Destiny || Prince/MJ

Destiny || Chapter 1

1984

Nicole "Nikki" Foster

"For the last time, Prince never wrote "Darling Nikki" about me." After pulling this cigarette away from my lips, the number one answer revealed itself. As ocean waves ebbed and crashed behind us both, silence began to fall that afternoon.

Despite my love for the public, sometimes the media drove me insane, especially at that time in my own career. Six years had passed between me visiting record stores all over as a nobody, but finally earning my first Grammy award earlier that year.

Despite the gorgeous sunshine that hovered, there I was, sitting on this beachfront balcony, perplexed by repetition. The report should've known better than to ask such a question. Actually researching me would've saved her from this burn.

Of course, I wasn't the only woman who was born as Nikki, either. The news anchor who'd agreed to conduct this interview started with that inquiry. My own answering machine almost flooded recently, then giving similar comments as time moved on.

"I sincerely apologize for my mistake. It's just that you met Prince at the beginning of your career and many fans would like to know if you fell out with him at some point. The record isn't necessarily positive." Even as she tried to clean up her question, this reporter cringed and struggled, still watching my face throughout.

"Of course that record's not positive. On the surface, he's talking about a groupie and kinky sex." I stubbed my cigarette in this table ashtray and faced her with nearly menacing eyes. I've never assumed the "Diva" role until right now. She'd really worked my nerves, despite pledging to offer professionalism to me earlier.

"Now, I'm not saying that you're a groupie at all, but folks have whispered for quite some time about you and other famous celebrities." As this damn woman began to finish her sentence, my own heart thumped with anger now. No turning back.

"What are you really asking?" I went down the rabbit hole. Enough was enough as we faced one another. I'd grown tired of beating around the bush and wanted to figure out if this woman actually wanted to see my ugly side. I'd been nice for too long, with or without show business cameras being shoved in my face at the time.

"Did you ever..." The reporter, a White woman, had pushed my buttons all afternoon, but I wouldn't yell out loud. This interview actually meant something to me and I still wanted to clear the air about this situation with Prince, even if lasting for a few more minutes. I'd answer the question in my own way, just prepared.

"I'm sorry, but my personal relationships are none of your business." I defended myself calmly. There was no other choice. If I started to trip, headlines would've raced tomorrow about tempers, especially as a Black woman. I wasn't that naive.

"Fair enough. Let's move on." Taking my answer shouldn't have been that difficult, but the reporter decided to change our subject for me at last. I sighed with relief in silence, offering my lipstick smile for the cameras anyway. I still knew much better.

____

When my interview finally ended, we shook hands to say goodbye, but I'd never work with that woman again. Journalists who kicked off celebrity interviews with personal questions like that turned out to be such red flags, especially back then.

On the other hand, Prince and I were fine, actually.

Countless media outlets just stirred up nonsense for us both as "Purple Rain" already slapped this world. I'd even visited his movie premiere and had the time of my life watching that project. I'd never seen a film so unusually wonderful before.

Back in my hotel room, I checked the answering machine for new messages. Thankfully, I already took out nonsense from this thing before management could lose their minds about losing my contact. There was definitely no other choice then.

"You have 7 new messages."

Message #1: "Hi, Nicole. it's Michael. I know that we haven't talked in quite a while, but I'd love to see you again. I'm performing with my brothers on our last tour and it'd be great if you could visit. Call me back whenever you can. Bye."

Michael, Michael, Michael.

We actually met for the first time during the Grammy ceremony just a few months back. As "Thriller" made history and earned eight accolades that night, I'd never felt so happy. Mike came along with Brooke Shields and Emmuael Lewis. Yet, I arrived by myself and never even expected to be nominated, let alone win at all.

Onstage that night, after handing out my acknowledgements it wasn't long before I thanked Michael as an inspiration. Truth be told, he gave showmanship that very few peers offered at the time. Like others, I'd followed his blueprint career from the start and beamed as he sat in rows. It was one of the few times I felt star-struck.

Message #3: "Nicole, thank you for the rest of tonight off. Just promise that you'll be ready for another interview tomorrow. I know that today's reporter wasn't easy, but we gotta keep moving, all right? Get some sleep and we'll talk soon."

My own manager had called. Not long after I left the nosy journalist alone, taking off had been my best option. Otherwise, I'd run on autopilot again and lose momentum for tomorrow. The entire team had quickly understood the point.

Message #5: "Hi, Sweetheart. It's Momma. I just called to check in and see how you were doing. Thank you so much for giving me those beautiful flowers last week. I love you so much. Sleep well tonight and keep moving. Hope we talk again."

I would've given anything to go home and surprise my mother for her birthday, but a scheduling conflict for my video shoot got in the way. I would've easily postponed that idea altogether if it wasn't for the director, either. I gave Mom roses in return.

Message #7: "Hey, Nik. it's me. How are you? Sorry about ringing this line out of nowhere. What time is over there? I would've called earlier, but I've got another coming up. Can you swing by during this tour? Let me know. Good night."

Jokingly rolling my eyes, it wasn't long before I chuckled for a moment and went to sleep instead.

Prince had left my last message that night.