Book 4- 1968 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 22- More Arguments

                Chapter 22- More Arguments

                Date: Tuesday, October 22, 1968

                Time: 9:52AM

                JOSEPH’S POV

Anxiously, I resituated the new paisley-print tie of mine that Katherine bought for me. I cracked my knuckles in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building up inside of me. I even re-brushed my buzz cut with a comb to try and calm myself down to a presentable level.

No, nothing was working. Nothing would work, definitely not today. Hell, if Mr. Keith heard the mention of my name, much less my face, I got the feeling I’d get a long talk.

Yes, Mr. Keith knew that the boys’ position at Steeltown was temporary, if at all. In fact, it was more like a launch pad for a larger business, like Motown. I never told that to Mr. Keith, though. In all honesty, I thought that if I told him that, we’d never get a contract. After all, the boys had no hope going for them with every other record.

That is, other than Atlanta. But there was no way on Earth that I was getting the boys signed to a label like Atlanta. They’d never get recognized! Well, not with the exposure that Motown has to offer.

Hesitantly, I turned off the car radio and finagled the keys out of the ignition. There was really no stopping this, as it was. I had to go in to Mr. Keith’s office and tell him what was about to go down. If I couldn’t make it past this moment, how would the band ever become true Motown members? They wouldn’t, that’s what. That’s why I had to explain our situation to Gordon.

I headed out of the Buick, slamming the door shut. I soon realized that I left my coffee inside of the vehicle… along with the keys. The half-inch of open window space I had was, unfortunately, not enough to get the keys. I banged against the windows, even though it was evident that was not the solution. My tiny set of keys and now-cooling coffee from the donut shop was stuck inside, quite possibly for a long time. It would take a petite set of hands to fish those out.

Damn it.

Giving up, I stomped around and headed inside. I was going to make this meeting short and snappy. There was no way he was keeping me around for whatnot, even though I knew a major dispute was inevitable. I’d just mention what I had to, maybe pick an argument, and get the heck out of the studio.

It only took a moment for me to find Gordon’s office. I barged in, knowing that he didn’t care whether or not anyone knocked. A single, gruff mumble escaped my mouth, as if to say, “Hello, sir.”

“Tell me about it,” Mr. Keith returned, wide-eyed. “The whole day’s been a mess. Got some new recruits, but I don’t think they’ll be stayin’ for long. They don’t have much musical talent, anyways. And then, when I tried getting a dental appointment, someone said Mr. Wiseman wasn’t going to be in office for another two weeks. After that fiasco, I… inadvertently phoned someone with a Korean number. Don’t ask how, it just happened.” He held his hands up unapologetically.

I initially had nothing to say in response, except for Chatty Cathy. It took a moment to phrase out what I was going to say. Gordon, oblivious as he always is, asked me, “Cat got your tongue?”

I disregarded the foolhardy demeanor playing upon his face. “Um, I guess I’m… just not very good with my diction.”

“Ah, just say it as it is. What have you got to say, Joe? Thinking about adding someone to the band? They’ve got talent, you know.” He wore a slight smirk.

I ran my index fingers over my thumbs in circular patterns, nervous as to what I would say. If I happened to word my notice for the boys in the wrong way, he could potentially go bat-crazy, and that was the last thing I wanted. Like I thought earlier, I wanted this meet-up to be simply transitory.