"Two costume changes. One quick but hilarious interview. She even offered today's double-feature by giving electric yet sultry performances of "Pretty Mess" and "Wild Animal." Despite starting that music career near Brenda Bennett and Susan Moonsie, this bombshell returned. At long last, Denise "Vanity" Matthews captivated Soul Train's dancing crowd alone."
As I waited backstage once again, Denise had invited me herself. Another dressing room door was closed for privacy at first and this bodyguard patrolled nearby, clearly looking towards their watch in the name of time limits. I'd never complain.
"Is that Rochelle?" This light and friendly voice called towards me from inside the dressing room, but I couldn't even knock on that door frame before Denise opened up. My own heart jumped with excitement, despite seeing big-time stars before.
No longer holding that gold-to-black cane from the "Wild Animal" performance, she beamed towards me with a fierce look seen on her gorgeous face. Even then, this dame still wore the see-through and black lace dress. Its fabric shimmered grandly.
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"Hello, Beautiful." Yet, as she smiled instead, I matched that joy this time around. As we met up close for the very first time, I couldn't resist embracing her. She welcomed that hug right back, rocking us back and forth as if we had been long-lost friends here.
"I've heard so much. How are you?" Denise offered respect, acknowledging my career but not really noting magazine articles out loud.
"I'm doing well. You were great." I said. It was true. She never marketed with powerhouse vocals, but the sex appeal and presence gripped everyone to this day. Even if musical choices weren't always sharp, D still made everything work.
"Thank you. Looking for another interview?" she joked, prompting us to laugh out loud again as cameras filmed our time together.
"Not unless you're up for it. I've got plenty to write for my next article, though." I told her, remembering key points. I'd used my tape recorder already, catching so much.
"We can still take pictures, too." Denise insisted, briefly jumping up and clapping both hands together. Her dark hair remained as wild as that song.
Not even seconds later, another photographer showed up, angling correctly and using this lens to capture perfect images.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
As a designated backstage pass looped around my neck, I felt under dressed, sporting one graphic t-shirt.This fanny-pack clutched my pants for work, but Denise acted like my outfit was a gown instead. She kept encouraging me, sounding happy.
In one image, we posed back to back and peered towards the camera without grinning at each other for once.
The second picture showed me crossing both arms and leaning right up against the wall. Denise glanced towards me with one more mid-cackling smile, but she held her cane as if we'd take over the world.
