Chapter 27

Saturday Night
The Main Suite
6:30 p.m.

“Has anyone seen my shoe? It’s a black loafer with tassels!” I heard Taj shout from somewhere in the hallway.
The sixteenth floor of the Windbush Hotel was a madhouse as everyone trying to get dressed and coiffed for the Prince show.
“Damn a loafer! I can’t find my hat!” Tito yelled back.
It would be nearly impossible for fifteen people to all be ready to get down in cars in less than an hour.
Latoya, Selena and I were crowded into the bathroom of the main suite, because, apparently, the main suite had the largest counter space and largest mirror.
Sitting in the empty bathtub, in her own little world, Paris had gotten a tube of goldish pink lipstick from somewhere and was applying it.
Cosmetics covered every free surface and the scent of hairspray was thick in the air.
In the confusion, I was applying Dior mascara. I had no idea who the hell it was for, because I usually wore Maybelline mascara.
“Do I look fat in this?” Selena asked suddenly, backing up and spinning around in front of the mirror.
She wore a clingy, knee length long-sleeved white dress with a beaded red rose running up the side. Because of her red hair, if she wore something red close to her face, it would clash.
Her long hair was tied back into a French braid, held in place with a jeweled hair tie.
She tried to maintain her balance in red espadrilles.
It was the fourth dress she had tried on. Jermaine and Michael had nearly come to blows before deciding on the dress.
Michael had been all over the floor, examining everyone’s ensembles, wanting to put the best foot forward in front of Prince.
“No, girl, you look great!” Latoya patted her shoulder.
“What about me?”
Latoya wore a deep red, almost maroon, sleeveless silk minidress that had an extremely low, lace up back. Her hair had been straightened, and had been brushed over her left shoulder, exposing a huge ruby and diamond chandelier earring. A matching cuff bracelet shimmered on her wrist.
Crystal encrusted heels completed her look.
“Those shoes are nice.” I pointed out, spraying my hair.
Michael had insisted that I curl my hair. I think it was an effort to recreate the look I had had while in Minneapolis.
Michael was really going all out to spurn the hell out of Prince.
“Your shoes are great! Did Michael have those custom made?” Latoya, leaned into the mirror slicking blush onto her cheeks.
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “Where is Michael?”
I hadn’t seen him since the battle to get clothed started.
“I think he’s trying to help Tito find that damn hat.” Selena giggled, applying clear gloss to her pouty lips.
“I look okay?” I questioned, turning in a circle.
The top was okay, but my trousers felt like they were a size too small.
In the mirror, they looked almost painted on!
“Well…” Selena, paused, hand on hip, gave me a once over.
“You got your shirt buttoned up all the way.”
“Huh?” I glanced down at myself.
Selena trotted over and started loosening the buttons until the top of my bosom started to peek out.
“You got chi-chis, show’em off!” She grinned. “Isn’t tonight about making Prince mad?”
I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Prince wouldn’t be mad.
If anything, at the sight of my chest half way popping out of my top, he’d get horny.
But it seemed he was pretty much horny all the time.
“Prince would be kinda cute, if he wasn’t so small. I could put him in my purse!” Latoya joked and we snickered.
As I started to put a pair of diamond studs in my ears, a voice hooted,
“Smile ladies!”
We glanced up in time to see Marlon with a camera in hand, snapping a photograph.
He wore a red satin shirt and black slacks. An undone black and red dotted tie hung around his neck.
“Marlon! We’re not ready yet!” Latoya threw a make-up sponge at him.
It whizzed past his head.
“You all look lovely!” Marlon cackled and jogged away.
“The nerve of him!” Latoya huffed rolling her eyes, false lashes batting.
“Why didn’t Janet and Rebbie come?” Selena wondered, applying silver shadow to her lids.
“Well, you know Janet is tied up with Jermaine Dupri in Stockholm right now. He’s promoting some single, and Rebbie has a cold.” Latoya shrugged, examining her appearance again and fluffing her hair.
“Why can’t I go?” Paris whimpered suddenly, crawling out of the bathtub and walking over to me, fluffing out her yellow dress.
“Honey, a Prince concert is no place for a seven year old.” Latoya patted Paris’ head gently.
“Why, Auntie Latoya? Everyone else is going. ‘Cept me, Blanket and Prince!” She stamped her little foot, bottom lip quaking.
“The things he sings about, you’re not old enough to hear them.” Selena pointed out.
“I can’t help it if he has a potty mouth!” Paris wailed and ran out of the room.
Potty mouth? That was putting it mildly.
Teasing my hair, I wondered to myself.
What would Prince sing? I hoped that it wouldn’t be too raunchy.
Having a jam session at Paisley Park with friends and hanging in front of The Jacksons was a totally different story.
Maybe the clash wouldn’t be too great.
“You girls almost done?” Michael sauntered into the room.
I almost pulled a lock of hair out my own head at the sight of him.
Michael Jackson was sheer divinity in motion.
He was dressed in a crimson, crushed velvet jacket. Clear bugle beads crisscrossed the front of the coat.
A diamond tasseled pin was at the center of the stand up collar.
The ends of the sleeves were edged with black braid, and vented slightly so that if Michael wanted to, he could cuff them back.
The jacket was lined in black satin.
Michael wore tight black denim pants. Bright, highly polished silver shin guards covered his knees on down to the tops of his shoes.
Leather boots covered Michael’s long feet.
And Michael’s hair was another change.
Instead of being straight, Michael’s hair fell around his shoulders in glossy, almost wet looking loose curls.
His lightly lined eyes widened at the sight of me.
“Oh Brynn, Baby, you look gorgeous!” He gushed rushing over and hugging me.
If my cleavage showing bothered him, he didn’t mentioned it.
“You…look…sexy.” I was breathless.
Michael blushed sheepishly, tapping the tip of his nose shyly.
“You all look great.” Michael smiled at his sister and Selena.
“Thanks.” They replied, grinning.
“Come on, the limo’s here.” Michael wrapped his arm around my hips.
He wore a spicy, woodsy cologne.
I knew a limousine--or a bus--would be the only way to transport all of us.
As we joined the rest of the men in the hallway, whistles and catcalls ensued.
Most of the Jackson men wore red button down shirts and black slacks. Tito wore a black bowler on his head and Randy, a black newsboy cap.
The Jackson Trio stood pouting, with Bo, who was going to watch them that night.
Behind them, Rusty, in a bright red suit also pouted.
He was so sure that the night would be a terrible one.
I prayed he’d be wrong.
Taj, in a red shirt open over a white t-shirt and jeans, held his camera.
“Look at all of us! All this hotness in one room. ‘Bout to blow the roof off this place!” He laughed.
Someone started singing,
“I’m too sexy for my shirt/ Too sexy for my shirt/Too sexy yeah!”
Soon everyone was singing along.
As we piled onto the elevator, Michael paused to hug his children and tell them good night.
A good night was what I needed.

* * *

An Hour and a Half Later
Somewhere In Upper Manhattan

“What does everyone think Prince will sing tonight?” Taj asked from where he was seated at the far end of the limo near the driver.
Almost unanimously everyone replied,
“Purple Rain.”
“I bet he’s gonna wear something purple!” Jermaine cackled and his son snorted.
“Hey Michael, whatever happens, we’re behind you a hundred and ten percent man!” Tito reached out and slapped Michael’s knee.
“Tito, nothing is going to happen. That Damn Man is going to sing his little tunes and we’ll go back home.” Michael said calmly, peeking at his brother over the tops of his aviator shades.
Only Michael could wear sunglasses at night and not look silly.
“Do you want me to just bust his ass the minute we see him, then we can be outta there in fifteen minutes tops?” Jackie offered cracking his knuckles loudly and the Jackson men guffawed.
Rusty moaned in agony. In his eyes, Michael was probably sabotaging the best thing to happen to him since Thriller.
I was quite surprised that Rusty wasn’t airing his grievances like he had done earlier to Michael. But I supposed he didn’t want to get sucker punched by the Jackson closest to him.
“No! We’re not going in there to start anything! We’re going…” Michael noticed that Taj was still filming
“Turn that thing off!” He barked. . I was sure he didn’t want taped evidence if he was indeed plotting to kick Prince’s ass.
Hail Mary Full of Grace…
“Yes Sir!” Taj hurriedly put the camera away.
“Now like I was saying,” Michael tossed his head. “Jackie, we’re not going in looking for trouble, but if the Purple Prick brings it, we’ll throw it right back. We have class.” Michael instructed.
“I still can’t believe that Prince was so rude to you and Brynn at that restaurant…it’s amazing.” Latoya sighed, eyes wide from where she was wedged between me and Selena.
“It’s sickening is what it was!” Randy grimaced, adjusting his hat so that the front dropped between his eyes.
“You’re better than me Mike, I would’ve kicked him a new asshole--pardon me ladies.” Jermaine waved his hands apologetically.
I leaned my head against Michael’s shoulder.
This was going to be a long night.
“Now, we need to get serious.” Michael’s voice was heavy with sternness.
“We all have to be on our P’s and Q’s tonight. Remember, Taryll is supposed to be Brynn’s boyfriend--not me. So Taryll, stay close to her…I’ll be close to you too, Baby.” Michael leaned and softly pecked my forehead.
“I know you will be.” I murmured, not really noticing I was talking.
I wondered what kind of pep talk Prince was giving his cohorts, if any.
He always struck me as the type to scream, “Make it funky!” and then throw himself onstage.
“…you can’t really trust Prince. I’ve learned from talking to him, he seems very, um…” Michael stroked his dimpled chin, searching for a word.
“…very perverted.” He sighed, for lack of a better term.
“We have three ladies with us. Brynn, Latoya and Selena…we have to look out for them. Don’t put anything past Prince. He’s a sneaky little something. And that Morris jerk--”
“That guy made me wanna smack him into next year.” Taryll sneered and TJ giggled.
At that moment, the limo screeched to a halt, jostling everyone inside a bit.
Behind Taj, the privacy glass between us and the driver came down.
“We’ve reached Club Groovement, Mr. Jackson.” He said solemnly.
Straight away, everyone was pressed up against the left side of the limo, trying to see what the nightclub looked like.
Elbowing between Marlon, Jr., and Jermaine Jr., I finally found a viewing spot.
Looking around, I saw that Prince had chosen yet another secluded venue.
Club Groovement was a two-story brick building, that appeared the only structure on the side of the road.
It seemed appealing, painted a shade of light beige that made it stand out against its dark and somewhat gloomy surroundings.
The name of the club flashed in purposefully haphazardly set neon block letters extending from the roof.
“Man, this is wild, I’ve never seen a street in New York that had only one building on it.” Marlon mumbled from somewhere behind me.
“Looks like something in a horror movie.” Latoya chimed in, leaning over me, and gazing out, her chin on top of my head.
“Yeah, where’s Jason?” Selena simpered.
I glanced back and saw that she was pulling Jermaine’s arm around her.
“Oh shit! There’s your Jason, Selena!” TJ exclaimed, his hand shooting out from around Michael and pointing.
Directing my attention back to the front of the club, I saw a tremendous form hulking out of the double glass doors of the building.
A collective gasp swathed us like a cloud.
I could hear Selena praying quietly in Spanish.
“I, Tariano Adaryll Jackson, Jr., being of sound body and mind, do hereby bequeath--” Taj began reciting into the lens of his camera.
“Boy, shut up!” Jackie gave him a strict shove.
“I knew you should have left me at the hotel!” Rusty complained, fright in his voice.
“That’s one hell of a bouncer.” Marlon Jr., shook his head.
As the moving brick wall approached the car, a sigh of absolute relief escaped me.
“You guys…that’s no bouncer.” I half laughed/half cried.
“Who is it?” Michael questioned, resting his hand on the back of my neck; his touch was icy.
“That’s Jimmy, he’s Prince’s assistant.” I pointed out as Jimmy got to the door and held it open for us.
“Looks like a Neanderthal.” Rusty quipped sliding out first and holding his hand out to help everyone else out onto the sidewalk.
“Oh be quiet…Seacrest!” I sniffed, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the sidewalk. “You’d probably be happier at a Clay Aiken show.” I rolled my eyes at him.
I was worried enough to have a bunch of fight-ready Jacksons on my hands. The last thing I needed was Rusty’s bitching and going on.
Rusty turned as red as his suit, but held his tongue.
“Hello everyone. My name is Jimmy.” Jimmy grinned at us warmly, his grey eyes flashing.
“Mr. Jackson…” He held his hand out to Michael.
After a moment of hesitation, Michael reached out and shook it.
“Mr. Prince wanted me to welcome all of you and show you to your seats inside. My, there’s so many of you.” He laughed and a little ripple joined him from the rest of us. Jimmy started towards the building.
“Safety in numbers.” I heard someone stammer as we started following the mammoth man.
Jimmy turned and led us to the door, holding it open for us.
The Jacksons clustered together like bees around a honeycomb.
“That is one huge motherfucker.” I heard TJ snicker, as he went by.
(Other than Michael, he was the thinnest man in the group.)
“Watch your mouth boy!” Tito reprimanded him.
As we walked down the long dim hallway, which smelled of long smoked cigarettes and peppermint incense, I reached down and grabbed Michael’s hand. I knew I was supposed to hanging off of Taryll, but at that moment, I needed Michael.
At the far end of the hallway was the opening to the club, noted by a purplish-white light.
An unbearable tension seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and was filling every nook and cranny of the corridor. I could barely breathe.
If it was this bad with just Jimmy around, Lord help us when Prince appeared.
With every step I prayed vainly that the evening would go off without any incidents that would land the entire lot of us in the penitentiary.
It was so quiet; the only sounds came from our shoes clicking on the bare concrete floor.
“Oh, Miss Brynn.” Jimmy turned suddenly.
“Yes?” I stopped so swiftly, that I bumped against Taryll, who was in front of me.
“Um, Mr. Prince requested that he see you before his performance tonight.” Jimmy replied calmly, glanced around the crowd.
My blood stopped pulsing in my veins and dropped, like a red brick of lead.
Prince wanted to see me?
Was he crazy? I was up to my chin in Jacksons and he was singling me out?
Finding the courage from somewhere, I snuck a peep around.
All the Jackson men, first and second generations, were glaring at Jimmy with a such a quiet ferocity that it was maddening.
Please don’t shoot the messenger!
Nerves were running so high and hard that I knew that if Jimmy said the wrong thing, or even the right thing with the wrong inflection, ten men would be all over him.
“What…what does he want to see me for?” I stammered, looking up at Michael apprehensively.
His face was set harder than that of a marble bust. All the color seemed to have drained from him and white hot anger had set in.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine shifted from one foot to the other, anxiously.
Another set of knuckles cracked loudly--thumb knuckles too.
The ten pops were barely audible over the thumping of my own troubled heart.
Michael had just gotten done prophesizing that we all stay together and already I was being plucked from the bunch.
“I don’t know Miss Brynn. He just wanted to see you before show time.” Jimmy shrugged helplessly.
I saw that where we had stopped, behind Jimmy an even dimmer hallway stretched behind him, marked by several doors on each side, all closed.
“Uh…uh…” I looked to Michael for guidance. He was adjusting his glasses on his nose. “…is it okay?”
Michael’s mouth tightened so much, that it all but disappeared off his face.
Glancing down at the diamond studded watch on his wrist, he instructed in a tone so serious that I couldn’t help but take heed,
“It’s fifteen to nine. Go see what That Damn Man wants. You be out there with us at nine. If a second past nine goes by, I’m coming for you. Understand?”
“That Damn Man.” Taryll echoed, rolling his eyes.
I stood for a moment, stunned.
Michael was actually allowing me to go see Prince?
Who was this man and what had he done with Michael Jackson?
The Michael I knew would have tossed me over his wiry shoulder and carried me off into the club without so much as an explanation to Jimmy.
I noticed that Michael was looking around at his brothers.
He must have been keeping up his front; showing his brothers that he didn’t care about Prince.
I knew he didn’t care about Prince. Even a blind man could see that!
He cared about me.
“Alright…” I was hesitant. “…are you sure?”
“Go!” Michael waved his hand over my head.
“If that midget tries anything, kick him in the nuts!” Marlon Jr. rooted from the back of the group and several supporters hooted in agreement.
“The club is right through that opening.” Jimmy pointed out the light at the end of the corridor.
Placing a beefy hand on my shoulder, he said to me,
“Come along Miss Brynn.”
I watched dejectedly as the Jacksons shuffled past me.
I just knew they hated me. I mean they had to.
The last thing I heard, was Jackie whispering to Marlon, loudly,
“Flirty ass motherfucker…needs to find his own woman. It’ll be a hot second before Michael busts his ass!”
I was walking away from Michael to see The Other Man.
I was so confused.
The only smile I got was from Selena.
But it wasn’t the same, she wasn’t a blood Jackson. She wasn’t even married to a Jackson!
A storm cloud of trepidation flashing above my head, I let Jimmy lead me down the dimmer hallway to the third door, on the right.
As he tapped the door, I stood wondering why I hadn’t broken and run off after Michael.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
Just as I was about to turn and take off like a track star, the door cracked open.
Mindy, smoking flat iron in her hand, stepped out.
A smile instantly creased her face at the sight of me.
“Oh hi Brynn!” She exclaimed jubilantly and wrapped her arms around me, hugging tightly. “You look great!”
Leaning back from her and trying regain the breath that had been pushed out of me, I managed to squeak,
“You look great too!”
At least her outfit was a bit more tame.
She wore a white fishnet blouse over a lime green bra and pair of white leather trousers. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, accenting the peridot earrings glittering in her ears.
And for once, she was wearing natural looking make-up.
“I do my best.” She giggled, pushing the door open further.
“Come on in,” Nestling her arm around my shoulders, she tugged me into the room.
Looking around, I saw that the dressing room definitely had Prince’s touch all over it.
Sequined pink and turquoise fabric had been draped all over the walls and every available surface, even the make up table.
One of Prince’s guitars, the White Cloud, was leaning against the wall.
On the far side of the room, the door to the changing stall was closed.
“Mr. Prince will be right with you, he’s changing into his stage costume.” Mindy giggled, walking over and setting the iron on top of the make up counter. On the counter, containers of concealer, foundation, and tons of eyeliners were strewn about. Prince was probably the King of Androgyny Land tonight.
I stared at the closed door, wondering what type of ensemble Prince would be changing into. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be anything offensive, or at least show any pubic hairs.
“Looking for someone?” A voice whispered into my ear hotly, and I jumped.
Startled.
I whipped around to face Prince.
I could feel my eyes widening at the sight of him.
Earlier that evening I had been sideswiped by Michael’s stunning appearance. Michael was incredibly handsome.
Prince on the other hand was stunning in that he was so pretty. If he were any prettier, Mindy would have been all over him like ants on a sucker.
Prince had an entirely new look.
His hair, normally black, was now streaked with shades of honey, cinnamon and sandy brown, warming his light skin.
Heightened at the crown and falling at an angle over his left eye, Prince’s hair was a lesson in the art of hair color.
Prince’s eyes were as usual, heavily lined with black. His ultra long lashes were crusted with mascara.
The rest of his facial make-up was fairly muted, except for the writing on his right cheek.
Scribbled in fanciful script with a black liner pencil was the word “Sexy.”
A long, floor sweeping black cloak covered Prince’s diminutive body.
The tips of snow white boots stuck out from under the cloak.
Please don’t this man be nude under that cloak!
“Hi…Prince.” I said nervously, as his large light eyes seemed to devour me.
“Damn…Brynn you look pretty.” Prince murmured, a smile creasing his face as Mindy came over and started putting a large gold hoop earring through his right earlobe.
“Thank you.” I whispered, feeling hot because Prince looked so good and cold because Michael was a few feet away.
“You came to my show…after dark…and Michael let you see me alone. What happened? He get drunk on the way here?” Prince chuckled, opening his arms and embracing me.
Lavender surrounded us.
“That man better be careful. You might come to the Penthouse with me tonight…we can have our own after show.” Damp lips pecked my cheek.
The man hadn’t even gotten onstage and already he was talking of sex?
“Prince…what are you gonna play tonight? Michael brought a lot of his family…” I trailed off as Prince raised and put a finger to my lips.
“Shh…it’s a secret. And I don’t care if I scare the shit outta Michael. If I sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star it’ll probably be too raunchy for the man who can’t say ‘titties‘.” Prince blew at the lock of hair covering his eye.
“Speaking of titties, I’m surprised he let you come around with yours hanging out your shirt like that. Ha ha.” Prince wagged his head defiantly.
Mindy scurried to comb the hair he had shaken back into place.
“Please…be nice.” I begged looking down at my hands.
“I’ll think about it. You and Mindy go on off into the club. I’ll be onstage soon.” Prince nodded solemnly.
“Let’s go.” Mindy grinned putting a shaky hand on my shoulder and leading me to the door.
As I made my way past Prince, he clapped my bottom hard.
“And when I play, I wanna see that cute little ass of yours wiggling!” He called as the door shut behind us.
As Mindy and I picked our way down the dark corridor to the main club, I fretted,
“What is that man wearing under that cape? Minds, tell me please!”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Prince told me not to tell you. But he’s not naked under that cloak. I can promise that.” Mindy chuckled.
“His ass cheeks aren’t gonna be hanging out? Or his balls huh?” I ran a hand through my hair, nearly pulling it out.
“No! His ass…and balls are covered. Calm down Brynn! You don’t usually care that much about what Mr. Prince wears.” We stopped in the door way of the club.
“Well, Michael and half the Jackson family aren’t usually around him. If it were just me, he could dance around buck naked with a Coke bottle up his nose for all I care, but Mike and his family are out there and if Prince does anything bad, it could be like pouring kerosene on a lit match. Oh I don’t know what to do…” I buried my face in my hands.
“Brynn…I know you’re upset because your two boyfriends are gonna be in there. Just play it cool because if you get all flustered, it’s all gonna go to hell really fast. I know, I got caught between two girlfriends and ended up losing both of them and getting my nose broken, just cause I lost my cool. Be calm…I’m there for you.” Mindy gave me a warm smile.
A broken nose? If Michael and Prince started doing the WWE dance, there would be more than a broken nose, especially if they both individually kicked me into the next hemisphere.
But it was nice to know that I had someone in my corner.
The hallway eventually opened up to the main club.
As Mindy and I passed into the club, and excited and awed gasp escaped me.
Now, I know when I had looked at the placard on top of the building, the name had read as Club Groovement.
But this couldn’t possibly be Club Groovement.
As I looked around, this place had to be Club Prince.
The entire interior of the club was decorated in shades of rich purple and silver.
The club stretched on for two stories, the dancers’ balcony on the second story highlighted by lilac neon tubes.
Decorative, open staircases leading to the balcony ended at each wall with a curve.
Silver beads and purple crystals hung from the ceiling just above our heads. A few strands swayed in the wind coming from the cooling units.
Across the room, a bar made of gleaming clear and lavender glass blocks gleamed.
A female bartender, in a plum vest over a white blouse and black trousers was wiping down the bar top.
And I saw that every bottle, glass and flute in the bar were also else clear or purple.
Before us, nearly thirty, small, round two seater tables dotted around the ground floor.
Each table was a covered a white table cloth. And the centerpiece of each table was a gleaming silver candlestick, featuring Prince’s symbol.
As we moved further into the club, I saw that in the center was a huge multicolored lighted dance floor, just like in Saturday Night Fever.
Every wall featured color and black and white portraits of Prince all from the early eighties to the present, encased in thick silver frames.
In front of the dance floor, taking up most of the west wall was the stage.
The stage was massive, and was hidden by a long, sweeping, plum velvet curtain.
It stood at least ten feet above the dance floor.
Michael and Co. sat at a grouping of tables to the left of the dance floor.
As I neared them, I saw that two extra people were standing and holding a lively conversation with Michael.
Upon closer inspection, I recognized them as Suki Yakamato and the Mouth On Legs himself, Morris E. Day.
Suki had totally revamped her look. Extensions brought her hair down to her waist. The blue rim was gone, replaced with sunny yellow framing her face. Not blonde, yellow.
And Suki looked as though she had come from a Cyndi Lauper garage sale.
She wore a bright pink crinoline skirt over a strapless yellow body suit that matched the streaks in her hair. Her face was heavily made up.
Pink ankle boots completed the ensemble.
“Brynn! Hi!” She exclaimed cheerfully rushing over with open arms. “You look great!”
“So do you.” I managed to giggle along with her.
“Wow, there’s a lot of Jacksons!” Mindy chuckled.
“I know! I said the very same thing. They’re all really nice.” Suki grinned.
Peeking over her shoulder, I saw that Morris was still chatting with Michael who looked as though he’d rather chew glass.
I knew that Michael detested that man with every inch of his nearly six foot tall being.
The rest of the Jacksons were talking amongst themselves.
Rusty sat a few tables away, by himself, sulking.
Morris looked like the love child of a tangerine and a peppermint stick.
He wore a green and orange, thick striped Zoot suit over an orange shirt.
Orange loafers, covering the schooners he called feet, squeaked loudly with every move he made.
“…and I said, you must be mistaken! I’m Morris Day! Not that dude from
A Different World! A-Ha!” Morris cackled loudly.
Michael offered a forced, strained and polite laugh and sipped at the tall glass of Shirley Temple he was holding.
A second glass of the same drink was next to him.
Obviously for me.
I was trying to make a beeline for Michael, but Morris noticed me and opened that Black Hole of a mouth.
“Well hello Miss Brynn!” He exclaimed abandoning Michael and running over to me.
“Don’t you look cute in all that red and zebra!” He gave me a soft pat on the back.
As Morris withdrew his arm, I saw that he was wearing a heavy gold watch.
“What time is it?” I questioned, wondering if I had made it back to the Jacksons before nine.
“Oh, well let’s see Miss Brynn…” Morris glanced at the watch face. “You like this? It’s Piaget. I got it from Harrods in London--”
“Yes, it’s lovely. What time is it?” I pushed, not caring if he was wearing a bargain basement piece with the Looney Tunes on it!
“It’s eight fifty-five…” Morris trailed off.
I had made it with a mere five minutes to spare.
“Oh hell! I gotta get on the bandstand! I’m doing drums!” He exclaimed and rushed back over to Michael.
“Hey, Thriller man! It was nice talking to you. Gotta get up onstage. Later man.” He grabbed Michael’s hand and shook it so violently that Michael cried out in pain. “Bye Jacksons!”
A few mumbled a good bye to Morris.
I was sure that he had annoyed them all to near tears.
Rushing to the concealed stage, Morris screamed at the barmaid, who was still wiping down the bar.
“Tara! Baby, ix-nay on that scotch on the rocks, I gotta play!”
“Okay Mr. Day!” Tara called back with a wave.
“Hi Michael.” I smiled as Mindy, Suki and I walked over to him.
“Hey…” His face brightened at the sight of me.
He then noticed Mindy.
“Hello Cindy.” His voice was like an arctic blast.
“Hi Mr. Jackson…uh…” Mindy picked at her ponytail. “My name is Mindy sir, not Cindy.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Oh…sorry.” Michael didn’t sound sorry.
“It’s okay Mr. Jackson.”
“Hey there…” Marlon Jr., a content smile on his face strolled over.
His eyes were fixed on Suki.
The man might have had a chance.
“Hi.” Suki flipped her hair and gave him a warm smile.
At the end of the table, Marlon Sr. shook his head with disapproval. I knew he didn’t want his son to mix with Prince’s crowd.
As Marlon Jr. started to “get his mack on”, the over head lights started to dim.
Michael quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into my seat and Mindy dragged Suki away from Marlon Jr. and they found a spot behind Michael and me.
Defeated, Mars Bar returned to his seat next to Latoya.
Jermaine Jr. and TJ laughed at him.
“I guess That Damn Man is about to play his tunes.” Jermaine, seated on Michael’s other side, leaned in and whispered.
Michael nodded grimly, taking off his dark glasses and setting them on the table top.
His dark eyes were stormy with defiance.
“Hey…what did Prince want to talk to you about?” Taryll leaned his head on my shoulder, sipping at his Cosmopolitan.
He was taking this boyfriend role too close to heart.
“Nothing I can’t talk to you about.” I snipped, not in the mood to try to explain my brief encounter with Prince to him. My butt was still stinging.
“I got my zoom lens ready.” Taj announced, kneeling at Taryll’s side.
“It’s the only way I’ll be able to film Prince!” He snickered.
“Be nice!” Selena called from the other side of Jermaine.
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
Everyone jumped at the sound of Prince’s voice suddenly booming over the sound system.
“Dearly Beloved/ We have gathered here today to get through this thing called life…OH NO! Let’s Go! ”
“What the hell is this? A wedding?” Jackie exclaimed from the other end of the table.
“I can’t believe he’s singing this song.” Michael laughed to no one in particular.
Yes, Michael was just there to take up a seat, he was there in no way shape or form to cheer on Prince.
I was just relieved that he was singing Let’s Go Crazy. The song was so docile, I could have played it for Blanket.
The curtain concealing the stage dropped.
A blinding spotlight illuminated the stage. I could make out Wendy and Lisa on the right of the stage.
Wendy wore a plain short, black minidress and matching knee high boots. A cross on a long chain hung at her throat. Her hair had been straightened and slicked back.
Her fingers moved effortlessly over her red bass guitar.
Lisa wore a see through turquoise button down blouse over a matching tank, all tucked into a pair of black wide legged trousers. Lisa’s hair had been tightly curled and was held back on side with a large white flower.
She was pounding away at her keyboard/synthesizer combo.
Both were so engrossed in their playing, they had their eyes closed and were gently swaying to the beat.
On the opposite side of the stage, Morris sat, jacketless, was thumping the drums, lips poked out with earnest.
At the other keyboard Dr. Fink, in black doctor’s scrubs with a white surgical mask tied at his throat was wiggling back and forth to the music, a large grin on his face.
And there…was Prince.
Standing under a larger than life, lighted version of his symbol, Prince was a vision in white.
Wearing a tighter than second skin body suit, Prince glowed.
The front of the suit dipped low in the front, exposing his tan hairy chest and abdomen. The deep “V” of the suit, rims of it’s bell sleeves and wide legged bottoms were trimmed with large golden hologram sequins.
They caught and threw the light back, making him glow.
Draped over Prince by a rhinestoned strap was the Yellow Cloud guitar.
Fingers a blur on the instrument, Prince half sang/half shouted into his golden gun microphone, mounted on a stand before him.
“If you don’t like the world you’re living in/ Take a look around you/At least you got friends!”
He was wiggling sexily in front of the mike stand, playing the fire out of the Cloud.
“Woo!” Behind us, Mindy and Suki were up and dancing to the song. Down the line, Selena was also up and jamming. I could see Jermaine trying unsuccessfully to get her to sit down.
In spite of themselves, I saw that most of the Jacksons were in some way chair dancing to the song.
Even Rusty was bobbing along, mouthing the words.
I stole a peek up at Michael.
His eyes were locked on Prince. Studying him, looking for any flaw in his performance.
“Let’s Go Crazy!/ Let’s Get Nuts Y’all!/ Look for the purple banana ‘til they put us in the truck!”
Mindy and Suki ran around us to the dance floor and began grooving.
I wanted so badly to rush out there and join them, but I knew Michael would have probably pulled my hair out if I tried to dance.
“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down?/OH NO! Let’s go!”
With a high leap into the air and devilish grin on his face, Prince landed on his knees and wrestling with his guitar violently, sent out a whining and encapsulating solo.
I had seen him fight with a guitar like that since Paisley Park where he had made water shoot out of his Hohner.
“Damn! That man can play!” Taj whispered, still kneeling between me and his brothers.
I saw that his eyes were wide as saucers as he stared into the little screen on his camera.
“I’ll say.” Taryll set his glass down and was clapping along to the beat.
“That’s an amazing guitar!” I heard Tito murmur to himself.
“Dig them shoes!” Marlon exclaimed shaking his head.
Was Prince actually starting to win over some of the Jacksons?
As the song winded down, Prince rose to his feet and approached the microphone again, a smirk on his face.
Polite applause greeted him.
“Thank you!” He exclaimed kissing his fingertips and opening his arms.
I saw that Prince was surveying the crowd, for the first time seeing just how many Jacksons Michael had brought along.
“Hey Morris!” Prince called, lifting his guitar off over his head and handing it off to Jimmy who had appeared at the base of the stage.
I saw that the front of his suit dipped so low that that a small amount of his pubic hair was peeking out. And a gold symbol, hanging on a chain glimmered near his belly button.
Please don’t let Michael notice.
It’d be a miracle if he could perform without an extra band mate making a “special appearance“.
“Yeah Prince?” Morris tapped the snare drum lightly.
“Look at all the people that came to my party man! All the Jacksons! So many of them…” Prince squinted out at us.
“I see Michael…Latoya…Tito…Dopey, Sneezy, Bashful! Hell there’s so many of y’all out there!” Prince laughed deeply and Morris crowed.
“Dopey, Sneezy and Bashful? Must have us mixed up with his tiny ass.” Taj commented, the amazement over Prince’s guitar skills waning quickly.
“I’m just joking with y’all.” Prince winked directly at me. “Y’all know how I am…arrogant!”
The opening bars to Arrogance began to play.
Grasping the gun, Prince lifted it up and began to walk back and forth across the stage, golden heels of his shoes glinting under the lights.
“What makes a man wanna rule the world?/ Make him man enough to say he’s fifty-fifty girl?/What make a man wanna curse and swear?/ Then blame it on Heaven cause he’s already there?” Prince whipped around and shook his booty. It jiggled so true to life, that it took me a moment to realize he was actually wearing trousers.
“Pimp Rag/Tootsie Pop/And a Cane.”
Not really paying attention, I heard myself singing the chorus,
“A-Double A-Double Arrogance!”
Prince may have been arrogant, but he was sure talented.
Nearly everyone around me was starting to loosen up.
Maybe.
And I was thankful.

An Hour Later

“…I guess must be dumb/Because you had a pocketful of horses/Trojan and some of them used…”
I looked around me, an assured and relieved smile inching onto my face. I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but everyone was jammed onto the lighted dance floor, grooving the night away.
Tito, Jackie, Randy and Marlon dancing among themselves, Jermaine boogying with Selena, the second generation Jacksons taking turns with Latoya. Even Rusty was over twirling Tara the bartender in circles.
“I’m actually have a good time!” Michael exclaimed drawing me close to him before leaning me back. Dipping me.
He was truly a vision, his tendrils bouncing as he danced casually. Not the full out Moonwalk, just a superstar at ease.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Giggling as he brought me back up, I glanced at Prince.
He was clinging to the mike stand, wailing the chorus to Little Red Corvette.
I wanted to kiss that man. Not because he was perspiring and looked like a slippery treat, but since the performance had started, he had sang nothing but a tirade of clean hits. Everything from Let’s Go Crazy, to Thieves in the Temple, to now, Little Red Corvette.
Not a single curse word had crossed the threshold of his mouth, and he had been thrilling the entire group more with his guitar riffs and splits, rather than gyrating and being obscene.
And somehow he had managed to entice everyone out of their seats and had them shaking their money makers for all they were worth.
“Little Red Corvette! Yeah!” Taryll and TJ sang in unison as they boogied past Michael and me.
Behind them, Mindy and Suki were cheering Prince on at the base of the stage, on either side of Jimmy.
Taj was bobbing off in a corner filming the whole scene.
I was just so utterly pleased that Michael was having a good time. He had been so sour on the entire idea and now he was whipping me around him, as if we were partying at Neverland.
But like the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
Prince was about to lose his mind and morals.
And I was going to get caught in the crossfire.
In the middle of the second verse of Little Red Corvette, Prince suddenly cried out.
“Stop! Quit playing! Stop!”
The music came an abrupt and off-key mangled halt.
Nearly all of us danced on for a few extra steps before we realized that there was no longer any tunes being played.
“Aw gee!” Selena whined, throwing her arm around Jermaine’s midsection.
Michael tugged me close to him, the first smile I had seen on him since we had gotten to Club Groovement lighting his beautiful, sharp features.
Breathing heavily into microphone, Prince paused to wipe perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand and fluff out his highlighted hair.
Droplets of sweat glistened all over his chest and down his tight stomach.
“I must be outside my mind tonight.” Prince commented, drawing a chuckle from the crowd.
“How so?” Wendy dared to question, steadying her guitar against her body.
“I got my friend in here…been jamming for over an hour and I haven’t invited them up onstage.” Prince grinned like a mouse.
I raised an eyebrow.
Was Prince really about to invite Michael up onstage with him?
“Alright Mike, show’em how it’s done.” Marlon came up and tapped Michael’s shoulder approvingly.
Beside him, his son gave Michael a thumbs up.
“Who’s your friend?” Dr. Fink pushed.
Prince was smiling at Michael so hard, I thought his little cheeks--all four--were going to pop.
I nearly fainted when Prince replied haughtily.
“Miss Brynn!”
“What?” I exclaimed as Morris began banging on the drums to accent Prince’s point.
From somewhere a spotlight found and illuminated me.
Prince wanted me to sing with him?
Me?
Little Brynn Sue McAllister from Nowhere, Texas?
I gazed at Prince, pointing to myself, not truly believing he wanted me to share the stage with him.
A jam session in Minnesota was one thing, a real live show in front of a real crowd was something totally different.
“Come on Brynn! I refuse to let you leave the building without singing something with me!” Prince was waving at me.
“Go on Honey!” Michael whispered, his hot lips touching my ear. “Get up there and show everyone just how great a performer you are!”
His encouragement and sweetness were exactly what I needed.
“Thank you!” I hugged Michael tightly, elated.
“Someone help Brynn up here!” Prince cackled.
Real applause surrounded me as I jogged up to the front of the stage and Jimmy, big old Jimmy, lifted me up onto the stage, just a few feet away from Prince.
“Way to go Brynn! Yay!” Suki screamed, throwing her hands in the air.
“Turn it out!” Mindy agreed.
Prince approached me, a happy glint in his clear eyes.
“Doesn’t Brynn look pretty everyone?” Prince questioned, pinching my chin.
More applause.
I blushed nervously. I was used to playing second banana to Prince and Michael, and here he was making me feel like a real star.
“Hey kid, you with the little plaits!” Prince motioned at Taj. “Make sure you get some good shots of this lady!”
“You got it man!” Taj came running, camera in hand.
I glanced out and saw that Michael was at the base of the stage, eyes wide and aglow with adoration at me.
It was almost too much.
“You ready to jam?” Prince questioned, and held the gun mike under my mouth.
“Yes.” I beamed at him.
“Just a minute.” Prince stood and pretended to study my appearance for a moment.
“Something’s missing. You can’t sing up here, without this!” Prince lifted his necklace off and draped it over my head.
Oh no! He put another symbol on me.
I stared down at Michael. He was rolling his eyes, but still smiling.
I made a mental note to give the necklace back to Prince as soon as I got done singing.
“Get over there with Wendy!” He instructed, giving me a light hug.
I floated over to Wendy to share her microphone.
Turning back to the crowd grouped at the front of the stage, Prince shrieked,
“Shut up already…damn!”
Doop! Doop-Doopity-Doop! Morris started cranking out the opening beats to one of my favorite Prince jams, Housequake.
Even though I was happy, I was a little worried, Prince did swear in this song.
“Tell me, who in this house know about the quake?” Prince questioned, replacing his mike on the stand.
“We do!” The Revolution and I replied.
“Bullshit!” Prince remarked.
An audible gasp escaped the Jacksons.
“I said really?” Prince flipped his head, hair swirling.
“Really!”
“You ain’t hip to that rare Housequake!”
Another split.
The man was in rare form tonight.
After the initial shock of Prince cursing wore off, I saw that Michael and the Jacksons were once again dancing along, and Prince even pulled me out and had me dance along side him for my favorite part of the song.
“Everybody do the Twist/A little bit harder than you did in ‘66/A little bit faster than you did in ‘67/Twist little sister and go to Heaven!/Come on y’all let’s jam/’Fore the police come!”

Little did I know it would only go downhill from there.
After a rousing rendition of Alphabet St. (in which he let me rap at the end, drawing screams from everyone) Prince donned a new guitar, The Black Symbol.
Leaning into Wendy’s and my microphone, he announced with a smirk,
“That song was dedicated to all the girls who like boys….this is dedicated to all the girls who like girls!”
Under him Mindy and Suki whooped.
A few Jacksons looked confused. Latoya just looked disgusted.
I stared at Prince in blinding horror.
Never mind that at some point in the future I’d have to explain to Michael how Prince could be dating Mindy if she was dating Suki.
There was only one song in Prince’s repertoire that he introduced as being the song for “girls who like girls.”
My entire body stiffened as the seventies-funk infused riff to the song Bambi began oozing from Prince’s fingertips.
“I knew from the start/That I loved you with all my heart/But you were untrue/You had another lover and she looked just like YOU!”
Cold beads of perspiration were streaming down my back.
I was afraid to even think of looking at Michael.
“All your lovers/They look just like you/But they can only do the things that you do…ooh!”
Prince stalked across the stage, face contorted as he whipped into another blazing solo.
I couldn’t believe That Damn Man was performing this song.
In front of Michael and Family.
I finally dared to look at Michael.
He was staring at Prince, mouth agape. I didn’t know what is jaw was hanging from--the awesome solo or the tawdry lyrics.
A hundred on Tawdry Lyrics to win.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine were having a powwow, heads close together as the rest of the group moved around them.
Latoya still looked disgusted.
I could only imagine what was being said.
Then for a hot second, I thought Prince had regained sanity, luridly rattling off his ballad, Damn U.
That all went to hell.
Prince stared clapping loudly, rhythmically, and started in on a tune I had never heard before, Broken.
It started out as another simple sweet ballad, then Prince warbled off one offensive line,
“Lonely/I’m so lonely/Lonely/Until you bring your sweet pussy/ Bring it on home to me!”
I banged into Wendy, I was so startled at the lyric.
Michael was on the floor, mouth twisted, eyeing Prince angrily.
The dirty lyrics kept pouring. Every so often Prince would glimpse at me, and I just knew I had to sing back up, or I’d be pulling a huge guitar out of my forehead.
I nearly threw up during Gotta Stop Messing About:
“…I’ve been playing with my toy so much/ I’m gonna go blind!”
Then came Come:
“…with my tongue in the crease/Baby I go around/When I go down!…”
With each passing smut laced song, a Jackson would stop dancing and just stand there, staring in shock.
Eventually the only people bopping were Rusty, Tara, Mindy and Suki.
I was trembling so badly, it was a wonder I was still upright.
Once again, Prince shouted for the music to come to a cease.
“Morris!” Prince said into his microphone.
“Yes?” Morris wiggled his eyebrows.
“You got The Time?” Prince asked with a grin.
“No…but I got The Revolution!” Morris exclaimed hopping up and catching Prince’s microphone as he threw it.
“Brynn!” Morris pointed me out. “I dedicate this song to you and those zebra print pants you’re wearing out!”
“Oooh-Oooh, Ah! Ah! Ah!” Morris screeched like a monkey and the band launched into his hit, Jungle Love.
As Morris sauntered and strutted around the stage, dancing poorly, I noticed that Prince had disappeared from the stage.
“Brynn! Brynn!” At the sound of my name, I saw that Michael, Jermaine and Tito were huddled at me end of the stage.
“Get the hell off of there now! We’re going home! Now!” Michael called through gritted teeth, his face red.
I had never seen Michael that perturbed. Not even when Prince and Morris were a couple of gutter mouths at The Ivy Lounge.
Nodding, with heart broken tears in my eyes, I started towards them to hop off.
“To the sauce!” Morris suddenly grabbed me around my waist and was bumping his hip against mine.
I watched helplessly as Michael tried to get Tito and Jermaine to lift him up onstage. I just knew he was going to drag me offstage.
After several tries, Tito lost his balance and tumbled to the floor, Michael landing on him.
Morris didn’t notice; he was basking in his fifteen nanoseconds of fame.
Then Prince’s voice, louder than I had ever heard it, drowned out the song,
“That’s enough Morris--shut the fuck up!”
Entering stage right, I saw that Prince had changed costumes.
He wore an oversized purple tunic, over matching wide bottomed trousers and black boots.
Extending from around the neck and pointing at a bit of an angle Prince’s symbol was printed on the front in black. The left sleeve of the tunic was also black.
Tucked under his arm was a large white box.
“I need everybody to quiet down. I have something to say.” Prince declared taking the gun from Morris.
“Brynn get off!” I heard Michael yell.
“I’m doing Gett Off later Michael, calm down!” Prince cackled and the Revolution chuckled.
“Now I wanna tell you guys something funny.” Prince said seriously and trotted over to me, an evil grin on his face.
“When I first met Brynn at my studio, Paisley Park, we had a little argument. You remember our argument Pretty Lady?” Prince patted my cheek gently.
“Yeah.” I leaned away from him. Just what did he have in that box?
Behind me, Michael was trying again to get a leg up onstage.
Surveying the crowd, That Damn Man continued,
“Brynn had a little aversion to wearing make-up and she thought that I made women look like Barbie dolls.”
Giving me once-over he giggled, “As you can see, she’s over her aversion, now.”
The Revolution laughed and Morris crowed.
“You don’t look like a Barbie, you’re much cuter.” Prince winked at me through his streaky hair.
“Damn it!” Michael’s foot slipped and he landed back on the floor.
“Uh…thanks.” I replied shakily. What was he going at?
The rest of the Jacksons were watching solemnly.
Annoyed.
Michael stumbled.
Holding the box out to me, Prince quipped, “This is for you. And I hope it finally puts our little argument to rest.”
I hesitated; I didn’t want to make the situation any worse than what it was.
“Take it.” Prince urged.
Finally just to wipe that holier-than-thou expression off his face, I grabbed the box, my mind made up that no matter what was inside, I’d act unmoved.
I ripped the top on the box open and discovered a smaller, pink box inside.
Lifting the pink box out, I wheezed.
Through a clear front panel on the box was a doll.
About the same size of a Barbie, the doll was black with long curly hair and wore a green and blue dress matching gloves. A little gold symbol was attached to the right glove.
It was me.
A doll version of me in the outfit that was in my photo from Paisley Park.
“I…I don’t believe it.” I whispered, staring at the figure.
I was a doll. Prince had had a Barbie doll of me created?
“You like that? I had the nice people at Mattel create a little Brynn.” He chuckled taking the doll from me and displaying it to everyone.
“Brynn’s a Barbie!” Latoya exclaimed, wedging in between Mindy and Suki.
“Damn, that dude is going all out!” Taj said to TJ, a little too loudly.
“Do you like that?” Prince’s voice floated near me.
“Yes…” I stared up at him. “Thank you.”
Prince smothered me in a tight hug.
It was then I felt a hand grip the back of my shirt, scratching my skin in the process.
Michael loomed over Prince and me.
A wild look was in his eyes.
“We’re leaving Brynn, come on.” He gripped my arm so tightly, I felt blood vessels constricting.
“Mike, you can’t leave now, the show is just getting good.” Prince commented innocently, reaching out and putting his arm around my waist.
Putting the microphone to his mouth, Prince exclaimed,
“Enough of that tame shit, who wants some Head?”
Michael looked as though he’d been slapped.
Shocked and stunned gasps and exclamations dotted the room.
On cue, the Revolution launched into the opening bars of Head.
Prince, brimming with smugness, began singing, skipping the first verse and chorus and went directly to the second verse.
“You know you’re good girl/I think you like to go down/You wouldn’t have stopped but, uh, I came all over your wedding gown/But I must confess…”
Prince pulled his top off, exposing his still shining upper body.
“I wanna get undressed/And go to bed…”

Michael grabbed me around my waist and lifted me up.
“That’s it. I’m sick of his little ass. We’re going home. Sickening!” Michael shook his head.
I frowned at Prince, brimming with a hot anger. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, he just had to try to pluck Michael’s nerves and gross out everyone in the place.
Then Prince had to go there.
“Don’t take her away…let her give me some Head.” Prince cooed seductively.
The entire room came to a standstill at the statement.
Wendy and Lisa shook their heads, frowning.
“Did he just say what I thought he said?” Taj groaned looking into his camera.
I felt Michael’s total being go cold.
Pushing me aside, he screamed in an almost unearthly tone,
“I’m gonna kick your little nasty ass up and down the street then around the corner!”
Michael Jackson whooshed past me and lunged at Prince.
Prince didn’t stand a chance.
“No Mike man! No!” Jermaine and Tito rushed around me as the rest of the Jackson brood pressed up against the stage rooting on the impending fight.
Jermaine and Tito were about a second too late.
Michael bitch slapped Prince and sent him whirling into the drum set
“Aw fuck no!” Morris threw down his drumsticks and rushed at Michael, grabbing onto Tito and punching him in the face.
“You asshole! That’s my father!” Taryll and TJ hopped up on the stage, Taj trailing behind.
Before I knew it, every person in the place was fist fighting.
Michael beating on Prince, yanking his hair mercilessly. Dr. Fink going at it with Randy. Latoya doing a battle royal with Mindy and Suki.
Wendy and Lisa joined in, fists landing blows everywhere.
Bodies rolled all over the stage and most of the dance floor.
Selena was begging Jermaine to stop clobbering Jimmy.
This was a nightmare.
“Brynn…Brynn…”
I opened my eyes to find myself still inside the limousine, the Jacksons packed in around me.
Michael was tapping my cheek gently.
“Baby, you fell asleep.” He grinned at me, warmly.
“Honey, I have some bad news.” He said softly.
All around me, the Jacksons groaned unhappily.
Rusty, though, was beaming like he’d just inherited a billion dollars.
I glanced out the window. We were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.
“What?” I questioned. Michael looked so fresh and well groomed, how could he look that nice after beating Prince to a stump?
Not a hair was out of place.
“The concert got cancelled, Prince came down with laryngitis. We’re going home.” He ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry you got all done up for nothing.”
I stared at Michael, bewildered.
The concert? It had been cancelled? So Prince didn’t get nasty? And Michael didn’t knock him into another galaxy?
It had all been a dream?
“There’s no concert?” I whispered, my mind not truly grasping the idea.
“No, how does someone the size of a tonsil get laryngitis? Damn, I was geared up for the show!” Marlon, Jr. whined.
“I guess we won’t be able to kick his little ass tonight.” Jackie remarked and the limo laughed.
I snickered, not because Jackie had made a cute joke, but because if my dream had been anything like a premonition, we’d have had the local precinct filled to the brim, all on assault and battery charges.
I had never been so thankful for a sore throat in all my life!
Snuggling up close to my Main Man, I planned to make sure we had a party of our own and if Michael did get hurt, it would be a sexy hurt.