Ch 2: Booked
[2 Wks Later] Thriller Era, 1983 at The Plaza Dance Academy (Long Beach, Ca)
I made it literally two seconds before the clock signaled I was late. The door slammed behind me as I tripped inside. I fell flat on my stomach, causing excruciating pain to my still-numb knee. I shook it off, got up, and faced my pupils. All twelve of them were children under the age of sixteen, and they adored me. They were the kids from the bad side of Los Angeles. The “statistics” my father used to call them; the kids that were expected to turn into gang-bangers and drug addicts. It saddened me that some of the kids didn’t have the guidance and love they deserved. So I opened a dance academy for underprivileged children from the ghetto. It took a lot of money, but, with federal funding, I’m able to even buy these kids some clothes.
I grew up in a rich family in Sacramento. We didn’t have a huge house, but, as a child, I was always aware there was a lot of money to my name. I had never been without a bite to eat. I was completely oblivious about people less fortunate than me until I turned fourteen. I saw children my age, from my school, asking for handouts on the street to buy something from Burger King. When they saw me looking at them, they bowed their heads in horror and shame. I knew right then and there that I had to do something. So I did. I went into my mother’s wallet without her knowledge, and slipped each of them a twenty-dollar bill. I changed the way I thought about other people; I started a children’s’ charity fund, and donated to homeless shelters as often as I could.
I feel I’ve helped poor children. I’m confident that I am helping them, but I want to remain humble. I don’t want them to think I’m some god, or some deity. I’m just me, Annah-Renee Johnson. I guess I just know right from wrong. And letting other people starve is totally wrong.
“Hey, Ari! You got here just in time!” A kid named Sav joked.
“I know, I know! I’m really sorry. It’s just…Well you know how I said I would get Michael Jackson’s glasses for you?” I said sincerely.
“Yeah!” They all chimed in.
Twelve voices all started talking at once: “Didja get them?” “Did you get to touch him?!” “His hair!” “Mike is sexy…” “I can moonwalk better than he can.” “Y’all shut up!” Michael this, Michael that. Michael, Michael, Michael.
I apologized with great contempt,”Guys, someone broke the present and somebody else got his glasses…”
“Aw!” They all pouted.
“But I got to meet him. People were actually walking on me. He saw me and took me to his hotel room and-”
“Wait! You went to his hotel room?! What did you do?” a sixteen-year old asked.
“Get your mind outta the gutter, y’all!” Cecil called out.
I just rolled my eyes, and set a bag of snacks down. “Come on, guys. Lets start dancin’!”
An hour later…
As the last of the kids filed out of the Academy door, someone with huge shades walked in. He had ultra-thick sideburns, a nappy-ass afro, ugly, yellowing chipped teeth, and an unkempt mustache…
“Who the fuck are you?!” I asked, skeptically.
“It’s me. I’m Michael Jackson.”
He giggled as my eyes got big in realization. I immediately recognized the jawline, skin tone, and the nose. It was a good disguise if you didn’t look too close.
“Well…erm…” I squirmed in embarrassment. “How can I help you this fine evening, Mr. Jackson?”
“I- I needed to see you again. I couldn’t resist the temptation.” He shyly replied. “And- And ya left your wallet at the hotel room, so here it is.” He waved it in the air.
I grabbed at it, but missed as he yanked it out of my reach.
“Boy, are you short or what?” he teased.
“Michael, gimme my wallet back.” I playfully demanded.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“You’re a piece of shit.”
I had no comebacks. Here I was arguing with Michael effing Jackson about a damn wallet. He turned around and removed his glasses, mask, sideburns, and mustache, and revealed a clean-shaven young man- Still adorable as could be. As he turned back around, he caught me staring. My eyes could not leave his smooth lips, his chocolate-brown, almond-shaped eyes, those beautifully carved cheekbones. I felt a sudden yearning for him. I wanted him to touch me and hold me close to him like I was when I was barely conscious a few weeks ago.
He stared back just as intently. He took a minuscule step forward and asked me a question I hardly expected,”Do you find me pleasing?”
His baby-like voice had left him entirely. Masculine sexiness and divine power took its place. Split personalities. What a turn-on.
I couldn’t say a word. But he knew the answer as my eyes trailed down to the crotch of his pants. I do so many things, driving myself crazy.
“Mhmm.” Was all he said, like he read my mind.
I almost smashed into him; I was eager to place my hand on every inch of his body. It wasn’t a lust type of want, it was a dire need. I could tell that the feeling was mutual. Every single part of my being wanted to flow into his, to touch and be touched. But I knew that’s not what he came here for. And I didn’t want to come off as some dirty little tramp out to ruin a superstar’s life. That’s just not the type of hoe I am.
“I- I can’t. I’m sorry.” His face changed into surprise that I would decline such a pleasing offer…
Her curvy body had me mesmerized. I just wanted to touch and kiss…I wanted her to come home with me tonight. She was giving me butterflies. But then she seemed to change her mind. Once again, this girl managed to amaze the living daylights out of me. I don’t open myself easily to sexual offers, let alone to people I barely know. But there was something about this girl. Everything about her intoxicated me. I wanted to be her lover, her sister, her mother, her father, her brother. Her everything. It had been two weeks since I last saw her, and I started thinking about her more than I did Diana.
There was a fire burning inside of me. That song by Tina Marie and Rick James called “Fire and Desire”- that’s just how I felt. I saw my whole future fly by in front of me. And she was a part of it. She had me wondering what our babies would look like. Every ounce of me desired to lay next to her in the night, when life seemed to come crashing down for her. To make love to her to take the pain away. To kiss and squeeze.
Get it together! What am I thinking! I barely know her, and that’s not the reason I’m here! I scolded myself.
“Uhm…Well, my brothers and I, we want you to help us choreograph our tour for one of our albums we’re currently working on called Victory.”
She couldn’t contain herself; “Wow! You haven’t even seen me dance and I’ve already got a job?!”
“Well no..We checked out some of your material, talked to people who’ve employed you before, watched some tapes of your dancing. Your very good. You’ll be my assistant when I’m not there.”
I learned that Ari could imitate me perfectly without skipping a beat. At first, my brothers were wary of hiring a girl. They thought I was just hiring her to be my personal eff-buddy. But that’s not the case. She’s a very excellent dancer. But I won’t tell her that.
“Ari, I’m here to hire you. Is your schedule free for July to December of 1984?” I politely asked.
Please please please say yes!
She thought it over, trying to remember anything she had scheduled in advance. When she was done, she got a sad look on her face.
But then she started grinning like an idiot.
“Well, Mr. Jackson, looks like I can do it!”
I quietly thanked the Heavens. She’s booked! She’s mine!
Posted on October 16, 2012, in The Stories and tagged 1983, ananh's. pov, annah-renee johnson, booked, booking, ch 2, chapter 2, choreographer, choreography, dance, dancing, date, fanfic, follow, hollywood, impersonation, impersonator, michael jackson, michael tracks her down, mj, plan, point of view, relationship, stories, the, the meeting, victory tour. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.