Destiny || Prince/MJ

Destiny || Chapter 5

1984

Nicole "Nikki" Foster

"No matter what, don't ever act like a groupie unless you want that kind of treatment." My mother lectured us between sips of morning coffee. She'd already picked me up from the airport without ever needing help from my baby sister.

On the other hand, Dad smirked, probably thinking of the days when Jackie Wilson used to entice women just by existing. Even so, finally telling Momma about Michael and Prince had led to this sit-down. She was watchful instead of mad.

"Momma never wants us to be doormats. That's what she means." I glanced towards my sister, who'd already questioned my link to Prince countless times, even back when she was thirteen years old. Now eighteen, she was still nosy these days. I'd always roll my eyes about that trait, but of course still loved her anyway.

"Famous or not, if he doesn't respect you, walk the hell out. The last thing I want is for you two to be miserable in life, especially around men. Stay single until someone cares." Momma ranted again. I nodded with my sister. Dad still silenced.

"Yes Ma'am." I answered with my sister in unison. Out of nowhere, Dad cleared his throat and finally offered two cents. I could only imagine what crossed his mind right now. He hadn't spoken this morning about my situation otherwise. I'd listen.

"I usually trust your choice in men, Sweetheart, but stay away from Prince." Pop lowered his voice and faced me with direct eye contact, offering the strangest form of rejection that I'd ever heard. Even Momma gaped. Prince and I weren't even dating at the time and my father already disapproved. I wanted to know more, but Mom asked the question for me. My sister traded glances with me, waiting to hear.

"What are you talking about?" Momma scrunched up her face towards my father and pushed her coffee away to cross both arms. I didn't know what to think, but Dad answered all three of us and stated what he meant. My heart thumped.

"We've all seen the press. As far as I know, Prince doesn't believe in monogamy. How am I supposed to trust that gigolo around my daughters? At least Michael doesn't try sleeping with every woman on Earth." Before long, my father shook his head. My sister and I gaped again. Even Momma had her own death glare now.

"It's not fair to assume anything. You don't even know how Prince and Nicole treat each other." Momma said to my father. I nodded, quickly agreeing that it wasn't fair for Pop to make the worst guess this time. Silence reached the kitchen table.

"I know a player when I see it. In fact, I acted like Prince at one point in time, remember?" Pop faced my mother and had basically ratted on himself right now. In turn, Mom smirked. I didn't believe that we'd reach this rabbit hole again, but we had. I glanced towards my sister's puzzled expression and reached for her hand.

"What is Dad talking about?" My sister asked Momma and me with her now extremely gentle voice. I almost choked as this lump formed in my throat, but Momma left one chair to stand and put one arm on my shoulder. I nearly sobbed for the first time in quite a while, finally revealing something that I never wanted to discuss again. Yet right now, there was no other choice. My sister had to know.

"After Pop married Momma, he cheated and I was born." I revealed the truth. It was real. Mom had spilled out of nowhere on my eighteen birthday. At the time, I'd found this unseen picture of someone holding me at one of our family barbecues.

It wasn't Momma.

I never realized that Dad lied about one of our longtime "family friends" until Momma intervened. She didn't even have her own photo of me in the hospital. In truth, all of our photos hanging in the living room took place after I'd left that ward altogether. Of course, we had all kept this secret from my sister until right now.

"So, you're basically saying that Mom adopted you as her own child?" My sister then asked. I nodded. Meanwhile, my biological mother couldn't even afford to have abortion back then and Dad had faced the obviously drama of being caught with another woman. We'd be another stereotype if folks found out what happened, too.

Yet, Momma would always care about me and I'd belonged in this family regardless. I wasn't even supposed to tell my sister the truth like this, but Dad hadn't been man enough to admit his problems, not even to his own daughters.

Before I could really answer once more, Momma wanted us to leave the kitchen. We both understood. My sister and I left without a second thought, heading back to our old spaces. These bedrooms were only situated down the hall from each other.

Now upstairs, my sister shut the bedroom door and started to blast "Sucker M.C.'s" by Run-D.M.C. Even Momma knew that Pop had loathed rap at the time. As my parents argued back downstairs, she took advantage of that time to fume alone.

Momma had promised not let anyone touch my instruments, no matter how long I'd actually stayed away from this house. Everything in here still felt new. I then amped my electric guitar and emoted melodies to let out wounded frustrations.

When I opened both eyes after shredding that iconic "Purple Rain" solo, my sister now stood in this bedroom. I didn't even realize that she'd turned off the boombox rap music. Tears now stained her young face. She was Mommy's twin for sure.

"I don't even care what happens after today. No matter what Dad did, I'll always love you." My sister hushed her words and hung my guitar back up. Not even seconds later, I fell into her arms for the most emotional hug. I simply wept.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Momma filed for divorce.