.5

The following is a fictional parody, not approved of, nor authorized by, the celebrities named.

None of the events are true.

This fictitious parody is protected speech under Hustler Magazine, Inc., et. al. v. Jerry Falwell.

No harm is intended toward the celebrities named.

Furthermore, publication of any and all trademarks contained herein are not authorized by, associated with, nor sponsored by the trademark owners.

~~~

The Makeup Artist

by Stephanie Rose

(A sexy makeup artist loves her celebrity clients.)

~~~

Chapter 8.5: Beyoncé Knowles apologizes to Janet Jackson.

~~~

"All right everyone! Ms. Jackson doesn't have all day! Lunch time's over, so let's get back to rehearsal!"

Facing the mirrored wall in the spacious dance studio, Danté Zane watched as twelve scantily-clad dancers slowly lined up behind him.

Noticing their sluggish pace, he clapped his hands soundly. "Come on, people! Let's go, let's go! Chop, chop!"

Danté watched as the dancers perked up only slightly as they began to stretch their lithe and toned limbs. He even noticed a few of them yawning.

Then he looked around the spacious practice room and noticed Janet's other team members working diligently on the sidelines.

He noticed Krystal Pennington, Janet's lead makeup artist, sketching various looks on a large sheet of paper while talking with Melinda Paul and Ramón Luiz, Janet's hairstylists. Also, Janet's wardrobe coordinator, Sophia Duvalier, was busy consulting with the sewers and the tailors about Janet's new costumes. He even noticed the small group of musicians in the very back of the room quietly reviewing their sheet music.

Danté quickly realized that out of all of the people in the room, his dancers were the working the least.

Irritated, he turned around and faced Janet's dance team. "All right everyone," he began sharply, "I already showed you the first part of the routine before we broke for lunch. Now while Janet finishes up her meeting in the office upstairs, let me show you the second part, okay?"

"Sure, Danté," a light, feminine voice called out. Janet's dance team captain, Caprice Bristow, a fit, dark-chocolate colored beauty with long, black hair pulled into a low ponytail, then turned to the rest of the group. "Let's get it together, y'all," she said. "Come on now, let's go."

"Thanks, Caprice." He looked around. "Okay. Let's get in position."

The rest of the dancers nodded listlessly and moved into a V-formation. As a further distraction, the bright, sizzling-hot Atlanta sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making them that much more lazy and lethargic.

Danté spun around, scowling. "Alright, y'all. I know we've been at this since seven this morning. And it's now," he glanced at the clock, "it's now almost one. But we still have a lot more routines to cover. And as the lead choreographer, Janet's looking for me to make sure y'all are on point. So let's get it together, please?"

Just then, a light voice rang out. "Danté? Let me talk to them for a moment, okay?"

Everyone turned to see the slim, Grammy award-winning, caramel-colored goddess standing in the doorway.

"Of course, Janet," Danté said, stepping back graciously. "The floor is yours." He turned to the dancers. "Everybody, listen up!"

Dressed in a navy-blue sweatshirt cut just below her firm, rounded breasts, Janet's taut midsection was on full display. Her delicious honeyed-caramel skin looked absolutely soft and silky. Her long, dark hair was pulled up into a girlishly-cute top ponytail, but the gorgeous beauty before them was all woman.

Though she wore minimal makeup, her sparkling eyes and bright smile were all the enhancements she needed. She'd added a light coat of mascara and a light gloss on her lips, but her natural beauty could have easily allowed her to go barefaced and have the exact same exotic allure.

Her gray sweatpants were loose and baggy, but they couldn't hide her sturdy back, which gently swayed into her tight, rounded tush. As she moved, everyone in the room paused to admire her graceful, fluid gait.

"Hey everybody," she said softly as she walked to the center of the room.

"Hey," they whispered in unison, visibly star-struck.

"I know y'all are tired," she said. "But I need to make sure this choreography is tight for the tour. So bear with me, okay?"

Everyone nodded, visibly perked up with excitement of seeing their favorite musical icon, even though it'd only been an hour since they'd seen her last.

"Ok," Janet smiled as she took her place in front of the mirror, right next to Danté. "Let's start back with the old school medley, where we left off before lunch. The first part of, 'What Have You Done For Me Lately,' okay?"

Danté nodded and motioned to the young woman standing across the room at the CD player. The assistant cued up the music, and in an instant, the hard drums began, followed by the slick keyboard.

Danté raised his hand. "One, two...one, two, three, hit it!"

On cue, they launched into the routine. Bodies gyrating, they glided across the floor in intricate formations, rolling in time with the pounding beats. Their fit, trim and incredibly sexy bodies, now glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, pumped and rocked all over the floor.

Janet lost herself in the rhythm, her body following the intricate choreography, but still giving her own personal flair to the moves. Her dark hair whipped around her face, but she was too in tune with the music to notice.

She rolled her hips and waist, grinding her body into the space she occupied. Her lithe and toned arms and legs followed suit, making her entire body a sensuous, sensual entity whose sole purpose was to entice and coax the audience into an erotic frenzy.

All of the other people in the room were struck silent with the erotic display. And while all of the dancers kept up with Janet's seductive moves, the entire room couldn't help but be focused only on her. All they could see was her pretty face, now fixed with a steely resolve, her skin, now gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, her rolling hips and her tight ass and thighs.

Then all of the dancers split into pairs and their bodies began to twist and wind around each other. Sweat began to drop from their lithe bodies as they snaked around each other, creating a steamy-hot, sensuous rhythm.

All of a sudden, they began a series of sharp, precise moves. The dancers struggled to keep up with Janet's brusque, military-style. Dancing for several minutes, the group finally reached the bridge of the song.

Danté held up his hand. "Now, right here, Jan, on this beat, I want to add in a new move: a hip roll. Like this."

He rolled his midsection in luscious, tight circles for four beats, then extended his leg to the side and dropped down; continuing the seductive rolls low, almost down to the floor.

"Try that," he said, standing upright and wiping the sweat from his brow.

With intricate precision, she duplicated his movements, rolling her hips seductively, then extended her leg and dropped her body, rolling her hips.

"Yeah, Jan," he said. "Just like that. Looking good!"

She stood up, a curious look on her face.

"Okay, everybody!" Danté called out. "The rest of y'all try that hip roll too. One, two...one, two, three, hit it!"

On cue, the dancers imitated Danté's move, gyrating their hips to the beat of the music.

"Wait! Stop, stop!" Janet shouted, her irritation rising quickly. "That hip roll looks familiar."

A blush creeped up Danté's pecan-brown face. "Um..."

She snapped her fingers. "Oh my God! That's Beyoncé's hip roll! From the Single Ladies video!" Janet's caramel skin turned bright crimson. "Why in the hell would I want to do her move?" she exploded.

"You like her stuff," he said, incredulous. "You were just telling me last week how much you loved that video."

She shook her head. "Not since all that shit she was talking about me, I don't!"

Danté frowned at her outburst. "Jan, I don't understand."

"Yeah, Jan," Krystal interjected. "Remember when I told you about my friend Nikii Clarke? She was Beyoncé's makeup artist for her Madison Square Garden concert? She said Bey was fantastic to work for. A real doll."

Janet spun around and glared hard at Krystal. At the steely glare, Krystal immediately stopped talking and began to fiddle with her sketchpad.

Regaining control, Janet took a deep breath. "About Beyoncé. Well, there was this interview she did. An interview she just did. And I don't know how my name even came up, but she took it upon herself to infer that her family was better than mine. That she grew up middle class and we didn't. That her parents raised her better than my parents did us. I mean, can you believe that shit?"

"Janet –"

"And on top of that," she continued, her eyes blazing, "Miss Queen Bey's been calling me every day since the article came out. I guess she's trying to apologize." Janet rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm not taking any of her calls."

"Janet –"

She grew more agitated. "I mean, first of all, you shouldn't say shit like that anyway. I didn't do anything to her! But if you are going to talk shit about someone, at least be woman enough to stand by what you say. Don't come crawling on your hands and knees after the fact."

"I had no idea."

"Look, Danté," she said, angrily pacing the floor. "Forget all that other shit. The bottom line is that I pay you good money to come up with original moves. I don't pay you to steal routines from other people!"

"Again, I'm sorry, Jan. Really."

A pained expression crossed her face. "But Danté, how could you?"

"I thought it'd be an homage to one of your favorite artists," he said, a weak smile on his face.

She walked right up to him until there was just a scant inch of space between their bodies. She put her finger in his face. "Look. Until she apologizes for all that trash she was talking about me and my family, I don't want to hear a thing about her! Understand?"

He nodded. "Yes, Janet. Sure." He put his hand on her shoulder. "And again, I'm sorry."

She nodded absently, then turned to the group. "And that goes for the rest of you," she called out. "No more Beyoncé. In fact, I don't even want to hear her name. Understand?"

The dancers, frozen in place and tension registered all over their bodies, just nodded.

"Alright," she snapped. "Let's get back to work." She pointed to the girl in the corner. "Cue the music!"

The music started again and they launched back into the spirited dance routine.

As they danced, a young, thin woman, Ivy Parker, suddenly appeared in the doorway. She held up a cherry-red BlackBerry phone. "Excuse me, Ms. Jackson?"

Janet continued dancing, oblivious to the voice.

"Excuse me? Ms. Jackson?" Ivy said more loudly, still waving the phone.

Janet's head whipped around. "Yes?" she called out over the music.

"You have a phone call."

"From?"

"Beyoncé Knowles."

As if on cue, the music stopped and everyone stared at Janet.

Her anger rose again. Her eyes closed into slits and her cheeks turned bright red. "Her again? Well, tell her, yet again," she spat, "that I'm not interested in talking. Then just hang up on her!"

Ivy blanched. Then she quickly recovered, put the phone back up to her ear and left the room.

Janet sighed. Then she pointed to Danté. "Let's get back to work people, okay?"

~~~

Audra Cunningham set the phone down on the receiver and looked up at the slim, but curvy woman standing over her. "I'm sorry, Bey. She still won't take your call."

Beyoncé tossed her sandy-brown hair back over her shoulder and sighed. "This is harder than I thought."

She looked out of the hotel window and stared at the rainy London skyline. The gray, grim colors matched her mood.

Audra looked at her. "Why is this so important, Bey? I mean, you keep trying to call her to apologize about the magazine article. And she keeps rejecting your calls. Maybe we should just give up? I mean, why even bother anymore?"

Beyoncé shook her head. "I have to keep trying."

Audra looked at her boss. She was used to seeing Beyoncé focused, but now, this was a woman on a mission. As one of Beyoncé's many personal assistants, she knew how tightly scheduled her rehearsals, interviews, photo shoots and performances were. However, Beyoncé's number-one focus this day, and for several days now, was getting in contact with Janet Jackson.

"This is really important to me, Audra. So I need you to keep trying to reach her."

Audra nodded, realizing that she had an important job to do, but today, as she was most days, she was constantly distracted by Beyoncé's natural beauty.

The soft-spoken, yet insanely famous entertainer wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, but the end effect was stunning.

First, Beyoncé's long hair had been styled with soft, gentle waves. With a gentle lift at her crown, the lengthy tresses skimmed down past her shoulders and tumbled down her back.

Her makeup was just as simple and just as dramatic. She wore soft rose shades on her eyes, complete with dark eyeliner to give her eyes a smoky look. Her cheeks had been given a soft rosy tone, and her lips featured a stunning coral gloss. All of the elements combined together to give her face an undeniable beauty.

She wore a modest, light-gray T-shirt that pressed tightly against her rounded breasts. The thin material did little to hide the thick nipples that lie beneath. Her light-colored jeans were extra tight, showing off her beautifully curvy hips and thighs. Though she was a small woman, her body was well-rounded, ripe and ready to devour.

Audra shook her head, trying desperately to refocus on the job at hand. She decided to delicately try to prolong their conversation. "I don't mean to pry," she asked, "but why is this so important?"

Beyoncé sighed. "Remember Inauguration Night? When I sang for President Obama and First Lady Michelle? As I stood there, I realized that things really do have to change, and change for the better. Especially in the entertainment industry."

She grew more animated, using her hands to make her point. "I mean, there aren't too many of us black female artists. So we need to stick together. We've got to stick together. Which means that we can't let words get between us. Which means that I have to explain to her what I meant. And tell her that I didn't mean any harm."

Beyoncé continued to stare out the window, deep in thought. Then she snapped her fingers. "Okay, Audra. Time for another approach."

Audra picked up her pad and pencil "What do you need?"

Beyoncé put her hand on her lusciously curved hip, and stroked her chin. "I need you to do a complete profile on Janet. Her favorite foods, her favorite flowers, her favorite colors, the works. And do it quickly. I need to put this plan in motion tonight."

"Pretty sneaky, boss," Audra laughed. "But what exactly do you plan to do?"

Beyoncé laughed, tossing her long, sandy-brown hair behind her. "I'm going to get my point across, that's what!"

~~~

Later that evening, Janet lounged in the back of her jet-black luxury SUV. Exhausted from the vigorous rehearsal, she leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes and tried to relax.

However, her anger began to rise at Dante's betrayal. "I can't believe he did that to me," she said, gritting her teeth.

But she couldn't help but admire Beyoncé, the 'Golden Goddess,' as she called her. As pissed as she was, Janet was always amazed at the girl's rise to stardom.

"Though I was much younger than her when I got started, I remember being that age," she said, thinking about when she first saw the first Destiny's Child video years ago. "They looked so damned young!"

Janet stared out the window at the Atlanta night skyline rushing by. "Beyoncé's what, in her mid-twenties now?" she chuckled. "Hell, she's had a lifetime career already. Just like I did. Shit, I remember touring before I even knew what 'touring' was."

She began to grow angry again at Dante's betrayal. However, she thought about the rounded breasts and thick thighs she'd seen in Beyoncé's latest video. "That girl's body is nice, though" Janet smiled.

Just then, a male voice rang out from the front of the car. "We're here."

She looked out the side window and was surprised they'd made it home so quickly. He pulled up the driveway and right to the front door. He quickly jumped out, ran around, opened her door, and helped her out.

"Thanks," she said yawning. As the young man grabbed her bags, Janet walked inside. Drowsy, she passed through her spacious foyer, heading to her bedroom. She passed by a bouquet of white roses, then a vase filled with pink tulips, then a collection of deep purple orchids. Suddenly, she looked around and gasped in surprise.

Her vast foyer, normally empty, had been filled to the ceiling with a, enormous selection of exquisite floral arrangements. To the left, sat huge bouquets of pink, white and yellow roses. To the right, numerous vases of brightly-colored tulips lined the room. Janet also admired the calla lilies, snapdragons, hydrangea, peonies and gardenia that filled the room.

"Luisa?" Janet called out. "Luisa what is all of this?"

A slim, pretty Cuban woman hurried into the room. "Que, Ms. Jackson?

Janet pointed around the room. "What's all of this?"

"Sí. It's a delivery."

"From who?"

"There's a card right there," Luisa said, pointing to the largest bouquet. "But I didn't look at it," she said in her clipped Cuban accent.

Janet smiled, her high cheekbones making her face simply adorable, as she plucked the card out of the bouquet. She read it slowly, then she blanched. She repeated the neatly printed words out loud:

"I really think we should talk. Bey."

Janet blinked. Then, in an instant, she waved her hands toward the grand display of affection.

"Luisa? Get all of this out of here! Right this instant!"

~~~

Seated at the desk in the lavish hotel room, Audra looked up from her laptop. "Bey? I just checked the florist's website. I see that the flowers and candy were delivered, but I haven't heard anything from Janet or any of her reps."

Still in London, Beyoncé lay on the chaise lounge flipping through a thick copy of her latest movie script. "Call her again, please."

She waited as Audra tried to place the call to Janet's assistant. Again, she was shot down cold.

Audra sighed as she snapped her cell phone shut. "Ok, Bey. What now?"

Beyoncé sat, eyes closed for several long moments. Then suddenly, she opened her eyes. "Okay, Audra. Time for Plan B."

~~~

The next morning, Janet sat in her breakfast nook, hunched over her laptop, sipping on a hot cup of herbal tea. Her muscles were sore from the previous day's rehearsal, but there was still more work to do, so she relaxed as much as she could.

She lifted her head when she heard her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi Janet. It's me, Ivy. How's it going?"

Janet smiled. "Good, Ivy. What's up?"

"Well," the young woman said coyly, "I just got a call from your attorneys. They just got off the phone with the legal team over at the Style Network." She paused dramatically. "It looks like they've come to an agreement about your new TV show!"

Janet perked up. "Great!"

The Style Network had begun a new department that specifically handled celebrity reality shows. They'd recently offered Kimora Lee Simmons a lucrative deal, which proved to be a smart business move. Kimora's reality show, now in its third season, regularly attracted new viewers and, even better, new advertising dollars. This deal made Kimora more money than any of them had originally hoped.

However, Janet's new deal was worth several times that. The hook was that this show would take the viewers backstage on Janet's new concert tour, giving the audience all of the behind-the-scenes action. It was unlike any show of its kind, and with Janet's popularity and veteran concert experiences, the new six-part special, Janet Jackson: Behind the Veil, promised to bring in millions of advertising dollars to the network and to Janet herself.