**The Artist POV**

I spend a good chunk of the morning going back and forth about how I should go about getting my latest package over to Lani.

At this point I'm a desperate man...feeling powerless with the knowledge that Lani seems to be slowly slipping through my fingers. I can't let that happen, I think to myself, turning the package over and over in my hands. But how can I stop it?

Dick's earlier phone call keeps ringing in my ears as well. I have the distinct feeling I'm missing something...something important, life changing even. Yet try as I might, I'm unable to put all the puzzle pieces together. Still...I'm determined not to give up...even if it feels like Lani already has. I wish she had a little more faith in me...in what we had. Get it together man! Wishing is for sissies. It's certainly not getting me anywhere...

As my eyes drop towards my small package once again, a surge of determination wells in my chest. What I need is action...

This package needs to get to Lani, I know that much for sure If she won't see me, this package is my best chance to get through to her the only other way I know how...to lay all my cards on the table...through song.

But who can I trust enough to deliver this precious cargo? I'd do it myself, but neither my heart nor my ego can take another battering.

These last several days without her have already been terrible enough. I know I left with only the best intentions in mind...to protect her from the man I was before we met...and the man I'd still be if it weren't for her. Face it man. You're a coward...

Raking my right hand through my ebony locks in frustration, I carefully set the package down on the coffee table in front of me, keeping my eyes locked firmly on it. I may be a coward, but I'm not going down without a fight. Think man, think. Who do you trust enough to deliver this?

Steve...? Aren't your personal and professional lines blurred enough already?

Duane...? How do I know he won't try hitting on her?

Levi? There you go again...mixing business with pleasure...

Several minutes later I find myself no closer to a solution than I was when I started. If I could deliver it myself I would, but for more reasons than I can count I know that's a bad idea...and not just for me, but for Lani as well.

I've already taken one too many chances showing up at her apartment unannounced. What if the wrong person saw me and tipped off the media? Even worse...what if the media followed me there?

They'd set up camp outside Lani's apartment...never leaving her alone. As if we don't have enough problems already. That just might be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Forcing Lani to talk to media...or to me before she's ready, before she realizes what she's getting herself into? I could very well lose her...and myself in the process. There's no doubt in my mind. I promised myself I wouldn't do that to her She deserves better...more...

Finally...as though from out of nowhere through the cacophony of voices rambling around inside my head, a single voice becomes distinct...crystal clear even. Suddenly I know who should deliver this package. Now why didn't I think of her earlier?

I quickly scurry over to the landline in the next room, dialing with blind ferocity before I can change my mind.
The phone rings once...twice...a third time. Damn it!

Just as I'm about to hang up admitting defeat, a familiar voice rings through the line as I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

"Oh thank god..." I murmur reverently, hands clasped in a quick prayer of gratitude before I anxiously address the person on the other end of the line.

"Rosie...are you free to meet me at Paisley? I need a favour..."

--

**Rosie POV**

When the phone rang, the caller ID tagging it as a 'Private Caller', I must admit I was tempted to simply let it go to the answering machine. Even more so considering I'd received countless calls already that day from some hokey company offering me some free carpet cleaning...but only if I'd be willing to sit through an hour long presentation about this 'revolutionary cyclone vacuum cleaner.'

I'm sure you can imagine how far my eyes rolled with this description. By the third time they called, I gave the representative...I think his name might've been 'Boner'...errr Homer...that's it! Anyway...I gave old Homer quite a mouthful, yet they still kept calling. What the hell sort of company harasses black folk like that... seriously?

So when the caller ID tagged yet another 'Private Call', I huffed when I picked up, determined to give whoever was on the other end a piece of my mind...so imagine my surprise when the first thing I hear after picking up with a rather gruff sounding, "Hello," was a soft, yet familiar voice murmuring with relief, "Oh thank god..." followed by meek, defeated sounding Artist forcing out an urgent, yet choked sounding, "Rosie...are you free to meet me at Paisley? I need a favour..."

Now let's get one thing straight. If there's one thing the Artist isn't, it's timid. This is a man who knows what he wants from people, and expects nothing less...so that alone strikes me as strange.

I'm pretty sure I've only heard this tone of voice from him twice before...recently, and in connection with a new lady friend of his...Lani, if I'm not mistaken.

But whatever her name, it seems she's got my baby here all tied up in knots, and for a man that's known for changing women more than he changes his nonexistent drawers, that's really saying something. She's definitely made quite the impression on him...this has got to be about her...in fact I'd bet my life on it!

Knowing this defeated, yet urgent request for help is as much as I'm going to get out of him...at least for now, I decide to humour him.

The fact that he sounds so defeated, so broken with his plea is what ultimately arouses my sympathy...and my curiosity. This isn't a man known for asking favours, so whatever this is about it must be something important, and I know I can't let him down. Not now...when he sounds like this...

So with a quick shout across the kitchen, and into the living room to my husband, who's watching the game from his favourite Lazy Boy, "Honey, could you take the brisket out of the freezer at 2?! I'll be back in a little while!", I throw on a light jacket, then scurry out the door with only one destination in mind. Hang on baby...I'm on my way!

--

When I walk into the atrium of Paisley Park, I was shocked and heartbroken by what I found there. Artist was sullenly pacing back and forth across the atrium, a small package being passed back and forth between his hands.

For the first time in all the time I'd known him, a man who always loomed larger than life looked unbelievably small, frail even; his shoulders slumped in defeat...and in that moment I knew. I'd help him any way I could. All you have to do is ask...

"Baby?" I ask in a concerned tone bringing his bloodshot hazel eyes to mine in a troubled expression.

"Rosie...you've got to help me," he urges in a frazzled, uncharacteristic tone of voice which scares me a little as I carefully make my way over to him where he allows me to pull him into a tight hug.

"Of course I will," I murmur softly into his ear, before pulling back to arms length to peer intently into his eyes. "But first I need to know what the hell is going on..."

"Oh Rosie...first of all, thank you for coming," his smooth baritone begins softly as he slowly pulls himself together, taking a step back to once again eye the small package in his hands before continuing. "Remember that favour I was asking for?"

I offer him a simple unsure nod, green eyes holding amber solidly.

"I need you to deliver this for me," he replies, gesturing toward the package as though it were precious cargo, and for all I know it just might be.

After a few more seconds of awkward silence pass, I finally give voice to the one question plaguing me. "Ok baby," I begin reassuringly, "But where...and to whom?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he starts pacing back and forth. Now that the moment of truth is here, he's grappling over whether to tell me or not. Now this is the man I know...

Finally before I could ponder things over any further, his shining golden eyes meet mine with quiet desperation.

With great effort he forces a single name of his tongue as his eyes drop to the package once again. "Lani..." Knew it! Do I know my baby or what?

"I ain't doing that without getting an explanation first," I respond bluntly. "Besides, why don't you just deliver it yourself?" I ask pointedly.

"I was hoping you'd have visited her after our last conversation," I continue, berating him as I look at him skeptically. "But you haven't done that have you?"

"That's just it," he replies with a sullen expression, carefully setting the package down on a side table with a sigh before continuing to pace. "I have..."

"And....?" I ask probing for additional information, yet knowing it'd be like trying to get answers out of a block of ice...damn near impossible.. But once again this man manages to surprise me.

"She wouldn't talk to me," he confides with a sigh. "Wouldn't even see me..."

Oh really...?

"I'm sorry baby," I offer, my tone contrite. "Did she say why?" I ask, curious. I can't imagine why she'd refuse to see him...at least not from everything he's told me...

"She didn't say much," he confides reluctantly, sorrowful eyes meeting mine with confusion. Then she did say something...

"What did she say?" I ask curiously, my woman's intuition knowing that the truth likely lay in what she didn't say. What aren't you saying girl? This man would move mountains for you...so what do you know that he doesn't?

"Not much," he replies sheepishly. "Just some random comment that makes no sense, then or now. Mostly she was just crying..." he finishes in a troubled tone. Ahhh...now we're getting somewhere....

"If you want my help, you need to tell me everything," I tell him, point blank. "Something's going on here...now what is it?"

He paces back and forth wringing his hands, grappling over whether to tell me or not.

Several tense moments later, defeated amber eyes meet my greenish ones with a sigh. "She said something about me 'not even being able to wait a week', whatever that means," he offers sullenly. "I'd wait forever for her. I just wish she knew that. I tried telling her..." he finishes forlorn.

"Why do you think she said that?" I ask curiously. "Have you done anything that might lead her to think otherwise?" I need to get to the bottom of this...

"Hell no!" he replies defensively. "But..." he continues sounding uncertain. Ahhh...now we're getting somewhere...

"I did get a strange phone call from Dick this morning..." he muses in a faraway voice.

"Strange how?" I ask nosily, determined to get to the bottom of what's going on. What does this have to do with anything?

"Let's just say Carmen paid me a visit a few nights ago..." he offers cryptically; his cheeks rosy, but with embarrassment or excitement I couldn't tell.

"Oh baby...tell me you didn't..." I gasp flustered, hands on my hips.

"Of course not!" he responds indignantly. "I tried sending her off peacefully, but she wasn't having it..."

"What happened?" I ask, hoping he'd be willing to provide the rest of the story...minus a few details of course. There are some things I just as soon not know...

"She finally left once I threatened to call security," he offers, eyes to the ground.

Clearly the man was ashamed, so I opted not to probe for further details, though my eyes locked with his, full of unasked questions.

Fortunately for a change he was forthcoming, if a little rueful. "I thought her leaving would be the end of it," he admitted shyly.

"But it wasn't...was it?" I inquire in a direct tone, meeting his embarrassed gaze head on.

"No...it wasn't," he replies softly, eyes on the carpet.

"What did she do?" I ask with concern. I love this man to pieces...but if drama is a fly, he's flypaper...

"That's where the call from Dick at Warner comes in..." he admits, his forehead wrinkled in apprehension and confusion.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask, perplexed.

"Now that's what I'm wondering..." he speculates, bemused. I hope this isn't going where I think it's going...

"Apparently there was a woman in a car outside the gates..." he continues in a desultory tone. "No one knows who she was, but it seems her and Carmen had words and the media was there outside the gates waiting..." Oh Lani...it was you wasn't it?

"Were they able to ID this woman?" I ask in a concerned tone.

"Not that I can tell," he replies with a sigh. "But I can't help feeling there's some sort of connection," he offers pitifully. "That's why I need your help," he implores me, eyes darting around the room in desperation before meeting mine with a troubled look. Of course it was you, I speculate silently. Who else would it be? And he has no idea does he?

"I see..." I offer cautiously, before just going for it and asking the question of the day. If I ever want to get that brisket in the oven, I need to cut to the chase. "But what does any of this have to with Lani?"

"I don't know," he replies ruefully, raking his hands through his dark hair in frustration as he raises blood shot eyes to mine. "That's what I've been trying to figure out." I know... I think conspiratorially. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you.

"If there's a connection, I'm sure you'll find it," I encourage, even as an idea starts to take root in the far reaches of my mind. Because if anyone needs help, it's these two.

"I hope so," he says with a sigh, troubled eyes meeting mine. "Because the media's releasing the pictures tomorrow and all hell will break loose. My people will do what they can, but if this gets back to Lani...I don't even want to think about it."

"Let's cross that bridge when we get there," I offer supportively. Anxious amber eyes bore into my back; following my every move as I start walking over to the coffee table to pick up the small package still lying there. "You still want me to deliver this?" I ask bluntly, gesturing to the small bulky envelope now inside my hand. He nods decisively, eyes bright with determination and hope.

"I'll do it on one condition," I offer, pushing my luck a bit in an attempt to barter with him.

"I'm listening," he replies warily, giving me a hint of side eye as I silently plot my next move.

"Go talk to her...soon," I demand in an authoritative, yet sympathetic tone. "Show her you're not giving up without a fight. She is worth it, isn't she?"

Glassy bloodshot eyes meet mine as he mumbles a resigned sounding, "She is..."

"Then go after her," I encourage, pulling him into a comforting hug. Several tense moments pass before I feel his reluctant nod against my neck.

It looks like I might have to work a little magic of my own, I muse silently. After all, if I don't help these two fools out, who will?

I pull back to peer into eyes filled with newfound resolve, finally offering him the response he's been waiting for since I got here. "Now let's do this..."