Mother's Song| A PRN Short Story

Five

We step out of the car and he leads the way to the side-door. He doesn't even knock, he walks right on in once he realizes the door is unlocked. It opens and I can smell the wood fresh from the sixties as if all ten of those years have been juiced and scattered across the foundation. The oddest part of it all is that Prince's own lavender is still very apparent, leaving me to feel like I am in a His and Hers perfume shop. Prince steps to the side and allows me to enter in more before he closes the door behind me.

Another warehouse.

"Watch your step." He signals to the drop of the floorboard that leads to a lower plateau.

I listen to my heels click as I am careful to not fall over. Prince steps down and takes the lead back over. Our heels clicking in sync, he takes me through the dimly lit halls and into a the slightly off-centered portion of the space. The July weather causes for a certain musk to float though the building's central air is said to be on full blast. I feel like I'm sweating more than Kat Williams in the middle of a stand up. I'm not sweating in noticeable places, but if it becomes too much, the smell will be noticeable on its own. We don't have this kind of humidity in California, not in 1985 or 2019. So, fuck Climate Change and fuck Minnesota.

John enters the building and these two waste no time. They jump right into it. Prince pulls out two sticks as John sets up the table. My attention is pulled away for a slight second when I notice other people are in this building with us and by the way they are walking around with speakers and wires,  something tells me that a performance is near... A performance far different than the one Alexa and I witnessed together.

"Ahhhhh!"

Prince's emphasized laugh earns a giggle from me as I approach him. His butt leans his body against the edge of a large trunk, his pull stick between his knees as he rests his face on his hands that are wrapped around it. "Hey, do you guys have a phone I can use?"

He points across the room. "Over in that corner." My eyes follow down his arm over to the other side of the room. It is a straight shot across with exception of a mid-rising makeshift stage Prince has in the center of the room that is accompanied by studio and sound equipment.

Nodding, I say, "Thanks. I'll be right back."

Prince's body remains in its position as I turn away from him. John's examining the table, deciphering what is the best shot for him to take. I make it two steps away from the pool table when I hear Prince call out for me. "Hey!" My head turns, my hair flying over my shoulder with the turn. I'm living in a John Hughes film at this point. "Don't get lost," he teases.

"Come find me if I do?"

Pursed lips straighten his smile, leaving me to be the only one laughing at our exchange. "No promises." I roll my eyes at his reply and wave him off with a laugh.

Once I feel like I am out of Prince's sight, I pick my feet up and jog to the phone. One thing I admire about this eighties thing is the shoes! These heels are the baby heels I was forced to wear in middle school after I was promoted from flats. It is way easier and more comfortable navigate in these rather than the hooker heels I'd grown used to and because of this, I make it to the phone a lot faster. I pull my book out as I scan for the number to Alexa's hotel room. When I told her I was doing this alone, she joked about sleeping until noon. Well, I hope she kept her promise.

I am transferred to her room and it is three rings before she pick up with a groggy whine. "Hello," she says into the phone.

"Alexa?"

"CJ?"

Laughing at the way she decided to mock my tone, I shift my weigh from the right food to my left. "How are you holding up? I told you that I'd call sometime in the afternoon." I glance down at my watch. It looks expensive. It looks like something Claire Huxtable would wear, something I could never afford in my life. "It's 1:30 PM now. Are you okay?"