Chapter 22

Somewhere in Soho
The Next Night

I sat in the back of the Land Rover, grimly wringing my hands.
I was festering with worries. How would Michael and Prince interact with each other? Would Prince try to move in on me? Would Michael move his foot in up Prince’s butt? Would Michael like the songs Prince wrote for him? And most importantly, would the night end well, or end in manslaughter with else Michael or Prince being incarcerated?
I glanced over at Michael.
He was occupied, looking into the mirror of the small compact he held.
Michael had truly left no stone unturned when it came to getting ready for this dinner meeting.
All day since noon, we had both been getting coiffed and made up by professional stylists that he had hired.
My hair had been curled and piled into a loose updo on top of my head, showcasing the back of my dress.
I wore a mask of cosmetics that seemed thicker than what Mindy had ever put on me.
My eyes were smoked to the max with black shadow and my lips painted scarlet.
Diamond earrings dangled in my lobes, a matching cuff bracelet twinkling on my right wrist. An Asher cut diamond ring glittered on my right ring finger.
Black stilettos, crusted with glimmering stones covered my feet.
It was evident that Michael was trying to show me off in front of Prince. (Which actually seemed like something I’d see Prince doing, not Michael.)
Michael was just as stunning.
His long hair had been straightened, and flipped away from his face in layers. His face bore a minimal amount of cosmetics--concealer, eyeliner, and mascara. His pinky lips, glossed to a subtle sheen.
Michael was dressed up in a red silk shirt, dotted down the front with rows of Swarovski crystals. A few buttons were loosened, exposing his long, graceful neck. The shirt was tucked off into a pair of black trousers covered with more crystals.
Black leather boots completed the look.
And even though the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, he wore round sunglasses with mirrored lenses.
“Honey, are you nervous?” I realized that Michael was gazing at me over the tops of his shades.
“Um, a little.” I admitted. “I just hope that you and Prince get along, that’s all.”
Forget getting along, as long as both men left the dinner alive and with all their limbs intact I’d be happy.
“This is strictly business.” Michael reached out and tapped my knee.
“At the end of the night, you come home with me. Not ‘That Damn Man’” Michael chuckled leaning his head against mine.
I may have been going home with Michael that night, but first I had to survive the night.

* * *

Forty-Five Minutes Later
The Ivy Lounge Restaurant

“It is now eight twenty-five p.m. Where is that little cricket?” Michael mumbled, agitated, glancing at the face of the diamond time piece he had bought at Aiken’s. It was circling his right wrist and gleaming in the light.
I stared down into my drink glass. Half of my Long Island Iced Tea was gone. I hadn’t even tasted it.
A tall glass filled with a Shirley Temple sat unsipped in front of Michael.
I was so full of nerves I don’t think I would have even been able to spell my own name.
One pulsing, obsessive, throbbing, pounding thought consumed me like a flame in a Molotov cocktail.
How would Michael and Prince treat each other? I just hoped I wouldn’t have to be posting anyone’s bail and appearing in a clip on Celebrity Justice.
Michael was already stewing.
He had a right to be a little miffed. We had been sitting in the VIP room of in the back of The Ivy Lounge for over thirty minutes awaiting Prince’s arrival.
Looking around the room though, I had to admit, Prince’s choice in restaurant was pretty spectacular.
Michael and I were seated in a pentagonal shaped room that was painted a deep shade of metallic gold.
Giving the room depth, and ambiance, beige-gold fabric was hanging from the ceiling, giving the room a soft glow.
Our table was a glass topped rectangle, perched on thick gold feet.
Michael and I sat side by side in armless overstuffed chairs that featured a tone on tone cream plaid pattern.
Soft classical Mozart and Debussy pieces were playing from hidden speakers.
It was so romantic, actually. God only knew why Prince wanted to converse in such an intimate setting.
“I’m giving that man five more minutes, then I’m leaving. I got better ways I could be spending my evening.” Michael grumbled, finally picking up his tumbler and sipping at his beverage.
Michael had been so pissed at Prince’s being late that he hadn’t noticed when I had ordered an alcoholic drink.
I knew he probably frowned on it--me being around Prince with a buzz.
In my heart, I prayed that Prince wouldn’t show and that maybe Michael would get Rust Bucket to get the demos with out the men having to see each other.
I knew only bad would come from it.
As I sat praying to high Heaven that Prince wouldn’t show, I became aware of a little tune--different from the music in the room--playing.
I soon realized that Michael’s cell phone--in his pants pocket--was ringing.
The Blue Danube was playing.
Michael produced the phone from his pocket and checked to see who was calling.
“Oh…why is Rusty calling me now?” Michael whined shaking his head until his long hair swayed.
I could only offer Michael a shrugging of the shoulders.
“Hello?” Michael asked sharply into the receiver.
I saw his eyes widen behind his sunglasses.
“What? Why is his nose bleeding?” Michael exclaimed hopping to his feet.
“Whose nose is bleeding?” I questioned, grabbing onto Michael’s arm.
I hoped one of his children weren’t hurt.
Michael stared down at me. “He says that Blanket was jumping on the bed. And he fell off.” He said quietly. I noticed that all the pinkness in his skin was quickly fading to grey.
To Rusty, Michael growled, “What the hell was my son doing jumping on the bed? He should be asleep. His bedtime is at eight o’clock!”
Michael put his hand to his forehead and sighed.
“Did you put something cold on it and make him tilt his head back?” Michael wondered.
“…Good.”
“Stay here, Brynn. I gotta find a regular phone.” Michael pointed at me, and started towards the doors. “Put Blanket on the phone! Now! What am I paying you for Rusty? You’re supposed to watch my kids when I’m away! What am I paying you for man? To let my baby play Human Cannonball? He’s four!”
“I hope Blanket’s okay!” I called as the double doors opposite my seat closed silently.
I sighed unhappily and polished off my drink.
It was bad enough that I’d have to sit with an already seething Michael Jackson him being mad about Prince’s tardiness, and now Michael’s hair was practically standing off his head because across town his youngest son was nursing a busted nose when an incompetent idiot was supposed to be tucking him into bed!
How could the night possibly get any worse?
I sat for a few moments, contemplating trying to hail the waiter, wherever he had disappeared to, and get another tea, but I was sure I didn’t need another drink.
I occupied myself twirling the straw coming out the tall glass coming from Michael’s drink.
“Hello Brynn.” A deep voice murmured and roused me from my thoughts.
I looked up with a start.
Leaning casually against the door frame was Prince.
My heart pounded at the mere sight of him.
Oh why did he have that affect on me?
Prince looked at though he had strolled off the cover of GQ magazine.
He was dressed sharply in a heather grey and periwinkle blue pinstriped tailored suit. Under the suit jacket he wore a matching blue shirt, unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and a blue ascot was tied around his neck.
Perched on his head was grey wide brimmed fedora accented with a blue band around the top. And from somewhere under the brim, a piece of light blue lace hung and partially covered his right eye.
It made his golden skin pop.
I noticed that his goatee was gone; his face was shaved clean.
A purple rose was clasped in his hands.
“Prince.” I said quietly as he started to make his way across the room, heels of blue boots clacking on the slate floor.
As he neared me, I was overtaken by the scent of Women’s Armani. Had he applied the perfume with a plant sprayer?
“Pour vous.” He held the rose under my nose.
“Thank you…” Staring down, I took the flower from him.
Did he have a private nursery manufacturing these purple flowers?
I had been all over the city and had yet to see one.
I hoped Michael wouldn’t mind me taking a rose from Prince. Red roses meant love, yellow ones sorry. I wasn’t sure what a purple rose meant.
And I was afraid to find out.
“You look nice. Michael actually let you wear women’s clothes.” Prince observed.
I was mildly burned by the comment.
It was amazing how Prince could compliment and insult you in the same breath.
Prince chuckled. “Get up, I wanna see this!” He gently grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.
He circled me slowly. “Damn, you look fine. Powder fine.”
Facing me once more, Prince gazed into my face.
His eyes seemed lighter than ever. The green flecks in them glimmered at me.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t there was something so hypnotic about his eyes.
“Do I get a hug?” Prince laughed, opening his arms.
“Um…” I managed to squeak. I had promised Michael that I wouldn’t hug Prince since I was “free-boobing” it.
Prince didn’t wait for an answer and reached out, wrapping his arms around me.
I felt his warm hands sliding up and down my exposed back.
Without really thinking about it, I wrapped my arms around his diminutive frame.
“Baby, you look so good. What is that perfume you’re wearing?” Prince whispered into my ear, making me shiver in his arms.
“It’s called--” I started and abruptly stopped when I felt Prince’s little damp lips pecking my cheek.
I sagged in his arms.
Lord help us--me--if Michael found Prince with his mouth on me!
“Woo! Don’t y’all make a pretty couple!” Someone hooted, causing me to spring away from Prince and bump against the table.
My stomach dropped.
Morris Day hovered just beyond the door.
I couldn’t believe it. Prince had brought Morris along?
Oh, this was a disaster.
Michael’s dislike of Morris was just as strong--if not more so--as his dislike of Prince. He thought of Morris as a loudmouth and vulgar windbag.
For Michael to be in a room not only with Prince, but Morris too…
And once again, Morris was making a not a fashion statement, but a fashion shout.
His tall, thick form was clad in a turquoise Zoot suit covered in a pink windowpane check. Under the knee length jacket, he wore a matching pink shirt and turquoise tie.
Pink leather shoes--not Stacey Addams though--covered his schooner feet.
(I didn’t even know they made pink leather shoes for men!)
“Well hello Miss Brynn!” Morris exclaimed breezing across the room enveloping me in a hug.
“Hi…Morris…” I tried to loosen his grip from around me.
“I can’t believe Michael left you all alone by yourself like this. A-Ha!” Morris cackled.
“Doesn’t Brynn look pretty as hell?” Prince laughed.
Morris’ large eyes widened as they swept up and down me.
“Yes.”
“Michael better be careful.” Prince gazed slyly through the lace on his hat at me. “I might take you home with me.”
“Prince…please.” I put my hands up and dropped into my seat.
“You’re one slick motherfucker man!” Morris cackled again as he and Prince took seats across from me.
I was a little surprised that Prince sat in the chair opposite Michael’s and not mine.
“What was Mr. Jackson drinking?” Prince wondered, reaching over and grabbing Michael’s glass.
“Don’t!” I warned. I knew Michael wouldn’t want to be drinking something with Prince’s spit floating in it.
He took a sip and immediately cringed.
“What is this shit? I’ve never tasted anything like this!” He groaned sliding it back across the table.
“It’s a Shirley Temple.” I sighed, and held my head in my hands.
“He ordered a non-alcoholic drink? Figures.” Prince scoffed and shook his head as Morris laughed.
“Hey Brynn! Blanket’s okay now…” Michael sauntered into the room, cell phone in hand. He trailed off at the sight of Prince and Morris sitting at the table with me.
Like a cloak covering us, trepidation and tension began filling the room to the point where I thought it would burst.
Morris and Prince quickly stood.
Michael’s stance became threatening: feet apart, hands clenched at his sides in tight fists, his mouth a bare pink line.
Silence hung in the air.
I held onto the side of the table for dear life.
The quiet seemed to last an eternity.
Prince and Morris stared at Michael. Michael stared at Morris and Prince.
Glaring.
Sizing up and down.
The first bit of noise came out of Morris’ mouth.
“Michael Jackson! Thriller man! How are you?” Morris exclaimed walking over to Michael, hand extended.
Michael barely grabbed his hand.
“A-Ha! Good to see you Brother!” Morris shook Michael’s hand so hard, he actually bounced.
“Thank…you!” Michael’s voice bobbed as he bounced.
Both men approached Prince who limply put out his hand.
A sapphire ring glinted on his pinky finger.
After a moment, Michael gripped it.
They shook lightly. I had seen infants with a tighter grip than those men.
“Hi Michael, good to see you again.” Prince’s voice had dropped so much, he sounded like Barry White.
“You too.” Michael’s voice was also deep.
Please don’t kill each other. Please don’t kill each other…
“Sorry I’m late.” Prince gave Michael a mousy grin. “Traffic in this town is a bitch, right?”
“Yeah.” Michael said after a moment.
“I don’t know about y’all…” Morris clapped his hands together, “But I’m hungry over here. Let’s order some food? This man has to get his grub on!”
“Sure.” Michael quickly got over to my side and dropped into his seat.
I gave Michael a brave smile.
I just hoped he didn’t smell Prince’s perfume on me.

* * *

An Hour Later

“So…Michael. I heard that a few days ago you had a little trouble at one of the jewelry stores a while back.” Prince said calmly as he forked a bit of his smoked salmon into his mouth.
I was finally starting to relax.
Michael, Prince and Morris had managed to carry on a halting, yet amicable, conversation. I stayed quiet and out of the mix as an attempt to keep everything rolling smoothly.
Michael glanced up from the broiled sturgeon he was eating. The CD containing six demo songs was tucked underneath his plate.
“Oh yeah, someone leaked to the fans and media that I was there and they swarmed the place. Scared my youngest son to the point where he cried.” Michael nodded.
“Really? I didn’t hear that. Must have been hard.” Morris sipped from a flute of champagne.
“Not really, someone snatched my glasses that’s all. Brynn was a little hero though.” Michael reached and patted my shoulder.
“She carried Blanket all through the crowd. Very brave.” He grinned at me.
“Hey, man I’ve been meaning to rap with you about that. Why do you call your kid ‘Blanket’?” Morris questioned quietly.
As Michael proceeded to explain that “Blanket’ was a label of affection, like you ‘blanket’ someone with love, I gazed over at Prince.
He was staring rudely at me.
I tried to avoid his eyes.
Prince buttered a small piece of bread and ate it, making sure to slowly lick the butter of his thumb.
What was he doing? If Michael caught him making obscene gestures at me, he’d been picking his butter knife out from deep in his ass.
I mouthed the word “pig” at him.
The wrong thing to do.
“So, Michael, tell me something.” Prince leaned on the tabletop towards Michael.
Michael stared over at Prince as he stuck a roasted potato cube in his mouth.
“How did you manage to hook up with Brynn over here? You got me and Morris looking bad in here. Dating a woman that young.”
Prince elbowed Morris in the side.
I whipped my head around to look at Michael.
He was calmly chasing his potato with a mouthful of another Shirley Temple.
He was definitely gearing up to play the ‘Taryll’ card.
“Brynn’s relationship with me is strictly professional. She’s dating my nephew Taryll.” Michael was cool as ice.
Morris snickered at the notion.
“Taryll? I’ve never heard any mention of anybody named Taryll when you were in Minneapolis.” Prince raised an eyebrow at me.
“They weren’t together then. The just got together before we came to New York.” Michael speedily replied.
“Oh shame Taryll didn’t join us tonight.” Prince said in mock sadness.
Time to take charge of this lie.
“Taryll couldn’t come because he’s helping take care of his father. You know, Tito, chubby fellow you met when you dropped by Neverland.” I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “Tito has a touch of the flu.”
A content smile crossed Michael’s face.
“Hate to hear that.” Prince picked up an asparagus spear and nibbled on it.
“You would have had me beat Michael. I’ve dated--and hell, even married--some women who were younger than me. But I’ve never dated a woman as young as Brynn. Nineteen? Just barely past jailbait.” Prince tipped his hat me with the last statement.
Michael grunted and turned his attention back to his fish.
Damn, I hated that ‘jailbait’ remark. I wanted Prince to shut up and would have gladly put my fist down his throat, but I knew it wouldn’t be well received.
Prince had found his topic of choice.
“Morris, isn’t there something special about dating a younger lady?” He put his arm around Morris’ shoulders.
“Oh yeah…” Morris patted at his rock hard hair. “Ain’t nothing like a young woman. Especially the ones that don’t know anything. Gotta teach them stuff. Woo!”
“That’s what I’m saying. Taking a lady that hasn’t experienced the real fun and turning her little ass out.” Prince cackled.
I heard Michael choke.
I stared over at him, mortified. He was staring at Prince, open mouthed and shocked. I was certain he had never been a part of a dinner conversation like this!
And neither had I!
Morris nodded in agreement, sipping his champagne.
“Yeah man, nothing a young springy body. Everything is perfect. Nice round, plump titties and bouncy little ass. Drive a man crazy.”
“Hey!” Michael cried out sharply.
“What?” Prince and Morris stared at Michael, annoyed.
“We’re in mixed company! You forgot Brynn is here?” Michael cautioned, raising his huge hands and covering my ears with them.
“Michael loosen up man!” Prince winked. “We’re all adults here. And it’s not like Brynn hasn’t spoken about sex before. I’m sure she and Taryll have probably done ‘the marshmallow’ a few times.” Prince chortled.
Did he just use our lie against us?
“I’m aware that we’re all adults.” Michael said through clenched teeth.
“It’s just not polite conversation.” His face was increasing in shades of red by the second.
“They don’t call me a ‘rude boy’ for nothing!” Prince laughed and Morris guffawed.
“Mike, don’t go getting all red on us.” Morris shook his head. “You act like you’re a virgin--we know your happy ass ain’t--you’ve got three kids!”
“Oh God!” I closed my eyes.
This was not happening. This was not happening!
“Look, it wouldn’t matter even if I was. It’s my personal business!” Michael rattled my head as he spoke.
“We don’t mean any offense Michael. Take it down a thousand. Shit.” Prince snorted.
Turning back to his conversation, Prince said,
“Now back on the titties: I like a girl with those big ones you can swim in. I really like those. Especially fucking them. Bouncing all over the place.”
Michael rose suddenly and in the process yanked an earring out my lobe.
“I can’t sit and listen to this.” Michael announced and snatched the CD out from under his plate. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this with a lady in the room. Thanks for dinner. Thanks for the demos. Come on Brynn.” Michael jerked me to my feet.
“Michael!” Prince hopped up and put his hands up. “Man, calm down. Why can’t you sit and talk with me and Morris?”
Michael tossed his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him.
“Because I have morals. That’s why. And I refuse to talk about sex and boobies with Brynn around.” Michael looked down his thin nose at Prince.
“Good night.” Michael began ushering me towards the door.
“Pfff! I’m getting preached to about morals from a man who can’t seem to keep his hand off his nuts when he’s performing!” Prince commented snidely as we got to the door.
“Oooh shit!” Morris cackled.
Michael’s entire being stiffened. He spun around so quickly I smacked into the doorframe.
“That’s why it’s called performing! Grabbing my crotch. The music compels me to do it! I don’t go all out the way like you do. Rolling around the stage licking and fondling guitars and stuff.” Michael stamped his foot, lip poked out.
“That’s called performing too.” Prince placed his hands on his hips and wagged his head.
“No that’s called five seconds away from pornography. I’m still surprised you haven’t been banned in most parts of the country!” Michael took his sunglasses off and tossed them at me.
Was he really about to first fight with Prince?
I held onto the door to keep from passing out on the floor.
“Like your skinny ass would know anything about pornography. You can’t even say the word ‘titties’. Hell I stopped saying ‘boobies’ when I was ten, motherfucker.”
Prince removed his hat and tossed it on the table, revealing a head full of gelled back hair.
“Don’t you call me a motherfucker, you…you…” Michael stammered angrily.
Prince waved his hand at Michael, indicating he finish the sentence.
“You little sperm in heels!” Michael exclaimed.
I stared at Michael. I was utterly, totally, and completely shocked.
I had never seen this side of Michael. He was kicking Prince at his own game.
And my God, was it ever sexy.
Prince tossed his head back and crowed.
“Sperm in heels. Never heard that one. You’re funny.”
Prince was laughing, but I could tell by the dullness in his once vibrant eyes that he was hurt by the last comment.
Michael had Prince down and he was about to start Moonwalking on him.
“Yeah I am funny. But not half as funny as your little ass. Where do you shop? Baby GAP?”
“Oh shit!” Morris slapped his hand to his forehead, stunned.
Gone was the royal smirk that had been on his face in the beginning.
Prince sucked in his mouth, eyes widened angrily.
“Oh and I love that last movie you were in. Which Oompa-Loompa were you, again?” Michael tossed his hair, dark eyes blazing.
Wow, Michael was getting him at his height and his movies.
“And you’re the only man I know who struts around in high heels. Well, you and Napoleon.” Michael laughed.
Prince was still quiet. Had Michael stuck him that badly?
That was the first time I had ever seen Prince speechless.
Michael went in for the kill.
“But look on the bright side, if you ever hang up this entertainment thing, you could make a living posing for trophies. Who knows? You might show up on an award that I receive!” Michael clapped his hands together.
Prince was white.
Not yellow, not pale, but actually milky, Elmer’s Glue white.
Michael got Prince in the one place Prince could never get him.
Awards. For every one award Prince had, Michael had five standbys.
With that last comment, Michael turned on his heel and brushed past me.
“Brynn, we’re going home.” He called as he made his way down the hall.
I stared at Michael, then glanced back at Prince.
He stood, growing rosy.
“Prince, you’re gonna let him talk to you like that? Are you fucking crazy?” Morris questioned, shock still in his voice.
Prince stomped over to me, his heels clicking so loudly I thought they’d break.
He puffed into my face angrily.
“I could have whipped his ass easy. I really could have. But I didn’t want to drop his ass in front of you.” He explained. “Or mess up my suit. This shit is custom made Versace.”
Was he trying to convince me, or himself?
“Right.” I nodded, not truly believing him.
Prince heard my note of doubt.
Grabbing me by my shoulders he pressed me against the door.
“He thinks he’s so cool just cause he insulted my height? Dangerous things come in small packages Baby. Like dynamite. If I blew up on his ass, it’d be a hell of a mess, You understand?” He banged me against the door.
“You’re hurting me!” I exclaimed and slapped his face. Hard.
The clap echoed around the room.
It had no effect on Prince at all.
“That son of a bitch makes me so fucking mad. I’m gonna punch that bitch one day! I am!” Prince vowed resting his head on my shoulder.
Giving me a firm shove into the hallway, he instructed,
“Go on behind that bastard. I’ll see you later. Without him!” Prince slammed the door.
I stood staring at the door.
I could hear him and Morris loudly arguing behind it.
I knew that this fight was about more than talking vulgar or idle insults.
Michael and Prince were indirectly fighting over me.
I staggered over and leaned against the wall, the hallway swirling around me.
It was a nightmare.
And I couldn’t pinch myself or wake up.
It was real.