WAREHOUSE #4
6953 WASHINGTON AVENUE,
EDEN PRAIRIE, MINNESOTA
9:34 PM
Upon entry I find it hard to believe that my heart has already dropped from my chest and landed in the deepest pit that my stomach has to offer. The buildings smells like air. Neither fresh air nor air with a stench, simply air and only air. I gawk at the surrounding metal pillars, microphones, speakers, and recording equipment. It has to be one of the most creative sceneries I have ever witnessed. The mundane look is clearly not what makes this place special but, the electric energy charges you to live, think, and breathe in a recharged version of yourself. Needless to say, I am truly impressed.
"Wow," I whisper.
To think, he went from this to Paisley Park in a few short years. Oddly enough, something tells me that I would never enjoy Paisley Park as much as I am enjoying this warehouse. I can feel my insides being electrocuted with every step that I take in the place. Karen, Prince's assistant, becomes very much so acquainted with Alexa, just as assistants usually do in all of the HBO series I've watched or maybe even in the way that the interns of Grey's Anatomy have made pacts. She takes us over to a space with a couple of seats off to the side. The girls begin to converse among themselves as I jot down notes of my surroundings.
The entire band is here plus more. I see Prince. He stands before everyone in the entire band at the lead microphone. Honestly, I always imagined being starstruck. I read about all of these people who knew him or the fan stories of meeting him. An awakening, it is always described as awakening of some such. The moment to come to face him and witness the energy in the flesh, you are forever changed. Quite frankly, as I watch him in his multicolored jumpsuit and powder blue boots, I don't feel any different. He roams around a bit as I continue taking note of every sight. The way his golden crucifix chain swings around as he slides onto the piano stool to fiddle around with four part harmonies with the help of Wendy's twin sister, Susannah, is a clear memory that I take note of. It is not until I put down my pen that I realize all of these extra people are The Family. That, and Karen is long gone.
I click my pen shut and return to reality. Just as I settle back into my body, a clicking of heels grows louder as an aroma of lavender becomes stronger. I bite the bullet and look up at him with all of my fears, nerves, and pieces of pride stashed away. Clutching my book in my hand, I quickly stand before him as I come to realize that he somehow is taller than I am. Must be the boots.
"Hi," he says soft enough for me to have the hardest of times when it comes to distinguishing his tone from a whisper. He quickly glances at Alexa with inviting eyes as she waves before his orbs flicker back to keep contact with my own. He offers me his hand, I take it though soon his own fingers a way to wrap themselves around my own in an oddly comforting manner. He feels warm and...
Fuzzy?
I smile as this becomes one of the many highlights of my alternate life. He is, by far, the most beautiful specimen I have ever seen in my entire life— both lives!
The soft, calm expression he originally carries becomes a tender half smile. Prince motions over to a table closer to the entrance if the building, we passed it earlier. "Want something to eat or drink?" I look back over my shoulder as I question if I really want to walk away from him right now. Then again, there is no sweat at all! At the same time, I'm here because he requested me so, clearly at some point during this trip... I'm going to have the chance to play Cassie in a mental sense.
It's just me and you now.
I turn back to Alexa before looking down at Prince holding my hand and up into his eyes. "Sure... thanks."
He nods with pursed lips before letting go of my hand and slowly backing away. I can feel a shift in the world's energy for the first time since arriving, though I still feel pure positivity. Prince eventually wanders back into his natural habitat as Alexa and I go off into the direction of the snack table. I one good look at the table and cannot help but let out a giggle to myself. "What," asks Alexa. She begins to giggle out of nature as it becomes more and more evident to me how close she and I are really supposed to be. I bet she's my best and only real friend in this world.
I point at the table. "Seven different kinds of tea, a big ass pile of fruit, and a couple of bags of Doritos," I chuckle to myself as she catches on to the absurdity of snack choice.
"It's not far from your requests."
I wonder, what are my requests?
One thing I cannot imagine is me, little ol' me, being a pest in regards to what I will and will not allow. Growing up, I honestly was an extremely picky eater. Once I moved on to college and experienced an obscene sense of poverty, I learned to suck it up. After a certain point, you eat what you can... especially when someone else is paying. Prince's table of snacks causes for me to question how similar we really are. No drugs, no booze, fine. I can see why you wouldn't want the two. No coffee, though? Ouch! I can't live without my morning stop at Starbucks... wait, is that a thing yet?
My thoughts keep me busy for a majority of the time. I mumble and whisper a few jokes back and forth with Alexa as we giggle and play. Prince, meanwhile, remains occupied with his rehearsal/jam session. I have come face to face with each member of the band at different times. For example, I met Lisa Coleman when we bumped into one another at the entrance of the bathroom. After a few more awkward encounters, I decided that I had met the entire band and it was time to sit my ass down. I stay glued to Alexa's hip for the rest of the night. Though, she goes nowhere because, after all, I am the one in charge.
Prince stops and places his guitar in the hands of a man that I did not cross paths with. "Alright, suckers. I'm out of here," he jokes as I watch him quickly gather his little belongings. He steals the show as my eyes watch him strut around in focus. Collecting all of his things is the easy part, I'd imagine. However, not having pockets can easily complicate things and that's coming from a woman who is quite fond of jumpsuits.
"I wonder how he does it," whispers Alexa. My response is a snort due to the fact that I attempted to keep my laugh withheld.
He stops before us, his car keys' ring wrapped around his index finger. "You guys don't have to stay the whole time if you don't want," he informs. Alexa and I only nod and smile. I am still trying to fight off my leftover laughter. Prince points in my direction. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"See you tomorrow morning," I repeat.
PRINCE'S HOUSE
7141 GALPIN BLVD, CHANHASSEN, MINNESOTA
8:13 AM
I get out of the car and look back at the driver.
An older hispanic man, he is. He kind of looks like Erik Estrada in 2019 except, that isn't something that I can exactly say, now is it? Instead, I simply smiled as I told him that he looked a lot like a man I once on television. He was blushing for the entire rest of the ride. I enjoyed the ride. It was much like a luxurious uber without me having to pay for it myself. All compliments go back to my employer, Rolling Stone Magazine.
Trying to get a little extra pep into my step, I shake a tail-feather as I approach the immediate door of Prince's home. The man at the security gate was clearly expecting me because it took very little conversation for me to get in. He has some beautiful property here, bible. It's almost distracting as I go to ring the doorbell. The door opens almost immediately. A gorgeous Italian looking woman looks me in my eyes. Her hair is pulled into a sleek, low bun but, her attire quickly informs me of the role that she plays. What ever happened to the maids being sweet and old? This girl's hot and young.
"Hi, you must be CJ!" She chirps with a wide grin, stepping aside to allow me to walk into the large, beautiful home. "He's probably waiting for you upstairs. Hi, my name's Sandy." The young woman reaches out to shake my hand. Her energy screams familiarity. It is almost as if I have met her before. "You can take a seat anywhere you like. I'll just go check and see if he's ready for you."
Smiling, I nod and take a seat on the couch.
"Before I go, can I get you anything?"
I shake my head quickly, waving her off as a sign of politeness. "Oh, no! Thank you." She smiles and jogs up the stairs. I'm left alone in Prince's living room. My new motto has become: Get it done and go! I don't know how long I will be living this life and I truly want to make the most of it without ruining anything. Last night, I came to the realization that the budget I'm on now probably leaves me to be just as financially stable as I am in the present. Check it out, though, 1985 is way cheaper. Take the fact that it is cheap and me being an editor at Rolling Stone, put them together, and you get this dream life. I'm rich, successful, and under thirty. Why waste my time asking God why I am here when I can just have fun?
"Good morning."
Fuck!
I honestly did not think he really did the whole popping up bit. I find it baffling that nobody ever bought him a bell. My head whips around to face him. "Hi... good morning..." He's still in his pajamas. They are clearly silk, they look a lot like the ones from Under the Cherry Moon except a lot more expensive... very expensive. They are white. His face is done but, not nearly as glamorously as last night when he parading around in that Fashion Nova Men's romper that had his ass putting Dr. Miami in a grave.
He looks...
He looks as if he is the epitome of beauty. A creature who was specially crafted by God to be the heir to the responsibility of reminding humans that not a soul can come close to being as perfect as Jesus but, they may aim lower. Prince is the purgatory of it all. His grace is beneath our lord and savior, yet, above the rest of us... above all of us. He is almost perfect. He's the end goal for man or woman, it never mattered.
"Come on, let's have breakfast," he says. His tone is still a little groggy as if he hadn't woke up long ago. I grab my purse and follow he and Sandy through the large home into a larger kitchen. Another woman stands in a white top and black pants, moving all around the kitchen, digging through cabinets. My brain works well enough to know she's in charge of the space we are standing in. "CJ, this is Rande..." The woman turns around to meet me with a smile. "Rande, this is CJ." We smile and wave at one another.
Sandy walks out of the kitchen, leaving me with Prince and Rande. "Hello, CJ. Any requests for today's breakfast? Anything you want, I promise I can make it."
"I want crepes."
Rande side-eyes Prince's sassy morning requests. "I know what you want, Prince. I'm talking to the guest." He rolls his eyes. The exchange is far too adorable for my heart. I clutch my bag and this same stupid grin plastered on my face. Rande turns the attention back to me. "Any requests, CJ?"
"I'll just have whatever he's having."
Prince folds his arms, leaning on the sparkling clean counter top. "Crepes, Rande. She'll be having crepes too."
"Oh, don't let him bully you into eating whatever he's eating. This may be his house but, this is my kitchen. He signs my paycheck but, I do my job far too well for him to even fathom hiring anyone else," she teases Prince. He scoffs in dispute her words and I purse my lips, trying to fight my smile. "So, are crepes what you really want? No omelette or anything?"
I nod. "Crepes sound good."
Prince nudges me with his own separate grin. "You hear that, Rande? It's good taste!"
"Oh you'll be tasting something alright," she laughs. "You allergic to anything, CJ?"
"Not a thing."
Rande makes a mental note of my response and immediately heads into the refrigerator behind her. I turn to follow Prince through a door. Within the blink of an eye, I look around and realize that I am in one of the most beautiful dinning rooms I have ever been in. This man is living like it is 1995 in 1985. The china along the walls is beautiful and clearly worth hundreds, if not, thousands. A crystal vase sits in the center of the long, long glass table. If only I paid attention in science as a kid, maybe I would be able to tell you what kind of flowers those are. Nonetheless, they are beautiful, white, and truly liven up the room even more.. if that is possible.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be more attentive last night. How'd you like it, though?"
I place my bag on back of the chair and flip my bangs from my eyes. Prince stares back, his orbs boring into my own. "It was fun! It was so fun! Man, I'll tell you, the energy was electric. I never felt anything like it before. That is a feeling I can guarantee I won't ever forget."
He laughs. "Great."
A blanket of silence is placed on our shoulders. We pick at the fruit platter that Sandy left as a warm up for our own comfort. I watch as Prince's attention is geared more so toward the grapes and berries instead of the acidic fruits like the kiwi and pineapple. I write it down in my notebook, just as an observation. I doubt it truly means anything.
Note: He's only eating the grapes and strawberries.
"What are you writing," he asks.
I freeze. I stare at the paper for a moment before I look back to him. Oddly enough, I feel somewhat embarrassed. I click my tongue and say, "You're ignoring the kiwi and pineapple like a bad ex-girlfriend." He laughs, giving me a look that I've never really been given before. It is quite unique. "It's just a warm up observation," I say with a giggle, "Besides, you aren't giving me too much to work with right now, anyway."
"Oh, I see. You want me to be more exciting, huh? Should I have poofed into the room with a cloud of purple smoke?"
I purse my lips and take not an ounce of the harsh tone to heart. I get it, I really do. When I first wake up, I'm a little on edge too. It isn't until after I eat, change, and have my first cup of coffee that I am stable enough to interact with the world. It is 8:30 AM and he has to host a stranger in his home. He probably hasn't slept a lick of true sleep. He left the warehouse at 1:30 AM and Alexa and I left at 2:20 AM. We're both tired except I got some good sleep before waking back up at 6:45 AM to make it here in time. I honestly doubt Prince got any truly good sleep. I can empathize.
Note: He is slightly hangry in the morning. He probably isn't a morning person.
Prince's eyes narrow at the way my pen glides across the pages of my book. "What are you writing now," I can hear the annoyance in his tone. He probably thinks I let him down. I came in looking like this cool down to earth chick and now, I'm suddenly judging and recording his every move regardless of how good we started off.
"I wrote that you might be hangry," I say.
"Hangry?"
The agitation and confusion in his face fuse to create another one of those unique looks that I have never been given before. My cheeks are felt perking up as I cannot help but smile. "Hangry... it means you get a little grumpy when you're hungry. You're not you when you're hungry," Unknowingly to him, I quote my favorite Snickers commercial tagline. "Plus, you probably just woke up and I doubt you got any good sleep. You just need a little food in your system." He stares at me, again, for a second. I can tell that he is thinking but, God knows what about.
Like clockwork, Sandy comes out with our plates. "I'll bring you guys some orange juice," she says. She dips out of the door again.
Prince and I look at one another. It's somewhat a shock when I come to realize that he is smiling at me... not with his face, but with his eyes. "It was a pleasure to see you be hangry for a little. Don't worry though, I don't think anybody else cares enough for me to dare write it down." I bow my head to say a speedy prayer— because I am starving as of current. "Amen." As I lift my head, my gaze returns to Prince's as he still stares at me with his own kind of emotions being displayed. I can't read them. I'm no Prince Encyclopedia or Purple Manual. I sure hope whatever he is thinking is good though. "So, remind me, what's the deal for these next couple of twenty something hours?"
He cuts into his crepe with the side of his fork. I am forced to wait for him to chew. I gladly do so, I dig into my own crepe as he swallows his food. "We will be—" Sandy places our drinks nexts to our plates.
"Thank you, Sandy," we say in unison. Sandy looks back at us, shooting a look based on her furrowed brows. She looks the both of us up and down one final time before squinting. Another two seconds pass and she silently exits through a separate door across the dining room.
Prince cuts into his crepe again and I go to take a sip of my juice. "We're just gonna' go for a drive and do the interview like we discussed." Right, like we discussed. "I should show you around here first though, right?" I nod in agreement. "Then, after all of that, if there is any time left... we can raise all hell." He laughs, I join in a breath later. I had to swallow my juice first.
"Sounds like trouble," I state.
He shrugs his shoulders, glancing back down to his food. "Sounds daring."
"No, sounds like trouble." I felt bold enough to correct him and something within me tells me that he won't dare and try to come for me for doing so. "It's okay, though. I like trouble. Making noise is always fun. I can't tell you why but, I do like it."
Prince simply nods with a soft, smug smirk. "Me too."