411?" in 1992. We were still friends to this day.

"Don't make me pull this car over. I can't fight with you, Skip. Not today." It wasn't long before I then stood my ground, turning to reach my neighborhood. Even as someone burned his eyes into my soul from his left angle, I still concentrated.

"If you don't wanna fight with me, then why are we going back to your house? My hotel's an hour away from here." Smirking, Skip backed his short, brown hair against his passenger headrest. It took all in me not to scream at the wheel.

"Shut up. You're married. Act like it." I laughed, trying not to squirm while driving. He knew so much better than to start any more problems with Mayte. To be honest, I actually still walked on eggshells with her for my broom-closet drama last year.

"I would genuinely act faithful if Mayte did the same thing. I'm not the always bad guy in this situation." Skip mumbled out of nowhere. Even his guard cringed from the back seat. I never expected those words to leave his own humbled lips now.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, pulling the car into my driveway. The bodyguard would call in another limousine to pick Skip for his next award show performance. Unfortunately, this gig would air during Jamie's bedtime, which always left my daughter pouting because she couldn't see her best friend sing.

"She cheated on me last night." Skip leaned against my car in white and hints of bright green, rocking another elaborate outfit that would turn heads. I'd gotten so used to him dressing up this way that fashion just never shocked me anymore.

"What the fuck?" I snipped, wanting to yell again. Skip nodded, smirking again just moments later. For all of the ongoing judgement that this woman decided to give me in these past five years, she actually didn't treat her own husband any better.

"I'd be better off if you were around instead. Jamie still doesn't like Mayte." Skip pointed out that obvious detail. I rolled my eyes not long after calming down in one way or another. There was no other choice here, of course. I couldn't complain.

"The word you're looking for is divorce, man." I finally headed towards my house. Clicking these to the front door, I paused at the sound of more footsteps. Thinking it was the bodyguards walking with his phone , there wasn't much going on.

Yet, I froze when someone touched my shoulder from behind.It was Skip, tilted his head with another smirk. I shook my head, quickly realizing what he'd wanted to do with me for such a long time. He waited for seventeen years. Our special number.

There I stood on this small front porch of my home, leaning in to finally kiss this man. Lovelorn Skip had waited less than twenty years for this moment to happen, even though I held myself back to my fragile heart intact. Long ago, I wasn't stupid enough to become some nameless and dolled up groupie for "His Royal Badness."

Yet, this moment between us actually wasn't about show biz nonsense. I'd learned that he was a completely misunderstood human being who wanted to play music. The flamboyant clothes and big-time onstage presence only arrived as a result.

All the same, I'd never even fallen for Michael and still couldn't figure out why. I carried his child for nine months. Five years ago, Mike laid to make Jamie. We all knew this truth, even the married man who now blurred our longtime friendship.

"No more games." Skip lowered that damn voice again, breathing so gently against my mouth at the moment that I almost couldn't feel anything. Why couldn't I turn away as Skip closed space between us on this porch? We were both "tall" in heels.

"What do you mean?" I lied through my teeth with this one question, even though I knew exactly what he meant since the eighties. We just couldn't say anything like that to save our hearts in one way or another. As said, I'd trusted few people before.

"I love you, Angela." Skip revealed.

It wasn't long before this man kissed my lips and walked off the porch, leaving me alone to process what just happened. Later tonight, he would brave cameras with another woman altogether, and then perform records that only fans understood.

"I love you, too." I whispered to the departing limousine.