Cherry's Dawn || Skipper and Monty

Cherry's Dawn || Chapter 7

1983 – Los Angeles, CA

MONTY

My legs covered in black spandex switched in time with the music. Hands of my own teased the bouncing the curls that adored my head. Ironically enough, "1999" rang through my ears and every other corner of the set. I still hadn't spoken to Skipper after our fallout at the recording studio. Even Michael couldn't smooth the bitterness in my heart. I'd just cut myself from both of them for a while, for the best.

It wasn't until I slipped into my parking garage after shooting that black limousine honked close by in the next space. I didn't know what to think and prepped my Jersey rage, but the back window rolled down as music blasted from my radio.

I could've easily yanked off the dial now as soon as I cut my eyes toward Skipper himself. Rounded sunglasses covered his eyes in the darkness while both of our engine revved through this odd harmony between us.

"Park and get in this car. I need to talk" he demanded as soon as his engine cut off.

"Fuck that!" I yelled, holding onto the steering wheel and my car remained silent just like his limousine. No one accompanied him in the backseat for once. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

The engine started back up and he left me alone. I rolled my eyes huffing and prepared to finally relax after such a long day. At this point, I'd do anything for a glass of wine and one hot bath to calm my frazzled and sweaty nerves.

__

"Your dirty little Prince wanna grind."

He made all that fuss eager to gain cookie? Hell no. I was no booty call, no matter how grown I'd turned out to be these days. Even Jerome knew his boundaries, or at least I thought so. There was only silence at the penthouse while I read Skip's message over and over again.

Part of me knew so much better than this. Part of wouldn't have it any other way. It wasn't like Michael and I were together anyhow.

Yet, I found myself mulling over the kinky offer Skip implied. In darkness or light, there was no better feeling than the tickle of his mustache as we kissed. I seemed that the feeling of his body as a whole engrave its presence into my mind. Our chemistry would be unsurpassed until I shifted toward another man.

Maybe finding someone else had been damn near impossible altogether. No one understood my body like him. No one understood my fears like him, either. He'd hold me throughout the night total silence as we spoke of nothing, drained from the realities of personal and professional lives. In a way, I'd been obliged to him ever since we met, whether I'd like to admit such a thing or not.

At the same time, there was no point falling in love with that jerk. Commitment scared him in some ways. Family life hadn't been the brightness example for him when compared to nearly my flawless backing team of relatives, but we'd hardly disputed that concept anymore out of respect for each other.

It was barely one in the morning when Skip called out of nowhere. I'd picked the phone and groggily decided to give a piece of mind when I noticed that he voice squealed higher than usual. For the first time since our argument in the parking garage, my heart ached. Vulnerability had been some sort of foreign concept in his mind, so I knew something tuned sour at the very least.

"What's wrong?" I asked while honestly concerned.

"I miss you." he asked. "Could I come over?"

Who was I to say no at this point?

__

We made love again. He woke in my arms the next morning and I stroked the messy curls on top of his head. He'd head to the studio later than morning and I'd distract myself with other business. Soul Train wouldn't film again until next week like always.

I giggled feeling the brush of his mustached lips on my chest and looked down at him with a shy grin on my face. Just when we lulled back to sleep again, the phone. I grumbled moving out of comfortable positon at the moment, but laughed to myself once I remembered the existence of my nude body under these sheets. Skip definitely enjoyed the view and I didn't even have to look back his way.

I scratched my curls while sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hello?"

"Brenda?!" Michael shouted in my ear. "You're alive?!"

I could've laughed out loud. "Very much so. Why are you so nervous, Michael?"

"I've been trying to reach this number for weeks and you wouldn't pick up. I panicked." He resembled a worried Mother, my mommy. "Are you sure everything's okay with you?"

I waved off Skip irritably, but he stood while nude as well, folding his arms. I continued the talk with Michael as if completely alone now. "I'm fine, Michael. I've just been swamped. Even you know that pain better than me."

He chuckled on the other line in response. "I guess you're right. Well, There's even more good news on my end, if you can believe it, girl."

I grinned and noticed that Skip left finally the bedroom. "What?"

"I'm shooting a project for my single "Thriller" and it's gonna be like a horror movie you'd watch in theaters. At this rate, I guarantee that people are gonna watch every Halloween for the rest their lives."

My eyes bucked. My jaw dropped. "As much as I don't like scary movies, that sounds fascinating, Michael! Congratulations. I can't wait to see on television."

"That's why I called, actually. Would like you to watch me film?" I knew Michael's eyes lit up while asking this question, but I just couldn't answer in the name of confusion. My schedule had been tight for some time now and I couldn't turn away from my dream any longer, Michael or not.