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August 3th, 1984, Chanhassen, MN.
A young woman with long, curly black hair stood in front of a poster that was stuck to the wall of the building. It showed a young African American in a purple outfit on a purple motorcycle. His devilish brown eyes penetrated right through. It could scare many. But not her.
Elisabeth Chambers stood in front of the poster for the movie "Purple Rain" and looked at the ex-boyfriend who had achieved what he wanted - media success. Liz touched his form and after a moment withdrew her hand. She has not seen the movie and is never going to watch it. She turned and, pulling her hoodie over her head, started down the sidewalk. She came to her parents, usually for a short time, only for one day. She knew there was a high probability that someone would recognize her, that is, her old friends. Now she had no contact with anyone. And if anyone found out that Liz was in Chanhassen, it was quite possible that Prince might want to meet her. And if he saw Cherica ... then he would be sure it was his child. She can't let that happen.
He will never know he has a daughter. I know him - he will want to brag about the child like a trophy. He always wanted attention, but he won't get it this time. Not at the expense of my Cherica. Plus, I've never been attracted to glitter and fame, and that's what I want for my daughter. Privacy and normal life.
Finally Liz made it to her parents' house. As she pushed the front door open and walked in, she heard merry voices - her daughter and father, who adored his granddaughter and was angry on Liz that he and Cherica saw each other so rarely.
Liz took off her shoes and was about to go to the living room and then saw her mother peek out of the kitchen.
— Lizzie — Mrs. Chambers forced a smile. — Can you come over for a moment?
Liz frowned, knowing exactly what her mother might be referring to this time. But she sighed and nodded. When she followed the old woman, she closed the door to be sure.
— How was your walk? — Mrs. Chambers asked in a neutral tone. — Did you visit someone?
— Who do you think I was going to meet, Mom?— Liz asked sarcastically. — His?
Mrs. Chambers pursed her lips and began:
— You had so many friends. I'm not talking about Skipper ...
— Don't tell me about him — Liz grew angry.— What's the point of remembering the past?
— Honey, calm down. I didn't mean anything wrong ...
—Sure — Liz glared at her mother angrily. —Who keeps telling me to tell him about Cherica? Did you see who he became? He is becoming more and more controversial and I will not expose my child to his company. This is not the Prince I loved.
— And you want your daughter never to know she has a father? You can't ...
Liz mentally counted to ten, not wanting to explode. It had happened more and more recently, and the concept of composure was becoming more and more unattainable.
