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( CHAPTER FOURTEEN: JAM! ) May, 1992
❝ you got michael jordanup in this bitch!? ❞
◯
Devon didn't know if this was exactly the healthiest way to handle his anger. Normally, he would coop it up, only letting off some steam when he was dancing or doing something physical. It was a terrible habit he acquired ever since he was young, but it was also something that made him feel stable—in control. However, Devon's spiking rage was reaching new heights, and he didn't know how to handle it.
It was no question that Devon Emmet never regretted his actions that involved beating the living daylights out of Janet's new boyfriend. In all honesty, if he hadn't acted upon his violent desires—he simple knew he would've snapped sooner or later. However, Janet didn't see his side of things.
In fact, even when Devon tried to contact her and muster up a half-hearted apology, she never returned his calls. She was ignoring him, and it made him frustrated. So, when it came time for Devon to travel to Chicago to shoot Michael's new video, he transferred all his anger into his work. The great urban environment of Chicago and the creative surge he got from working with Michael admittedly made Devon feel better.
Devon felt comfortable around Michael. He felt confident knowing that the curly-haired entertainer was not only an incredible force rhythmically, but a hard worker through and through. For a moment, he could forget about his big 'fuck up' and focus on the thing that kept him breathing day in and day out, his passion for dance.
When Devon arrived on the location for Michael Jackson's next short film—Jam—he simply knew that he was in his element. The filming spot was at an abandoned basketball court in the pits of Chicago, and as expected, Michael brought in star-studded guests to make appearances in his highly anticipated short film.
"Mornin' everyone," Devon said, his voice soft despite the heavy frown that sat on his face. The young dancer strolled into the rusted, indoor court, the cloudy weather outside causing for his thick, grey sweater and white sneakers to be drizzled with raindrops. As Devon cuddled his hoodie close to his head and approached the budding film crew, he examined the bright, white strobe lights and several cameras that were plastered around every angle of the warehouse.
"Devon!" A merry voice made the young man whip around, a streak of joy entering his veins once he saw Michael skipping towards him. He was dressed in an orange over shirt with black pants, and bits of his curls dangled in front of his large, innocent eyes. "Hey Mike," Devon said, offering the entertainer a weak smile, "Good to see you again."
Michael smiled, instantly approaching the fellow dancer and confidently giving him a firm hug. It caught Devon by surprise, but then again he couldn't help but let his lips quirk upwards as he hugged the slender singer back. "I heard the record and I already have some ideas I wanna tell you," Devon gruffly said, jumping to the point despite the warm moment they shared.
