[Chapter 41: The Plan of the Black Community]
In the glaring spotlight, surrounded by countless eyes watching closely, Orlando wore an innocent expression and spread his hands wide. He even raised the right hand he had just grabbed from Evan Dando high in the air.
Under the bright lights, his right hand looked fair and clean. Forget about the rings and bands that people in the music industry loved to wear -- there wasn't even a watch on it.
Tonight, he was wearing short sleeves.
"What's wrong with him?" Orlando looked toward Michael Jackson and Evan Dando's parents and spoke with a genuinely innocent tone. "Maybe he took too much tonight and is having hallucinations? I heard there's something in medicine called phantom limb pain -- that's when nothing is actually wrong, but you still feel pain somewhere on your body."
At first, when Evan Dando had grabbed Orlando's hand, it looked like he'd been shocked or stabbed by something -- he screamed as if in agony.
People suspected Orlando might have hidden something in his hand, that while appearing to make peace with Evan, he was secretly plotting some scheme to injure him.
But now, with so many eyes watching, Orlando's hands were undeniably clean. Absolutely nothing on them.
So, it was impossible that Orlando had used something to stab or hurt Evan.
Unless Orlando had squeezed or pressed hard enough to hurt him.
But Orlando wasn't Superman or the Hulk, and their contact was brief.
Evan was an adult -- no matter how hard Orlando had squeezed, it couldn't hurt that much or cause such a scream.
He wasn't a toddler!
So when Orlando suggested Evan must have taken too much and that's why he acted like that, most people subconsciously agreed with him.
Some of those who shared drug habits even thought about asking Evan if he had tried some new stuff.
If it was new, they'd better avoid it themselves to not embarrass themselves like Evan did right now, in front of so many people.
"Evan, are you okay?" Orlando reached out his hand again toward Evan, who was still on the floor.
Having just been shocked once, Evan dared not reach out.
He looked at Orlando's hand like he'd seen the devil, shuddered, and howled as he pulled away.
Only Jeffrey and Susan Dando couldn't stand it.
Along with Michael's bodyguards, they helped get Evan out of the party.
Only then did the farce finally end.
---
"I'm sorry, Orlando."
About ten minutes later, in a corner of the party, Michael Jackson faced Orlando with an apologetic look.
"I know that guy was a racist pig. But you understand, I can't really say much about it until after tomorrow."
After Frank and the staff had fully informed him of what happened, Michael came privately to calm Will Smith and Orlando.
As the King of Pop, he had to do this.
Because what just happened wasn't likely to hit the media tomorrow or any time soon. But there were just too many people here.
It was impossible to cover it up forever. Sooner or later, this would leak out -- and as a Black man and the party organizer, MJ wouldn't have it easy.
So Michael needed to calm Will Smith in advance, indirectly soothing the Black community.
Orlando, currently the hottest young rookie, was Warner Records' most prized rising star and Madonna's rumored boyfriend.
Michael also knew that Orlando had backing from higher-ups, so he needed to reassure them as well.
Facing the King of Pop's humility, Will Smith glanced at Orlando and said nonchalantly, "I know your predicament, MJ, but that guy really crossed the line. You know Orlando's one of us, and in that situation, he couldn't throw a punch -- if he had, who knows how it would've been reported. But I'm past my prime; I don't care anymore!"
"Well done, boy! Now I'm starting to respect you."
A deep voice with a clear Black accent suddenly sounded from behind.
It was MJ's close friend, the heavyweight in the Black music world, legendary producer Quincy Jones.
He praised Will Smith, "We should hit those racists hard! Let them know our fists hurt just as bad!"
He shared a high-five with Will, who couldn't have been happier.
This was Quincy Jones -- the African American who held senior positions at major record companies since the 1960s.
An Oscar and Grammy winner with countless nominations.
"But MJ is right, and now's just not the time to blow things up," Quincy spoke quietly, turning to Orlando. "Hope you understand, boy, tomorrow's important."
Honestly, if it weren't for his telepathy, Orlando would've thought the charity show tomorrow was just MJ's way of celebrating the completion of his dream estate with a big party and a TV special.
Now, through telepathy with Michael and Quincy, he had learned a secret among Black celebrities.
Though officially MJ was tomorrow's organizer, behind the scenes, all the major Black stars in America's entertainment industry were pitching in.
And the reason they were doing this was their investment in former California Governor Jerry Brown.
The Black community wanted to invest early in him because he was preparing to run for the presidential election two years from now.
MJ, being the most popular young Black star, was the frontman for this movement.
That's why Jerry Brown would be delivering a speech there, and the TV special would be broadcast live nationwide.
"I understand completely, and it really was just a misunderstanding."
Orlando smiled, then suddenly said, "But Will, I think you made a mistake earlier with one of your statements."
"What? Which one?" Will was taken aback -- he had said quite a bit.
"Bro, when you said you were past your prime, I disagree strongly."
"Hmm? Thanks, man."
Will forced a smile. "But I really feel a little dimmed right now, or I wouldn't bother coming to LA to try acting. But I believe just like you said, I can still make it big!"
"Definitely, you will be a star. The first time I saw you, I thought so."
"Thanks, bro..."
"No need to thank me. I'm not just saying that. I don't like just talking -- I get things done."
Orlando turned to MJ. "Michael, can someone bring me a pen and paper?"
"What?" Michael was surprised. "What do you need pen and paper for?"
"I've got it here!"
Frank, who had been standing nearby quietly because the topic of racial discrimination made him less inclined to speak, immediately said.
His manager skillfully pulled out a small notepad and pen from his pocket.
Seeing everyone's surprised looks, Frank smiled, "This is for Orlando. Whenever inspiration strikes, he writes complete songs right away. So I always carry pen and paper with me when he's around!"
"Oh, that makes sense."
Michael and Quincy both nodded.
Wait a minute!
Doesn't this mean--
Everyone looked at Orlando as he took the pen and paper from Frank.
Could it be that Orlando had another burst of inspiration?!
*****
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