Fiction by New Breed Leader: Call Me Michael, Chapter 4: Love 4 One Another
January 1, 1997 (2 years and 11 months before The Video)
Michelle sat at the wooden desk inside her bedroom, furiously typing away on her Apple computer.This was not a holiday for her. She had work to do, and lots of it.
So much work, in fact she didn’t visit her parents in Atlanta for Christmas break. Carl flew to New Orleans to see his family, leaving the apartment to Michelle.
“You have mail”, announced the iconic AOL voice from her computer speakers. Michelle sighed and snatched her glasses off her face as she aimed the mouse cursor to the envelope icon and double clicked. A new email from Letitia Sanderson, her friend from Chicago, appeared at the top.
FROM: Letitia Sanderson
SUBJECT: THE ARTIST IS COMING TO NEW YORK CITY!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!
Michelle had been so busy working on her thesis she didn’t even hear the advertisements about the show. The ticket office was closed.
She’d have to wait until tomorrow. She checked the Roseland Ballroom website. There were still tickets, but barely. Just a few left. The concert, which was a charity event for the Artist’s Love 4 One Another foundation, was 10 days away, January 11.
Suddenly Michelle decided to call her parents in Atlanta.
“Hi, mom”, Michelle said softly into the phone.
“Happy New Year, baby”, her mother’s deep sensual voice on the other end said. “Your father and I miss you”.
“I miss you too, Mommy”, Michelle choked back tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t come down”.
“Don’t you dare apologize. We understand; you’re working hard in school. We’re so very proud of you, baby”.
“I love you, mommy”, Michelle said.
“I love you, too”.
Michelle felt sad (and guilty) so she decided to go into Carl’s room and watch his TV to get her mind off her sadness. The Rose Parade was on. She fell asleep watching it.
The phone ringing jolted her awake. She was splayed out on top of Carl’s bed. She reached over to his bedside table and picked up his cordless phone.
“Hello?”
There was a beat, then…
“Sup? Happy New Year”.
It was D’Angelo.
“Uh…hi”, Michelle stuttered, surprised. “Happy new Year”.
“Yeah…I’m calling from Richmond”, D muttered. “Spent Christmas with my family”.
Michelle lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Nice. How’d you know I’d be in New York during the Holidays?”
“I didn’t”, D giggled. Michelle could tell he was high. “How come you ain’t with your family in Atlanta?”
Michelle felt a surge of embarrassment in her belly. She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression of her. She decided to just be honest.
“The thesis and the senior project have taken over my life”, Michelle exhaled. “But the good news is I’m nearly done with both.”
“What are you doing your project on?” D slurred.
"Prince”, Michelle said, yawning. She fiddled with the phone’s antenna. “More specifically, Prince’s musical approach to the subjects of lust and sex and why it caused such an uproar among the Moral Majority during the Reagan administration”.
“Word, that’s dope”, D said.
“My dream is to sit down with Prince and have an in-depth conversation with him”, Michelle said, her voice wistful. “Not an interview…a conversation. Kinda like what we’re having right now”.
D could hear Michelle’s smile through the phone. “Haha”, he muttered. “Interviews make me nervous”, D admitted.
“Is it because you’re very shy?” Michelle offered.
“A lil’ bit”, D said softly.
“Well, that’s okay”, Michelle comforted him. “It’ll get easier the more interviews you do”.
“It never got easier for Prince”, D said.
“You know what? You’re right”, Michelle laughed.
“That’s why he stopped doing them, because he didn’t want the hassle of trying to explain himself over and over again”, D said.
“So true, D”, Michelle said. “And that’s exactly why I want to have a conversation, not an interview. Some…not all…music journalists are completely clueless. They don’t know how to talk to music artists, especially black ones. And there’s always been something about the way journalists interviewed Prince that rubbed me the wrong way”.
“Like what?” D said.
Michelle sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, suddenly energized. “Well like, they’ll ask him a question, and he’ll evade the answer, as he always does, but then he’ll say something else that’s really interesting, and instead of asking him a follow-up question about that, they’ll gloss over it and keep going. That shit drives me crazy”.
D laughed. “Word”.
“It happens all the time and I’m sick of it”, Michelle griped.
D giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Michelle said lightly but incredulously.
“You sound like Billy Jack Bitch” D laughed.
“Oh, now hold on!” Michelle paced the floor. “I am not Cynthia Johnson. (gossip columnist from the Minneapolis Star-Tribune). She has zero respect for Prince! Whereas most other journalists - if you could even call Cynthia Johnson a ‘journalist’ -revere Prince so much that they’re afraid to talk to him”.
D laughed some more, choking on his smoke.
“Anyway”, Michelle laughed along with him, “Guess what I got for Christmas?”
“What?”
“John Coltrane’s ‘A Love Supreme’ on vinyl!” Michelle got up from the bed and walked into the living room, pulling the vinyl album from her shelf.
“Yo, that’s dope!” D said.
“Did you know he played the clarinet in high school?” Michelle beamed.
“Nah, I ain’t know that”, D muttered.
They talked for an hour about music, what they liked, what they didn’t like. Michelle suddenly remembered Prince’s concert announcement.
“By the way, Prince is playing a concert in New York on the 11th”, she said.
“Oh word?” D said. “Where at?”
“Roseland Ballroom. It’s for his Love 4 One Another charity”.
“Cool”, D said. “You going?”
“Is money green?” Michelle smiled.
D laughed. “Yo…can you make me some tapes of those unreleased Prince tracks you got?”
“Ah, yes…the real reason he called”, Michelle thought.
“Of course, I can do that for you”.
“I can send you the tapes and then you can-“
“That’s not necessary, man”, Michelle cut him off. “I can get the tapes myself, it’s cool”, Michelle said.
“Thank you”, D said, blowing smoke.
“Will you be at the Prince show on the 11th?” Michelle asked hesitantly.
There was a beat, and then, “I think so. I have to see what my schedule is”.
Michelle’s stomach sank. She was really hoping she would see him there.
“Ok”, she tried to sound nonchalant. “When are you getting back to New York?”
“In a couple days”, D said.
“I’ll have the tapes ready for you by then”, Michelle said.
“Cool. Yo, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, aight?”
“You got it. Later, gator”, Michelle said.
“Bye”, D laughed. Michelle heard a click as he hung up.
The 11th of January arrived, and Michelle and Carl were in line, tickets in hand, standing outside Roseland Ballroom with a long line of other Prince fans waiting for the doors to open.
“Any sign of him?” Michelle asked, looking around nervously.
Carl pulled his coat around him tighter, shivering in the January cold. “No, girl, D’Angelo ain’t here”.
Michelle had stayed up all night making tapes of bootleg Prince tracks for D’Angelo. The plan was to meet him here then have him come home with her so she could give them to him.
Carl was getting impatient. “When the hell are these doors going to open, dammit?” he yelled towards the security standing guard at the front entrance. “I am freezing my skinny black ass off out here!”
Finally, the line started to move, and the fans filed in. Michelle kept looking for D’Angelo but still saw no sign of him.
Michelle and Carl gathered to the front of the stage.
They waited some more while Prince’s guitar techs set up the instruments and tested the mics. Michelle craned her neck to search for D’Angelo. “Girl you’re gonna break your neck looking for that man” Carl said.
“I don’t think he’s coming”, Michelle frowned. She slumped her shoulders and turned to face the stage. She sadly watched the techs finish getting the stage ready.
The lights went out and the crowd roared. The Artist emerged, in a white puffy coat to the sounds of “Jam of the Year”.
Michelle was very happy to see her favorite singer, but it was bittersweet; in the back of her mind, she wondered where D’Angelo was.
After the show, Michelle and Carl rode the subway home.
“Girl, that show was the BOMB!” Carl shouted.
Michelle stared off into the distance. Carl waved his hand in front of her face.
“Hello! Earth to Michelle!” he said.
“I’m sorry”, Michelle snapped to attention. “I’m just tired”.
“You mean you just miss D’Angelo”, Carl said. “Are you falling for that boy?”
Michelle sat up straight. “What? No!” she protested. “I was supposed to give him something and now I can’t give it to him…no, not that!” she glared at Carl and he cackled with laughter.
“I meant the tapes he wanted me to make”.
“Mmmhmm, a likely story”, Carl drawled.
“Anyway”, Michelle said. “I was looking forward to seeing D”.
“I’ll bet you were”, Carl slapped his knee and hollered with laughter.
“Would you stop it?” Michelle whined.
When they arrived at their apartment, they saw a black sedan parked in front of the building. As they walked past the car, the back door opened.
“Sup?” D climbed out of the backseat.
Michelle froze. Carl did too.
She walked up to D, opening and closing her mouth, with nothing coming out. Finally, “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you meet us at the Prince show?”
“I just got in. My flight arrived late”, D stepped onto the curb, inching closer to Michelle. “Sup, man?” he said to Carl.
“Good to see you again”, Carl nodded politely. “Let’s all get inside before we freeze to death, please”.
It was the middle of the night. Prince’s show didn’t end until 3 in the morning. It was 4 am when Michelle and Carl got home.
“I got your tapes”, Michelle said as they sat on the couch to warm up.
“Cool”, D said.
Michelle hated to have to kick him out, but she had class in the morning. Still, she decided to entertain him. Carl retired to bed.
“Thank you for the tapes”, D said, leaning back on the couch.
“It was my pleasure”, Michelle said. “Wait till you hear the stuff on there. It’s going to blow your mind”.
“Word”, D nodded.
“I’m sorry you missed the show, it was great” Michelle said.
“Yeah? Did he do any of his shit from the 80s or was it only 90s stuff?”
Michelle was quietly shocked at the question but answered it anyway. “It was a mix. He started off with Jam of the Year”.
D grunted.
“He did Purple Rain, of course”.
“Yeah. What else? From the 80s, I mean”.
“If I Was Your Girlfriend”.
“Cool! Cool”, D muttered.
“I love how dark that song is”, Michelle said.
“Word, me too” D said. “I mean, he just talks about how he wants to be close to his girl…as close to his girl as she is with her girlfriends and shit, but it’s the way he said it…”
“Yeah”, Michelle finished his thought. “There’s a pseudo-psychological thing going on there”.
“Yeah”, D beamed.
“It’s almost stalkerish”, Michelle sang, making D laugh.
Michelle began to nod off.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry”, D said. “I should go”.
“I’m sorry”, Michelle yawned. “You caught us at a crazy time”.
“Nah, I understand”, D lazily lifted himself off the couch and put his coat on.
Michelle walked D to his town car, where his dutiful driver was asleep in the backseat. D threw his arms around her and gave her a big hug and a peck on the cheek. She watched his car drive off and went back to her apartment.
The next day in class, the professor received a written note.
“Miss Simmons, you have an important phone call from your home”. She sunk down in her seat from embarrassment as the other students glanced and whispered at her. She ran to the nearest phone booth and called the apartment. Carl answered. “Girl”, he said exasperatedly, “D’Angelo is back. He’s in the lobby”.
“What?” Michelle said.
“He’s been down there for an hour, just sitting”.
“You let him in?”
“Bitch, of course I let him in, I couldn’t let him loiter in front of the building! Can you come home now, please?”
“No, Carl. I have one more class and two seminars to attend. I’m very busy”.
Michelle could hear Carl’s disappointed whiny groan at the other end of the line.
Carl hesitantly took the elevator down to the lobby. He saw D leaning in a corner, wearing baggy jeans and beige Timberlands. His cornrowed head was bobbing up and down to some funky beat on a pair of headphones. Carl nervously walked over to him. He waved a hand in his face to get his attention. D looked up and pulled his headphones off. “Sup?” he clipped.
“Hello”, Carl said, a nervous smile on this face. “Michelle is at school and she won’t be home for a few hours”.
“That’s cool. I can wait” D put his headphones back on.
That wasn’t the answer Carl wanted. He shrugged and went back upstairs.
The next morning, Michelle and Carl went to the supermarket. When they returned home, D was back in the lobby. Carl almost dropped his bags. “Stalk much?” he whispered to Michelle.
Upstairs, D sat on the couch and watched Michelle and Carl put away their groceries.
"Where does this go?" Carl held up a bottle of salad dressing.
"In the fridge" Michelle said.
"Where does this go?" Carl held up a big jar of chocolate covered peanuts.
"That goes directly in my mouth" Michelle laughed.
"Ooh you dirty girl!" Carl shrieked, his index finger on the tip of his tongue.
D smiled at their shenanigans.
Michelle plopped down on the couch next to D.
“Sup?" he said.
“We went grocery shopping this morning”.
“The man isn’t blind, honey, he can see that”, Carl said as he moved items around in the refrigerator to make room for milk.
Michelle shoved the jar of M&Ms in D’s face.
“You want some chocolate covered peanuts?”
Yeah, D giggled.
Michelle leaned into D. “It's my cheat day”, she whispered.
“Self-designated, by the way” Carl announced.
“N***, mind your business”, Michelle threw a pillow at him.
“I’m supposed to be on a diet too”, D muttered.
“It can be so hard, staying away from sweets and carbs”, Michelle popped a handful of candies in her mouth.
“Word”, D drawled.
“So, what brings you here?” Michelle finally asked.
D shrugged. “Nothing”, he muttered again.
Carl gave him a look, a loaf of bread in his hand.
“You got anymore Prince tapes?” D said.
Ah, there it is again, Michelle thought.
“Sure, I have lots more. I’ve been collecting for a couple years now. I have penpals from Europe who send me stuff”, Michelle said.
“Can I see?” D rose from the couch and walked over to Michelle’s CD shelf.
“Go off, fam”, Michelle waved her hand.
D thumbed through the CDs until he pulled one out. It was a bootleg called “Dreams”, and it had unreleased songs from 1983 to 1986. He opened the CD carousel and popped a disc in. A song called “Movie Star” started to play.
“Yoooo!” D yelled. “I’ve never heard Prince like this before”.
“I know right?” Michelle appeared beside him and grabbed the CD case. “I’ll never forget the first time I heard this song, I was blown away”.
“He’s Christopher Tracy in this song”, D said.
“That’s exactly right”, “ said Michelle.
Suddenly D began to laugh. The song was cracking him up. Prince brings a drunk girl home and talking about environmental records. It was all too much.
They talked and laughed about the track as they listened to it.
“Can you make a tape of this?” D said as he popped a couple of M&M’s in his mouth.
“Of course”, Michelle got up and walked to the shelf. There was a brand-new pack of blank cassette tapes still in the plastic. She pulled it off, took a tape out and popped it in the cassette player. Then she restarted the CD and pressed the record button.
“So”, Michelle plopped back down on the couch next to D as the CD played. “When did you become a Prince fan?”
“When I was 7”, D said. “My two older brothers introduced me to his music. ‘Dirty Mind’ had just came out, and it shocked me”.
“At age 7? Did you even realize what you were listening to?” Michelle laughed.
“Well…yeah”, D shrugged.
Michelle leaned into him. “It felt like something naughty, right?” Michelle winked.
D giggled, his smirk revealing a dimple.
“I’ll never forget the first time I heard ‘Do Me, Baby’. I was nine years old. It felt like listening in on two grownups doing it behind a closed bedroom door”, Michelle said. She looked off into the distance. “It was fantastic”.
D hooted with laughter. “You’re funny”, he said, matter-of-factly placing a hand on Michelle’s thigh. “When I was seven, I studied that song intensely. I learned it so well I taught my brothers how to play it”.
Michelle leaned into him, narrowing her eyes. “And where were your parents? Were they in favor of you playing secular songs instead of church songs?”
D’s eyes darted, blinking fast. “They didn’t care”, he shrugged. “What about you? When did you become a fan?” He returned the lean-in, his eyes focused intently on Michelle’s face.
“Soft and Wet” Michelle said proudly. From his very first album, 1978. Although at the time, I thought it was a girl singing”.
D laughed again, louder this time.
“I really did…I thought he was a girl. It wasn’t until the 1999 album that I realized it was the same person”.
“For real?” D was incredulous. “I knew it right off”.
“Your ear is better than mine”, Michelle reached over and pointed at D’s left ear, her mouth full of M & M’s. He smiled, then inched closer to her on the couch.
D’Angelo left with an armful of Prince bootleg tapes. Carl left shortly after, leaving Michelle alone. She was reading in her bedroom when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hello, this is Ahmir Thompson”.
“Uh…” Michelle stuttered.
“I’m sorry to be calling…”
“H-how did you get my number?”
“I apologize…D’s manager gave me your number”.
How nice it is to have my phone number bandied about, thought Michelle.
“I was looking for D, have you seen him?”
“He was just here, actually. But he left”.
“Damn”, Ahmir said with a heavy sigh. “He’s supposed to be here at the studio. We have a recording session today”.
Michelle tilted her head back. “Ooooh” she said. “Well…maybe he’s on his way there”.
“I hope so”, Questlove muttered, the sound of frustrated disappointment obvious in his voice.
“I’m so sorry…hey, it’s nice to meet you, over the phone. I’m a big fan. Illadeph Halflife is a great album”, Michelle said nervously. Ugh, you sound like a loser fangirl, Michelle.
Ahmir thanked Michelle and hung up.
Michelle slowly placed the phone back in its cradle. “That…was weird”, Michelle said to herself. She thought it very peculiar that D’Angelo’s friends and coworkers would call around looking for him.