New Beginnings
I prayed they would be edible, my culinary skills being known as somewhat suspect. Delectable was asking too much, but then again I was just trying to keep my wits about me, given the circumstances.
I was putting the finishing touches on the hot, cheesy panini’s when Michael offered his help.
“No, I’m fine, but your stomach may not be after eating this,” I said, flashing him a sly smile. “My cooking has been known to send people to the hospital.”
We were standing in the 20’s era country kitchen of my small West Hollywood bungalow, a bright and cheerful room with gingham curtains and French doors that opened onto a happy patio. An East Coast transplant seeking warmer climate and big city living, I had moved here just over a year ago. Little did I know how much this decision would change my life in ways I could only begin to imagine.
I caught a lucky break finding what seemed to be a challenging position advertised on Santa Monica Boulevard while out exploring the neighborhood, and I was luckier still to snag this job that most people would kill for. Being just a few steps from home was frosting on the cake.
I had already met so many big name recording artists at Westlake Studios, I was becoming a pro when it came to working with celebrities. Being asked to do menial tasks I considered beneath me brought them down to
my level in a hurry. Conducting doggie runs was not a bullet point I could add to my resume. But it was a minor part of an overall exciting job, and I accepted the fact that working with the glamour crowd meant going the distance to keep them happy.
It was hard to fathom the fascinating lives these people led when work was done for the day. But I’m sure they had their share of problems, just like us regular folk, and probably a few more. Seeing them as people became easy when exposed to their egos up close and in person. Their flamboyant behavior sometimes spilled over into the studio and I had already seen some pretty wild things, things that turned into captivating stories that kept my friends back home entertained. But I tried not to let it get in the way of doing my real job, which was to keep the facility running smoothly.
The studio featured several state-of-the-art recording rooms and a suite of administrative offices. Located in a building one might pass on the street without a second glance, there were no signs posted out front announcing the magic that unfolded daily within its walls. Its hallways were lined with the portraits of the celebrated music industry giants who recorded there, including Michael Jackson’s.
I plated the sandwiches and made my way to the refrigerator to pour frosty orange juice into two tall glasses.
“Thanks for letting me come,” Michael said, and sat at my tiny bistro table, folding his hands in his lap. “I needed a change of scenery…I’m a little exhausted.”
“I’m really happy you’re here,” I smiled, setting the food on the table, “and so glad I can offer a respite. By the way, it’s not every day I have a famous person in my kitchen sharing lunch with me.”
“I see Quincy has been working you like a dog,” I said, and it was so true. Michael was one of the hardest working artists I had encountered so far, and he exhibited consummate dedication to his music. He and his producer Quincy Jones had fallen asleep in the studio on many occasions, after working late into the night. Sometimes they were still wearing the same clothes when I returned the next day, this morning being no exception. I admired that Michael worked hard, and it’s something we had in common.
“Yeah, he’s like that,” Michael grinned. “But he brings out the best in the people who work with him, me included.”
“When will the album be done?” I asked, searching for napkins.
“It’s taking longer than we thought, and Epic is demanding delivery next month. They’re really putting the pressure on, but I’m not willing to compromise on anything less than perfect.”
“From what I’ve heard so far, every song will be a hit.” And I wasn’t exaggerating. Being the official studio photographer sometimes put me in close proximity to Michael, to snap him as he worked. One day, Quincy was completely keyed up and animated over a new song for the album, a piece Michael had written just the night before. There was more than just run-of-the-mill enthusiasm about this project percolating throughout the building. The anticipation over its pending release was palpable, and there was a sense the album would fly off record store shelves at an even faster pace than Michael’s last masterpiece.
I had taken to bringing my photos of Michael home after each batch was developed to have a closer look without being interrupted. Over time, I had accumulated a large stack and found myself examining the images often.
He typically came to the studio dressed casually, wearing t-shirt and jeans, and sometimes he sported stylish Civil War inspired shirts in a rainbow of colors. Some shots revealed the hint of a gold chain peeking out from beneath his neckline. More creative angles caught him looking joyful and completely lost in dance.
He seemed meticulous about the way he looked. Subtle changes in his appearance were hard to pinpoint but definitely there. It could be the way his hair was styled on a particular day, or maybe the selection of curls he chose to pull down onto his forehead from his dark, kinky mass that made the difference. I noticed, too, his eyebrows were thinned in more recent images. But comparing photos side by side, I found the fact that I couldn’t quite put my finger on it intriguing.
His luminous almond-shaped eyes were undoubtedly his most striking feature. Captured in more thoughtful poses, they penetrated my soul and revealed a certain sadness I had yet to understand. They were pleading eyes, seemingly longing for something yet unfulfilled. Full, pink lips were perfect for the pouty attitude he threw off while performing, framing a radiant smile that lit the room when he entered. His coloring was rich brown, skin flawless and smooth. Defined cheekbones and a soft chin accentuated a face like none other I’d seen. His body wasn’t what one considered muscular but pleasing just the same, sinewy and taut, ready-made for dance and ideal for the glittery costumes he wore. An adorable child, Michael had become a stunning man.
We each took a bite of our sandwiches, and I readied my napkin to wipe away potentially embarrassing crumbs left behind on my lips.
Michael looked up from eating. “Debbie, you do fantastic work. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me at the studio.”
“Hey, it’s my job, Michael, and I enjoy doing it,” I replied, hoping that his expression of gratitude was more than just an exchange of pleasantries.
“I told Q and the others they shouldn’t ask you to do all that personal stuff for us.” Q was his nickname for Quincy. Michael’s whole team had given each other affectionate, sometimes silly, names.
“You mean like taking his car to be detailed?” I asked, light sarcasm registering in my voice. I was still smarting over this latest request. It wasn’t so much the doing, but the way it was asked of me that was bothersome.
“Mm-huh,” Michael replied, navigating the gooey, melted cheese. “I don’t want him taking advantage of your good nature…it’s not right. So it’s going to end today, okay?”
“Well, sure, Michael. I wasn’t expecting you to run interference for me, but that would make my life a little easier. I didn’t realize you notice those kinds of things.” But I
had noticed him noticing me on more than one occasion, at least I wanted to believe it to be true, but I had quickly brushed it off as wishful thinking.
“I notice everything about people who give their all,” Michael replied.
“I guess it’s hard to believe an important person like you would be concerned about my well being.”
“I can understand that. I felt the same when I met Fred Astaire for the first time. You wouldn’t believe how nervous I was, absolutely shaking. He really inspires me, and he’s just so great!”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Deb,” he said. “Without you, that crazy place would be in shambles.”
And, indeed, it had gotten raucous lately, with lots of outrageous pranks and uproarious laughter. Michael intentionally made his time at the studio fun for everyone there, unlike some of the asshole artists who enjoyed throwing their weight around just because they could. Michael’s flamboyance was of a different, more outlandish, sort. Debauchery was not part of his vocabulary. We had already met his newest friend, a chimpanzee that loved getting into everything like a three-year old child. Just the other day, Michael had introduced us to his ten-foot boa constrictor, and his handling of the beast made an impression on everyone.
“Well, it
is a little hard sometimes, Michael. I admit I’m enamored with your talent and stardom. I can’t imagine achieving all that you have, and you’re still so young! Up until now I’ve only known you from watching TV. But seeing you in the flesh…guess what? You’re a real person! Down to earth too. Plus your wicked sense of humor keeps us all entertained.”
“And just as long as you keep your little snake in his cage, I’m okay with all the other stuff!” I laughed. “Seeing him wrapped around your neck really freaked me out.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. You just have to make sure he’s fed first so he doesn’t think you’re dinner,” Michael giggled. “I have Q taking care of him right now.”
“I’m sure he’s absolutely
thrilled about that,” I laughed, picturing with some satisfaction Quincy having to babysit the reptile. He had made it known he didn’t like having the creatures around while trying to get work done, but Michael was emphatic that having his animals close by stimulated his creative juices. “Studio A’s been turned into a nursery for all your babies and you’ve put Q in charge…I
love it!”
Although he normally spent the entire day in Studio A, Michael was around so often lately he’d become somewhat friendly with all of us who work there. On one occasion he’d given us each a hug on his arrival. He smelled so heavenly I hadn’t washed my shirt that touched his body since. I told myself it was to inhale his unique fragrance, but I knew it was really to relive the encounter over and over.
I tried as hard as I could to keep my emotions in check when we interacted, being the professional I was being paid to be. It was difficult, though, when I saw Michael’s brilliant smile right in front of me. His special aura filled the room and there was inexplicable electricity that permeated the whole place when he was present. Engaging him in person was an exhilarating experience, and I found it hard to concentrate on work, knowing he was just down the hall. I sometimes stayed as late as possible, waiting to catch him walk past one last time on his way out.
