1983 Sunday, Minneapolis

     Once the vehicle that Michael and I resided in pulled up to a restaurant with a name I had trouble pronouncing in my head, I knew I should've began to protest. His curtsy to treat me to lunch, since time had passed so quickly after the uncomfortable car incident was nice in theory, but the last thing I really expected was various waitresses and waiters serving me dish after dish. Pastas to fish to steak to mash potatoes and broccoli — I couldn't finish it all.

    Judging by the lighthearted laugh that escaped Michael's mouth I could assume he noticed my difficulty with finishing all of it. It would be rude to not finish especially after he spent so much on a such a little incident. In all honesty, I would've been fine with a friendly drink in it's place and nothing more.

    "I can't do it." I groaned in agony after devouring an entire steak with mash potatoes and vegetables to accompany it. I barely could finish the pepsi in front of me without feeling like I was putting on another three pounds.

Michael laughed then took a brief sip of his own Pepsi, "I assume we're even then?"

I found myself smiling with eyes closed and nodded. "Yes. Thank you for this." I said, willing my limp eyelids to open.

Michael waved a hand. "It was nothing, I owed you. Plus it's nice taking to you." He revealed softly only to look down into his  cup quickly to avoid my gaze. His adorable actions emitted a gentle chuckle from my lips before I brushed a fallen piece of hair behind my ear.

"You too. If you don't mind me asking why are you in Minneapolis of all places?." Michael looked confused at the question. "I mean, I love Minneapolis but if I could move I would. Why are you here when you could be anywhere?" I clarified for him.

Michael sighed. "Family stuff. My brothers want to do a final Jacksons tour but—" he shook his head. "I want to be on my own, you know?"

I nodded with empathy.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I love my brothers but that life is over and I'm doing my own thing now. Plus, the ticketing is completely unreasonable." Michael incredulously complained before taking another sip from his straw.

My curiosity enhanced. "How?"

"They — the marketing team came up with this insane idea for people to spend money on tickets, but you have to buy four and you don't know what show you're getting until it's too late." My eyes softened as I watched Michael grow heated over the subject.

He shook his head, "It's so unfair for people to spend all this time working to get money for one ticket only to found out that they have no other option but to pay for four to see the show."

After Michael explained the technicalities of it, I could see why he was so hesitant to involve himself in the tour to begin with. If I was a dedicated fan and finally saved up my money only to find out I couldn't afford it, I would be pissed too. But suddenly I realized the compassionate side to Michael that refused to do something if he knew it would hurt the fans who supported him. It made me internally smile.

"Just say fix the system, or I am not doing he tour." I advised with a shrug to my shoulder. The words sounded in good but even without knowing Michael's team, I could infer that it wouldn't be that easy.

My guess was correct when Michael rebutted, "They're not going to go for that. They want to make money, they don't care how it affects the fans."

Michael slumped into his chair and sighed lightly while rhythmically tapping his fingers against the cup. Without thinking, I placed a sanity hand over his own to stop the movement. Soon, I saw my reflection in brown eyes that held surprise but I successfully looked past it.

"If your brothers are passionate in this as much as you are, and only care about giving your fans that have supported throughout the years a final show as a thank you." I paused. "Then it shouldn't be a problem for your team to change their minds."

From hearing Michael previous vent on this situation it seemed like he was the only one who had a problem with the unfair treatment of the fans' money. I hoped my assumptions were wrong.

He nodded in agreement with my words before dropping the topic completely, "Anyway, since you asked me what I'm doing here. I get to ask you."

Without any of my control, the weak smile on my lips dropped into a straight line.

"What's to ask?" I stifled a forced laugh and distracted myself with the fork and left over food remaining on my plate.

Michael didn't seem to notice the change in my demeanor, "Last night you said you were from New York. Why did you come here?"

"Didn't I answer that?" I threw back.

Michael laughed, "I'm not stupid enough to think that crowds is the reason you moved." Thinking back on it, the excuse did sound counterfeit.

I bit my lip before flipping a section of hair behind my back, "It had to do with things that aren't important anymore." I answered simply and blinked quickly once my mind began to drift off into memory lane.

Michael seemed to be waiting for more but I didn't have anything I was free-willing to express at this point. "I just don't want to talk about it." I dismissed to which he nodded in understanding.

"That's fine, if your not comfortable you don't have to say anything you don't want." I smiled at his words and let my gaze fall back onto my plate.

The vibrating against my leg began once silence took over and I grumbled in annoyance then silencing the call.

Michael chuckles at my actions, "Your not gonna' get that?"

"No, I know who it is and their reasons for calling are never important." I know the words sounded harsh to say, so I was glad the person who was calling wasn't around to hear me say them.

Michael took a brief pause and smiled devishly causing my eyes to squint in his direction. "What?"

Before I could drop the fork fast enough and repocket my phone, Michael already had it in his grasp and pressed the answer button.

"Dana's phone." His voice is cheery tone was cut off with a laugh once I reached over the table in attempts to snatch it from his ear.

"Michael!" I whispered harshly and in worry.

"Who is this?" I could hear Prince's deep tone over the speaker.

"This is Michael, who's this?" Michael replied while watching me struggle to take it from his possession. My worry continued to enhance when my ear caught the way Prince's voice changed into one of annoyance.

"This is Prince."

Michael looked at me in surprise, for reasons I already knew. I knew somewhat they weren't technically rivals but the media portrayed that they were so much that at times it's hard to tell if they were or not. Judging by Michael's expression of disapproval I guessed that the rumors were actually true.

Michael continued to stare in my direction as he asked "How do you know Dana?"

There was a brief pause over the phone and I stopped my actions of trying to get the device back to listening intensely.

"Tell her to call me later." Prince completely disregarded the question and gave out an order before I hear the dial, indicating that he hung up.

Annoyances filled me up to the brim as I finally had the opportunity to snatch the phone from Michael's hold and stuff it into my jeans. Most times Prince had no reason to ever be mad or hold grudges against me, but in this situation I could understand his irritation. I hadn't answered all day and when he finally got an answer it was from another man, I would be pissed too.

"I need to go." I announced bitterly while grabbing my coat from the back of the chair and ready to make an exit.

Michael's hand on my arm stopped me abruptly and caused my head to whip back towards him only to see his expression of guilt. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that would be him."

      Even though the soft side of myself urged me to state that it's alright or that he'll get over it, I had difficulty saying the words.

"Well maybe you shouldn't pick up other people's phone when they didn't give you permission." I snapped instead and ripped my arm away from his grasp before storming out of the restaurant.

[x.]

It passed my mind that Michael had driven us so far out of town until I got off the bus and the fair ended up being more than I expected. The ride their didn't seem as long but I assumed it was because throughout the ride we were mostly talking. Within me I knew I couldn't be too mad at Michael, because it all could've been avoided if I answered the phone but it was just easier to remain feeling the way I was.

I wasn't surprised when I finally arrived home around five pm and found the apartment vacant of Prince. If anything I felt somewhat relieved that I didn't have to explain what occurred face to face. His own eyes were devious enough to manipulate me into thinking that the truth was a lie. It was the only thing I feared of him.

      Before settling on the couch with anxiousness coursing through me faster than a speeding bullet, I snatched the phone from the hook on the table beside me and began to dial. It rang for what seemed like minutes while I twirled the white stained cord countlessly around my index finger.

I had a pretty good idea that at this time of the day Prince was most likely recording but it didn't stop me from calling again when he didn't answer the first time. I wanted things to be clear and wiped away so it wouldn't egg at me later on in the evening.

But I grew partially irritated when I was yet again sent to voicemail.

After several attempts I decided to get up from the couch and wrap the braids tightened into my hair up into a bun. I didn't know exactly how chilly it was in my apartment until I stripped of my long shirt and replaced it with a crop top in it's place.

   The article of clothing alone reminded of a time when Prince and I went to a club,only for various men who I had no knowledge of knowing eyed me like a tiger ready for the killing . I knew he never enjoyed me going out on my own, and even with a group of friends he despised of the idea. But even though Prince held up a good front like he didn't mostly care, I knew he was worried of the attention thrown onto me.

     In the beginning infact he was completely compatible and reasonable with what I had chosen as a profession. But his views on the occupation began to blur once we became involved and he stated to have claim over me. I didn't talk to him for the two of the following days. Evidently he didn't appreciate the silent treatment as he showed up at my apartment on the second night, struggling to not admit that he was completely in the wrong but also acknowledging it as well.

     It left me confused.

    The suspension waiting for Prince's call lasted a dreading four hours before the sound of a ring filled the air. I controlled the speed I went to get the phone by taking slow paced steps. Cautiously, I took the phone from off the hook and pressed it against my ear.

     I answered normally, "Hello."

     "Is your prime goal to make me want to loose my fucking mind?"

    I sighed as the first sentence left his lips and I was already left without an answer.

     Composing one I said, "No, but to be fair didn't you already tell me you lost your mind a while back?"

   "Don't play with me Dana, seriously." Prince huffed, irritated. "Why weren't you answering my calls?"

     "I was busy."

     The answer is blunt and straight to the point but I had nothing else to say, it was the truth.

     "Too busy to call someone backl?" He asked, incredulously.

     I brung my knee up to me and rested my chin on it. "Don't act like you've never done it, Prince."

    He scoffed, "I'm not denying anything Dana because truly I am busy. Not playing house with a Peter Pan wannabe—

   "Leave him alone." I scolded firmly. "Michael didn't do anything. He was really nice actually."

    Prince laughed to himself. "I bet he was."

    His suggestive tone caused me to roll my eyes.

   "Yeah he was. He even took me out to lunch." I don't know why but I felt my lips stretch out further once the line on the other side became silent.

     "Oh." Prince mockingly cooed, breaking the silence. "Your first date, I should've been there to take pictures."

      I kept my voice even, "It was friendly, he took me to a restaurant and it was fun. Even with you calling every two seconds."

      Prince's tone sounded offended."Excuse me if I wanted to talk."

       But I looked straight through it.

     "Bullshit, you just wanted to know where I was and to see what I was doing because you're that possessive." I accused.

       I could hear Prince's smile over the phone. "Yeah and when I finally got a hold of you, who answered the phone? Michael Jackson ladies and gentlemen."

      "What if I did that same shit to you and Susannah answered." Prince prided without any sympathy. The air surrounding the room got caught in my throat at the possible scenario and the anger hiding within me reared it's ugly head.

      I was honest, "I would cut you."

      "So quick to revolt to violence, how dangerous. No wonder we're together." Prince sighed in what seemed to be a dreamy state.

     I rolled my eyes, "Whatever." I continued to twirl the cord around my finger until it became to tight. "So are you still pissed about this or. . "

    "Oh, of course." He answered simply. "But I'll look past it, this time."

That surprised me. Prince never looked past anything, it was either your with him or your not no in between. It made me curious on what changed the way he thought so fast.

"Really?" The other line was silent.

     "Yes."

      I knew it was going to sound stupid coming from my mouth but I had to ask, "Why?"

"Because no matter hard I try, I can't stay mad at you." Prince honestly revealed to which I found myself stretching my lips into a gentle smile in response.

"I'm flattered."

"Promise me you won't hang around him anymore." Prince questioned, in a tone that seemed that he expected me to say the words. I rolled my eyes and sighed into the phone.

"I promise, but I doubt I'll see him again anyway. I was pretty nasty towards him before I left." After I said the words, the image of Michael's brown eyes clouding over with hurt at my harsh tone filled my vision. So much so, that Prince's voice on the other end made me jump.

     "And you say I'm mean." Prince scoffed with humor.

     I bit my lip, "I feel bad."

     "Don't -- look, I know what will make you feel better."

      I was scared to ask but slightly intrigued, "What?"

     "Come over, I wrote something for you."

It was little late to being going out I had thought after taking a peak at my clock that read 9:50, but I felt horrible and if Prince could fix that than I would be happy to oblige.

"Alright, I'll be there in a half an hour." I could feel him smile on the other side of the phone, making me eventually end up doing the same. After hanging up, I slid on a pair of tight jeans and allowed my hair that was restrained in a bun to fall back onto my shoulders.

It surprised me on how quick the time passed, but then I remembered that I mostly had been spending my day with Michael and wasn't so surprised. My guilty conscious was priding that I should've apologized soon after my harsh attitude but I couldn't let those thoughts clog my brain.

I wasn't going to see Michael again,and if our paths did cross again I wouldn't engage in an extended amount of conversation. It would only result in me breaking my promise with Prince and that was the one thing on my agenda that I refused to complete.