Offstage || MJ

Offstage || Chapter 18

1987 – California

MICHAEL

"Michael, we've got a problem!" In the middle of a great studio session, Frank burst through those doors. I almost panicked watching him. Even Quincy glanced over his shoulder. Puzzlement reasonable engulfed the poor man. Of course, I didn't know what to think and rushed over toward him. Quincy and engineer Bruce departed the room to give us privacy. Frank spread out magazines by the tips of his fingers and shut the door behind.

I quickly sat down, worried about this unraveling situation. Frank spread out these same magazines and tossed out his hand. His head shook without a cigar. When I finally read the headlines, my eyes widened. My heart thumped right into both ears. Frank immediately noticed the shock.

I soon removed this fedora and placed both hands onto my face. On each magazine cover, Prince and Charlene modeled with great power. As if the man had found his rightful companion. No Playboy bunnies. No airhead models. To me, that entertainment rival stole the baddest woman I'd ever seen.

As usual, I found myself staring at another picture. The photograph in question featured Prince holding Charlene from behind. Prince also rocked sunglasses, never even smiling. Charlene squeezed her dancing physique into a tight and sleeveless yellow dress. One of many wild curls looped and fell onto her forehead. Those brown eyes burned into my own gaze when she directly faced the camera.

Choreographer Charlene Adams knew that she was the finest woman on Earth, or at least believed so. If not, Prince told the world otherwise. His own glare toward lenses in this picture established ownership and defense all at once.

Damn. I thought to myself. That could've been me right now.

I shook my head, lost for words. Troubled, Frank patted my shoulder. I couldn't even smile right now. My conscience nagged me with reasonable anger. For the millionth time, I never should've forced anything. In a way, I asked for this to happen. Fed up, I pushed these magazines onto the floor and simply walked out. Frank and Bill almost ran off to find me. I didn't even care and stormed down the hallway.

Nearby, Bruce and Quincy exchanged puzzled looks. I understood in one way or another. Still, my face reddened. I stepped out to face California air. My body then turned around to view breezing palm trees. I breathed in and out, slowly recollecting myself. At the same time, Charlene crossed my mind once more. I couldn't even fight these returning emotions. Girlfriend just drove me insane all over again.

__

I cooled down to finish recording with a smile. Struck with insomnia once more, I headed home and somehow paced the floor of my bedroom. No music. No party. Just me and a lonely space. Time and time again, I still debated whether to call Charlene and figure out the truth. Was this a romantic publicity stunt? Did Prince finally calm down his Playboy ways for this woman? My heart ached.

Before too long, I finally mustered enough courage to call her. There was no other choice, of course. My nagging thoughts seemed to prevail. I missed her voice. At most, I wanted her back. I missed her smile. I missed her presence. Falling in love wasn't a mistake. I couldn't even lie to myself anymore.

"Hey, Char. It's Mike again. Look, I'm sorry for blowing up at the restaurant. I know we've been through this already, but you really don't deserve my terrible behavior. Call me back when you've got a chance, girl. Please. Bye." Left with only her answering machine, I braced myself to send another message. Darkness engulfed my entire room, regardless of the neighboring moonlight.

**

PRINCE

I couldn't even explain what happened after the nightclub visit. Charlene and I just meshed in a way I'd never witnessed before. To me, that evening had been so much more than a one-night stand. At the same time, we both knew it wasn't love. Or at least Charlene and I hope it wasn't pure devotion toward one another. We were both too broken for legitimate romance.

Yet, our phone calls increased. She visited Minnesota on several occasions now. We even discussed the possibility of collaborating again. Previous communication throughout my "Sign" tour had been too good for abandonment. I'd never find someone as good as that woman anyhow. I didn't even mind posing for magazines and whatever else . Our chemistry proved undeniable. As I've said, only Vanity and I mirrored such attraction. But I never mentioned the similarities to Charlene.

I even moved as far as mentioning Charlene out loud during an interview. The question had raced through minds of that press for a while and I finally answered with certainty. Without hesitation, I smiled during the response. Even the interested correspondent laughed to herself while waiting.

Female Reporter: Why do you insist on empowering her? Charlene has a career with "Soul Train." You haven't collaborated since the "Signs" tour ended. Why help someone who isn't your protégée?

Prince Rogers Nelson: (Camera zooms in). Because I know what it's like to feel unwanted. She's busted her ass for two years and never moved beyond that niche of working behind the scenes. California is wonderful, but she deserves to see the world. Putting her in a box would be a disservice. I want her to know that her talent is appreciated. I want her to feel respected. Why is caring for someone wrong?