𝗧𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸

𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗿 | 𝗔 𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚  between a snare and a walloping bass introduced the excited pitch of Michael's voice before he proceeded with a buoyant string of catcalls that were echoed in harmony by the chorus. It was Mallorie's first time hearing any bit of the Bad album, but perhaps the seventh time in a row she'd heard the song in particular, and it still made her smile. She had inadvertently abandoned her responsibility of creating a calendar for Michael's touring schedule in favor of watching him work and converse with his makeup artist between takes.

"Will you stop?" Karen huffed at Michael, dramatically dropping her hand to her side. "We get it. You can sing. I can't get rid of your shiny chin if you keep moving your lips."

Michael's eye contact with Karen turned into a glare, and he slammed his palms on the wooden armrests of his chair as he started belting his lyrics with even more vigor. "I never felt so in love before! Just promise baby, you'll love me fore—"

The melody was promptly cut off by Karen shoving her palm against Michael's mouth, causing both the singer to struggle against her and the chair, and the small audience of cast and crew around the video shoot to erupt in laughter. Mallorie was part of that group, thoroughly entertained by the entire exchange. When the director called for places, the small crowd dispersed and Michael managed to push her hand away in the midst of his own spell of laughter.

"How are we on makeup? Let's keep it moving, Kerrie! Ten minutes 'til rolling," the director's voice shouted from his position on the set.

Everyone that put the video together thus far had done such a wonderful job. It was puzzling to think they transformed a random street corner and its alleys in Skid Row into fully functional music video backdrops. In between takes, bodies were constantly bustling around the area and in and out the trailer tents to perfect every detail ranging from wardrobe to what camera lens was needed. Mallorie was the exception. She had never been on the set of anything that required filming, and certainly not for something as grand as Michael Jackson's music video. Before this morning, she didn't have any intention of showing up. However, Michael called her and insisted that she be there, stating that he wanted her to become more acquainted with his work life, and she agreed with her growing study guide for her exam wailing in protest.

"Hear that, Turkle? You better dab faster than that," Michael teased his makeup artist with a mischievous smile.

Not breaking her pattern of taps of powdered foam against his cheeks, Karen turned to face her. "You see what I have to deal with? He's the biggest diva on the planet, I swear. Madonna has nothing on him."

"You're the one movin' slow! Joe's gonna snap."

Mallorie giggled, taking note of Michael's uncharacteristically sassy eyeroll. "I'm sorry, Karen. I sent the prescription request for the steroids the day of the appointment. I don't know what's taking so long." She felt at least partially responsible for how long Michael's makeup had taken. His vitiligo had consumed his face in a matter of weeks and left it much lighter than his neck and hands, both of which were heavily visible in the video. In display of the skill that had likely gotten her hired in the first place, Karen's makeup abilities were a majority successful in mimicking the vaguely tan color that was left of his pigment.

She flapped her hand at Mallorie dismissively before dabbing some more powder onto Michael's nose. "It's not your fault, honey. The boy dances his ass off and breaks a sweat doing it. We all have to freeze to death or I have to do this between takes. And since we're outside and it's summer..."

Michael's groomed brows pulled low over his eyes in offense. "You say that like I'm the only one that sweats. I went to your house one time and you had swimming pools under your arms. Smelled like onions, too."