1984
Rochelle Davis
Where could I begin? 11-track set list. 4 different encore songs. I jammed all throughout this brilliant show as The Jackson performed, giving fans their last opportunity to see all six brothers up close. Yes, even Jackie arrived for the last show. There was no turning back anymore.
In short, the screaming crowd almost never stopped dancing. As favorites like "Let's Get Serious" or "Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground)" kept the stadium alive, I couldn't help smiling. Every single member, especially Michael, dazzled this loud audience without fail.
Out of nowhere, I found myself waiting backstage almost immediately after the show. One security guard had secretly looped this pass around my neck just to be safe. I didn't know what to think while learning that "meet-and-greets" just ended.
"Hello. Sorry for the last-minute request." Moments later, well-known manager Frank Dileo opened one door and introduced himself.
"No problem. I appreciate the opportunity. What's going on? I reached out and offered to shake Frank's hand. There wasn't a planned interview for the group, especially not considering Michael's stardom. In truth, I must've stood out tonight.
"Michael wants to meet you." Frank stepped back from the door and opened that entrance further to reveal more space. With no other choice, I followed Frank down this extra hall. It was my first and maybe only chance of seeing Michael off stage.
Leaving this next door closed, muffled chaos resounded in the hallway. Laughing ensued. Chatter moved along since his family or friends probably "visited" before leaving the venue. All kinds of people crowded that stage during the final song.
Standing at one angle, I noticed that Frank rolled his eyes despite wearing sunglasses. It wasn't long before I held back chuckles to avoid possibly embarrassing him.
Just when I believed that Frank might've pounded his large fist against the door, that knob finally turned.
"Hi," Closing the door behind him, Michael's light voice greeted us. He showed off one timid but friendly smile. Wearing this brand-new shirt with dark pants and classic loafer shoes, strands of the black and iconic Jheri Curl fall around his face.
"Hi, Michael. It's an honor to meet you. I'm Rochelle Davis." I grinned back, offering to shake hands. I knew so much better than to freak out or duplicate what happened after Prince's birthday show. Just stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
"The journalist?" Michael asked for clarification, but he wouldn't cringe due to my profession. At least not yet.
"Yes." I vowed to him, trying to smile despite many assumptions. I wasn't a member of the headline-hungry paparazzi, either.
Michael leaned against the closed door, folding both sleeved arms while glancing towards me and Frank.
"Bad idea?" Frank whispered to him.
"No." Michael answered Frank, but still looked at me. "Rochelle, if you publish anything, just be careful."
"Of course." I nodded. Even if that future article covered this great show, the wrong press could spin my words and still make Jackson seem outlandish. "I'll follow your lead."
____________
In quite a turn of events, everything worked that night. Not only did Michael offer tibits for my tape recorder, but family members crowded for pictures with me. His lovely mother Katherine had left this place earlier, but I'd still take anything else.
Those group photos turned out as if I'd known these legends forever. We joked, smiling between almost every snap of the professional cameras.
"How did ya'll shuffle the bass rhythm like that?" I laughed, trying to get one last question answered before we could finally leave. Frank and guard Bill Bray must've loathed us for staying behind this late at night.
"Caught that didn't you?" Marlon joked, sipping much-needed water after handling the show.
"Are you kidding me? That was one of my favorite parts." I smiled once more, trying not to dance again and make myself look stupid in front of them.
"Is that your favorite record?" Michael suddenly asked. I'd already tucked away my recorder, allowing us to be candid.
"I can't answer that question to be honest." I grinned towards Michael, almost rolling both eyes in return. "Favorite records are impossible with you guys."
"Where did you sit tonight?" Michael went on. Despite me wanting to answer one more question, his brothers stood up from their spots in the room and filed out. Jermaine also waved goodbye to me without acknowledging him.
"Sorry Mike, but we actually gotta go now." Frank knocked on the open dressing room door.
"Oh." Michael depanned his response towards Frank. On the other hand, I nodded silently and gathered my things before planning to head out.
"Thank you so much." I aimed to shake hands with Michael for the second time, but he opened both arms to hug me instead.
"You're welcome. Best of luck to you." Michael acknowledged my career and we shared the embrace with cameras flashing again.
"Thank you." I repeated myself. Michael and Frank had exited the dressing room with me trailing behind them. "I appreciate this."
__________
"What's your next plan?" Wearing Aviators despite the dark, Michael stood near a vehicle as bodyguards patrolled us in all directions. At least this parking lot hadn't swarmed with fans now.
"Pretty much anything at this point. I'm always working." I shrugged. No other choice in my career. No work. No money. No work. No music.
Stopped visiting concerts?" Grinning at me once again, Michael joked through the lenses of those sunglasses before long.
"Peeking for Soul Train next week." I told him.
"That's good. Don Cornelius is wonderful." Michael offered high praises for the television program's founding host. "Are you taking his place for the interviews then?"
"Not exactly." I said.
Before we could continue speaking, Frank trailed Michael in the opposite direction and they both headed towards Jackson's designated car to leave.
Neither one of us really said farewell.
YOU ARE READING
The Price of Fame || Prince/MJ
Fanfiction"Everyone has story, but what about mine?" - Rochelle Davis
