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, an unknown opener is thrown onto the lineup last minute. Nobody expects much. Not the crew. Not the audience. Not even her. She shows up late to soundcheck wearing a mini fur skirt, smeared eyeliner, gold hoops, and the kind of confidence that looks almost reckless. She just laughs in their faces. Then she walks onto the stage like she owns it.