Chapter 7

Studio B
Paisley Park
Three Hours Later

I was dying of boredom and impatience. It wasn’t until I had arrived at the studio--Paisley Park actually had four separate recording studios--that Prince told me that he was still busy arranging the music. He was actually nowhere near ready to lay down vocals.
The music was actually pretty good. It was an upbeat bluesy melody. But after hearing it played over and over about thirty times, it was starting to lose it’s luster.
Studio B was a bit more lavish than I had expected. Decorated in shades lime green and black, I felt like I was locked in side of bottle of Sprite soda. Several quilted green and gold chairs were in front of the huge main console where Prince was madly mixing sounds and isolating others. Behind us in the middle of the large room was a couch in the shape of a loose “S” and before it on a black lacquer table, seven green candles that smelled like citrus burned. The only thing that bore Prince’s symbol was the marble floor. It was entirely black except in the center was a tiny version in green.
Even the recording booth was extravagant.
At Neverland, all that was in the studio was a bare wooden stool, headphones and large microphone.
At Paisley Park, the stool was made of shiny green vinyl and was draped in gauzy green chiffon. (I’m not sure if that was wise, because I knew that most studio microphones were extremely sensitive and I thought that chiffon rustling would have ruined any type of recording being done.)
I looked over at Prince from where I sat next to him. I desperately wanted to rest my head on the console, but I knew that if I even thought about touching it, Prince would have probably pulled my hair out.
“Am I ever going to get to sing? Or are you just going to play with dials all day?” I sighed, twirling a lock of hair. If he wanted to finish the music mix, I could go back to California.
“You really are an impatient woman. This might shock you, but it takes time to organize a musical score.” Prince explained, his head bobbing as fiddled with beats.
“I know it takes time. Duh. But at least when I recorded with Michael, most of the music had already been recorded prior to my arriving.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m sure he had other people play the music for him.” Prince looked up at me. “Every instrument that you hear--guitar, drums, piano--I played it all myself.” With that, Prince put his head back down and continued to move levers.
“You really played all of that music yourself?” I was amazed.
“You really don’t know anything about my music or my career or anything do you?” Prince leaned back in his chair and gave me a condescending stare. “I bet all the music you know from me is Purple Rain and Little Red Corvette, right?”
Feeling foolish, all I could reply was “I know 1999, too.”
“That’s good, but I stopped singing that song when the millennium flipped over baby. It’s irrelevant now.” Prince’s cold demeanor was starting to aggravate me. I wanted Michael more than ever.
“Prince…what did you do with my phone?” I questioned, eager to change the subject from my ignorance of his music.
“It’s back in your room at my house.” Prince said quietly. “And I noticed something strange when I went in there.”
“What?” I stared at him, wondering what could have been amiss.
“You have your iPod and computer in there. I was curious.” Prince rose from his seat and began to walk around the room. “I looked into your iPod. You had about 300 songs in there and all of them were Michael’s or Jackson related. That’s probably why you don’t know shit about my music or any other kind of music for that matter. Michael’s making you very close-minded with just his music.” Prince sat on his couch and spread his arms across the spine of it.
Through his shirt, I was disgusted to see thick patches of hair under his arms. I wondered how he could walk around like that without feeling gross.
“Then I turned on your computer. That was amusing. Your background is you--dressed like a kid--and Michael on his Merry-Go-Round.” Prince tossed his head back. “Whoo! That was crazy.”
“You had no right to go through my things. Those are my private things.” I said though I felt ready to cry. I felt violated and raw.
“That may be, but they’re taking up space in my house and I can look at anything I damn well please in my house.” Prince hopped up and sauntered up to me.
“Everything you own is Jackson-centered. I didn’t see anything at all that didn’t have him connected to it. I’m surprised my necklace isn’t burning a hole in your neck, since it’s not from Neverland.” Prince placed his hands on his hips.
“Tell me something, what do you do for fun--outside of Neverland?” He demanded.
I stared up at him, my mouth twisted with scorn. And I was even angrier than I actually couldn’t think of anything!
My time was generally spent between keeping Michael’s children and him company.
Prince’s hazel eyes bulged. “You’re drawing a blank aren’t you?” He accused.
“No I’m not…” I mumbled and started to do a slow burn.
“What the hell do you do when you’re not in the studio? Sit and play with that damn chimp of Michael’s?” Prince snorted.
“Are you going to spend all day making fun of me, because if you are, I’m going back to my room.” I said fiercely and started to stand.
Placing his hands on my shoulders, Prince pushed me back down in my seat.
“I want to know something.” Prince’s eyes were searching me again and I squirmed under his glare.
“What?” I remarked sharply.
“You said that you used to sing in little clubs over in West Hollywood. You know, before Michael. What did you do for fun?” Prince’s voice was so mellow, it scared me.
“I…I um, after I got done singing my set, I went home. The people in those places were rough. There was alcohol, of course, and drugs and that’s not my scene, Prince.” I tossed my hair scornfully. I was interested to see where this conversation was going.
“Oh, I get it. You’re a good girl. I should have known that.” Prince leaned closer into my face. His breath smelled of spearmints. “I figured that only a goody-goody would get Michael Jackson all hot.” Prince chuckled.
I stared down at my lap where I wringing my hands so hard that I thought they would bleed. I wanted so badly to hit him that it was making me crazy.
I became aware of Prince’s breathing near my ear. The sensation gave me chills.
“As uptight as you are Brynn, I bet you’re still a virgin.” Prince observed solemnly.
I quickly stared up at him and had to bite my tongue to keep myself for spilling it all over him that Michael was my lover. I knew that Michael would have fainted if I told Prince.
“Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re surprised that I guessed it. I can tell a virgin when I see one.” Prince grinned broadly and looked like a mouse again.
Prince reached up and grasped my chin. “You know, if I wanted to, I really could turn you out. I mean, really. I know exactly what to do, to make you shout like a white lady in church.”
I was struck speechless.
Prince was being extremely rude and blunt with his frank sexual talk.
And the astonishing thing was, I knew that it should have upset and offended me, but instead, I was warm with arousal.
I quickly shook the feeling off. I had to keep myself together. I couldn’t go off and be intimate with Prince. I belonged to Michael. I belonged to Michael Jackson and I was proud of that fact.
“Prince, you brought me to Minnesota to sing with you. And that’s all I’m going to do while I’m here. And the last time I checked, people recorded with their clothes on and not on their backs.” I started to rise again.
Prince plunked me on my bottom again. Staring me in the eye, Prince quickly retorted, “You know you don’t have to be naked to have sex, or be lying on your back.”
“You’re a reptile.” I spit the words at him.
“I’ve been told I have a tongue like one.” Prince snickered.
Thoroughly disgusted, I placed my hands against his chest to push him away.
I was surprised to feel how hard and defined his chest was through his shirt!
He was almost as solid as Michael.
“You like what you’re touching Brynn?” Prince’s voice was low as he spoke.
I stared up at him and I saw that his face was reddening, as if he were blushing. His stare was penetrating.
“I…I…” I stammered weakly.
“Mr. Prince?” A voice asked.
Prince quickly spun around. I looked around him to see that Jimmy was standing in the doorway.
“What is it Jimmy?” Prince sounded annoyed.
I was relieved. Only God knew what would have happened if he hadn’t interrupted us.
“I don’t mean to disturb you, but Brynn’s phone has been ringing constantly for the last hour.” Jimmy replied meekly.
It was then that I noticed that from somewhere on Jimmy, a muffled version of Bad was playing.
“I’ll take it.” I stood so suddenly, that I actually bumped into Prince and sent him stumbling a few steps.
Jimmy produced my phone out of his pants pocket.
Taking it from him, I made my way to the door and out into the hall. I definitely needed to put some space between myself and the Little Nasty One.
The moment the phone picked up, Michael exclaimed,
“Brynn, baby doll, where were you? I’ve been calling for the longest! I was starting to get worried!”
“Oh don’t worry Michael. I’m fine.” I assured him quietly.
“So how’s the new look? I assumed you were getting all done up and stuff. What do you look like?” Michael giggled.
“Um…different. Prince made my hair curly.” That was the only thing I could come up with. I desperately wanted to tell Michael that Prince had made sexual innuendos towards me, but I didn’t want to ruin the deal Michael and Prince had on the first day.
“Oh…it’s curly. I bet that’s cute.” Michael sounded so happy and carefree, the exact opposite of what I felt. But I knew I have I had to sound happy for him or he would have been on the first thing with wings out of LAX in an instant. “Are you wearing make-up?” Michael whispered the question as if it were a naughty thing to be talking about.
“I look like I should be hanging in the Sistine Chapel.” I laughed.
“Oh gosh.” Michael sighed. “Well it’s only for a little while and soon I’ll have you back in my arms. I miss you a lot Brynn.” Michael confided.
“I--I miss you too.” I replied and my heart ached.
“I hope that you and Prince are getting along alright.” Michael said.
“I’m tolerating him. I mean he’s no you. That’s for damn sure.” I tossed my head angrily.
“I know. I’m sending you something nice. You should get it tomorrow. So it can feel like I’m closer to you.” Michael hee-hee’d.
“Oh Mike! What is it? Tell me!” All my troubles left me at the thought of a gift.
“No…no! You’re going to have to wait!” Michael squealed.
“You’re no fair Michael.” I pouted. “Can you give me a hint as to what it is?” I urged.
“No…you’ll have to see!” Michael insisted.
As I sniggled with him, I got the feeling I was being watched.
I glanced behind me and saw that Prince was leaning out of the studio, looking at me.
I saw a flame in his clear eyes. He seemed upset that I was speaking to Michael. And it worried me.
“Mike…can I call you back?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Sure Brynn darling. I love you.” I detected a note of disappointment in his voice. My eyes stung with tears.
“You too.” I flipped my phone closed, disconnecting Michael.
Prince gave me a smirk and disappeared back into the studio.
I slowly walked back to the studio, my head hanging with shame.
* * *

That night was an eerily quiet one. Prince had remained silent after we had returned back to his home from Paisley Park. And the silent treatment had continued during dinner. It was almost painful.
I felt that he wasn’t speaking to me because I had taken Michael’s call when I was supposed to be recording with him.
Some recording session. I was still buzzing from him questioning my sexuality. I hadn’t never intended to let Prince get to me, but I soon found myself pacing my room, stewing with alternating flashes of anger and sorrow. (I had discovered that my room didn’t contain a television and I hadn’t seen one in other room of the house!)
I was actually sad that he wasn’t talking to me, and I was angry at myself for being sad! The silence was driving me insane and I knew that if I didn’t say something to Prince, even just to hear my own voice, I felt I was going to tear the roof off the place. I knew that I could have called Michael, but I wanted to tell Prince just how big of an ass I thought he was and that he was a bastard for being so mean to me.
Willing up the courage to go to him, I stormed down the hall, my stomps being hushed by the plush carpeting up to the double doors of his room.
Before I could stop myself, I was already banging my fist against the heavy doors.
I waited a long while with no answer. Flaming with unrestrained anger, I beat both fists against the doors until they starting feeling numb.
“I can’t answer the door if I’m not in the room”
I jumped at the sudden speaking and whirled around.
Prince stood behind me. His small body was clad in a bright purple robe that reached the floor, covering his feet. A matching head wrap covered most of his hair, which appeared to be damp from a fresh shower.
He clutched a steaming white mug in his hands.
“I want to talk to you. Now.” I frowned and inhaled deeply.
Prince, looking down into his cup, nodded.
“Fine, but if you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of my preparations for tomorrow.” Prince walked up to his bedroom doors, opened them, and motioned with his head for me to go on in.
A wave of reluctance hit me.
I was about to enter Prince’s bedroom.
Not wanting to let on that I was now in the grips of fear, I willed my legs, suddenly heavy and leaden to carry me off into the room. I was happy that the lights were on in there.
Prince’s bedroom was a bit off kilter in comparison to the rest of his home’s décor. His room was lavishly adorned with shades of plum, violet and gold.
As I had assumed, his bed was the focal point of the room. It seemed larger than King-sized and was covered in a decadent silk comforter in a rich shade of purple. On it were about fifteen golden pillows. Some had his name embroidered on them, some, his symbol. The bed had no headboard, instead, the entire wall behind the bed was quilted in an alternating gold and plum checkerboard design. In the middle was a huge gold metal version of Prince’s symbol. It was about three times larger than the one in my room. I wondered if Prince was ever worried that he might get skewered by it.
On either side of the bed were small plum lacquered tables and on each was a gold and crystal lamp. I noticed that on one table, there was a closed Bible.
A large violet curtain concealed what I supposed was a huge window. My eyes drifted over to Prince’s dresser, a large gold wooden piece. The entire top of it was laden with many cologne bottles and an assortment of gold and purple candles. In the center, in a tall thin pot, a few reeds of incense were burning. The room reeked of the scent of vanilla and chamomile. A lone Grammy award set on the dresser. (All his other awards were displayed at Paisley Park.)
On the other side of the room, near the large walk-in closet, were a few big. Puffy arm chairs, each a different, yet coordinating, shade of purple.
The floor was carpeted in a deep gold shag.
“Have a seat anywhere.” Prince instructed walking over to his loaded dresser.
I made my way over to one of the armchairs, one so deep a shade of plum, it was almost black.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Prince questioned setting his mug down and picking up several cologne bottles, giving each a whiff, and undecided moving on to the next.
Sighing I ran a hand through my hair. The curls were beginning to fall and my hair was more wavy than curly.
“Well, I wanted to discuss the way you’ve been treating me since I’ve been in Minnesota.” I said crossing my legs.
“Oh really? And how have I been treating you?” Prince opened a bottle of amber-colored liquid, dampened his fingers and swabbed his neck with the scent.
“You know how you’ve been treating me. You’ve been pretty cold to me for the most part. And now to top it off, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment since this afternoon.
Prince dampened his fingers again and ran them through his chest hairs, depositing more cologne.
“I’ve been silent because tomorrow I plan to lay down a vocal and I don’t want to ruin my voice with any unnecessary speaking.” Prince looked at me through the reflection in his mirror.
I wanted to slap the amused expression off his face. I didn’t let the statement move me.
“Also, you’ve been bashing my appearance and thoughts and everything. Now I’ve changed my looks for you. And it took me nearly an hour to wash that make-up off! But I don’t understand why you hate the way I think. The way I spend my time. It’s my mind and my time. It’s no concern of yours.” I thumped my fingers on the arms of the chair.
Prince was once again, to my annoyance, silent and busied himself with the lighting of his candles with a match. I saw a gold symbol was embroidered on the back of his robe.
When it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond, I continued with my rant.
“And then today in the studio, you completely shredded my sexuality. It’s was totally out of line how you claimed I was a virgin and then you had the nerve to go and say how you’d ‘turn me out’! You have no business even talking to me about that sort of thing. I mean I wouldn’t ask if you were a virgin.” I shook my head.
To my utter dismay, Prince merely chuckled.
“I think I’d bust my guts out laughing if you were crazy enough to ask me something like that. I’ve probably done things that you’ve only thought about.” Prince snickered. “And I can ask what I want. It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer everything I ask.” Prince wobbled his head arrogantly.
I was quiet for a hot moment. Prince was right. I didn’t have to answer him.
“Why can’t we be pleasant to each other? I mean I’m trying really, really hard to get along with you. Can’t you meet me half-way or something?” I ran my fingers along the hem of my yellow pajama top.
“Pleasant? That’s funny coming from the girl who referred to me as an ‘overgrown midget’ this morning. You’ve got some nerve Brynn.” Prince blew out the match and laid it on the dresser top. Picking up his mug, he walked over and took a seat in a chair next to mine.
“Alright.” I sighed and looked down at my hands. “That was really mean of me, and I do apologize.” I said quietly. If it would make things go easier, I was willing to back down and apologize.
“Hmmm…” Prince took a deep sip from his mug. “Well, thank you. I didn’t think you knew how to apologize.” He spoke from around his drink.
Not being able to control myself, I said quickly, “I know how to do a few things.”
Prince lowered his mug and smiled shyly. “You know, I think there’s something funky about you.” He remarked.
“Pardon me?” I cautioned if Prince was making a remark about how I smelled, he was in for a rude awakening. (I was wearing a perfume that cost Michael over 500 dollars an ounce!)
“The way you act. All shy and shit. I don’t think that’s really you. You act like that because that’s probably what Michael’s been pounding away in your head. I bet if you were given a chance, you’d be out having a ball.” Prince thumped his fingers on his mug.
“I don’t have to go out and hang in clubs to have a good time.” I sniffed and looked away from Prince.
“I didn’t mention anything about a club. I mean go out and catch a late movie--not at the Theatre Neverland either. Do something unexpected. How about this…” Prince leaned over his legs. “Have you ever gone out at midnight and danced in front of a car’s headlights?”
I laughed loudly. “Why the hell would I do that for?”
“For the sheer hell of it.” Prince stood and walked over to his bed.
“It’s a funny thing, Michael has you on a leash and you can’t even see it.” Prince dropped his robe to the floor. I saw that he wore red pajama pants that were so long and wide they covered his feet. He was topless.
The rich, golden skin on his back glistened slightly.
“Would you stop dragging Michael into this?” I begged, not really aware that I was speaking.
Prince’s bottoms hugged his butt very tightly and I could see that it was extremely toned and tight. It was clear he still wasn’t wearing any underwear. The thought that the only thing keeping him from complete nudity was a pair of satin pajama bottoms sent shock waves through me.
“You can’t see it can you?” Prince laid on his bed and tucked his arms under his head, propping himself up to keep up the conversation.
I stared at him, taking in his well defined chest and abs. Tiny pink nipples were just barely visible through his chest hair. And earlier, his underarm forests had offended me, but now they were intriguing to me.
“See what?” I said looking down.
“The way you run behind Michael. You almost knocked me on my ass when Jimmy brought you your phone. Hmm…if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Michael was your man or something.” Prince chuckled.
I bit down on my tongue and tasted blood. I wanted to go all upside his head and tell him that Michael was mine, but I just couldn’t.
“That’s a hilarious thought. You and Michael Jackson. Ha ha! I can’t see Michael with any woman. I laughed my ass off when he ‘married” Lisa Presley and then that other fat woman. Lisa was nice-looking and of course, he fucked that up!” Prince was laughing so hard, he was twitching.
I hopped up and streaked over to his bedside.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs. If there was one thing I hated, it was being laughed at. And the fact that he was also laughing at Michael was really burning me.
Prince sat bolt upright. “I know you just didn’t tell me to shut up.” He said seriously.
Leaning so that I was in his face, I said coolly, “Then let me say it louder: Shut the--”
As I was about start cursing him up and down, Prince grabbed me around the waist and quickly tugged me onto the bed with him.
I was electric with fear.
“Let…let go of me!” I exclaimed and tried to pull free of his grasp.
Prince was stronger than I had ever expected. Way stronger.
As I struggled against him, Prince bobbed his head around my face. It became clear that he was trying to kiss me.
“Stop fighting me. Stop it.” Prince said calmly as if he were addressing a child.
“You let me go! Now! Damn it Prince! Let go of me!” Prince had me so close to his own body that I couldn’t move my arms, which were caught between up.
I was helpless. And who knew what Prince wanted to do to me.
Prince’s face bobbed closer to mine.
My eyes focused on his lips, a dusky pink and wet--as Prince began to lick them.
“No…” I whined as his lips mashed against mine hard.
My entire body went kind of limp as Prince continued to bear down on my mouth. He was a much rougher kisser than Michael. His mouth was fierce and unrelenting.
After a few moments, my lips started to ache as Prince continued to kiss away at me. For a moment, he was sucking on my bottom lip.
I felt myself slipping into him, submitting to the kiss on my end.
Our heads swayed back and forth the longer we continued to let our lips dance on each other.
I became aware of a damp feeling on my lips. It took a moment for it to register that Prince was trying to shove his tongue into my mouth.
I jerked my head to the side and leaned away from Prince as the realization of the situation dawned on me.
“Come here.” Prince whispered and tried to pull my mouth back to his.
“No!” I tried to pull free of his arms, which were wrapped completely around me.
“Don’t you want me?” Prince’s voice was light in my ear as he pulled me against him once more.
His cologne, the lavender scent invaded my nose.
“No…no. No!” I shook my head and tried to push him away.
“Yeah, you do.” Prince chuckled.
All of a sudden it hit me that Michael was sitting at home. At home with his children and all four of them loved me. And the thought immediately caused tears to flow out of my eyes as if a faucet had been turned on in my head.
I put my head down as the tears came faster and heavier.
“Are you crying?” Prince sounded shocked.
“Just…leave me alone! Please!” Finding strength from somewhere, I pushed Prince back and, my eyes blurred with salt water, I stumbled out of his bed.
I knew I had to get away from him that instant.
I had to get out of that bed, that room, that moment.
As I raced down the hall to my room, all I could think of was Michael and how he would have reacted to his girlfriend, his woman, kissing another man.
Once inside the room, I slammed the doors and locked them.
I sank to the carpet, my hand to my chest. My heart was beating so rapidly and erratically that I thought I was having a heart attack. And instead of calling an ambulance, like anyone else would have, I didn’t want help.
I wanted to die.
I had almost cheated on Michael Jackson.
The one man I loved more than anything else.
* * *
The Following Morning


I woke up the next morning feeling as though I had been mashed by a steam roller. I was dizzy and had barely gotten sleep that night. I had spent most of the time between leaving Prince and daybreak crying and around three a.m., I had become so nauseated from my own actions that I had had to rush to the bathroom to vomit.
I doubt that I got an hour’s sleep.
I sat on the side of my bed not really knowing what to do. I wanted to go back to Neverland more than anything else. But I knew that if I went back home, as I had been reminding myself that entire night, it would ruin negotiations with Michael and I’d be responsible for Michael not making a comeback. And then I’d have to kill myself before his fans would have ripped me apart.
But the thought of being ripped apart by a horde of devotees wearing single white gloves seemed like a slap on the wrist when I thought of what almost happened in Prince’s boudoir.
A rapid tapping on the door almost made me jump out of my skin I was so nervy.
“Who is it?” I called, my throat raw.
“It’s Juan-Carlos. Just letting you know that breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes and will be served in the dining room.” Came the reply.
I ran over to the door and flung it open as Juan-Carlos was starting away.
“Why can’t I have breakfast in bed? Like yesterday?” I asked. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts that morning.
“I’m sorry.” Juan-Carlos gave me a weak smile. “But Mr. Prince insisted on breakfast with you this morning. And he said to come in a robe again. Don’t be late…” With that, Juan-Carlos proceeded down the stairs. “And don’t forget your chain.” He called back.
I slammed the door, stricken.
I couldn’t possibly face Prince that morning. Not after the stormy night before.
And yet I knew I’d have to.
I tried to shock myself awake with a harshly cold shower, even though I knew the temperature was in the single digits. Even getting pneumonia would have been a treat for me.
I started to tear up once again as I wrapped the symbol robe around my underwear clad body. I just wanted one thing to remind me of Neverland and I didn’t have anything at all.
Pulling myself together at the last minute, and hating myself for crying in front of Prince, I looped the symbol necklace over my head, more as an act of strength to show Prince that I wasn’t scared of him, than actually wanting to go along with his wishes.
When I arrived at the dining room, I saw that I was the first one there. As I took my seat, Juan-Carlos, as if on cue, came out of the kitchen and presented me with a mug of coffee.
“Mr. Prince will join you shortly.” He assured me and disappeared back into the kitchen.
I sipped my coffee nervously. I wondered what Prince would say to me. Would he be angry with me or worse, would he tease me for crying?
I didn’t have to wait long.
From down the hall, I could hear Prince’s shoes clicking as he made his way to the dining room.
He entered the room silently. And I saw that once again, he was fully dressed and with his hair immaculately coifed. He was dressed simply in a thick, oversized black turtleneck sweater and matching black trousers. His hair, was gel-free and tumbled across his forehead in loose curls. The only color that he wore came from his ever-present symbol chain and a the rings loaded on his fingers. His wedding ring was still missing.
He took his seat at the head of the table.
Juan-Carlos rushed out of the kitchen, two plates balanced on his hands.
He set them before us and I saw that the plates contained scrambled eggs and a three blueberry pancakes.
“What would you like to drink this morning Mr. Prince?” Juan-Carlos asked quietly.
“I’ll have a cup of herbal tea--three spoons of sugar in it. And bring maple syrup.” Prince instructed.
“Right away, sir.” Juan-Carlos hightailed it out of the room.
I stared at my plate. My appetite was completely gone, I was so out of it.
Prince’s appetite wasn’t affected at all. He was shoving eggs into his mouth.
Juan-Carlos returned with a mug in one hand and the other, a clear glass container of syrup.
He went as far as to start pouring it on Prince’s pancakes, until Prince waved him away.
“Would you care for some syrup?” Juan-Carlos smiled at me.
“No…thank you.” I shook my head.
“Alright.” Juan-Carlos disappeared back into the kitchen.
The only sound in the room was Prince’s knife cutting up his pancakes.
I glanced up and saw the he was eating as if it were the best meal of his life.
I looked back down, completely troubled.
“You should eat. We have a lot of work to do today.” Prince instructed.
“I’m not hungry.” I replied and pushed my plate away.
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. But that’s you.” Prince shrugged. “If you’re done with your meal, you can go ahead to the studio. Mindy is waiting for you.”
I was warm with anger. Prince was acting as though last night hadn’t happened.
Running my finger along the edge of the plate, I made myself ask,
“Why did you do that last night?”
“Do what?” Prince forked another bite of pancake in his mouth.
I dropped my voice so that Juan-Carlos wouldn’t hear me.
“You kissed me last night!” I hissed.
“Oh that.” Prince chuckled as if it suddenly clicked to him what I was talking about. “Well…” He set his fork down and looked at me.
“You look like a girl who hasn’t been kissed in a long time. And your lips are so perfect for kissing.” He reached over and thumbed my mouth.
“Quit it!” I shoved his hand away.
Prince chuckled again. “I think you’re scared of me because I’ll knock the curl out of all that pretty hair of yours.”
I looked away from him, a rage starting to run rampant inside of me.
Prince’s voice was extremely high in his next remark. “When you gonna let me knock the bottom out them drawers?”
I whipped my head around. “When pigs sprout wings and take flight!”
Prince’s laughs echoed around the room. “That’s very cute!” He snorted.
My hand shook as it curled into a fist. I didn’t care if I ruined Michael’s chance to have Prince write for him, I was determined to leave a bruise somewhere on his smiling face.
I drew back my fist, so tightly wound that it was hurting.
“Excuse me, Mr. Prince?” Jimmy rushed into the room.
“Oh goddamn it!” I whined under my breath. I couldn’t punch Prince with a witness in the room.
“Yes Jimmy?” Prince wiped a laughter tear from his heavily lined and mascara-ed eye.
“I don’t mean to disturb your meal, sir, but this package just arrived for Miss Brynn.” I saw that Jimmy was holding a somewhat large brown box in his hands.
“Well give it to her.” Prince yawned.
Jimmy handed me the package.
“Thank you.” I said quietly.
As Jimmy made his exit, Prince rested his hand on his upturned palm and giggled, “Open it. I want to see it.”
I saw that the package had been sent from Neverland. I had completely forgotten that Michael was sending me something.
I just kind of hated that Prince was there to see whatever it was.
But if it was something spectacular, I wanted to show it off in front of him.
I ripped the box open and after I dug through a bit of packing foam, I pulled a smaller, velvet box from the shipping box.
Attached to the top was a small note.
A smug smile on my face I opened it and began reading it aloud. It was scribbled in Michael’s tiny handwriting.
“Dear Brynn,
I know you’ve only been away from home for a short while, but we all miss you very much. And I know that you miss all of us. The kids and I picked this present out specially for you and we hope you like it. It’s a beautiful piece, but not as beautiful as you.

Love,
Michael, Prince, Paris and Blanket.

“Aw that’s so sweet.” Prince mocked.
“Blow it out your ass.” I said calmly as I picked up the box and opened it.
I almost dropped it on the floor when I saw what was inside.
“Oh my God!” I squealed.
Inside the box was a large cuff bracelet. It was made of silver and what looked like a million lines of silver were scattered all over and studded with diamonds. It looked almost the way the wild scribblings of a child on a wall would be. Except it was a high end piece of jewelry.
I lifted it out of it’s setting and held it up to the light.
“Oh God! It’s so pretty!” I gasped as it twinkled in the light.
I looked over at Prince; he wore a blank expression on his face.
I pushed my sleeve up and put the bracelet on my wrist. It fit perfectly.
Jamming it under Prince’s nose, I asked, “Don’t you think it’s lovely?”
“Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.” Prince looked away and I knew he was stewing. He could have turned into a bowl of gumbo for all I cared.
“Well if you’ll excuse me…” I stood. “ I have to go place a call and thank Michael.”
Feeling happy for the first time in a long time, I sauntered out of the room.

* * *

Near Studio B
Paisley Park
Two Hours Later

“Oh goodness. Do you think Mr. Prince will be mad with me?” Mindy complained as we walked briskly down the hall. She was behind me fluffing my hair out with a small comb.
We had run thirty minutes over Prince’s waiting time for me to get properly made up.
“You’ll be fine.” I rolled my eyes. Mindy had misplaced my shoes when she had arrived and had to go back to her apartment all the way in downtown Minneapolis to retrieve them.
Not that I thought Prince would be looking at my feet anyway. I knew he had chosen my outfit that day just to ruin my nerves.
I wore a red mesh blouse over a red bandeau top and a matching micro-mini skirt. It was so insanely short that it could have been mistaken for a belt. And the blouse was made rather strangely. The back of it ended just under the bandeau top, but the front was longer than my skirt.
And to further my annoyance, I was teetering in five-inch red stilettos.
“I hope I’m fine. He hates it when I’m late with anything.” Mindy fretted.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell Napoleon, Jr., that it was my fault we’re late.” I shrugged.
“I hope you’re right.” Mindy said. As we made our way up to the doors of Studio B.
I rolled my eyes. I still thought it was unbelievable how Prince’s employees were so scared of him. But I was a hypocrite, I was afraid of him too.
We pushed open the doors to the studio. Prince was once again manning the console, and playing with sounds.
Without turning, Prince said quietly, “Brynn, please go in the booth. The lyrics are on the stool.”
Mindy gave me a quick grin and left the room as I walked over to the recording booth.
Once inside, I picked up the scrap of paper. Handwritten lyrics were on it. And to my horror, Prince’s handwriting was worse than Michael’s!
I stared down at the paper, pretty much unable to decipher what was written.
I leaned up towards the microphone. “Prince…I can’t read this.” I admitted.
I saw Prince shake his head as if he were annoyed with me. It wasn’t my fault his handwriting looked like a bunch of random lines on the page.
He got up from his seat and made his way into the booth.
Taking the paper from me, he said. “This is the chorus for my song. It’s called Game.
And the lyrics are: “Love is not a game to played, did you pay attention to the sweet things I said? This sort of thing is not a game. If I wanted to play, I’d be in an arcade, love is not a game, my love is not a game.” Prince read quietly and handed the paper back to me.
“How do you want me to sing it? Like is it fast or slow or what?” I asked glancing down at the paper.
“It’s sort of mid-tempo. Not really slow, but not really fast.” Prince tapped his nose. “And kind of sex it up a little. Make it kind of breathy--sort of like Marilyn Monroe.”
I shook my head. Why did everything seem to be carnally-centered for him?
“Alrighty.” I tried to remember what he had said.
“Put on the headphones and I’ll start the music.” Prince motioned the headset hanging from the microphone. I’ll give you the cue on when to sing.” He went back and assumed his seat behind the console.
I placed the headset on my ears. A moment later the music track started. It started slow with a lone piano playing and as the tempo increased a bit it was joined by horns, an electric guitar and what sounded like a flute. It was actually a somewhat good, danceable tune.
I watched Prince, who was nodding with the music. About a minute and half into the song, he waved his hand.
Trying my best to be breathy like Marilyn, I sang what was written on the paper.
The music cut immediately.
“No…no…oh Lord! No!” Prince screamed over the intercom.
“What did I do wrong?” I demanded angrily.
“You gotta be breathy…really breathy. Almost gasping.” Prince suggested. “Like…like if you were singing right after making love.”
I looked down at my hands. “Are you sure? Does it have to sound like that?” I was slightly embarrassed. I wasn’t much on making obscene sounds on a record.
“That’s the way I heard it in my head. And I want it to sound exactly the way I want it.” Prince crossed his arms. “Now try it again. I know you‘re a virgin, but damn, you‘ve watched movies I’m sure. Now try.”
The music started again. Straining my voice to be as breathy as possible I gave the lines another shot. My throat actually burned.
The music cut out once more.
“That’s good. That’s dead on it. Now I need you to repeat it about four times.” Prince smiled.
I heaved a sigh of relief, at least I was doing something right.
While I was singing my part, I kept my eyes on Prince. He was totally different in the studio than Michael was. When I’d sing at Neverland, Michael would watch me and smile. Prince’s head remained down as his fiddled with knobs.
As I was finishing up my bit, I saw the door open and Jimmy lead another man into the room.
The man was a good six inches tall than Prince, if not taller. He was of the same shade as Prince, but I could tell that his eyes were brown. His hair was gelled into a freeze, similar to the one Michael’s brother Jermaine wore.
A thick mustache covered his upper lip.
And he was wearing the tackiest outfit I had ever seen!
He was clad in a blazer that was made of a green and white leopard print material with matching green pants. He wore a simple white shirt under it.
Prince embraced the man for a short moment, both of them laughing.
I knew the man from somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I had seen him, though.
I finished my bit and stood waiting for Prince to tell me to come out of the booth.
Prince and the man continued to talk and laugh.
After what seemed like a long while, Prince pointed me out to the man. I’m not sure what he said, but the man in green, stamped his foot, and said something and they laughed again.
Getting fed up with waiting, I opened the door stuck my head out.
“Prince, am I done or do I have to sing more?” I asked, a bit shyly.
Prince, in the middle of laughing, managed to get out,
“Come here, I want you to meet someone.”
I was weary of anyone who was Prince’s friend, especially if it was a man. Prince had been coming across as sexually driven since I had been in Minneapolis, and if he was getting X-rated ideas, I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Placing trembling hands behind my back, I stood next to Prince.
“Brynn, I’d like you to meet Morris Day.” Prince smiled and placed his arm around my shoulders, an act that resulted in my looking at him like he was crazy. I was trying not to squirm because I still was being bothered by him grabbing me the previous night.
“Hi.” I said quietly, still not fully comfortable being in a room with a closed door with two men!
Morris reached down and grabbed my hand. He pecked the top of it gently.
“My, my!” He exclaimed shrilly. Morris leaned to Prince and said in a loud whisper, “She’s too pretty.”
“How old are you Miss Brynn?” Morris looked me in the eyes so intently that I looked down. He was wearing green and white wing-tipped shoes.
“I’m nineteen.” I continued looking at the floor.
Swaying my back and forth, Morris said, “Woo, you are one sweet young thing.”
“Um, thank you.” I pulled my hand from his.
“Brynn, I’m going in to lay down my vocal.” Prince announced. “Morris is going to record it for me.” Pinching my cheek, he said “Be a doll and keep him company.”
With that, Prince went into the recording booth.
I quietly followed Morris and took a seat next to him behind the control panel.
“Yo, Brother, gimme the cue when you’re ready.” Morris called into the intercom.
Prince nodded and closed his eyes. I supposed he was queuing up to sing.
“So, Miss Brynn, Prince tells me that you’re staying with Michael Jackson?” Morris commented. Somehow I figured his use of the word “Miss” wasn’t a label of respect the way Prince’s servants meant it when they spoke to me.
“That’s right.” I nodded looking ahead.
“That must be one hell of a trip. I bet he’s got animals all over the place. Birds and monkeys and stuff.” Morris cackled loudly. "A-ha!"
When Morris laughed, it occurred to me where I had seen him. He had also been in Prince’s movie Purple Rain. He was the one that I had referred to as a “cheap version of Prince” when we had spoken at Quincy’s house.
“It’s a nice place.” I said calmly and crossed my legs. “I’m happy there.”
“You’re not happy here?” Morris looked at me and I noticed that there was a smattering of brown freckles on his face.
“I’ve been better.” I tossed my hair.
“Oh.” Morris, rubbed his chin.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
We were quiet for a moment.
A thought was bugging me. “Morris…?” I touched his arm.
“Yes Miss Brynn?” He gave me a huge grin.
“How long have you known Prince?” I wondered. I wanted to know what Prince was like from people who knew him and worked with him.
“Oh girl, I’ve known that dude since his ass had an afro.” Morris cackled again. “Why?” He questioned.
“Um…” I wrung my hands. “ How does Prince…” I closed my eyes. “How does Prince treat his women. You know girlfriends, wives?” I forced the question out my mouth.
Morris threw his head back and laughed uproariously.
He pointed at Prince who still had his eyes closed and was mouthing to himself.
“That right there is one slick motherfucker!” Morris chuckled. “He be doing all kinds of weird shit with his girls. That’s the kind of brother who be lighting candles and leaving jewelry in your panty drawer and shit. Leave poetry in your bathtub! But it must work, he always has a pretty woman keeping him company.”
I looked at Prince. Is that what I could expect from him? Jewelry in my underwear drawer? I made a mental note to put all my panties back in my suitcase! He was not about to go on a panty raid on my watch.
“Is he freaky like people say he is?” I mumbled, feeling a wave of heat suddenly flash through my abdomen and run to my toes.
Morris reached out and pulled my chair, which was on wheels, closer to his.
“Look, I ain’t even supposed to be talking about this…” Morris glanced up at Prince, “…but yeah, I can say the dude is freaky. Now I ain’t gonna name no names, but Prince had a particular woman he was involved with and I had the misfortune of walking in on them in her apartment one day…”
“Yeah…well what did you see?” I leaned closer to Morris. I was shocked to find that I was genuinely interested in knowing what happened.
Morris dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. “Prince is in to that domination shit. He had the woman tied up with leather straps and well you get the picture. I shouldn’t be telling a young lady like you stuff like that anyway.” Morris glanced back at Prince.
I stared off into space horrified. Prince tied his women up? And I was letting myself go to sleep in his house?
God, who knew what Prince was thinking about when I was asleep. I was even more rattled when I wondered just what exactly he mean by turning me out.
I was dying to ask Morris if he knew what Prince meant by that term, but I was afraid to find out what it was. But the thing that scared me beyond all depths of my soul, was that I wanted Prince to be the one to demonstrate it to me.

* * *

I spent a total of over five hours in the studio. And it didn’t seem like much really got accomplished. Prince’s vocal for Game was comprised of a mostly high-pitched falsetto and I barely understood what was coming out of his mouth, though I was about teen feet from him with Morris.
About midway through Prince’s caterwauling, I left Morris’ side and rested on the green couch. I was insanely bored because my conversation with Morris ended after Prince had motioned he was ready to “sing”.
And Prince was a workaholic; the man didn’t even stop for lunch, and of course since he was the Big Kahuna of the place, I didn’t eat either.
I had my hunger to keep me company. I knew that Michael would have flipped out if he knew I wasn’t being fed. And I knew I couldn’t leave the room, because I didn’t want Prince to ever look at me the way he had when I took Michael’s call again.
When the recording--and mixing--wrapped, Prince exited the booth, made a beeline to me and asked one of the most random questions:
“What’s your favorite movie?”
I looked at him like he was insane, but answered anyway,
“Gone with the Wind”.
Then Prince instructed me to go back to the main house and wait for him.
I had no idea what the man had in mind, but I went ahead and went back to his home.
And the moment I hit the door, I had Juan-Carlos fix me a meal that I wanted to eat, and I didn’t care of Prince approved of it or not.
I wasn’t a vegetarian like him and had been dying for something made with meat and damn it, just something that would basically clog my arteries!
I don’t know if Juan-Carlos had ever cooked meat in the house, but I made him whip up a thick burger--where he got the ground beef from, I’ll never know--and French fries for me.
I even had a chocolate milkshake to wash it down!
It was nearly 8 p.m. by the time I ate my meal and I was thoroughly starving--since I had skipped breakfast that morning. With Michael, I didn’t eat any later than 6 p.m., unless it was a special occasion.
After my meal, I spent a short while talking to Michael, who had to hang up early because he had a meeting with that sewer rat, Rusty and I occupied myself by playing games on my computer.
I think I used the games as a way of keeping my mind off of what Prince had pulled and what Morris and I had spoken about. But the events kept permeating off into my brain.
As I laid there playing a racecar game, I kept thinking about how Prince had just grabbed me and forced me into kissing him. I couldn’t lie to myself. I had enjoyed kissing Prince until I thought of Michael. It worried me to think that if I hadn’t been involved with Michael, I probably would have been all over Prince.
I had to keep reminding myself that I wouldn’t even be singing with Prince if it wasn’t for Michael’s helping me and I owed it to him to be faithful.
But it was hard as hell.
And it was about to get even harder.