Book 4- 1968 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 10- Worst Monday Ever

                Chapter 10- Worst Monday Ever

                Date: Monday, June 3, 1968

                Time: 12:46AM

                JOSEPH'S POV

"Look, I'm still mad because I didn't get to stay up late! Can't you just cut me a little slack today, Joseph?" Tito widened his eyes as far as they could go, like he was trying to stare me down.

I'll be honest; I was a little bit intimidated. Tito was like me in so many ways that it was frightening to just view the two of us in the same room. Everything about us is the same: accent, build, eyebrows, lips, and even the sparkle in our eyes. The only thing Tito had that I didn't was the amount of lax he had on the younger kids. I personally thought that he was easy on them, but he never doubted his ways.

"Get your ass on that stage," I muttered under my breath. "Now, or I'm not stopping by KFC tonight." I was actually dead serious about the KFC thing. Kate had just installed a new couch in our house last week and money was as tight as it was last year.

That was enough to convince Tito, as he scrambled his butt up to that stage in three seconds, tops. I let out a huff of stress, thinking about all the paperwork I was left to do in the following hour. I was having trouble, finding other gigs for us to get into for the past month. Luckily, Regal Theatre responded to my call, happily allowing the boys to participate in the annual Battle Of The Groups competition, where the winners get ot meet Bobby Taylor. The boys were, of course, jubilant to hear the news.

Unfortunately, for me, that meant I had to fill out a ton of paperwork. This competition was a lot like the Apollo; competitive, long, not pretty, and the undeniable smell of sweaty children in the back of the Theatre. The mere thought of having to suffer through another night at the low-class waiting area in the Apollo made me sick to my stomach. The Apollo's heating problems were almost as bad as tonight, where the air conditioning had faltered and only hot air was coming through... On a blistering June night.

Speaking of sickness... I had to admit that Chicago was also making me feel icky. I probably should have listened to the boys when they complained about going back to Chicago. But, then again, we had to be glad that this was not the Guys and Gals Club.

I suddenly realized that I was bored. I had nothing to do but wait for the boys to finish up their segment. After that, I'd have the excessive amounts of paperwork, and then... sleep. 

Being a manager was actually some pretty boring work. Not to mention... it was pretty dang hot back here.

Well, there were other things I could do. Of course, I always critiqued the boys' moves on stage. Watching them wouldn't be so boring. I could also talk to the people in the back of the stage.

But then again, no one really seemed like they wanted to have a chat... Scratch talking. 

I drummed my fingers together, trying to think of some possible way to occupy myself with the few things I could do here. When I really thought about it, though, I realized there was nothing to do. Besides, how could I enjoy myself in the back of this theatre when it was nearly 100 degrees back here?

I tried airing out my shirt by unbuttoning it halfway down my chest. Nothing was working, though, and I was still burning up. I slowly wiped my sweaty forehead and licked my chapped lips, wishing I had a water bottle.

Once the boys started their second song for the night, the heat became close to unbearable. I aired out my shirt, trying to cool my chest down the littlest bit. I could see sweat spots appearing on my clothes, and my face didn't feel any better. I was beginning to suspect that I may have been overheating.