1982 – California
KIM
As soon as I explained that Michael knew about the club, Denise and other personnel kicked into overdrive. Elliott both owned and managed this place and offered to hand me paid leave for giving out this info. Michael arriving could've landed us in gold. I completely understood the excitement of my boss right now. He'd even hired more staff for once. Voices surrounded the premises. Anything could've happened. For all we knew, Michael could've shown up out of curiosity this evening.
Regarding my performance deal with Epic, I wouldn't hit the studio until next year. Larry and Walter wanted to wait until Michael released his album, I discovered that the name would be "Thriller." Of course, I smiled like the other men in that room and shook hands before leaving to get lunch. I'd visit the label again tomorrow and speak with photographer Dick Zimmerman. We'd hopefully set up ideas for a promotional shoot.
I finished sweeping near the main and lowest dance floor. Denise pulled me by one arm to head upstairs. We'd scrubbed down the tables and booths at this point. Cleaning spray and dry cloths already piled onto these same furnishings. Our coworker Chris already handled moping duties. I'd dodge wet spots as usual. On the highest stairway level, someone else vacuumed loudly. Fortunately, bass of neighboring music pulsed loud enough to distract me.
When the clock read "Nine," we stopped cleaning or preparing and cheered out loud. Another slew of readying hours finally concluded. I mentally prepared myself for another wonderful evening. Michael or not, I kept up this brilliant sense of poise. Just like any other night. As I've said time and time again, this venue offered me peace I'd never find outside of music. I'd learned how to compose myself around star power and adored nightlife without partying on my own.
Within the hour, big names swarmed. I'd served fashion designers within twenty minutes or more. It wasn't until I reached the higher levels that a huge star arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn't Michael. It wasn't even actress Oliva Newton-John. Prince himself rounded one of my favorite booths with Morris Day. Even that protégé "girl-group" Vanity 6 joined these fellas.
At the helm, Prince draped one arm around lead singer "Vanity." I'd instantly recognized her beauty from the "Nasty Girl" music video and passed that water on this tray. She excused herself from sitting with Prince for a moment and reached over to take her beverage. I humbly refused her idea and quickly walked around to aid further. That beautiful woman smiled at me with such gratefulness and noticed my slight awkwardness. Yet, I shook out of the daze before long. Again, there was no other choice given my occupation.
Just when I planned to head in another direction, Prince called to me from behind. I never hesitated and turned around on my heels with an empty, damp tray. Plenty of star ordered liquor tonight. Bass pulsed right underneath my heels. I couldn't even notice the record and didn't even care. Warbling synths reminded me of Zapp or something.
I'd rushed back toward Prince with a smile and tucked the tray underneath my arm. Within seconds, I'd miraculously fished out a notepad and pen. My pace and attitude didn't usually seem this frantic on the clock, but he could've asked for anything in these rare moments. The man almost never emerged for public outings to begin. I'd take anything and wanted to seem as hospitable as possible.
"Whoa! Calm down, Mama. You don't need to take my order now, but I would like to have some more chips and salsa for the table. One of your other girls started acting like a fan around us and Morris shooed her away." Prince stood in his purple coat and lifted both hands. His deepened laughter sounded closer to my ears. Regardless of the piercing bass.
In that moment, I'd confront whoever seemed unprofessional this evening. No one messed with my money. Elliot and one of the other managers already fired one of our cooks this week. I'd refused to be laid off or whatever else. I quickly apologized to Prince once more and offered to give the snack myself. No one else but me considering the hitch from earlier.
In the kitchen downstairs, Denise volunteered to help give out more orders. I'd piled the tray with that added chips and salsa, another glass water for Vanity, and two Shrimp Cocktails for Hall & Oates. Beaming another smile, I yelled out loud to encourage everyone in this crammed space and walked through those double doors. This time, "Africa" by Toto began playing. I sang to myself while heading back upstairs with caution.
It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you.
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.
I bless the rains down in Africa.
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had...
Back on the upper level, I finally gifted Prince and other clients with their orders. Prince suddenly offered a Benjamin from his pocket. I declined based on employee policy. We'd only earn tips at the bar according to management. Prince frowned, but I remained professional. Morris and Vanity stood up to groove with everyone who seated here. Prince glanced at me with a rare smile across the room. I once again focused on the job at hand instead.
Bass switched over to "You're The One For Me" by D-Train. This record had been one of my favorite jams. Over the stair railing, stars crowded that dance floor again. Yet, I turned away from staring and move on for the next batch of orders. My hips sway as I held an empty tray once more. My heels felt tight as usual, but I didn't care for the millionth time. I wouldn't even leave this place until the morning. Of course.
Michael would've loved to hear about this evening, but I kept details to myself.
