1983 – California
KIM
Damn. I thought to myself.
My album failed.
The "Epic Records" business staff lowered heads in disappointment around this room. I wanted to leave for good and never return. The space almost twirled in my mind. I wanted to close my eyes and ignore these surroundings. My heart dropped with every passing moment. Tears almost emerged, but I held back. I'd worked so hard for absolutely nothing. "Thriller" still bested everyone else.
"There's always next time. Please don't give up on us.." Michael lowered his voice and expressed grief. I shook my head once more. Label CEO Walter Yetnikoff knew that I wanted to leave after horrible opening sales released this morning. Before long, that very contract rested in the palms of his elder hands.
Even as we all dreaded the inevitable, I observed while feeling enraged. This team let me down in this shocking manner. Two heartbreaking rips echoed throughout the spacious conference room. A nearby custodian quickly removed of this garbage. Emotional applause rang here as I walked around to hug labelmates.
By the time I reached Michael, he stormed out. Bill Bray and other security almost raced to catch up with the client. . When the double doors finally shut, I could hear Jackson shouting expletives. Voices mumbled out of concern, but Walter ordered everyone to depart. I understood the frustration. I bid other farewell to the exiting individuals, never cried. I'd walk out of building with my eyes facing forward and nothing else.
I couldn't even reach Michael during my final lunch at this place. According to his make-up artist Karen Faye, Michael buried himself with calls. He'd release one final "short film" before this year ended. "PYT," Wanna Be Startin' Something", "The Girl Is Mine" and "Human Nature" released as singles, but never gained visual treatment earlier. As of late, I hadn't learned the name of his visual single for this album. Perhaps Mike wanted to astonish the world with a debut. Seemed like him anyway.
I soon realized that the label feared overexposure with Jackson. As a musician and logical person, I completely understood. While Michael dominated the industry, he wasn't the only artist on Earth. To me, even Prince deserved credit too. But that idea had been another story altogether.
__
When I returned to my place downtown, Michael still didn't call to bid farewell one final time. The living room absorbed silence. My heart thumped all over again. It wasn't long before I called home. Dad presented the "I told you so" lecture. I listened while numb, but moved on. Mom shed a few tears. Even young sister Gail offered sympathy before heading to lunch at college. Regardless of the family member, we all exchanged love before hanging up those lines. Unfortunately, I couldn't even fly home to recharge. I'd return to that nightclub for good the next day.
Even after all these years, that one workplace still offered me comfortable payment and benefits . At least I could fall back on something. My "Plan B" career involved hospitality. In the end, I wanted to own a club or lounge this time. My mind even imagined a rooftop deck. While cliché, the possibilities seemed endless. I'd feel happy once again if everything worked out in a few more years.
During one last phone call, owner Elliott "rehired" me. I didn't necessarily quit, but lessened my time due to obvious circumstances. Thankfully, that venue hadn't plummeted since I "left." Overwhelmed by the entire day, I settled down for a good bubble bath. Treating myself in one way or another always cured these stressed moods. Everything from a wine glass to nearby placed chocolate soothed me. Dusk neared with all the passing hours.
**
Michael finally left messages on the answering machine that next morning. I didn't know what to think while checking myself in a mirror. His known voice echoed from that living room as smoothed down the black skirt of my uniform. I scooped up my purse from this messy bed between his words.
"Hey, it's Michael. Sorry to rant, but I've got to say something. I didn't think you'd give up so easily. It's not my fault everyone enjoys "Thriller" more. The label poorly sandwiched your album between my promotion and settled with horrible timing. It's ridiculous. You deserve better. I know my label can do better than this. Anyway, please call me back. I miss you."
"Kay, come on. I'm sorry. In all seriousness, are you mad at me now? We haven't talked since you left and I don't know what to do. Hope you're coping with this situation. How do you feel about the press right now? Seeming reckless if you ask me? I still don't understand why you gave up so quickly. You have talent and you're completely wasting time as a waitress. Be honest. Why would you settle?"
"I'll film this brand-new project for the song "Thriller" soon. It's got Zombies, a werewolf, dancing and anything else you could imagine. This is gonna be groundbreaking. I just know it. Anyway, could please come down to the set this week? One of my personal assistant should call this week. Please come by. I really wanna see you again. It would mean a lot."
After the final beep, I walked out of this place.
