Ch 1: The Meeting
Thriller Era, 1983 at The Sunset Tower Hotel (Hollywood, CA)
Everybody surrounded me like I was some new type of species. I wanted to get away, but I couldn’t; Girls were literally screaming in my face, damn near blowing my eardrum out. They were pulling my hair, breaking my glasses, messing up my outfit. But then I saw one of them getting trampled by others trying to get closer to me. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was in pain.
“STOP IT!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. It got quiet- real quiet. Everyone stopped what they were doing, dead in their tracks. I pushed a few fans gently out of the way to get to her. She was unaware that everyone had stopped moving. As soon as I reached her, I picked her up and realized she was unconscious. Sometime the “girls from the balcony” do too much.
I thought the girls were crazy for me as a child; When Thriller started getting really big, my public life got worse. There were more “Billie Jeans” than ever before; more girls asking for me to be nasty with them. They gave me fan-mail about all the things they wished I would shove inside of them- along with my…you know…
People were still frozen in their place as I made my way back to my hotel room with the young woman in my arms. She needed an ambulance, and quick. I watched her perfectly-sculpted chest rise and fall while thoughts of what I could do to her when she woke up swarmed into my mind. She was beautiful; Although her hair was disheveled I could see her tormented baby-face. She was a tiny thing; about 5’2”, thick as a brick house, but not fat. Her face was slender, her hair long. I could tell she had almond-shaped eyes, which made me smile. But something I could not tell was if she was African-American or White…But I’d find out what this Angel was sooner or later.
My bodyguard, Bill Bray, was inside my hotel room. He stepped back in amazement as I walked in holding the unconscious girl in my arms. I held her tenderly; something I never did with anyone but Diana. I felt a strange connection to this unknown girl. I didn’t (and couldn’t) care if she was outside with those crazy fan-girls trying to rip my clothes off. That’s how mesmerizing and exotic she was to me.
“Mike, who’s that?” Bill asked cautiously. I could tell from his tone that he thought I was turning into Jackie and Jermaine; he thought I brought this girl here to get it in. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s not what you think, Billie boy! She got trampled in the crowd. I think she needs to see a doctor.”
Bill took her out of my arms as Frank DiLeo came out of the bathroom. Frank immediately walked over to the young woman and said, “You got a good one this time!” and winked.
“Frank! It’s not like that!” I said shyly. If I was light-skinned, my cheeks would have been burning with blood.
“Mhmm!” He said. Frank didn’t believe me. Whatever.
I walked over to the kitchenette, grabbed a cup of water and a wash towel, and made my way back to the girl in the blink of an eye. Bill set her on the couch to prop her head up while I set about putting water on the cloth and wetting her face. Her eyes fluttered open after about three minutes. At first, her eyes were dazed, unaware of what was happening, but then she was scared. Three strange men around her while she was laying on a couch; I couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking, but I knew it was probably something bad.
But then she collected her wits and realized who I was. She looked at me strangely, trying to figure out how she got here, so Bill tried to filled her in on what happened, failing ultimately:
“Mike said you got trampled by a bunch of bitches- I mean girls…Damn, that was mean…Maybe Mike should tell you…” he walked away and sat on a dining room chair, feeling he had messed up big time.
All she did was giggle and smile this big, huge smile that made my stomach fill with butterflies. She moved her long, wavy hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. I immediately realized that she was Creole. Her brown eyes held me captive. I had to admit, she had some big lips- Soup coolers, my brothers would call them. That was fine with me. When her eyes left mine to look at Bill and Frank, I got jealous. I only wanted her to look at me. To smile at me.
I wanted to know everything about her, right then and there.What was her name? I needed to know her name!
I told her all that happened, except the part of me yelling at everyone. I felt I did a good deed, and started getting arrogant about it. After all, if it wasn’t for me, she would have been seriously hurt. I asked her if she felt anything was broken, and she replied, in the most serene voice I have heard to this day:
“No, I just feel sore. But there’s a footprint on my thigh, so I guess I did get trampled. Thank you for your help. All of you. Um…I guess I’ll go..”
She got up to leave, but quickly sat back down after Frank, Bill, and I looked at her strangely. Most girls would start screaming and yelling, or get real shy- Most of all, they wouldn’t want to leave. But here she was, trying to get away from me, the biggest star on the planet. She was totally unfazed by the stardom I had, like I was just another person. It wasn’t like a disrespectful type of attitude, she just looked at it like, “Well he has to eat and breathe just like the rest of us; he’s no different.” I silently thanked her for this.
There was a strong moment of silence, but then she broke it:
“So…Not to be ungrateful or anything but: is there something I can help you with?”
Bill, Frank, and I looked at each other trying to figure out why we kept her here. She shifted in her seat trying to make her bruised leg feel a bit more comfortable. As she did this, the worst thing happened: I caught her scent. I slowly closed my eyes while inhaling with a deep sigh. Frank saw my expression and realized what was happening , so he quickly started a conversation with the girl.
“So, kid, what’s your name? Where ya from? Age? All the basics?” He asked, like a true skeptical businessman.
“Annah-Renee Johnson. You can call me Ari for short. I’m from Sac-Town (Sacramento, California). I just moved here. I’m twenty-three. Born April fifteenth, nineteen fifty-nine. Anything else?” she answered with a quickness.
So she an Aries? Aries’ are known to be very rebellious; they think they know every god damned thing. They fight back, and try to come off as macho, but deep inside they’re wounded children who just don’t know how to ask for help. But they’re loyal, brutally honest, very blunt and sarcastic, talkative, smart, and ready to attack. I think I like her already.
It was Bill’s turn to ask the questions:
“So, you a fan of Michael’s?”
“Yeah. I have a lot of pictures of you on my walls. Big fan.” she jokingly said.
I couldn’t help but blush.
I involuntarily added to the conversation by saying, “So that’s why you were with all those girls? To jump me!”
“Yep! That’s exactly the reason. I was hoping to give you something actually, but somebody broke it on the way here. And then I was gonna take your glasses.” She smiled, but then she got serious, “Do you deal with crowds like that all the time? Because that was a helluva lot of people.”
“Yeah. You get used to it after a while. But the fans love me, its just that they have a strange way of showing it sometime.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes for anything in the world. Sometimes I wonder why I try to pursue dancing. I hope I don’t become a big choreographer or anything…” Her voice trailed off as she imagined guys trying to rip every piece of clothing she had on.
“So you dance?” Frank chimed in.
“Oh, yes! I enjoy it very much. I don’t do a specific type of dancing. I just do what comes to me. What I feel in the moment-”
Frank gave me a side-eye as she said “in the moment”. I chuckled quietly as she went on.
“-because there’s no way to really “choreograph” something. At least not for me. It’s hard for me to remember exact dance steps because the power comes and goes.”
She looked at all of us intently, waiting for someone to say something. Before anyone could, she looked at her watch and realized she had to be somewhere.
“Oh crap! I’m almost late! I have a rehearsal in a few minutes. I need to leave right away! Thank you so much for all your help once again!” She winked and gave all of us a million-dollar smile and hauled ass! But she left her wallet behind. Inside it had a stack of cash, plus the business card that said where her dance studio was located.
“Hurt me now!” I exclaimed as she left.
“I know, right?! That was a piece o’ thang, right thurr.” Bill joined in.
“That face! Mike, you gotta get that!” Frank put in.
I blushed even more, and tried to hide my face with my hand.
We all joked that one of us had to snatch her up. She was too pretty to forget about. And now that we had all of her information, that would be pretty easy.
They were right…I gotta find that girl…
Posted on October 14, 2012, in The Stories and tagged 1983, annah-renee johnson, crowd of girls, fanfic, first encounter, hollywood, michael jackson, mj, stories, sunset hotel, the, the meeting. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.