Cherry's Dawn || Skipper and Monty

Cherry's Dawn || Chapter 1

Author's Note: To disclaim again, this is will NOT be a Prince and Brenda Bennett fan fiction. I've wanted to elaborate on that complicated relationship between Prince Rogers Nelson and Brenda Michelle Hughes from the Michael Jackson "Black Rose" stories. If you'd like me to continue with this idea, please sound off in the comments. Thanks for reading my work everybody. Also, The Black Rose: Lost Chapters fan fiction is still not finished and I'll post more as soon as possible. - KL

==

January 1982

SKIPPER

From that day forward, I nicknamed girlfriend "Monty." Her somewhat thick New Jersey accent called for such a thing. I hadn't met anyone that fine since Susan, and that meant a lot. She'd crammed among everybody else in the Capitol Theatre. This choice shocked me in the name of her growing popularity on Soul Train. At the time, mama grooved in these purple blazers and stared into cameras with the prettiest brown eyes I'd ever seen.

Despite musk and sweat beads on my forehead, she insisted on hugging me backstage. I'd felt bashful for the first time in a while around women. God, she was so much more gorgeous in person to be honest. Her dimples turned up in an adorable way once we pulled away from this hug.

"You're a genius. Where the hell does that come from?" Monty chuckled asking her question which such a smart mouth. This wouldn't surprise me considering my choice of poor language now and then.

"You're fucking beautiful." I slipped out. "But to answer your question. I'd say it comes from nothing but God and my mind.

"Thank you. And I figured it came naturally. You cannot teach talent like that. It's impossible." Monty pushed back the short curls I'd obviously seen before. Never did she cringe from my language.

"You know, I'm forming a girl group actually. Can you sing?"

"Yeah, but if you guys record in Minneapolis, I can't make it. There's too much going on with my career right now obviously."

I pouted. "Please? I'll mail you the demo if that's what it takes. I'd love to hear you sing and then I'll make a decision."

__

Susan, Brenda and Monty rounded a microphone at the same time. I sat down at the mixing board alone soon after. Monty as she bobbed her head with these headphones almost squishing her pretty curls. I'd personally negotiated with Don Cornelius beforehand. There was no mistake that he excused his rising star just for a weekend in Minneapolis.

Bass of music kicked in from the speakers to all three sets of their headphones behind the recording glass. Monty's firm but sexy voice shocked me no matter how many we'd gone over the song. I couldn't help grooving quietly as I sat back.

That's right, pleased to meet you.

I still won't tell you my name.

Don't believe in mystery?

Don't you wanna play my game?

I'm looking for a man to love me.

Like I've never been love before.

I'm looking for a man that'll do it anywhere.

Even on the limousine floor!

__

I couldn't do this. It wasn't that girlfriend couldn't sing. It wasn't that she never had potential. I'd chosen the wrong song and she deserved so much better than some perverted fantasy ode. Brenda and Susan left out for the night while Monty stayed in the room for a bit. At the very least, I would save her the embarrassment of rejection in front of her bandmates.

She carefully sat on the edge of that mixing board and I sat up rigidly in my chair. Silence had fallen. My heart pounded over and over.

"Can we talk? It's important." I whispered in a low voice.

"Sure." Those brown eyes narrowed.

"I've decided to pick someone else." I lowered my head shamefully. "With all of that talent, you deserve so much more than a sex song."

"I actually enjoyed it, but if that's choice, I'm not stopping you. Tell the girls I said goodbye and good luck finding a replacement. Best of luck to you, Prince."

I got up from the chair so quickly, it spun and rocked. She stood at the door without a hint of makeup on that face and sported glasses I'd never seen before. Those short curls never failed to come back, nonetheless.

"Come back to my place. I've got plenty of room, you know. Please? It's late and freezing outside. I don't want you to be alone, mama, especially in a new city."

"I'm fine being alone." Monty snipped quietly. "And there's been plenty of money in pockets, Prince. I've bunked in a hotel room for two days now."

"Call me Skipper and I'll ask you again. Would please stay over? The girls have bunked in guest rooms, too."

"No, we just met and I don't even know you like that. This was supposed to be a professional deal. What the hell are you thinking?" Monty defended herself.

"I'm just being friendly." I answered.

"Inviting me to your house around midnight isn't being friendly. It's being nasty. I'm not virgin, but I know a dog after seeing it."

"It's not like that." I stopped her from walking out again. "No matter what you think, it's not like that. Can I at least give you my number?"

"On one condition." Monty folded her arms.

"Name it." I said.

"Let the down the girls gently."

I nodded, agreeing.

Before long, I scribbled both my number and a message on scratch paper I'd found near the recording booth.

Monty snatched it out of my hand just before strutting out of the room and slamming the behind her. I'd never forget what I'd written underneath my number.

Song lyrics.

All of my purple life.

I've been lookin for a dame.

That would wanna be my wife.

That was my intention main.

All of my hang-ups are gone.

How I wish you felt the same.

We can fuck until the dawn.

How I wish you were my babe...