The singer was WAY behind schedule. He'd ignored half a dozen entreaties from Fast Eddie, his personal assistant, to get dressed and go down to the waiting limousine. After Eddie escalated his requests from mere entreaties to threats of bodily harm, the singer got the idea that Eddie was serious. He hurriedly donned the garish outfit he planned to wear at the NBC studios for his "Tonight Show" interview.
Surrounded by the usual entourage, Fast Eddie and his boss proceeded to the hotel elevator. Just as Eddie reached out to press the elevator call button, the overhead lights went out. The emergency lights which lined the corridor immediately turned on, which allowed Eddie to see his Rolex. It was 4:55 p.m. Leno would start taping at 5:30, whether his guest was there or not.
"Stairs are this way, Boss," gestured Eddie. "We don't have time to waste!"
Eddie's employer was a big man, but, as his audiences knew, he could move surprisingly quickly when he wanted to. As Eddie broke into a jog for the door which led to the stairwell, the singer did the same...then passed Eddie.
"Come on," the singer yelled to Eddie and the others. "We're going to be late! Anyone who ain't down at the limo when I get into it, they get left behind!"
Eddie rolled his eyes as he kept pace with his boss. If they weren't there in time for the taping, there'd be hell to pay -- and the singer wouldn't remember it was his fault they hadn't left on time. Eddie heard the solid "THUNK" of the stairwell door as the singer shouldered it open, barely slowing down. Eddie was three paces behind, and was better able to see the hazard which lay ahead.
"Jump back!" he yelled to his boss, just as the running singer's highly polished shoe hit the freshly mopped section of floor. Eddie was too late.
Fast Eddie could only watch in horror as the famous singer cried out, his arms flailed, his right foot shot ahead. He tumbled headfirst down thirty metal steps, each thud echoing loudly though the ill-lit stairwell. The singer hit the landing with a sickening crunch, his neck at an unnatural angle.
Eddie ran down to the landing, kneeling next to his fallen boss. Lacking any medical training, Eddie instinctively rolled his boss onto his back and straightened his head.
"Boss! Can you hear me?" he yelled. "You okay? Say something!"
Remembering something he'd seen on TV, Eddie felt his employer's neck for a heartbeat. Nothing. Eddie checked for breathing too, with no success. Having grown up on years of cop shows, Eddie knew what to do next -- CPR. Incorrectly positioning his hands below the sternum, Eddie began to do something which resembled chest compressions. He and the stunned entourage had no idea what other forces were affecting their fallen employer.
The singer's fall, combined with Eddie's thoroughly atrocious attempt at CPR, had mortally injured him. "Mortally" was the key word. As he expired, still under the assault of Eddie's "chest compressions," the energies which had lain dormant within him for years finally sprang to life. His Quickening began repairing the damage to his broken neck, and revitalizing his oxygen-starved brain cells.
His eyelids snapped open. He inhaled sharply, just as Eddie pressed down on his stomach once more. The singer coughed explosively as Eddie finally registered his boss was conscious.
"Boss! I thought you were dead, man!" said Eddie. " I did that CPR, just like on TV! You okay?"
James Brown, the Immortal Godfather of Soul, looked up at Fast Eddie and the crowd of concerned onlookers.
"I feel good," he said.
Surrounded by the usual entourage, Fast Eddie and his boss proceeded to the hotel elevator. Just as Eddie reached out to press the elevator call button, the overhead lights went out. The emergency lights which lined the corridor immediately turned on, which allowed Eddie to see his Rolex. It was 4:55 p.m. Leno would start taping at 5:30, whether his guest was there or not.
"Stairs are this way, Boss," gestured Eddie. "We don't have time to waste!"
Eddie's employer was a big man, but, as his audiences knew, he could move surprisingly quickly when he wanted to. As Eddie broke into a jog for the door which led to the stairwell, the singer did the same...then passed Eddie.
"Come on," the singer yelled to Eddie and the others. "We're going to be late! Anyone who ain't down at the limo when I get into it, they get left behind!"
Eddie rolled his eyes as he kept pace with his boss. If they weren't there in time for the taping, there'd be hell to pay -- and the singer wouldn't remember it was his fault they hadn't left on time. Eddie heard the solid "THUNK" of the stairwell door as the singer shouldered it open, barely slowing down. Eddie was three paces behind, and was better able to see the hazard which lay ahead.
"Jump back!" he yelled to his boss, just as the running singer's highly polished shoe hit the freshly mopped section of floor. Eddie was too late.
Fast Eddie could only watch in horror as the famous singer cried out, his arms flailed, his right foot shot ahead. He tumbled headfirst down thirty metal steps, each thud echoing loudly though the ill-lit stairwell. The singer hit the landing with a sickening crunch, his neck at an unnatural angle.
Eddie ran down to the landing, kneeling next to his fallen boss. Lacking any medical training, Eddie instinctively rolled his boss onto his back and straightened his head.
"Boss! Can you hear me?" he yelled. "You okay? Say something!"
Remembering something he'd seen on TV, Eddie felt his employer's neck for a heartbeat. Nothing. Eddie checked for breathing too, with no success. Having grown up on years of cop shows, Eddie knew what to do next -- CPR. Incorrectly positioning his hands below the sternum, Eddie began to do something which resembled chest compressions. He and the stunned entourage had no idea what other forces were affecting their fallen employer.
The singer's fall, combined with Eddie's thoroughly atrocious attempt at CPR, had mortally injured him. "Mortally" was the key word. As he expired, still under the assault of Eddie's "chest compressions," the energies which had lain dormant within him for years finally sprang to life. His Quickening began repairing the damage to his broken neck, and revitalizing his oxygen-starved brain cells.
His eyelids snapped open. He inhaled sharply, just as Eddie pressed down on his stomach once more. The singer coughed explosively as Eddie finally registered his boss was conscious.
"Boss! I thought you were dead, man!" said Eddie. " I did that CPR, just like on TV! You okay?"
James Brown, the Immortal Godfather of Soul, looked up at Fast Eddie and the crowd of concerned onlookers.
"I feel good," he said.