Motivation of Memories: The Second Book of the Labors of Love Series

Wake Up Call

Genevieve's POV

"Star." The voice whispers getting closer. Mamakoko's visage appears. She straightens her back as she walks closer. It's just us. Me and Mamakoko in the inky black void.

"Is this the afterlife?"

"No, you are very much alive."

"I miss you." I say softly. The tears threaten to fall but somehow in this world I don't think I can.

"Something is changing on your side. You need to keep your head down and keep working."

"But mamakoko I'm already working so hard."

"Something is after you. Your only hope is to work harder and stay alert."

"What is it?"

"I must go."

My body shoots up as the alarm goes off. My heart beats out of my chest as I try to figure out where I am. A warm hand touches mine and I look over seeing Prince whose eyes are full of worry.

"Are you okay?" I shake my head. "Come here." He pulls me close and use his heart beat to help regulate mine.

"I saw mamakoko. She spoke to me. She told me something is after me and to work hard and stay alert."

"Did she tell you what or who?"

"No. She said she had to go before she could tell me." He thinks for a moment but I can tell he's confused.

"How can I help? What do you need?"

"Just help me keep a look out for now. I guess."

The morning goes by as normal. We eat breakfast, shower, and head over to the venue. Prince makes sure a woman secures my mic pack and I head back to the stage to warm up.

"Boss, there's a call from your manager." A man says from the wings just as I pass him.

"I'm in the middle of soundcheck. Can it wait?" Prince says unfazed messing with his guitar.

"He said it's urgent." Prince sighs turning away from his microphone and heading backstage. He hands me his guitar in frustration as he follows the man.

"Mama, tune this and get them through soundcheck. I'll be back." I nod adjusting the guitar in my hands before throwing the strap over my shoulder.

"Keep tuning and warming up everyone. When you're finished just stand in place." I ask everyone as I turn my focus to the guitar. I close my eyes and listen to each note as I begin to tune the guitar. I turn the keys this way and that until it sounds just right.

"Genevieve can you go ahead and play something so we can check the levels?"

"P-play something?" I say into my headset.

"Just give us something so we can make sure the guitar sounds alright." I nod loosening my grip on the neck of the guitar. I try not to play other people's instruments, especially Prince's. All of his are custom and I'd hate to ruin them or play poorly. I put my hesitation aside and just play what comes to mind. Nervously, I look up into the sound box as I play, hoping to see some cue as to when I can stop.

"Can we get more variation from you? I need some highs and lows." I sigh, nodding and begin to play more intentionally. I think about the show. What would he play? I decide to play one of the solos from the show. I pace the stage anxiously wishing this soundcheck was over. Prince gives me a lot of grief about my musicianship, mainly because I choose not to work on it. Which is rich coming from him. He doesn't practice either but he's a prodigy, I'm not. I guess it's just hard for him to believe that I prefer dancing and singing over playing. I think if he lost his voice he'd still be happy just to play his instruments but I'd rather move my body than play. Playing instruments is something I can do playing instruments was what he was born to do. I've known that since the first time I saw him play guitar. It's like he disappears. Once his hand grips the guitar and the pick he's transported to another dimension. I'm good with my instruments and I know I learn faster than most but it just doesn't have my heart the way dance and singing does.

Has he ever actually heard me sing?

My mind wanders as I think about all the times I've sung for him. It's mostly been subtly things, singing along to music in the car or in the house or rehearsals. He's seen me let loose a few times but those were mainly to make Mayte jealous or prove a point and even then it was rushed. I wonder what he'd think about me as a full artist. If I sang and played the way I do when no one's around would he think I'm any good?

He taps my shoulder. I know it's him because I can smell his cologne. Without words I hand him his guitar and take my spot on the other side of the stage as I continue to think about me and him and music. I know a lot about him as an artist. I see it everyday but I guess I'm just not ready to show him all that I'm capable of.

We go through the show as normal but I can't escape my thoughts. Would he still like me if we were both artists?

Would he like my personal artistry?

Before I know it, the show is over. I don't stick around for the applause. The second Purple Rain is over and we take our final bows, I leave. I don't even grab my bags. I just start walking.