May 1982
So i'm on my way to Radio City to do my first run through, well my only run through of the day. I'm doing full dress rehearsal, so I can review the tape and make sure everything's perfect.
I didn't sleep last night. I had the song running through my head the whole night, counting the routine and everything. I'm just too anxious and excited.
I rolled down the window and peeked my head out, waving and blowing kisses to the fans. "Hi babes!!!"
I stepped out the car, Victor put my head down leading me into the building. As soon as we made the clear I sprinted towards the stage to get my rehearsal in.
Although i'm 16, my career is very much in my own hands. Yes my record company directs but my live performances are all my own. No one can tell me what to do when it comes to my music. I write it, I produce it. I may have help. I know can't do this alone, but at the end of the day it's my vision.
"You need to go over that combination, when we need to get you ready. We're gonna get all your girls with you somehow. We need to find a room and go over the choreography. Especially that first chorus."
"Yeah." I hopped up onto a speaker case. "cause the first chorus is where I messed up."
I hated award show performances, they put the most stress on me. The crowd isn't the same as concert crowds. It's a bunch of snobby celebrities, who think their so above everything that they can't get up and dance, or sing along or anything. I'll be the first to admit you have some who'll get up and dance but most just sit and observe, like bitch i'm not dancing my ass off to get a head nod.
"Let's start it over." I sighed, resting my head on my fist. I looked around and everyone was yawning and rubbing there eyes. This was the 8th time, i've watched this playback. "I'm sorry y'all, this has got me really stressed out."
As I was watching it my stomach churned and churned the further I got into the performance. "That don't look good." I cut my eye at my production manager as he made notes before looking back at the screen. "The angles and the lighting is not pretty as a whole."
Everyone kept making their suggestions and they all started talking at one time. Even having the nerve to talk down to me and around me as if I was too young to make the decision about my own show. I'm singing this song, not them.
I snapped my fingers to get my mom's attention. "Momma...pass me my bag."
She shot me a pained look that only your mother can give as I whipped out my notebook. I was on tour promoting my album, I was stressed, I was tired, I was hungry. But I can't be tired. I can't show weakness. If i'm slow everyone is slow. I set the tone.
I propped my feet up on the vanity, crossing my ankles over eachother. "Play it again."
I bit the end of my pen carefully watching the ends and outs of the performance. Dancer's were slow, worst of all the lighting was god awful.
"And I hate all that ugly blue light. I'm a black girl, you don't put blue light on black girls. Even if....I'm red, that blue doesn't fit. It should be a warmer blue. I told y'all I wanted pink and purple anyway." I wrote down another note in my notebook to change the light.
"Well we just though that it would be best for you if-" I put my hand up silencing him. I can't trust them. They don't know what they doin'.
"Just give me a nice spotlight, i'ma work the mic. I don't care if the light is showing me or not. If I gotta run down the aisle on that part that's what i'ma do. Just have a nice spotlight following me the entire time."
Jonathan looked down, making notes in his pad before looking back up with me. "Yes ma'am we'll fix it."
I smiled, pinching his cheek. "Thank you"
The room filed out and I was left alone with my mother. I pouted and held my arms out. "Mommy..."
"I know I know." She stepped into my arms and embraced me, fluffing my curls. It almost put my to sleep, but I resisted. "Your hair turned out nice today."
"Thank you." I yawned. "Mom...next time, i'm not doing this show like this. Not MTV I mean my actual set. It's too risky. It's too much stress. I'm really nervous."
"I know." she sighed. "But your doing great...not many people have the opportunities you have so be grateful."
I scrunched up my face and looked up at her. "Whatever momma." I pulled out her arms and hopped off the stool. I felt as if I had to hop of everything. Being short can be a hassle sometimes.
I dashed out the building with my mother behind me, Victor guiding us I ducked my head and stepped into the van. "I almost got hit by a police car." I laughed as I whipped out my notebook.
I wanted to run through somethings with my mom as we struggled through the New York City traffic. I heard my stomach grumble.
"Momma, can we go to McDonalds?"
"McDonalds?!" She turned around to look at me in the backseat, as if I said something crazy "You got some McDonalds money?"
I slanted my eyes, dropping my jaw. I'm worth 12 million. What is she saying? I waved my hand dismissing it. I didn't have time for her right now.
Approaching the building, I was struck with nervousness. For what reason I don't know. I mean i'm always nervous when i'm performing a new song. It's new choreography, a new melody. It takes some time to get used to. I have to meet with some guy from Radio City to discuss the stage i'm performing on.
I was guided into a room and everyone made themselves comfortable. It was plenty of food on the table, I helped myself to the entire bowl of rolls, saving none for anyone else. I broke one open, watching the steam rise up before taking a bite.
"What the hell are you doing?" I shot my head up and my mom was looking at me like I was insane. I could help but laugh at her face. "Girl if you don't eat that damn bread, i ain't raise you to play with food. I'll punch you in yo' chest."
"Dang momma..." I chuckled. "You upset?"
She opened her mouth to speak but some white man walked in holding a giant black tube. I stood up and shook his hand.
"Hello young lady, i'm Jeremy with Radio City Music Hall." he had a slightly british accent. It wasn't full on british but he had a bit of an accent.
"Jasmyn..." I sat back down, tucking a pillow over my lap. He pulled out a large print of the stage for the tube and laid it out in front of me.
"This is the stage your gonna be performing on."
I nodded, eyeing the paper. I sunk down on the ground onto my knees to get closer. "Ok."
"Let me just explain it to you because it's Radio City like you've never seen it before..." He took a deep breathe before starting. "On the main stage area there are fourteen huge screens behind you." he ran his hand along the paper showing it to me. "There's a catwalk or whatever you wanna call it that's about fifty five feet long."
"We could maybe line some dancers up on the catwalk." I ran my finger down it. "And I could walk through that on the bridge."
"That sounds cute." My mom squealed.
I grinned, rolling my eyes. "Thank you mommy."
As I was running through ideas for placement there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"
Veronica stepped in holding a package. "This is for you, it came to my office earlier today."
I furrowed my brows and took it from her. It was a cassette tape, I could tell by how small it was.
"Who's it from?" my mom asked, invading my privacy as per usual.
"I don't know." I looked at the card and was highly confused by the name. "Jamie Starr?"
I looked over at my mom and she looked just as confused as I was. "Who the hell is Jamie Starr?"
I shrugged and looked and ripped off the metallic purple wrapping paper. The writing on the tape was pristine. It had Delirious written with quotation marks around it.
_______________________
"BPD?!" I jumped out my seat, absolutely stunned at her results. How dare she come in here and lie to me. Borderline Personality Disorder.
"I do NOT have a fucking personality disorder! Ok I'm not crazy! There is nothing wrong with my mind. I'll be the first to admit that my personality is a bit more abrasive than the average bitch, but if you spent 21 years with my family and under as much stress as I have, then you would understand. But I in no way, shape, or form have a damn personality disorder." My heart was beating 100 miles a second and my palms got extremely sweaty. I anxiously wiped them off on my pants. It wasn't helping. "Black people don't get mental diseases ok, that just doesn't happen."
"That's a common misconception actually. If you could just have a seat I could explain it all to you-" She pointed to the seat with her pen, and I stepped back as if she was trying to kill me.
"NO!!" I grabbed my bag off the floor and slung it over my shoulder. I was leaving. I didn't want anything to do with this. There is no way, absolutely no way. "I'm not crazy. No one in my family has a mental illness, ok no one has a personality disorder, and neither do I." I ran my hand roughly over my face wiping my tears. I was frozen. I wanted to leave but my legs wouldn't move. I just stood here, sobbing in front of her like a weak bitch. I felt like my world was crashing down.
"You guys just want a check. You'll say I have anything just to get a check from me. It's sick."
She stood up, taking both my hands and slowly guiding me back down into my seat. "Jasmyn, I know this is a lot and your under a lot of stress but mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of."
I was lost for words.I just started blankly at the floor, letting my tears fall. I expected maybe acute stress disorder at the most, that's if anything was wrong at all. Being under stress does things to you but borderline personality disorder. Are you fucking with me? What the hell is going on with my life?
She pat my knee and knelt down infront of me. "Mental illness is not a choice..but recovery is. If you would just let me explain everything to you. We can stay here as long as you like, we'll figure this out together."
"I can't I have rehearsals..." I have four days before my Vegas residency, I have no days to waste.
"Well we'll just have to squeeze in as much as we can." She groaned as she reached back and pulled her chair underneath her, finally face to face with me. She crossed her legs with a smile, taking a deep breathe. "Shall be begin."
I gulped, preparing to have my life ruined. "Yeah.."
"Ok, you may not be familiar with borderline personality disorder, but it's somewhat common." She pulled out a folder from under her clipboard and handed it to me. I pulled out the contents, it had pamphlet and papers, colorful graphs and charts with all these big bold fonts words that only drove me further into a depression.
"This particular mental condition is characterized by impulsive actions, unstable moods, and chaotic relationships."
I cocked my head to the side, fully intrigued now.
"I actually have something for you, if you get curious when you get home." She pushed off one leg, her chair wheeling over to the filing cabinet. "Or maybe if you have any free time on your hands. I know your a busy woman." She whipped out a VHS and handed it to me. I sat it in my lap.
"Ok, individuals with BPD have difficulties in regulating emotion, to put it in simpler terms. Some people with this disorder, and in your case, tend to view yourselves as fundamentally bad or unworthy. You may feel unfairly misunderstood of mistreated. This stems from your childhood I believe, you told me about your mother and how she was so enthralled with your seemlingly emotional and occasionally physically abusive father that she sometimes even forgot you and your little brother existed."
I cut my eyes at her. Why the hell was she making sense?
"In the context of relationships, sometimes all relationships are affected, and sometimes only one. It's really hard to develop a relationship when you aren't emotionally stable yourself. And while some with BPD are high functioning in certain settings, like you feel as though your normal when your working or performing or at certain events or whatever. BPD suffers private live's may be in turmoil. Most people who have BPD suffer from problems regulating their emotions and thoughts, impulsive and sometimes reckless behavior, which is why you erupt in these bouts of rage often getting violent. For you, it's because that's what you saw as a child. The way you father treated your mother, the way he treated you and your sibling. That time you told me, you used to play fight with your cousins, how you would be on a trampoline fighting with you cousins. How your father would beat on your little brother and you would try and fight your father to save him. Or how your mother fought your father to get him away while he beat you on occasions. You see violence as a way to protect yourself, that's all you ever knew. Your an angry woman." She placed her hand on my knee in sympathy. "Your mad at your father, your mad at your mother for staying, your mad at her for putting you through that, for putting your family through that, and anger is a key feature of borderline personality disorder. The truth is Jasmyn, your scared. Your still that same scared little eight year old girl."
I felt my eye start to water again. She's right.
"You think that if you fight everything, that all the pain and all the anger will just go away. Remeber when you told me that at ten years old, you sat in the kitchen corner of the kitchen."
"No.."
"A knife in your hand, your parents room right next to you."
I clenched my jaw because I knew where this was headed.
"You wanted to kill yourself, a little girl. You were just a little girl."
I felt a tear break away and fall down my cheek. I wiped it away with my knuckle.
"The person who saved you was your little brother."
"Yeah..." I smiled. "Yeah he did." As much as I couldn't stand my little brother, he was all I had. My big sister moved away to live with her father, after my mother and father moved in together again. Her dad didn't want her staying with him and with good reason.
"People living with BPD can manifest destructive behavior, such as substance abuse, cutting, or in extreme cases suicide attempts. And speaking of..." she pulled looked down at her clips board for a second then back up to me. "Your bouts of depression are really interesting because-" she was interrupted by a knock on the door. I looked at the clock and I was almost late for rehearsals.
"Come in." she called and Victor came in, looking highly uncomfortable where he was.
"We have to go now.."
I tucked the folder into my bag and clasped it shut. This Chanel backpack has been with me through everything I tell you. "Yeah I know." I stood up, stretching my arms up. Victor naturally took my bag out my hand. He led me out the door, no one was even here I don't know why he felt the need to protect me in an empty building.
I turned around when I saw frantic footsteps. It was Angela holding out her card. "This is my home number. Whenever your free we can talk treatment options, please get back to me as soon as possible."
I took it from her and eyed it a little bit before handing it to Victor. "Thank you.."
She smiled at me and impulsively pulled me into a hug. I was a little taken a back. I just hugged her back, I felt it was only right. "Your a person not a product ok?"
I looked at Victor and he looked as confused as I was. My heart was a little warmed by that, no one has ever said those words to me before.
She gave me one final pat on the shoulder, before I walked out the building. When I looked back she was standing at the door watching me. I used to do the same thing to my mom before she went to work. I watched her walk out, to the car, and I made sure I watched her pull off. It was just to make sure she was safe.
I was mentally numb most of the ride. Everything kind of sunk in fully, my thoughts were extremely clouded at the moment. So much information had just come at me at once. I feel like everything just took a major shift. I just leaned my head on Victor and felt the car vibrations off his body. I missed him. He knew when things we're wrong so he would stay quiet and not bombard me with questions. I was gonna have to hire him full time. Most of the time, I didn't want a security guard. I felt as if that would draw danger. I just needed emotional security. Plus I always felt safer when he was around.
I strutted through the backstage area, Victor behind me, trying to make my way to the stage for our last little rehearsal before we go to Vegas.
I stepped around a speaker before opening my notebook to my production notes. One day I woke up and said I got it!
I'm gonna tell my story.
In the beginning, I'm gonna start out where I am now, who Jasmyn is now. I'm gonna make it about my songwriting and my arrangements and my band and show my love for music. Then i'm gonna tell my story, my journey into getting into the business all the way to where I am now. This way I can sing all of the hit song, the songs that people want but it's a deeper meaning. People don't know that these songs meant more than a catchy chorus or a funky baseline. They don't know that it meant more than the video. Not everyone knows that it's my life. I dropped my debut album at 13, I was thrusted into this business at a very crucial age.
I stepped up the stairs to the stage and waved to everybody. "Hey y'all." I grabbed my mic and hopped up on the stool giving everyone the cue to start.
I don't think anyone wanted the strings because the stage was so small. I also got a small three man horn section. I love me a nice horn section. Maybe it's the New Orleans in me. I don't care the the stage is small. I wanted it to feel like a jam session. I wanted it to feel real.
As I was singing my mind wondered to Prince. How was I gonna break this to him? Would I break this to him in the first place? He doesn't seem like the type to want to or even have the time to deal with someone has a mental illness. God I still can't get over it. I always felt like I was off mentally but this is nothing like I ever thought. I thought stress was the biggest of my worries
I have to tell him. He's going to leave me, I know that for a fact but I have to tell him. At some point in my life I have to tell him. I shook my head trying to shake the thought. I was freaking myself. He wouldn't leave me because of that. I practically beat him while he was driving, he broke his hand over me. That's like the ultimate. I'm still the same person.
"JASMYN!!!"
"Hm." I focused my sight back in since I had zoned out. Everyone was looking at me kind of worried. I was just as worried about myself at this point.
"You've been staring into space since the second verse." Don told me, looking into my eyes as if he was searching something. "You alright? Your not yourself today. Your usually more militant, I mean your as sharp as they come."
I'm not myself. From the looks of things. I will never understand myself. "I'm fine, I just have a lot of things on my mind about this show." Which wasn't a total lie. I did, I have to fly to Vegas tomorrow. I haven't seen Prince and I really missed him but I again after earlier today. I don't know if I even want to put him through the emotional circus that I am.
As i'm thinking of Prince, my eyes glances down to the apron of the stage and I see Prince materialize, not like out of thin air but suddenly he's there.
I don't know what compelled me what I ran off the stage and out my shoes and jumped into his arms. I hugged him as tight and close as I could, like it was my last time. It sort of was my last time, atleast in my mind.
He chuckled, finding my giddiness cute. "Did I surprise you?"
I pulled back beaming as I looked at him, his hair has grown out a little bit. We talked about it last night, how he missed his long hair. I took his face in both my hands. "Your face..I missed this face." I brought his face to mind planting a big dramatic smooch on his full lips. All my worries starting to fade away in his arms as he swayed us side to side.
"Well I was sitting his the studio last night when I got off the phone with you and I kept thinking to myself. I miss my baby. I need to go see her." I squealed again as he placed another kiss on my forehead and then my nose. "I missed you.." he repeated in a deep and sort of serious tone. He grabbed a handful of my ass.
"Stop." I giggled, grabbing his wrists. "My band is here."
"So what?" he enveloped my lips in another kiss. "I can do what I want."
"Noooo...well.." I pecked him one last time before pulled away. "Look at you.." I held both his hands as I admired him from head to toe. "Your so cute gaahhh." I jumped up on him, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He set me on the edge of the stage, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Don cleared his throat in the mic. "I guess we'll take five lovebirds."
I immediately snapped back into musician mode. I waved them off, letting them do as they pleased. I just took his face in one of my hands, running my thumb over his cheek. Admiring him in all his effortless beauty.
"So did you learn anything knew about yourself today." He blurted out, making my heart stop.
"Why do you ask that?" I was getting defensive. Prince was extremely intuitive, he could tell when things were amiss. What if he knew?
"Well the rehearsal process for me is sort of....of process of self discovery. I always learn something new about myself when I play music."
I internally sighed at his little antidote. "Well I haven't gotten that far into it yet? I still have ways to go."
"Well.." he looked down tracing little hearts on my thigh. "You need to get back into rehearsals, i'll be waiting but when your done I wanna play a game."
"A game?"
He looked up, flashing a confident smile. "Yeah, don't you like to have fun?"
I exhaled. "Ok, what game did your sick little mind come up with?"
He laughed, possibly because he knew his games were always kinky. Our sex life is certainly an adventure. He's the closest thing, i'll ever have to having a woman. Not that i'm curious or anything but he is the perfect balance of male and female energy. "I'll blindfold you..."
I rolled my eyes, propping both my hand behind me. This was already headed for sexual acrobatics. "Oh my god..."
"Hear a brotha out now, hear a brotha out.." he laughed, he beckoned me with his finger. I brought myself closer to his face. "If I can make you cum 21 times-"
I put my finger to his lips. "Why 21, doesn't that seem a bit much?"
He looked at me as if I was insulting him. "I assure you that this is an area in which I am confident. You see women are multi-orgasmic creatures." He put his hands together making an triangle. "In the very back of the vagina at the top there's an area that makes women multi-orgasmic."
I creased my brow. "The G-Spot?"
"No, it's not the G-spot." he wagged his finger. "It's the erogenous zone..by the way in this little game. I get to choose how I get you off. I actually want to try something.."
I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, giving him little pecks. "Is sex all you think about?"
"No.." he smirked against my lips. "But I think about you all the time."
That reminded me of his song Temptation. I loved that song and his screaming in it. Lord I wanted him now. His little butterscotch candy ass.
"Everybody on this earth.... has got a vice." I sung against his lips, planting another kiss on him. "And mine little darlin'...mine is the opposite of ice."
He chuckled. "You are always singing that song. Then you scream your ass off in the shower."
"Because i'm trying to hit the high note, it's like it keeps going up like its organic and messy but it sound like an actual note." His vocal fry never ceased to make a flood in my panties.
I looked back and saw my band file back in. "I gotta go." I pecked him one last time before heading over to my band. I picked the mic up off the stand and took my seat in my stool.
"On the one y'all..." I mocked Prince, earning a little laugh from the purple man.