[Chapter 21: Madonna's High Notes]
What caused the commotion? It all started in the dressing room.
Orlando suddenly blurted out, "Watching you dance just now suddenly gave me inspiration, and I wrote a song."
"No way!" the pop queen exclaimed in surprise.
"Give me some paper and a pen, let me jot it down."
"Did you hear that?!" Madonna shouted loudly. "Quick, bring paper and pen for our genius!"
Madonna's manager Max, Orlando's manager Frank, and some Warner staff happened to be around. Everyone quickly gathered around.
Seizing the moment, Orlando wrote down the song he just obtained -- Poker Face.
His reasoning was simple. First, the song wasn't suited for him to sing -- it was a dance track, and he definitely couldn't dance. Plus, the original was sung by a woman; the lyrics and melody fit a female voice better. Second, the only female singer he was familiar with at the moment was Madonna.
Orlando also felt that besides Lady Gaga, who would later define this style, Madonna at her age would suit it perfectly. Lastly, instead of waiting for his own label to sign a female singer later, he thought it better to sell the song to Madonna right now. Having her perform it would make the song even bigger -- and he'd make more money too.
"Wow, I've never seen anyone write a song this fast -- you really are a genius! The song feels so complete, like you already had the entire arrangement in your head!" Frank exclaimed.
Of course, that was a given.
"Oh my god! You wrote this song tailored specifically for me?!" Madonna gasped while reading the lyrics, covering her mouth, her eyes practically sparkling.
The song was a fiery dance number, perfectly matching Madonna's style. For a time, Lady Gaga, who was yet to rise, was seen as the natural heir to Madonna's throne. Naturally, the younger Madonna liked it.
Once Orlando finished writing, one of Madonna's professional staff quickly demoed the melody on the instruments inside the dressing room.
---
"Ah! I want to postpone my tour! This song can land me a Grammy, even the Song of the Year. I want to record it first!"
Orlando felt like he was trapped in his own web. If this song really won the Grammy for Song of the Year, wouldn't that mean that his Old Town Road would lose?
Forget it. He already gave her the song.
Madonna was so excited she threw her arms around Orlando. "Name your price! I'll take it no matter what, and if you want me now -- I'm yours!"
Whoa...
Orlando let out a sharp breath. The woman had just finished rehearsal, had only taken a shower, and changed into loose clothes -- definitely nothing underneath. Holding him so tightly like that, pressed against him, with that softness...
'No way, I've got to stick to the money,' Orlando thought, resisting the temptation. "I can sell it to you, but there are conditions..."
"Sure, sure. You name them all. How about we find a room to discuss it? Let the others handle the contract?"
"Let's talk now."
"Fine, fine. You're really disappointing me, my little boyfriend. Didn't you..."
Even with everyone watching, she reached out to his belt.
Orlando quickly pushed her away.
She just giggled, "Just kidding, haha!"
Orlando almost lost his cool.
---
What followed was, of course, the business negotiation.
With a superstar like Madonna, many people would have gladly given her their songs for free, just to gain fame in the industry. The long-term revenue far outweighed the value of any single song.
But Frank wasn't a rookie. Orlando might've been a newcomer, but his buzz and record sales were no joke. Everyone present also saw his incredible songwriting talent firsthand.
According to Orlando, the song was just a flash of inspiration from watching Madonna rehearse.
"I envy you geniuses," Frank remarked. "Jackson's the same way -- he'd get an idea even from a bird flying overhead and pen a song in an instant."
In the end, they signed a contract splitting all revenue 50-50. If Poker Face made it into an album, Orlando would also get 10% of album sales.
Such generous terms made Frank smile ear to ear, "Ms. Ciccone, you are incredibly generous!"
Orlando wasn't too familiar with the business side, but if even Frank was saying that, Madonna truly was generous.
Soon, Frank and Max stepped out to finalize the contract.
---
Left alone in the dressing room, without Orlando even saying a word, Madonna didn't even lock the door -- she jumped onto him, wrapping her strong, sculpted legs tightly around his waist like clamps.
"Boy, you're done for. I only meant to try you out, but now I absolutely have to have you!"
As she said this, one hand held Orlando's neck while the other started undoing his belt.
"Don't do this, Ms. Ciccone, please don't..."
"Hey, sweetheart, don't worry. I'll be gentle, hahaha--"
Seeing he was playing hard to get, Madonna only got more worked up.
"And if you dare say no again!" Her eyes gleamed with mischief like a wild female wolf in heat. "I'll cancel the contract immediately, our whole collaboration's off! And I'll sue you for harassment! You might think we'd both lose out that way, but you're wrong. My public image can handle this. You, my baby? Not so much!"
Holy crap!
Orlando immediately regretted it. He "felt" what she was thinking -- no surprise, since she'd been divorced almost a year, had her physical needs, her envy of Daisy, plus today's excitement. That was why she was like this.
He could only respond softly, holding her firmly with both hands. "Since it's come to this, then I've got no choice..."
"Oh, sweetheart, that's it, that's it... mm..."
---
A while later.
With just over an hour to go before the SXSW Music Festival kickoff, Frank and Max, along with Warner's publicity manager Jason, gathered outside the dressing room, guarded by two black-suited bodyguards.
Frank was smoking nervously.
The managers looked at the closed door anxiously. "They still have over three hours before performing, but if they don't come out soon... won't it be a problem? Not just stamina -- we might run out of time for hair and makeup."
"But I checked half an hour ago, and I could hear sounds from inside," Max said.
"Should we send someone to call them? Wouldn't it be better for them to have fun at the hotel after the show?"
Jason suggested.
The three of them exchanged glances--
Over an hour ago, they had finalized the Poker Face contract details and returned here intending to inform the two main stars.
But at the door stood Madonna's two black-clad bodyguards.
One of Madonna's female assistants warned them not to enter. Because--
Ms. Ciccone and Mr. Keller were busy inside.
Busy with what?
A mature, stunning 32-year-old divorced woman.
An 18-year-old powerhouse young man.
What could they be busy with?
Frank asked in surprise.
Turns out, they had been "busy" inside for nearly an hour.
Half an hour earlier, Madonna's personal assistant had gone in to check.
Hearing Madonna's loud moans, the assistant hurried out and called the bodyguards to guard the door.
When Frank and the others came an hour ago, they could already hear Ms. Ciccone's piercing shrieks even through the soundproof door.
Frank thought to himself--
Never expected that Madonna, with her just-okay singing skills, could belt notes that high!
*****
https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.
https://discord.gg/eKByGBSw.