pensacola, florida 1988
my manager suddenly busts through the main studio doors. it's the fat, cuban-cigar puffing frank dileo.
frank rips off another chunk of a burgrer and smacks his greasy lips. a bulging black binder is tucked underneath his arm.
"anyone want a bite?" he swallows loudly and grunts with satisfaction. "fries in there too."
my band members swarm like vultures around the takeout.
frank slaps my shoulder, catching me off guard. "go get you somethin' to eat. too damn skinny." he chuckles.
they say there's enough for everybody, but i politely decline.
i'm a strict vegetarian. just looking at the food makes me want to gag. i distract myself by glancing at frank's binder. "what's that?"
"it's from the photoshoot, they're givin' you the final say on the cover." frank stuffs the rest of the burger in his mouth, and then immediately reaches for his lighter.
"oh." i remark. i flip open the binder and smirk. they came out very nice, better than i expected.
"beautiful, mike, just beautiful. they got us a good deal on the distribution charge too. michael, this wembley gig is gonna blow you off the charts." frank emphasized every word by a jab of his sausage-sized index finger. "princess diana won't be able to sit her ass down."
i give frank a smile and a nod.
ricky strolls over. "pictures look good, boss! so, you happy now?" he jeers.
"yes." i say. saying it out loud is freeing. i need to say it. i turn to ricky with a grin. "yes, i'm happy."
it was two days before the long flight to london. it was also the day that the group of girls auditioning for the love-interest for "the way you make me feel" would be coming to the studio in pensacola, florida.
i had done this sort of thing before, but i still always got excited thinking about who would be waiting for me to make the final decision.
the next day started well. all of the crew, even ricky, showed up at least five minutes early to rehearsal. that earned them a big smile from me.
a few days left us no time for any mistakes. we had to win the hearts of wembley stadium and the british royal family for this concert to be a powerful message to the world.
the onstage lights flare. the electricians above us erupt in applause. they've been trying to get a circuit for half an hour.
i sigh in relief. we wouldn't be too behind schedule.
ricky rat-tat-tats on a snare with eagerness. i hear don slap a funky bass line to test the boosters. somewhere, i hear kevin, sheryl, dorian and darryl performing a quick harmony warm up. all of this, and i didn't have to beg them to quit talking and get to work! i can't help but grin. my guys really came through when i needed them to.
"alright, please settle down." i smile in a microphone. the band members' laughter tapers off. they get into position. "from the top. smooth criminal." i cue rory and chris for the opening synths.
"annie are you ok, are you okay, annie!" i yell as i feel the magical notes fill my soul with something brilliant. the percussion and bass jump into the syncopated measures.
i want to save my energy for the dress rehearsal tonight, but i have to let my body praise the funky bass slaps and snare drums with a dance.
when "another part of me" starts next, i snatch the microphone stand and belt out the lyrics.i can feel the anthem deep in my soul as if i didn't write it myself. my heart thuds with anticipation as my vocal entrance gets nearer and nearer. i let the music tell me when to back off, when to coddle the sound rolling from my throat, when i should grit my teeth in anger, or when to smile with bliss. i let it take control.
the dance break finally comes, and i just about lose myself in the music. i spot my backup dancers breaking into flustered smiles when i glance behind me.
i cue the band to reprise, again and again and again.
each time a band member adds something unique to the repeating outro. god, i can't get enough!
my hips rock to something supernatural. i love the sting of my hair whipping my cheeks when i spin and shimmy across the stage to an empty audience. the feeling pulsing through my entire body right now is nothing short of orgasmic.
"michael!" a hoarse voice calls from a bullhorn.
i realize it's frank, who entered through the main auditorium doors. the instruments stutter and die. my dancers look around. frank waves to the high box and the stagelights drop. i rest my hands on my knees while i try to catch my breath.
"frankie! we we're just in the middle of, like, the best jam session, like, what the hell?!" greg shouts angrily, voicing all of our thoughts.
"does it look like i give a damn? pick it up later, eh? c'mon mike--we gotta get down here and meet these lovely ladies. on the double, let's move! we've got a schedule on here." frank nods thankfully to a technician and returns the bull horn to him.
i remembered how excited i am to meet those girls! "i'll be right back." i promise my crew. i tell them to rehearse the bridge for a while, and then move into "dirty diana" sectionals when they feel that they're ready.
in seconds, frank and i are outside the doors of the practice stage and taking long strides towards the studio trailers.