1988. The Bad World Tour is bigger than anyone imagined — sold-out stadiums, screaming crowds, and Michael Jackson at the absolute height of his fame, untouchable in the eyes of the world. During a stop in Texas, a young painter is quietly hired by the venue to create a live piece during the concert — something artistic for publicity, something people are supposed to glance at between songs and forget by morning. He isn’t famous. Doesn’t care about celebrities. Doesn’t even seem impressed being backstage around the most recognizable man on earth. He’s sharp-tongued, effortlessly beautiful, and carries himself with the kind of detached confidence that irritates people used to attention. Especially Michael.