Offstage || MJ

Offstage || Chapter 20

1987 – New York

CHARLENE

"Shit!" I nearly tripped over my heels while rushing into the talent agency. In its lobby, a blonde receptionist called out to me, but I didn't even care. I'd barely missed the alarm to wake up this morning and leave. At the of this hallway, I'd met up with Brenda and her promotional team to discuss the music video. I'd start dance rehearsals again in the afternoon.

Just minutes from now, the morning meeting would kick off. Yet, I remained tight-lipped concerning the blasé and negative mentality of Brenda's employees. Of course, I still had no authority to question her support. After all, I earned a paycheck because of this woman. Anything could've happened if I chose to speak out. But I've digressed.

When I opened of the double doors, silence could've gripped me. Heads turned as expected. Manager Reggie Bradshaw removed sunglasses form his eyes. Makeup artist and wardrobe designer Nicole Moretti folded both arms. Publicist Kelly Dawson squinted. Poor Brenda stood on her favorite boots and walked around the table to greet me. We shared an embrace despite the early hour.

An ashtray that filled with dead and grimy nubs perched close to Reggie. Even his tie had been unfastened and the dress shirt almost wrinkled. I sat down near Brenda's left side. This usually outgoing woman glared toward her employees with anger I'd never seen before. Silence entered the room once more. Of course, I didn't know what to believe, but wouldn't say anything out loud.

"What's the problem?" I finally asked. Reggie and Kelly glared at me as if I'd asked the most offensive question. I titled my head, more than puzzled for obvious reasons. Brenda lowered those signature curls.. I understood why in one way or another. On the other hand, publicist Kelly Dawson nearly parted her lips until Brenda spoke up. I immediately cued my ears to listen.

"They don't think it's a good idea. Apparently, Reggie's thinks I'm already blacklisted enough. Working with you would only fuel more rumors. As for me, you're incredible. I'm not giving up on this project, Char." Brenda revealed her own frustrations.

Across the table, Reggie shrugged while poking out his lip. Nicole shook her head and honestly walked out of the room. Kelly tossed out both hands. I rolled my eyes. Brenda and I had negotiated for weeks and I'd already planned to help long enough for other related projects. Anything from this music video to imaginable live performances.

"Why not help Brenda? Aren't your jobs to support artists? What the hell is going on?" I gained enough courage to defend this woman. The anger on her face spoke more than volumes at this point. Brenda even offered an ironic "thumbs up" when I quickly ranted.

"Look, I didn't spend all these years working my ass to only have a mediocre client. I should be in a meeting with Madonna. Brenda's ego is way too big, Charlene. Wake the fuck up." Kelly Dawson screamed at me from her chair. I didn't even flinch.

__

Brenda stormed out of the meeting after dealing with Kelly. Regardless of the drama, B walked into rehearsals prepared. From beginning to end, this woman pushed through dancing to battle problems. When I played the single one last time after several routine practices, she blacked out in a good way. The dance routine just flowed into her entire body.

Curls shook. Abs pumped. Knees slid across the floor. Those backing dancers mimicked their leader with concentration and encouraging happiness. Even I clustered into the group to join her. Side by side, we punched, twisted, and kicked during the brilliant guitar solo. By an expected of the song, Brenda scooped me into another hug. Applause nearly bounced off these same corners of the room.

Once again, the backing dancers left out before us. Brenda and I exchanged one last high-five for the late afternoon. Despite the rage of her employees, this music video shoot would that place tomorrow. We both prayed that the project would absolutely thrive. I didn't even care about other opinions anymore.

You've got a problem with the way that I am.
They say I'm trouble and I don't give a damn.
But when I'm bad, I know I'm better.
I just wanna get loose, and turn it up for you, baby...

By the following evening, Brenda and I stood on set. Our eyes examined the brightened camera monitor. The location involved this closed off and rundown alley. Nearby, the aroma of Italian haunted my nostrils. Brenda sported denim overalls and a leather jacket. Black sneakers replaced those signature boots. Two male dancers and two female dancers rocked hardhats with equally muddy attire.

Despite my own efforts, the director refused to let me dance alongside everyone. Even Brenda scowled. The man's request seemed odd, but I complied. There was no need to wheel in more terrible publicity for B anyhow. Kelly would've probably noticed my involvement and threatened anything under the sun. I could've cared less about that bitch to be honest.

While nodding my head to the music once more, I looked over my shoulder. I quickly glanced toward the waiting stagehand. I'd squinted and tossed out my hand for him to notice the footage playing. I'd review with Brenda and other in the editing room later, but I just want to see how this choreography appeared onscreen. So far, so good. At least until someone disrupted us.

I couldn't even walk alone. The same worker glared at me with almost nervous eyes. Of course, I didn't know what to believe until this huge group of security inched closer to my vision. From the corner of my eye, I almost paled. If I didn't know any better, security guard Bill Bray had shown up.

Fuck.

Michael was here. I thought to myself.