( CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BIRTHDAY BLUES )
September, 1994

❝ I'm ready for a change. ❞

◯

"Happy birthday handsome!" Devon felt an added pressure weighing down on his slumbered body. He sank deeper into the softness of the mattress, a gentle, haggard smile sweeping past his lips the moment he felt a trail of kisses brushing against the bareness of his back. He didn't even have to open his eyes to recognise the voice.

"Come on, get up! I have a full day planned for you," Janet giggled, jumping on his back, which he didn't appreciate very much. With a playful groan, Devon stuffed his face deeper into the depths of the pillow, hoping that he could cram a couple more minutes of much needed sleep. Unbeknownst to Janet, he was up all night practicing.

More specifically, he was actually... studying. He took it upon himself to research ideas for new dance moves, hoping he could derive any inspiration for his performance at the Apollo. He watched old videos, played back tapes of dancers in the 80s and 70s, observing any moves that could offer him some new, fresh routines.

While it served a great purpose in inspiring Devon creatively, he was ashamed to admit that his sleeping patterns were now distorted and jumbled because of it. And of course, in true Devon Emmet fashion, this led to him actually forgetting that it was his birthday. How silly of him.

And now here he was — with Janet jumping on his back — chirpily declaring that yes, it was the street dancer's birthday on this cool, September morning. Time seemed to go by fast.

"Don't tell me your tired grandpa!" Janet screeched, playing slapping his arm, "Getting old already, are we?"

He would hardly call twenty-six years of age old, but he digressed.

"Who are you callin' old?" Devon finally spoke, now harshly awoken from his worn state of sleep. He strongly grabbed Janet's waist and flipped her around, so that she was now pinned down to the mattress, with him hovering above her.

"You're real annoying, you know that?" the male said, "And so loud."

"Well, you're gonna hate me today, I have so much planned," Janet giggled, causing for Devon to slum yet again. He had no doubt that she had a magnitude of birthday celebrations lined up for him. Janet has been talking about his birthday for months, mentioning ideas, casually bringing up venues or activities. In fact, Devon had the sneaking suspicion that she was more excited for his birthday than Christmas. Crazy, he knows.

"You have a lot planned, have you?" Devon asked, followed by Janet's adamant nodding.

"Mhm," she answered, reaching up to stroke his pasty cheek, "Twenty-six years ago, the love of my life came into the world, this day is special for me too."

At that moment, the crankiness in Devon's mind turned to ash. He looked at her with a loving smile, knowing that for today, he could endure the celebrations. He never liked having too much attention on him, but after three consecutive disastrous birthdays, Devon tried to stay positive. For her sake.

"Now get ready," Janet said, jumping up from the bed, "We have a big day ahead of us!"

Devon laid against the mattress, already feeling depleted from the day of festivities that were about to come. He found it very telling that for work — he would scrap out every last spec of energy he could find in order to work for hours on end — but for his own damn birthday? A sack of potatoes. Zip, zero, nada. He was gone.

"Yo, open the door!"

Devon heard boisterous thumps echoing on the bolted front door. He sat up, looking over to Janet, who stood at the foot of the bed, just as confused as he was. It was too early in the morning for all this noise.

"I'll go check it out," Devon said, wrestling his way out of the sheets. He rose up from the warmth of the bed — draped in nothing but a pair of black sweats sitting lowly at his hips — and a thin golden chain. He advanced down the hallway with a tiredness wedged in his muscles, wondering who could be here at this hour of the morning. He booked today off from work — with much disgruntlement — so he did not expect company of any kind.

Not to mention, his mother was now sworn out of his life. The first birthday of his that he would be celebrating without her, so Devon had no clue on who it could've been. But, maybe the exhaustion was distorting his mind, because only one person was crazy enough to wake up in the crack of dawn to bother him.

So, with a long yawn, Devon entered the main living area and approached the door, his hand lazily tugging on the handle to pull it open. And once it did, he was met with the most unexpected sight of all.

"Happy birthday motherfucker!"

POP.

A bounty of confetti exploded in Devon's face, causing for the breakdancer to lurch back in fright. Hundreds of pink, white, blue and green pieces of paper fluttered over his bare form, decorating his skin with rainbow coloured streams. And of course, only one culprit was behind all this.

"WOOHOO!" TJ exclaimed, skipping forward to latch his small body onto Devon's stunned form. While the dancer was coughing up bits of confetti from his throat, TJ gave his friend a hearty pat on the back, seemingly pleased with his successful, enthused greeting.

Devon, however, felt the opposite.

"T..." the breakdancer said, heaving out a desperate breath, "For once— for once, can't you just get me a card?" TJ frowned thoroughly at Devon's bland words, clearly displeased with his dull suggestion.

"That's too damn boring," the smaller male uttered, "I got you somethin' so much better, check it out."

TJ handed him a decent-sized bag, causing for Devon to take it out of his hands tentatively. He didn't know what to expect. Sneakers, maybe even sunglasses. But, he should've known that TJ's tastes were much more comically eccentric than that. So, as Devon opened the bag and reached inside, he wasn't surprised when he saw the gift for himself.

A shirt. But not just any shirt, one that had TJ's face on it, with the words 'I AM TJ'S BEST FRIEND' on the back. Devon couldn't believe how unbelievable this man was. After more than a decade of friendship, his friend still managed to surprise him.

"Really?" Devon asked, raising his brows at the male, who cheesed at him proudly.

"It's the TJ-shirt!" TJ stated, pride swelling in his voice, "It's a lil' thank you gift for my new watch, homie." Oh cue, the male held up the pristine, golden watch gleaming brightly on his brown wrist.

It was true that Devon managed to use his pay check from the movie, to splurge on nice things for his friends and family. New basketball shoes for Arkell, a brand new grill for his uncle, fresh-smelling perfumes for Janet, and lastly, flashy jewellery for TJ. It suited him perfectly.

And while Devon got his friend a limited-edition, designer watch, TJ got him a shirt. That pretty much summed up their individual gift-giving capabilities.

"In that case, I'm touched T, I really am," Devon sarcastically replied, giving his friend a sloped smile.

"I can't believe you're twenty-six," TJ whistled, "You're damn near almost thirty!"

Well that was one way of putting it.

TJ was a few months shy of Devon's age. Being the younger of the two, he enjoyed the slight youthfulness, even if it was only a couple weeks difference. As TJ liked to put it: 'I got the youth, you got the height'! Or something in that nature.

"What's going on—"

The two males turned around at the foreign voice, spotting Janet walking out from the hall. And oh, if Devon could've taken a snapshot of her face the minute she saw her boyfriend standing there — covered in confetti, and holding a bizarre t-shirt — he would've made a million bucks.

To put it simply, she found it hysterical.

She didn't even say anything, she just burst out in a loud gaggle of laughter, earning a cheap frown from Devon and a joint howl of laughter from TJ. As always, Devon's grumpiness never failed to amuse them.

"Hold on, I'm getting the camera!" Janet excitedly exclaimed, quickly rushing down the hall to retrieve Devon's video camera. He frowned even more, opening his mouth to voice a protest, but never getting the opportunity to.

She was back around the corner in a millisecond— this time with the silver camera pointed in his face.

"Say cheese!"

Devon's scowl hardened. TJ posed accordingly, happily throwing peace-signs and giddy smiles in the camera lens. At this point, the dancer couldn't help but crane the smallest of smiles. Even at the expense of his own displeasure, he couldn't help but feel joy at the sight of their humorous grins.

"Aight, that's enough," Devon said, reaching out to snatch the camera back. In one swift movement, he stopped the recording, putting an end to their harmless fun.

"Baby, we need to get you cleaned up," Janet giggled, reaching up wipe away the remaining confetti from his face, "Good one, TJ."

"Thank you Janet, at least someone appreciates my gifts!" TJ exclaimed, sending a playful glare Devon's way, causing for the dancer to roll his eyes.

"Oh, I love the shirt," Janet added, pressing her lips together to hide the laughter threatening to spill from her chest, "You need to wear it today." What?

"Yes!" TJ added triumphantly.

However, Devon's widened eyes proved to be a sharp form of refusal, "You ain't serious?"

"Sure, it's fun," Janet laughed.

"I ain't wearin' this shirt."

"You are."

"I'm not."

He frowned at them yet again, adamant in his decision. Nothing could sway his stubborn mind from anything, aside from guilt. But unfortunately for the dancer, they both knew how to use his empathic nature for their own benefit.

"Come on Dev," Janet cooed, "TJ clearly went through a lot of trouble to make this shirt for you, you don't want to disappoint him, do you?"

"Do you even care about our friendship?" TJ added, sniffling up a fake tear.

He couldn't believe them. They were actually guilt-tripping him... on his birthday! And in some twisted fashion, it made Devon's stubbornness grow. His refusal to conform was astonishing, and incredibly petty, but, Devon refused to give in.

"I know what y'all are doin', and I ain't wearing this!" The dancer exclaimed, "I wouldn't wear this shirt if it was the last thing on earth!—"

◯

—He wore it.

Worst of all, he hated the fact that it actually looked better on. Sure, it was still ridiculous, and sure, Devon was very much held against his will into putting it on— but the dancer was gaining this uncanny ability to elevate any clothing piece. Already an upcoming fashion force — Devon's sense of style seemed to be one of the main attractions to his fame.

Young boys dressed like him, teenagers and adults emulated his flair. So, in doing so, Devon could wear anything and have it look good. Including a graphic shirt with his best friend's face on it.

But, terrible shirt aside, Devon didn't quite know where his best friend and girlfriend were taking him. It started out with a quiet car ride, where mid-way through the journey, Janet insisted that he wear a blindfold the rest of the way. Now, Devon had no objection to being blindfolded, in fact, in another intimate setting with just Janet and him, he would be all for it.

But, this was different. No candles, no hand cuffs and no bed. Just a bumpy car ride and a dream. When they arrived at their destination, Devon was carefully helped out of the car and through whatever pathway stood in front of him.

He felt gravel and stone underneath his blue sneakers, hearing it crunch with every step he took. Devon steadied himself on his feet, holding out his arms to feel his way through his clear descent. Luckily, Janet held his hand, assisting him as best she could.

"Are your eyes closed?" He heard her ask.

"Yes," he would reply.

"Are you sure you can't see anything?"

"Jan, I'm blind-folded, I don't know where I'm goin'," Devon responded, "I have no idea where I am— ow!" Devon's foot thrashed into something hard and stiff, cutting short his sarcastic answer.

"Oh yeah, watch out for that rock," TJ said, his rather late warning causing for Devon to scowl.

"Thanks for the heads up," the dancer bitterly muttered.

"Okay, we're going inside, step... here," Janet grabbed his hand, guiding him through the blind threshold with a vivid delicacy, "Now here's a door... and watch your head baby, you're tall."

He ducked down, following her instructions with smooth obedience, allowing her to lead him wherever she pleased. And, once he felt her halt to a stop, he followed suit, standing by her side with blind oblivion.

"Can I take it off now?" Devon questioned, his fingers clawing at the black cloth around his eyes. He heard Janet laugh, eagerly gripping his hand with comforting reassurance.

"Yes baby, you can take it off now."

Devon eagerly stripped the blindfold off, his eyes now adjusting to the stinging brightness that flashed in front of his eyes. However, once his pupils stilled and his vision returned, that's when he was welcomed to a very lively sight.

"Surprise!"

A group of people — maybe thirty or forty of his friends and family — stood in front of him. And, behind them, Devon's eyes fell upon the snazzy, decorated roller-skating rink in the middle of the large room. His eyes glowed with elation.

"Wow!" The dancer exclaimed, "Roller-skatin'?!"

He looked to both TJ and Janet — the humble party planners — and beamed excitably at them. He honestly expected some Hollywood party, or maybe a booked out night at some club — and while Devon would've appreciated those options nonetheless — he was stoked to see that his friend and girlfriend chose something different.

Because all in all, it was no secret that Devon Emmet loved to roller skate.

"Happy birthday, my love," Janet said, looking up at the dancer with stars in her eyes, "I hope you like it."

"Like it? I love it!" Devon exclaimed, reaching down to pick her up and spin her around — a signature move whenever he felt joyful beyond compare, "I love you!" Janet laughed in response, her wispy brown curls blowing in the wind at the movement.

"Come here T, that includes you!"

The dancer roughly pulled his friend in for a hug, the harsh tug causing for TJ to bash into his armpit in surprise, "You know, I've always loved this shirt, imma wear it every single day!"

"Yeah, yeah," TJ said, rolling his eyes, "Now what are you waitin' for? Go have fun!"

Don't mind if I do, Devon cheekily thought.

The dancer walked forward, greeting the rowdy group of guests that surrounded him from all angles. His friends were there, as well as his cast mates and some famous friends, as well as Janet's dancers — or the kids — who made sure to drop in and pay a visit. The most treasured guests, however, were Devon's uncle and brother, who stood in front of him patiently as he worked his way through the congratulatory crowd.

Once he reached them, however, his heart grew warm.

"Thanks for makin' it," Devon smiled.

"I wouldn't miss my nephew's birthday," uncle Emmet exclaimed, grabbing Devon's shoulder and cuddling him into his armpit, "Plus, it ain't hurt to show all these people how a real skater skates."

Ah, yes, how could Devon forget? His uncle was a stellar roller-skater back in the 70s, or so, that's what he claims.

"Are you even gonna fit in skates?" TJ, who came behind the two, snickered immaturely. The dancer frowned, knowing that his uncle — who stood beside him — was silently fuming.

"T."

"I'm just sayin'," TJ whined.

"Well 'I'm' gettin' skates right now, Akrell, you comin'?" Devon looked towards his shy, introverted little brother, hoping to see traces of happiness in his solemn eyes. As much as he craved a connection to his brother, the young boy was so much more closed-off, especially after his rise to fame and well— his rejection of their mother.

Right now, Devon felt like enemy number one. And he hated to say it, but the minute he made eye contact with the teenage boy, his concerns were validated. He glared at him heatedly. Devon felt like regressing into his frame.

"I'm going to the arcade," Arkell mumbled, turning away, "I'm not skating."

He walked away, slow and slummed in his movements. Devon tried to not let his disappointment show.

"C'mon, let's go," the dancer chirpily said.

With that, the real fun began.

Devon got his skates and immediately went onto the rink, zipping and zooming across the slick floor with ease. It was like the skates were apart of his body— his coordination and rhythm one of the main indicators of his smooth skills. No doubt, the dancer was filled with relief as the day went on.

Now this is the kind of birthday he liked. Something that included movement, something that felt understated and fun. Something that reminded him that he was still very much — all in all — a normal, fun-loving guy.

"Move your feet, baby," Devon laughed, holding onto Janet's waist. He skated behind her, guiding her body through the cluster of people skating near them. He felt her fingernails dig into his hands as he moved them forward.

"That's it, now swerve to the side."

She very hesitantly followed his commands, tilting her body towards the right to dodge the couple standing in front of them. Devon beamed pridefully at the sight. Surprisingly, the pop singer wasn't exactly a stellar roller skater. Devon would've thought that her talent for dancing would've translated well into the roller skating rink, but apparently, it stopped at the stage.

Janet was stiff, clumsy and terribly scared of falling. Devon found it amusing, and took it upon himself to teach her how to skate properly. Unfortunately, she wasn't a very good student. At any short obstacle or tripping hazard, she would clam up. Luckily for Devon, he was a patient teacher. Even on his birthday, he was more than happy to help her.

"Your doin' good!" He exclaimed.

"I feel like I'm going to fall," Janet huffed, rigidly skating forward.

Devon shook his head in response, "You won't fall."

"Dev—"

"You won't," he said, "Now, do you remember how to stop?"

Janet's wide brown eyes dilated in size, "Um... no?" She looked up at him through her curly mane of hair, making Devon realise that maybe the threat of face planting wasn't too far off.

"Okay..." he muttered, smoothly rolling on his skates, "Imma be honest, you might fall."

"What?! Dev!" Janet cried out, her voice filled with panic.

"Just keep going straight— woah!"

He spoke too soon. Janet quickly lost her footing a mere second later. Her body crumbled from its upright position, causing for her to starkly fall to the ground; and the best part? She dragged Devon down with her. The couple tumbled in the middle of the rink in the most ungraceful way imaginable. Limbs sprawled against the floor, backs flattened in a silent defeat, and terror splayed in their eyes.

One thing was for sure, Devon wouldn't be teaching Janet again.

"Yo, Drum, you aight?"

Devon looked up from his place on the ground, spotting his six cast mates snickering from above him. Like Devon, they also had a natural talent for skating.

"Janet, he's a terrible teacher," Tyron said, watching as the disgruntled black woman sat herself up, "You'll be much safer wit me."

"Fuck off Tyron," Devon grumbled, rubbing his sore scalp.

"Need help, Devon?" Noah asked, extending a polite hand.

"Thanks Noah," Devon grinned, allowing the southern male to help him to his feet. Once he did, he gave him another smile and skated off, causing for Devon to shake his head in amusement. He was a funny character.

"You aight?" Devon asked, directing his attention to his fallen girlfriend. He gently helped her up, making sure his grip around her arm was tighter this time, he did not want a repeat of their embarrassing fall, "You're a terrible skater."

Janet frowned, punching him on the arm. He led her over to the railings, gently assisting her out of the small opening so that she could slide out of the rink. Janet panted, visibly worn out from such an incomparable challenge. Devon appreciated her efforts, despite her own deficiency when it came to roller skating.

"You should take a breather," the dancer said, "Want me to sit with you?"

"No, go have fun, I'll practice my skating sitting down," Janet responded.

A wispy smile came upon Devon's mouth — deeply framed by sharp dimples. He leaned in, pecking a short, yet loving kiss on her lips before skating away, moving back in sync with the rotating crowd. Janet shook her head, astounded at his ability to move so freely in skates. Yet another talent that Devon Emmet acquired.

The singer hobbled onto the carpet, instantly freeing herself from the skates once she found a place to sit down. The buzzing room was booming with music, lights and people, who floundered around the rink happily. Janet might have been in the small minority who couldn't skate, but if it meant her boyfriend was having a good time? Then she'd do it ten times over.

Instead, when the singer checked her watch, she decided to start planning for the next phase in Devon's party: the birthday cake. A red velvet delicacy made in one of the finest bakeries in Manhattan. Janet wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for when they brought it out. Devon loved red velvet, and he loved simplicity even more. So, she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure that this was the best birthday ever.

He not only deserved that, but he needed it.

"TJ, is the cake ready?" Janet approached the small, hip male, who idled by the DJ station. It appeared that his gaze was fixed upon a certain sight, but at first, Janet was too frazzled to notice anything.

"Huh?" TJ mumbled, still lost in his own daze, "O-oh the cake! Yeah, it's ready."

Janet raised a brow, quickly following the man's line of sight, and seeing it — unsurprisingly — transfixed on a certain, beautiful actress, laughing with some friends a few metres in front of them. Nia Long. Janet's lips hinted at a knowing smile.

"You should stop staring and just talk to her."

"No way! I can't, she's Nia Long," TJ exclaimed, for once, actually being humble. His eyes lowered bashfully, a clear departure from the cocky and sometimes sleazy TJ that Janet had come to know and love. It was equally puzzling and somewhat heartwarming to see.

"And you're the TJ, you know that right?" Janet asked, causing for the male to look her way, "I'm going to get some plates, and by the time I get back, you better be talking to her!"

She skipped away before TJ could come up with a suitable excuse, pleased by the thought of him standing there, scrambling with terror. So, as Janet walked away with a satisfied smirk, she retreated to the food table, crammed with finger food and cups of punch.

Janet instantly gathered all the paper plates and plastic forks adorned on the table, organising them into neat piles and perfect stacks. The cake would come out at any minute, and if Janet wanted this birthday to be perfect, then everything needed to be organised down to a T. So, the woman continued with great precision, stacking plates and grabbing cutlery— making sure that everything was where it was supposed to be.

"Need some help?"

Janet turned around, a single voice interrupting her focussed deeds. Upon looking up, Janet's face shrivelled into a sour frown the second she saw the man in front of her. Gordon Edwards.

"Gordon?" She questioned, clearly confused, "I didn't... know you'd be here."

In other words, neither Janet nor TJ invited him. The man, however, just gave her a charming grin, somewhat unshaken by her indifferent reaction.

"I came with Tupac," Gordon responded, "I hope that's alright?"

No, it wasn't.

"Sure, it's fine," Janet replied, gritting her teeth.

"Can I lend you a hand?" Gordon eagerly asked, stepping forward. Janet, however, was quick to shut him down, now less than a little tolerant of his presence.

"I'm all good, thanks," the singer bluntly said, "I've got it all covered."

"I'm sure you do, this party is great, Devon's having a great time," Gordon smoothly said, shoving his hands in the depths of his pockets.

Janet's eyes couldn't help but welt hopefully at his words, "You think so?"

"Yeah," Gordon smiled, "He's lucky to have you."

There was a lingering sparkle in his eyes. Janet's fingernails dug into the paper plates, once again, trying to mask her annoyance with placid hospitality. But she had to admit, it was very hard.

"He needs this after working so hard," Gordon continued, oblivious to Janet's slight irritation, "I imagine he doesn't have time for much else, right? With the Apollo and all."

Her face fell, a bitterness rising up in her soul at the reminder, "No, not really."

"It shouldn't be that way," Gordon quickly said, "He should make time for you."

What exactly was he getting at? Janet squared her shoulders and stood up straight, daring herself to stare at him in the eye. Ever since their first encounter — that day in New York — Janet felt oddly wary of him. He made subtle comments that made her feel... strange. Not good, not bad, just strange. What was his game plan? At this point, Janet did not know, but she felt adamant on turning him down.

"He does," the woman spat back, "He gives me that and more."

The confidence in her voice was palpable, but somehow Gordon did not seem so convinced. So, with a slick smile and step closer, he lowered his voice before he said his next words, "Are you sure about that?"

Janet's breath hitched.

All of a sudden she became dangerously mute. She didn't like that look in his eye. She didn't like his cockiness, nor the satisfaction that sat upon his face. Everything about him screamed 'alarm bells', and the feeling made the pop star recoil with jagged steps. Janet didn't bother responding to such a harsh question, instead, she took her leave.

With her hands clutching the stacks of plates, Janet threw the man a simmering glare before storming away, feeling his eyes peeled against her back as she did so. This now went beyond the means of discomfort. This was more than just some casual flirting or a simple crush. In Janet's eyes, she saw something deeper in him.

And it stated that this man loved having control. She didn't like that.

◯

"Damn, you almost broke a hip unc!" Devon carried his hammy uncle off the rink — now bare from his party guests, who took their leave a little under an hour ago. Devon's uncle, however, had the bright idea of challenging Devon to a skating contest, forgetting that his nephew was several decades younger, and half his weight— which of course, resulted in a pretty snarly fall. Devon felt guilty for even agreeing to his challenge.

"Are you alright?" Devon asked, grunting from the heavy load.

"Yes, yes," uncle Emmet groaned, allowing Devon to sit him down on a nearby seat, "Just sore."

"Just sore?! You almost broke the damn floor!" Devon exclaimed, meaning it entirely. Such shenanigans were only meant to be reserved for him and TJ — who still hadn't outgrown their childish tendencies. However, Christopher Emmet had an affinity with reckless deeds, especially when it alluded to his long, lost youth.

"I'm good, boy! Stop hasslin' me!" Uncle Emmet stubbornly said, "Now, get me more of that cake."

Okay, he was fine, Devon thought.

The cake — now almost gone from the multitude of guests — was a delicious, buttery delicacy, with a texture that seemed to melt in one's mouth. Devon remembered his jaw dropping to the floor when Janet first brought out the cake — adorned in candles and with his name decorated in frosting. Naturally, his uncle had five slices, yet another thing that his doctor would have to deal with. Lord knows his cholesterol was known to spike.

So, like a good nephew, Devon walked over to the half-eaten cake sitting against the blue, festive table cloth. The dancer made sure to cut his uncle another generous slice, licking the lone frosting from his fingers as he did so.

"Where's Arkell?" Devon asked aloud, laying the frothy velvet cake on a spare paper plate. Before uncle Emmet could shoot out a reply, Arkell's croaky, adolescent voice beat him to it.

"Here."

Devon turned around, throwing a curious look over his broadened shoulder. Arkell's skinny form walked up to the table — inverted and slouched as he sauntered up. Devon held in his need to frown. He barely saw his brother enjoy himself at this party. From his knowledge, the young teen spent most of his time in the nearby arcade. Alone, and by himself.

"You want a slice?" Devon asked, hiding the clear traces of glumness in his brow. Arkell shook his head, awkwardly sloped lips pressing together in disgruntlement.

"No."

"Come on, Arkell, it's good," Devon urged.

"Mhm! It's so good, and I got it myself!" Janet's voice suddenly rung through the room, chirpy and gentle amongst the gloom. And in a fraction of a second, Devon saw the exact moment when Arkell's eyes lit up, the antagonism flying out of his rigid form. Janet sauntered up to the two — smiling and golden like a deity — and his brother's body opened up like a dead flower re-blooming. His affection for her did wonders, she did more than Devon ever could.

"Arkell, I know you want to try it," Janet smiled, reaching forward to cut the young boy a piece. And, just as Devon predicted, Arkell nodded, accepting her offer with youthful eagerness.

"Well, okay," he responded.

"Here, let me get it," Janet beamed, taking the knife from Devon's hands, "You want some, TJ?" Devon's friend — who had Devon's camera in his hands — filmed the trio from a few feet away.

"Sure, that shit was good," he said.

"How about you, my love?" Janet asked, sweetly turning towards Devon, who found it in himself to smile again.

"Might as well," he replied.

"Okay, you all sit down, I'll bring them to you now," Janet said.

TJ and Arkell walked away, joining uncle Emmet by the table, which thankfully left Devon and Janet to their own company. The dancer turned to her, a soft, adoring look swimming in the brown of his eyes.

Janet reached out, turning to her boyfriend obliviously, "Okay, give these to your uncle and—"

He leaned in, pressing a soft, elongated kiss to her silken pair of lips. Her words became smothered by his surprise smooch, causing for her body to slum against the strength of his frame. By the time they came up for air, Janet was already breathless.

"What was that for?"

"For today," Devon softly replied, "Thank you, everything was perfect."

"It was?"

"Yeah, it was the best birthday ever."

And Devon wasn't expecting it to be. In fact, he expected this year to be the worst one. After being smothered with a new workload, cornered by his new fame, and tarnished by his mother's departure from his life— the dancer expected this birthday to be filled with stress, regret and anguish. But, Janet made sure that he wouldn't feel like that today, and he appreciated it more than words could describe.

"Hey, I think we should tell me family about... our future," Devon suddenly said, his warm smile never detracting from his cheeks.

Janet leaned back, surprised by his statement, "You want to tell them already?"

"Mhm, I think it's the right time," Devon nodded.

That was quite the risky statement to make. While Devon was normally quite cautious about serious subjects like this, after such a splendid afternoon celebrating with his loved ones, he decided that it was a welcomed change. So, with a confident smile, Janet agreed to his suggestion, and walked with Devon over to his family.

"Guys, we want to tell you something," Devon announced, causing for the three men to look up from their pieces of cake. The dancer took a deep breath, the ridges of his lips peaking up to form a humble grin, knowing that the next words he would say, would be the next step into his future.

"Me and Janet want to move into together, permanently."

He waited, seeing the exact moment when their faces brightened with joy.

"Devon, t-that's great!" Uncle Emmet was the first to cheer, leaping up from his seat immediately.

"Shit, does that mean I can get your old apartment then?" TJ added, raising a brow, "Are you gettin' another spot in Manhattan?"

"No— we're—" Devon hesitated, clearing his throat, "—We're actually looking to buy a house in... California."

He could feel the air around him still.

"Wait— you want to leave New York?"

"What about us?" Arkell spoke up, frazzled eyes plastered open with worry. Devon swallowed accordingly, pushing away the guilt that ate at his intestines.

"We want you to come with," the dancer said, "With the movie, I can afford to get you guys a good place on the West Coast."

Again, they did not seem so convinced, but Devon still felt inclined to try.

"You won't have to work anymore, unc, and Arkell can get into a good school, and T— I can easily get you a nice spot up there," the dancer explained, trying his best to sound animated and jovial, painting them a pretty picture.

"But New York... it's all we know," TJ said, sounding more sad than Devon could handle. The dancer sucked in a deep breath, walking forward with a comforting smile sitting on his face.

"It doesn't have to be," Devon responded, "I love it here, I do, but I'm ready for a change."

New York was all Devon knew as well. It was his city, a hometown that flowed through him like a never-ending river. He was a Harlem breaker to the very core of his being. However, there was too much pain attached to this city as well. Too many memories about his stolen youth and fractured relationship with his mother, and he couldn't handle it anymore. So, with Janet's advice and a lot of thinking, he decided that the best thing for him was to get away— now and forever.

Unfortunately, his family didn't feel the same way. In fact, in a flash of his very own silent anger, Arkell suddenly bolted up from his seat. He glared daggers in Devon's direction before storming away, leaving a dust of wind in his wake.

Devon stood there stricken with silence, his brother's hateful glare impeached in his mind. He didn't know what just happened, but he didn't like it one bit.

"What's wrong with him?" Devon's uncle asked, voicing the dancer's very own thoughts. Janet walked forward, noticing the guilt starting to cloak Devon's features.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Janet said, reaching out to touch Devon's arm, "He'll be fine Dev, we'll talk to him."

The dancer looked her way and nodded, believing her words for himself, even if he knew deep down, that with Arkell— it was never just nothing.

◯

Pamela Emmet scalded down another burning mouthful of brandy. It slid down her throat with calculated precision, leaving a spicy trail across the expanse of her tongue. The middle-aged woman — bitter and hardened by her own burdens — leaned against the smooth counter of the bar, demanding another glass.

"Two more please!" The woman exclaimed, gesturing for the bartender, who nodded at her immediately.

She leaned back, gulping down the last drop of alcohol to soothe the itch begging her for another taste. In the wake of such misery, bar-hopping became a regular occurrence in Pamela Emmet's day to day life. In the morning, she would eat breakfast, throw on her coat and then go to her local bar.

She wouldn't leave until 3am the next day. Such was the life for a disgraced mother, now forsaken from her family's life ever since her eldest son expelled her from his company. The boy whom she breast-fed and cared for had now turned on her several years later. He had grown up to be the very thing she hated. Cold, unrelenting and unforgiving.

He was now famous, plastered on every billboard, shown on every TV screen, while the entire world fawned over him. If only they knew how much of a bad son he was to her. How he abandoned her for a damn girl. A trashy girl, at that.

Even now, as she sat on the barstool waiting for her next drink, she looked up at the TV perched on the wall, the screen showing a highly televised Pepsi commercial with Devon starring in it. After that, a promo for his highly anticipated show at the Apollo. It was sold out already.

She hated how much he was being adored.

When Pamela was given her next drink, she downed the bitter contents in one swallow, unable to bare the pain that came with seeing her distant child's face. She had to forget.

"You should take it slow, you know," a voice beside the woman made Pamela look up. To her left, sat a thin, brown-haired white woman with a grey blouse and big chunky glasses.

The drunken mother shook her head and snarled dismissively at her words, "Don't tell me what to do."

A small moment of silence. Pamela signalled for the bartender again, and demanded another drink. He nodded and went back to work.

"Aren't you Devon Emmet's mother?" The woman asked, taking Pamela by surprise.

"Who wants to know?" She barked, eyes sharpening with cautiousness. However, this woman only smiled in response, strangely not put off by Pamela's rudeness. Instead, she angled her body towards her and stretched out a palm, knowing that the next words she was about to say, would rock Pamela Emmet's world.

"I'm Hilary, Janet Jackson's former manager," she said, extending a hand, "I think we have a lot to talk about."

◯

a/n;

Well, Devon finally had a good birthday (ish 😅). I really like the fact that Devon is a good roller skater, because that totally coincides with Usher being an exceptional skater as well. I can just picture Devon well into his 40s & 50s getting better and better with roller skating lol.

Anyway, quite a bit to discuss here. First of all, Gordon was flirting with Janet again (ew). Devon and Janet are pretty adamant on moving to California together, what do y'all think about that? It appeared that Devon's family were a bit hesitant about the decision, particularly Arkell. Do we have any opinions on that?

And now, Ms. Hilary and Pam are teaming up!! What will transpire of this? Will they try and break Janet and Devon apart?!

Let me know your thoughts! The climax of 1994 is coming, and it won't be pretty...