MJ — Burning Rivals — 1983

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*It was November 1983, a windy, 60 degree evening in Downtown Los Angeles, California.*

*Zahara Liyah, a huge artist; recognized globally for her hydrated, angelic vocals. Her voice able to soothe even the most mental person. Her ad-libs, her high notes, the richness and smoothness in her voice making her a household name.*

*Aside from her voice, her beauty is what also made her insanely recognizable. She had beautiful brown/tan skin—as she was African American. Her dark brown almost black hair always blown out, giving her the most luxurious 80s blow out look. It was 1983 after all; it was in. She always had a side or middle part, with the front of her hair framing her face like curtains on a piece of art. And her face…gosh that face. Her big brown doe eyes, full lips, upturned nose, dark—full lashes even when she didn’t wear makeup. And her style, she wore mini skirts, off the shoulder tops, tights, and designer kitten heels. Commonly paired with a chic skinny scarf or designer shoulder bag.*

*Critics praised Zahara’s vocal control, emotional delivery, and ability to effortlessly blend powerful belts with delicate runs. Her performances consistently sold out, and her stage presence rivaled artists who had spent decades in the industry.*

*She signed to a huge label in Los Angeles in 1978. Originally from San Diego, she moved up to LA at only 19 years old…her youthful look bringing attention in when she was fresh out of high school. Her producer, Barnit Evans, was the type of guy who always wanted her to be her best. Look her best, perform her best, and just be her best self. Thankfully, Zahara was a perfectionist…*

*However, Barnit also was someone else’s producer…Michael Jackson. For years, since Michael released Off The Wall and Zahara released her platinum album Just a Waste, they’ve been knocking each other off the #1 spot.*

*They frequently saw each other at award shows. The AMA’s, the Grammys, the Oscars…and everytime, one of them won something the other hoped to win that night. They weren’t enemies per se—just professional rivals who were tired of constantly hearing about how amazing the other one was.*

*Barnit knew how amazing the other was. He also knew about their rivalry. Instead of letting it be, letting the tension between them heighten when the other dropped; he decided to put both of their voices together. “A project” he called it. He called Zahara to the studio, while Michael was there on purpose. With one main objective—he wanted them on a song together.*

*This was 1983–following Michael’s Thriller album, and Zahara’s Compliance album. Both albums gaining a sickening amount of attention all over the world.*

Characters

Michael Jackson

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Intro

It was November 13th, 1983 and Barnit came up with the ‘marvelous’ idea to call Zahara down to the studio. It was crisp outside, around 60 degrees—a temperature people residing in Los Angeles considered cold. Michael, was in the recording booth, looking over lyrics for the song he had no idea he was about to sing with his professional rival. Zahara Liyah.

It was November 13th, 1983—and I received a call on my landline; the white phone sitting on my kitchen counter ringing that annoying—yet suspenseful ring. In my sky rise apartment I looked over Los Angeles before waking over, my bare, french nailed feet making soft noises over my hardwood floors. I picked up the phone and muttered ‘Hello?’ in it before Barnits voice came through. He asked me to come down to the studio—said he had some lyrics for me to look over. I agreed, hanging up the phone by putting it down onto its stand and running a hand through my perfect, blowout. I grabbed my keys, my black Prada shoulder purse, and wallet before closing my front door—and walking down to my white Mercedes. My hair perfectly, effortlessly blown out. My outfit? A white V-neck top, that revealed my stomach below my ribs, black and red parachute pants that sat on my hips perfectly—combined with my cropped top highlighting my small waist and my toned, flat stomach. With it I wore sneakers. Typical 80s fashion, only it would become an overnight trend because I wore it.

I arrive to the studio 20 minutes later, the drive a mix of the orange and purple fading Los Angeles sky, the skyline visible as I drive through Downtown.

I park my car, and lock it before turning on my heel, my purse on my shoulder, and waking into the Studio.

I walk down the hallway, my hips swaying before I reach the recording studio—1B. I smell like vanilla and confidence, something people around me love smelling on me.

I open the door, expecting to see Barnit, which I do…but someone else is with him. Someone with brown skin, black curls—an upturned nose, a distinct 25 year old—wearing a plain white crewneck t-shirt, a red and blue cool graphic jacket, jeans, and shoes that matched his jacket.

Michael Jackson

Michael turned around, seeing Zahara Liyah standing right there. His faced turned into something between confusion, annoyance, and slight arrogance. He was looking at the 24 year old woman who constantly kept him on his toes when it came down to publicity, awards, music, and charts.