Fiction by New Breed Leader: "Call Me Michael", Chapter 1: 3 Hours of Love, Sex, and Liberty
“Curious child, you are on my mind/Do U care?” - Prince
November 1996 (3 years and one month before The Video)
"Eman-ci-pay-shuuuuun! FREE! To do what I wanna!"
21-year-old Michelle Simmons and her friends belted at the top of their lungs to the cassette tape inside the rental SUV as they zoomed along Highway 5 in Minnesota, on their way to Paisley Park. Tonight was the night; the “Emancipation
Proclamation” concert to celebrate the release of Emancipation, the 3-disc set by Prince, known then as The Artist; his first independent release away from Warner Bros.
Michelle was so excited she could barely contain herself. The Artist Formerly Known as Prince was her hero. She felt a deep connection to his music, deeper than most of her friends; they all understood that she was the Prince historian, the one who had read more books on the subject of Prince than any other musician.
The young woman was cutting it close for this trip; she was still a student at Columbia University School of Journalism, and she had class in the morning back in New York. But something told her to make the trek out west to the Twin Cities to see her favorite singer.
She brought along her best friend, Carl Edmonds, and three other people from her circle: Nicole Stewart, one of her Prince pen pals who lived in Minneapolis (she was the one who informed her by email that this show was happening); Marvin Fletcher, also of Minneapolis; and Letitia Sanderson, who drove in from Chicago.
Above them, a news helicopter swirled overhead. Searchlights illuminated the night sky. They were close to Paisley Park.
"I'm so excited I could scream", Michelle said.
So then scream, girl!" Carl said.
"AHHHHHHHHH!" Michelle let go, her hands firmly on the wheel. The rest of the car followed suit.
Suddenly, to their left, the 65 thousand square foot Paisley Park studio rolled into view. The massive white and boxy complex resembled a warehouse. It was bathed in multi-colored floodlights and surrounded by hundreds of people.
Michelle had been to Paisley Park a few times, to see the Artist’s Beautiful Experience shows just a year ago. At those shows, Prince didn’t perform any songs from his glorious 1980s period, only newer songs. But no matter how many times she saw that building, it was like seeing it for the first time.
They hit a checkpoint. Local Chanhassen police directed traffic on the intersection of Audubon Road and Hwy. 5. When it was her turn, a policeman waved her past, and Michelle turned the car left onto Audubon and then right onto the parking lot of an elementary school across the street from Paisley Park. They parked and got out, then walked across Audubon Road to the tall iron gate outside Paisley.
The throng of people standing outside the gate reached a bottleneck. They were waiting in the frigid November air to be let in. After a few minutes the gate mercifully opened and everyone ran in. Michelle, Carl and the others followed behind them.
Members of the press were already inside. Michelle looked over at the group as she walked past them. The reporters stood around talking to each other. One day she would be one of them, Michelle thought to herself.
They stood outside the small door of the side entrance. Suddenly, it opened and everyone filed in. To the right, there was a ladies restroom. To the left was the entrance to the cavernous soundstage, where the concert was going to take place. There were people everywhere. The heavy odor of incense hung still in the air.
Carl grabbed Michelle’s hand and they ran into the soundstage area. There were TV cameras everywhere. People were milling about.
“Where the hell did Nikki S go?” Carl blurted out.
“I don’t know”, Michelle said. Letitia and Marvin disappeared too. Oh well, they’d catch up with them at some point during the night. Just as long as they remembered where Michelle parked, they should be ok.
“Girl, look at this!” Carl yelled, pulling her towards the front of the stage.
This was going to be Carl’s first time seeing the Artist. He was beyond excited.
“Eeeeeeee!” he shrieked, shaking his hands in front of his face. “I can’t believe I’m gonna see him right here in front of me!”
“I’m so happy for you, Carl!” Michelle threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug.
“I’ll be right back” Carl kissed her cheek. “Stay here, don’t go anywhere”.
Michelle stood and watched the roadies and techs set up the stage and the instruments that the Artist’s New Power Generation band would be playing.
She was startled by two screams from behind her.
“Michelle! Michelle!” It was Letitia and Nicole.
“Where the hell have you three been?” Michelle blurted.
“Girl we were in the front part of Paisley, the…”
“The Atrium”, Nicole chimed in.
“Yeah whatever, the atrium” Letitia rolled her eyes. “…guess who we saw?” “Who?”
“D’Angelo!” they both screamed in unison.
Michelle’s face froze. It went from irritation to serious.
"Wait, what? D'Angelo’s here?”
“YES!” Nicole and Letitia screamed, again, in unison.
Michelle was a big fan of D’Angelo. The Brown Sugar CD stayed in rotation on her CD player back in New York. It was actually in the car outside. Maybe she should go get it and bring it back and ask him to sign it. Nah, that would take too long.
“Hello?” Letitia clapped her hands in front of Michelle’s face, which was catatonic.
“Sorry”, Michelle blinked. “I was thinking”.
“Thinking what?” Nicole said.
“Take me to him”, Michelle said.
“Cmon, let’s go”, Nicole grabbed Michelle’s hand. Suddenly Michelle snatched it away.
“The fuck?” Nicole said.
“I forgot, Carl told me to stay here and wait for him”
“Girl, forget him and come on!” Letitia said.
“Forget WHO?” Carl suddenly appeared, crossing his arms and giving Letitia the side eye.
“Whatever”. She rolled her eyes.
“Carl, D’Angelo’s here”, Michelle said.
“Get out! The Brown Sugar man is here? Oh, my God!” he jumped up and down.
“This night is just getting better and better”, Nicole said. “Two of my favorite sexy men in one building!”
“Word!” Michelle yelled. “Come on, let’s go find him”.
They turned and walked towards the entrance to the atrium when Nicole screamed.
“Oh my god girl, what?” Carl covered his mouth with his hands in horror.
“There he is!” Nicole pointed to the back wall of the soundstage, where D’Angelo was leaning.
They all gasped collectively.
He was a short stocky dude, wearing a black suit that didn’t quite hang on him right, a silver and black tie, and his signature braids. He had the biggest grin on his face as he was talking to someone standing next to him. He was clearly happy.
Michelle remembered reading somewhere that D’Angelo was a Prince fan.
A slow mischievous smile crawled across her face as she came up with an idea.
Suddenly, the whole room went completely dark, and a chorus of screams went up from the audience. Michelle, Carl and the others turned tail and sprinted back to the front of the stage. This was it; the man they had all traveled hundreds of miles to see was about to be standing right before them. You saw shadows of the Artist’s band, the New Power Generation, walk out onto the stage, as a funky beat played over the speakers; a drumline suddenly appeared on the stage, walking in straight line back towards the instruments. A laser light show of the word “emancipation” appeared behind the band, and you could hear audio of the famous line from Dr.
King’s speech: “Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
As if by magic, The Artist materialized right there on the stage to thunderous applause. Michelle, Carl, Nicole and Letitia were jumping up and down and going nuts. Their man was here.
Dressed all in blue, a long fluttery see-through top, bell bottom pants, His Royal Badness clapped, danced, sang, and grooved to the first song off Emancipation, “Jam Of The Year”.
The audience clapped and sang along to the hook, when he said “ooh, everybody’s here”, the audience sang back “THIS IS THE JAM OF THE YEAR!”
The next song was Purple Rain. His most famous song, the classic. His symbol guitar somehow materialized right on the Artist’s body. His guitar techs were welltrained in making themselves invisible. He swayed his guitar back and forth, his voice soaring, “I never meant to cause you any sorrow..”
The audience sang along, arms swaying back and forth, “I only want to see you bathing in the Purple Rain…”
Michelle, Carl, Nicole and Letitia all held hands and swayed back and forth.
Then the Artist went into “Joy In Repetition” a deep cut classic. Michelle and Carl jumped up and down screaming.
‘OH MY GOD THIS IS OUR SONG!” Carl screamed. Back in New York, they had a special dance routine they always did for this song. On Friday nights, when everybody else was out partying and Michelle studying, Carl would make her take a break and dance to Prince’s music. But right now they were watching their hero play it live right in front of them. Next was “Get Your Groove On”, a track from the new Emancipation CD. More dancing ensued, Michelle and Carl started vogueing. Suddenly, during the bridge, the band played the familiar hook from Madhouse (Prince’s jazz side project) called “6”. The Artist’s dancers started doing the 6 dance. “OH MY GOD! They’re playing Madhouse 6!” Michelle jumped up and down and grabbed Carl by the shoulders and shook him.
“’OH MY GOD!” Carl repeated back to her. “6 what?”
Michelle was too excited to fuss at him; she just kept jumping up and down. She turned to her left and there was D’Angelo, dancing next to her. “Madhouse 6!"
Michelle screamed at him. "Yeah!" D yelled back at her, pumping his fist in the air.
In this moment, he wasn’t D’Angelo, the famous Neo Soul crooner; he was Michael Archer, Prince geek. The Artist himself flitted across the stage, throwing the mic stand, doing James Brown spins, his long fluttery blue top flying around him.
Michelle and D were dancing along, hands raised, overwhelmed by the music.
Before anyone knew it, the lights went up, and the all-too brief concert was over. Michelle looked over at D, but he was gone. She looked around at the soundstage area, but there were nothing but industry people. Carl jolted her out of her reverie by jerking her around and jumping up and down. “OH my god, girl, that was so good! I love him!” Carl squealed.
"Me too! I love him so much!" Michelle beamed.
"Where’d D’Angelo go?” Nicole walked up to them.
“He was right there dancing next to Michelle, but he disappeared” Carl said.
Michelle was so sad, she pouted. He was right here and now he was gone.
“Cmon, girl, let’s go” Carl pulled her away as the audience milled about.
As they walked outside, Michelle saw him. D’Angelo was standing outside smoking a cigarette. Michelle danced up to him and sang “Smoke…a…cigarette…”
D took immediate notice as he took a pull on his Newport, and raised a finger and finished the lyric to the Vanity 6 track. “I’m…not…ready yet”
Michelle screamed.
“Yeeeeah”, D’Angelo drawled with a big grin.
Michelle’s whole group erupted in shouts and cheers, jumping up and down as they headed to their car across the street.
They were all talking over each other about the Artist and the show and how much fun they were having. When they reached the car, they all climbed inside. Michelle slid into the driver’s seat; Carl in the passenger seat.
“Ok! Let’s do a head count, make sure everyone’s here.” Carl turned to look in the back seat. “Nicole…Marvin… D’Angelo…Letitia….D’Angelo???” “Wait what?” Michelle furiously swung her head to look in the backseat.
Sandwiched between Marvin and Letitia was D’Angelo.
“What are you doing here?” Carl yelled.
“He wanted to hang with us purple people...right?" Michelle winked at D.
“Haha, yeah”, D grinned back at her.
A man of few words, Michelle thought. Just like the Purple One.
“Well, it’s certainly an honor to meet you sir, Carl extended his hand. D shook it. “Word”, he said.
“Even if it’s under…different circumstances” Carl said.
Nicole and Letitia were frozen. Nicole did nothing but stare. She couldn’t believe she was sitting right next to D’Angelo.
“We gonna go the hotel and order room service and watch Prince videos! Is that cool with you?” Michelle smiled at him.
“Yeah”, D nodded.
They arrived at the Marriott hotel in Eden Prairie and filed out, walked into the hotel lobby, which was quiet until suddenly a throng of young people thundered through, laughing, shouting and singing Prince songs.
Nicole ran over to one of the couches in the lobby. “Hey, guys, look!” She grabbed a magazine from the front desk and plopped down on the lobby couch. Everyone cracked up including D’Angelo, who got the joke. Nicole crossed her legs. “Get it?” she smiled.
“Nikki…me…with a magazine…in a hotel lobby.”
“Yes, we get it, girl, now get up and let’s go”, Carl said, pulling Nicole off the couch.
In the hotel room, everyone was talking over each other, eating food and listening to Prince’s music. D was sitting in a lounge chair situated by the hotel room window. He watched Michelle as she passed out pizza slices and bottles of beer.
She walked over and sat in the chair next to him. “Pizza and beer?” she handed it to him.
“Yo, thanks”, D took them.
“Help yourself, we’ve got plenty”, Michelle took a swig of her Corona as she pointed to the table in the kitchenette, where 3 boxes of pizza were stacked on top of each other.
“So can I ask you a question?” Michelle said.
D grinned as he bit into his slice, his eyes darting around nervously.
“Girl, leave that man alone and let him eat his pizza in peace!” Carl yanked Michelle away to the other side of the room.
Letitia brought a boombox with her from Chicago, and right now it was blasting “17 Days”. A re-run of the Emancipation show was playing on MTV.
“Dave is the biggest Prince fan I’ve ever met” Nicole said to Letitia as they drank their beers and munched on pizza. “His house is totally wallpapered with Prince posters and he’s got hundreds of VHS and audio cassettes of Prince live shows.”.
“One day we’re going to raid his house and make him give us some of that stuff” Michelle laughed as she popped the Purple Rain VHS tape in the VCR.
“Yo, I’m the biggest Prince fan”, D smiled, pounding his chest for emphasis.
"Oh yeah?" Michelle said playfully, putting her hands on her hips. "You wanna test that theory, mister?”
“Bet”, D smirked.
“Ok”. Michelle thought long, then she snapped her fingers. “I got it! Throw the wild sign high”.
“Girl, D’Angelo don’t know what the wild sign is!” Carl said as he gathered all the empty pizza boxes to throw them away.
D’s brows drew together and he squinted incredulously. Without missing a beat, he raised his palm up : third finger down, held down by the thumb, to form a W. The Wild sign.
“I stand corrected, sir” Carl said.
The movie started and everyone gathered on the bed to watch it. D sat down on the floor at the head of the bed. Michelle moved to the end of the bed on her stomach so her head was over him. They watched the movie in silence for thirty minutes.
By the time the movie got to the infamous bedroom scene, Carl, Nicole, Letitia and Marvin were all passed out on the bed. Only Michelle and D’Angelo were still awake.
As the Kid sensually slid his hand down Apollonia’s bikini panty- laden crotch, Michelle tilted her head to see D’Angelo’s reaction. His eyes were narrowed as he watched. He licked his large, pillowy lips.
“You see that?” Michelle blurted.
“Yeah”, D giggled.
“That”, Michelle pointed at the TV, “was not acting. The way Apollonia physically reacted to the Kid touching her down there?”
D giggled some more.
“That was a physiological response, my friend. That …was real”, Michelle said.
“Yeah”, D’s lopsided smirk was adorable to her.
Michelle grabbed the VCR remote and rewound the tape. “See, look at it again”. The scene played again. D and Michelle watched in silence. Michelle peeked over at him again to see his reaction.
She moved her head closer to D until she was looking directly over him. From his point of view, her face was upside down.
“By the way…. why aren’t you with Prince right now?” Michelle said.
D shrugged. It had a finality to it, as if he didn’t want to elaborate.
A man of few words. I can respect that, Michelle thought to herself. She wondered why D’Angelo just decided to get into her car and tag along for the ride after the concert. He had an entourage, no doubt, a team of people whose responsibility it was to “handle” him, make sure he was where he was supposed to be. So that means he ditched them, obviously. But why? Perhaps he had met the Artist already. Maybe he was overwhelmed by meeting his idol. She would be too, if she ever got a chance to meet the musical genius.
So many questions, and she wanted to ask them all, but D’Angelo looked like he wasn’t in the mood to answer any of them. Michelle had to internally concede that she missed the opportunity to interview the creator of the critically acclaimed debut album called Brown Sugar. She felt disappointed. She was a journalism student, after all.
When Morris Day and the Time walked past The Revolution’s dressing room and Morris cruelly teased “How’s the family?” D laughed and turned to Michelle, only she was asleep. D studied her face. She was very pretty. Caramel skin, raven hair, even set eyebrows, a feminine pert nose. Her face was round, but pretty. Her mouth was slightly open, pouty, her lips shapely. She was heavy set, but D liked that. Down in Richmond, where he was from, men liked their women thick, even fat.
Brothers in the country didn’t care. If your ass was fat, it didn’t matter if the rest of you were, too. Her breath was soft as she slept. D looked around. Everyone else was asleep. He looked back at Michelle. Slowly leaning in, he pressed a kiss to Michelle’s forehead.
Carl and Michelle were yawning on the plane back to New York the next morning. Michelle had class in a couple hours. She was cutting it dangerously close; she didn’t know how she was going to stay awake in class.
“Can you believe it, girl? We had a celebrity in our hotel room last night”, Carl’s eyes were closed as he spoke.
“The most unassuming celebrity ever, Michelle stared ahead at the gray-haired head belonging to the passenger in the seat in front of her.
Carl opened his eyes and turned to look at her. “There’s got to be a reason why he followed us last night. I mean, he could’ve just as easily stayed at Paisley Park and hung out with Prince all night. Why in the world would he dip out with us?
Michelle looked out the window. “I don’t know”.
Carl blew an exasperated puff of air as he sneered at Michelle. He really wished she would get a damned hint.
Carl touched Michelle’s hand. “I have a theory”, he posited. “I think D’Angelo likes you”.
Michelle yawned, then she scoffed. “Nah”.
I mean, he did leave his phone number at the front desk for the hotel clerk to pass to her, but that didn’t mean anything. Did it?
Carl sighed with frustration. “Look…I was going to wait until we got back to New York to tell you this but now is as good a time as any”.
Michelle sipped the coffee the stewardess had just handed out. It was already cold. “Tell me what?”
Carl leaned into Michelle’s ear. “D’Angelo kissed you last night”.
Michelle sprayed the coffee out of her mouth. “He what?” she choked.
The gray-haired passenger swiveled his head to look back at Michelle, touching the back of his moist head.
“Oh God, I am so sorry, sir”, Michelle snatched Carl’s napkin from underneath his drink and offered it to the man.
“It’s quite alright, young lady”, the older gentlemen said, taking the napkin
“He what?” Michelle whispered.
Carl had two fingers to his mouth, stifling a laugh.
Michelle punched him on the shoulder. “Carl!”
“Sorry”, Carl cleared his throat and rubbed his shoulder. “You were asleep. We all were. Except I wasn’t. Well I was half asleep”.
“Carl”, Michelle groaned.
“Ok, I was half asleep! My eyes were halfway open and I saw D’Angelo kiss you on the forehead. He didn’t know I saw him. Then he got up off the floor, put his jacket on and left.” Carl waved his hand with a flourish as he finished his sentence. Michelle sat stunned.
“He kissed you riiight there”, Carl said with an exaggerated high-pitched voice, his index finger landing on the middle of Michelle’s forehead.
“Thanks, Carl”, Michelle said sarcastically as she shook her head and smacked his hand away.
“Who knows? Maybe I dreamed it”, Carl shrugged.
Michelle shot him a look. He winced.
“Just kidding”, he shrieked. “Don’t punch me again”.
Carl reached his arm around Michelle’s shoulder. She rested her head on Carl’s chest. They both slept for the rest of the flight back to New York.