Fiction by New Breed Leader: Call Me Michael, Chapter 3: Jonz in My Bonz
“That night, I had to call you…” – Prince
D’Angelo’s black town car - also paid for by EMI - rolled up the circular walkway in front of Michelle’s apartment in the Bronx. He got out and buzzed the door. The door vibrated and he opened it, walked over to the elevator and went up to the 5th floor.
He heard the music coming from the apartment when he stepped off the elevator. Prince screaming. D lifted his hand to knock on the door when the door opened. It was Michelle, dressed all in black. Black sweater, jeans, and Timberlands. Her long hair was put up in a bun.
“Hi!” she yelled over the music. “Come in!”
“Yo, what’s up”, D laughed as he entered, looking around and automatically noticing the Prince posters.
“Yo, that’s dope”, he said while admiring them. “Kinda looks like the row of pictures he had at Paisley Park”.
Michelle had to think for a minute. Then she remembered, the long hallway at Paisley Park with the retrospective of Prince portraits from different eras of his career.
“OH my god, you’re right!” she beamed.
“Yo, what’s this you’re listening to?” D asked.
“Prince and the NPG at the DNA Club San Francisco April, 1993, Michelle said, turning the volume down.
Prince was hoarsely singing “The Sacrifice of Victor” from the Symbol album.
Michelle handed D’Angelo the CD. He inspected it. “There’s a booklet inside” Michelle said.
“Dope”, D said as he inspected it.
“I don’t know if you can tell, but Prince had a cold that night”. Michelle offered him something to drink. “We can order out if you want”, she said.
“Cool”, D said as he sat down on the couch. Michelle took his coat and hung it up.
He was smiling from ear to ear. Michelle figured it was because of all the Prince paraphernalia.
“So what are you in the mood for? Chinese? Indian? Thai?”
“Nah”, D chuckled. “Soul food”. He tilted his head back and smirked.
As he looked around some more, he noticed something was missing: a television. But he did see the bookshelf.
He got up and walked over to it. “Yo, you got a lot of books”, he muttered.
Michelle giggled. “Yeah, I love to read. I have more books in my bedroom and even more back home in Atlanta”.
“That’s where you’re from?” D said.
“Yep”, Michelle smiled. “Stone Mountain”.
“You ain’t got no TV” D laughed.
“There’s one in Carl’s bedroom”, Michelle said. “If I want to watch something I just go in there. But I read more than I watch TV. Graduate school has me so busy I don’t have much time to watch TV”.
“Wow”, D said. He was impressed. Pretty and smart.
“What are you in school for?”
“Journalism. I’m studying to become an investigative reporter”, Michelle said. She instantly regretted saying it because she didn’t want to make D’Angelo feel uncomfortable. But she was trying to get him to open up so she could ask him a few questions.
“You had time to go to Paisley Park though” D teased her.
“Hell yeah”, Michelle laughed. “I always make time for Prince”.
D’s smile widened. He suddenly felt a kinship.
“Play this one” D shoved the black CD in front of her, the one with the outtakes from Parade.
Michelle put one of the CDs on and went to the kitchen.
She called a Chinese restaurant and ordered dinner. Then she opened the refrigerator and took out a couple of Coronas. She handed one to D. When the food arrived 45 minutes later, Michelle and D were both sitting on the couch listening to Disc 3 of Cosmos. “Yo, this is incredible!” D said as he took another swig of Corona, his 3rd bottle. It was a track Prince recorded in 1983 during the Purple Rain sessions that never came out.
“Prince made so much music during that time” Michelle said as she scooped the Chinese food out of the paper containers and onto plates.
“Prince was just so dope, man”, D said.
“Was”? Michelle countered.
“Nah, I mean, he’s still dope”, D shrugged.
“Is it the name change?” Michelle handed him a plate. He had ordered Orange chicken and lo Mein.
“Nah, I mean…I kinda understand why he did it”. D stabbed a bite of orange chicken with his fork and popped it in his mouth.
“Sorry there aren’t any soul food places near here”, she apologized.
“That’s ok”, D said, slurping some lo mein.
Michelle was suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she couldn’t cook. She hoped that D wouldn’t notice and that he would think that she ordered out just because it was a last-minute thing.
Spread out on the coffee table were several issues of Uptown Magazine, a fanzine about Prince published in Europe. D picked one up and flipped through the pages. “Wow”, he said. There was an article on a music project Prince worked on called Madhouse. Michelle suddenly appeared over his shoulder, peering at the article. “One of my favorite Prince side projects”, Michelle said.
“Mine too”, D said.
They caught a glimpse of each other and smiled. Michelle walked over to the bookcase. There was a shelf with a long row of CDs on it. She thumbed through the row and pulled out a CD. Then she took it out and placed it in the changer. It was Madhouse.
“Dope”, D said, shoveling another forkful of lo mein into his mouth. Michelle watched him eat for a minute or so.
“You ain’t hungry?” D said, his mouth full.
She was starving. But she wasn’t about to eat a bite in front of him. What if she looked like a pig, or worse, what if she accidentally spilled food on herself? She couldn’t risk the embarrassment.
“Nah. I’ll save mine for later”, Michelle shrugged.
Fuck! Is that all he’s going to say? I need him to talk more, Michelle thought. Then it hit her. She got back up and walked over to the CD player. Thumbing through the CDs again, she pulled out Sign O’ The Times. She put a disc in and pressed a button. “The Ballad of Dorothy Parker” started to play.
“Yooo!” My favorite Prince song! D exclaimed. He sat up straight on the couch. He was still buzzed from the Coronas, but he was at attention now.
“How’d you know that was my favorite Prince song?” D said.
“I didn’t”, Michelle sat back down next to him on the couch. She tucked a leg underneath and rested her head in her hand while she watched D eat and drink. Up close to him now, she got a good look at his face. His cornrows were shiny, perfectly aligned rows atop his head. She could tell he had just had them braided. Baby hairs framed his forehead. His skin tone was creamy silk chocolate. His nose was slim and his lips, soft, billowy pillows. D licked them every few minutes. “He’s very handsome”, she thought, staring at him. He was wearing the classic beige Timberland boots, bulky Levis blue jeans and a black long sleeved shirt. Around his neck was a gold crucifix. He smelled like baby oil.
Michelle slowly moved her hand towards D’Angelo’s thigh when he caught it midway. “What’s your favorite Prince song?” he asked.
“Lady Cab Driver”, Michelle said, without hesitation.
“Yeeeeah”, D smiled and interlocked his fingers with hers.
“This is for why I wasn’t born like my brother, handsome and tall!” Michelle quoted. D laughed.
“This…is for politicians who are bored and believe in war”, D said, continuing the song.
He leaned into Michelle’s face. “And this….yeah, that’s for me, that’s who that one’s for”.
They fell out laughing.
Michelle took a swig of her Corona. “I have a friend who was disturbed by that part of the song”.
“Oh yeah?” D said.
“She thought it was about rape”.
“Aw, naaaw”, D winced and shook his head.
“I said it is not about rape…you just don’t recognize hot sex when you hear it.”
D hooted with laughter. “Yo…can I smoke?” D reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of Newports.
Neither she nor Carl smoked, so there were no ashtrays in the apartment, so Michelle went to the kitchen and took a small bowl out of the cupboard.
“Here you go”, she placed the bowl on the coffee table in front of D as he lit up a cigarette.
“Thank you”, he squinted through the menthol smoke.
“Jimmy Jam said that was his favorite Prince song”, D said.
“It’s my favorite Prince album”, Michelle said. “Everyone talks about Purple Rain, and rightly so, but 1999 was the breakthrough”.
“Word”, D nodded his head in agreement. “That album didn’t sound nothing else on the radio in 1982”, D said. “I remember studying the credits word for word. Prince was doing everything, and I wanted to do that too. Same with the Time album.”
“That’s right”, Michelle agreed. “And it wasn’t that black music sucked in 1982…it most certainly did not”. It’s just that 1999 sounded so…different”.
“Yup”, D nodded.
“I remember dressing up in my mother’s lingerie and pretending I was Vanity 6 while I played Nasty Girl” Michelle said.
D’s fingers tightened around hers. “For real?” he said softly.
“I wanted to be her so bad”, Michelle sighed. “She was a sex kitten…voluptuous and beautiful”.
“I had her posters all over my wall”, D took a swig of Corona.
They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the music play.
D suddenly sat up straight and looked at Michelle.
Michelle lifted her head up to look back at him, wondering what was up.
“You’re voluptuous”, D smiled.
Michelle blushed, her smile so wide. “That’s very sweet. Thank you”, she muttered, casting her eyes down.
“So do you have any hobbies?” Michelle regretted that stupid question as soon as it escaped her lips. She couldn’t believe she asked something so shallow. But it was too late now.
“Nah”, D giggled.
“What I mean is, do you like to, read books, or watch movies, or…”
“Oh yeah”, D said.
Just then, Michelle remembered that D’Angelo’s first hit song was for a movie. She fought the urge to facepalm.
More silence. Coincidentally, “Lady Cab Driver” came up on the CD changer.
D began to bob his head to the beat, doing air drums. Michelle watched him attentively. He knew every lick, every note, every tempo change. He sang along with Prince, and sounded exactly like him.
It occurred to Michelle that D didn’t know that she knew that he kissed her back in Minnesota. She wondered if she should tell him. She decided not to.
A track called “101” started playing. Written by Prince for Sheena Easton, it appeared on her 1989 album.
D sat up straight and listened intently. His eyes followed Michelle as she got up again to turn up the volume. His eyes focused on her ass as she moved.
D lit another cigarette and blew a long cloud of smoke as he leaned his head back on the couch. “This is my first time hearing this”, he muttered.
The electronic track had a pulsing funk rhythm that started out slow and increased in tempo to a powerful crescendo. It was stunning.
“Yo...this n***’s crazy for not releasing this”, D said, shaking his head. “This is dope”.
Michelle shrugged. “I guess he felt it was better suited for Sheena Easton”.
They listened in silence.
D turned to Michelle, shaking his head again. “Nah, man. He shoulda kept this shit for hisself”.
Michelle leaned into him. “I tend to agree”, she smiled.
They caught each other in a glance and gave each other a coy smile. As D turned back to his food, his eyes darted nervously sideways at Michelle.
She watched him eat the rest of his orange chicken and lo Mein. Then he smoked another Newport and announced he was leaving.
“I gotta go”, he muttered as he pushed himself off the couch. “Yo, can I use your bathroom first?"
"Of course, it’s down the hall”, Michelle pointed. She watched him walk to the bathroom, then she picked up his dishes from the coffee table and brought them to the kitchen sink where she rinsed them off with soap and water. She became lost in thought. I hope D’Angelo wasn’t too bored with me, she worried. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a bad hostess for not cooking.
Suddenly, she felt a pair hands around her waist. She gasped with a start.
“You aight?” D whispered in her ear from behind her. “You were staring at the wall. I ain’t mean to scare you”.
Michelle’s hands were cupped over her mouth. She turned around to face D’Angelo and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired, I guess. It’s been a long week. I’m working on two big projects for school and I’m exhausted”.
“Ah”, D’Angelo said. “Don’t overwork yourself too much now. Be easy on yourself”.
“Easier said than done”, Michelle said.
D reached up and softly touched Michelle’s cheek. “I wish I could stay, but I gotta go back to the lab”. The “lab” was slang for recording studio.
“I had a good time hanging out with you”, Michelle smiled.
“Me too”.
Michelle walked him downstairs to his car waiting in front of her building. They hugged and she watched him get in and ride away.