Cherry's Dawn || Skipper and Monty

Cherry's Dawn || Chapter 6

Author's Note/Fun Fact: In real life, Prince fell in love with Wendy Melvoin's sister Susannah and wrote "The Beautiful Ones" in hopes of steering her away from a boyfriend at the time. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy my little spin on things with Monty and Skipper. Thanks!

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September 1983 – Los Angeles, CA

SKIPPER

Baby, baby, baby.
What's it gonna be?
Baby, baby, baby.
Is it him or is it me?
Don't make me waste my time.
Don't make me lose my mind, baby...

My only weakness stood right beside me at the mixing board. Those brown eyes closed while lowered her head, almost in shame. She'd turned away from me in her favorite boots and crossed both arms. I suddenly realized that short curls in the back of her head always gleamed in light. I never even noticed that her hair was actually a dark brown color rather than jet black. Even cameras from Soul Train deceived me all this time.

She hadn't said a word to me over the music and I listened to my own voice. It was no mistake that she'd rounded headlines with Michael Jackson of all people. Pictures of them hugged-up at a Motown party or something nearly scared me to death.

Given the lustful expression in his eyes, I wondered if Michael had taken her from me. In these pictures, they'd dance closely or flirt. He'd smile against her lips or just make her laugh. I shrunk bit by bit while these nightmares flashed through my mind. Was I never even good enough in the bedroom anymore?

My begging vocals cried for answers as soon as the music shifted into another key. I reached out for her shoulder, but Monty just slapped my away. I threw my hand in surrender and found my place in a rolling at the mixing board again.

I may not know where I'm going, babe.
I said I may not know what I need.
One thing, one thing's for certain baby.
I know what I want, yeah.
And if it please you baby.
Please you, baby.
I'm begging down on my knees.
I want you.
Yes, I do.
Baby, baby, baby, baby.
I want you.

Yes, I do!

We both stood in total silence as soon as the music faded out. I couldn't bear watching the confused and honestly said look on Monty's face. She closed her once more and I knew tears began to spill out when she shook her head over and over again.

"What are you doing?" she asked through tears. "How can profess love to me and sleep with other people? You've never even said we were exclusive." When she didn't mention my nickname, I knew things were serious now. "All we've had is casual sex and I've seen you with every other woman, but you turn around and write love songs for me? What is this? What do you really want, Skipper?"

I hesitated through cracked words that turned out to be nonsense in the beginning. Once I did speak, my voice shrunk in her presence. I'd felt so vulnerable. "Do you want him instead of me?"

"I don't even know him like that first of all and why is me hanging out with other people any of your business? Like I said, it's not like you're mine anyway."

"I've been yours since the night we made love. I had you way before Michael, mama." I arched an eyebrow, defending myself.

Monty scoffed in my face. "Who says Michael and I have slept together?"

"Who says you haven't slept with him?" I challenged back.

I'd said the wrong thing. Monty scooped her jacket and purse, quickly walking out of the studio. I'd called out to her in the hallway without hesitation and didn't even care when my footsteps moved across the floor.

"Mama!" I called out again.

"Either make a damn choice or leave me alone, Prince. We're not teenagers." Monty screamed in the parking lot. I watched her slammed the driver's seat door of a nice silver convertible, not Corvette oddly enough.

"I'm sorry." I huffed again. "Come back. "I'm sorry!" Monty burned and exhausted spew grossly from the back. I could only walk back into the studio, fuming. Not once did security ask questions given my star power in this building.

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MONTY

First, the Rolling Stone Skip's cover with Vanity pissed me off. I couldn't believe he'd done all that preaching about loyalty and continued stepping with other women. Was I just not good enough for anyone now. Even before I stepped into the spotlight, my relationship always turned to be a pattern. I'd find someone, love hard, they'd step with everyone but me as if I never even approached them.

Even Jerome treated me better than Skip. There were definitely times when J would look a little too long at me during events. To say I didn't welcome the attention would be foolish, but somehow never crossed lines with each other. At least not yet.

I'd even avoided Michael for once, but with no hard feelings against him. Still taping with Soul Train turned out to be the perfect distraction whenever I was thought to be alone with only my conflicted mind. Bass rumbled under my boots every week as I twirled or pumped my body to the music, working up a sweat that only dancers would understand. There was honestly no better feeling in the damn world.

The phone shrilled as soon as I came home one day. I didn't know what to think seeing that anyone could've asked for my talent now. In a rush, I fumbled to the answered machine and flipped it on, barely keeping a professional voice as my heart raced for obvious reasons.

"Hello?" I barely clearly my throat now.

"Brenda? Is everything all right?"

Shit, Michael!