Chapter 2

Neverland Recording Studio
Santa Ynez, California
A Few Days Later

“Are you tired?” Michael asked softly.
“No of course not.” I lied. Yeah I was tired. I had been holed up in front of a microphone in Michael’s private studio singing the hook to Not Over for almost six hours!
I thought I was doing well, but Michael would always find something wrong with it whether I was off pitch, too fast, too slow, just something.
And I really was trying my best to please him, but I suppose that working with the greatest man in the music business--who was a self admitted perfectionist-- was unraveling my nerves.
Plus my throat was really starting to hurt.
Michael, seated next to Rusty (who’d shown up to watch me, his so-called discovery) motioned for me to put my headphones back on.
I sighed angrily, but put them on anyway. This recording thing was different than I thought. I just thought a singer went in, busted out the vocal and that was it. But of course, little me was wrong!
As the music, a bouncy rock infused instrumental began to play, I leaned up towards the microphone hanging from the ceiling. I drew a breath and in a spicy falsetto, I belted,
“ I’m back, geared for another attack. I’m here, forever. Never left, this isn’t over! Never Over. ”
I glanced up at Michael and Rusty through the large glass panel separating the control room from the studio.
Both men were leaned in to each other talking rapidly. It appeared they were having an argument.
Rusty kept pointing at me and Michael was shaking his head to the point his hair was flying.
“So…how was that?” I asked into the microphone.
Michael and Rusty looked through the window. Michael gave me a thumbs up and Rusty started clapping.
“Finally!” I exclaimed pulling my headset off.
I left the studio and walked around to the control room.
“Are you happy with it Michael?” I wondered hanging in the doorway behind him.
Michael swung around in the large leather chair he was seated in.
“Yes…it took a lot of work, but Brynn sweetie, you got it. And it’s gold.” He nodded.
“Platinum!” Rusty pumped a fist in the air.
I smiled at both of them.
“This calls for celebration milkshakes! I’ll make them!” Michael scooted past me and ran down the hall.
“I am so glad that I finally got that line right. If I had to sing it anymore, I think my voice would have gone out.” I giggled settling into the Michael’s chair next to Rusty.
“What were you and Michael talking about? You guys looked pretty heated in here.” I wondered running my hand along the control panel.
“We were just talking about guy stuff.” Rusty laughed nervously.
“I can tell you’re lying. Trust me, I know when a person is lying to me. I can sense it. Now shame the devil and tell me the truth.” I glanced at him.
“Well…” Rusty stalled and picked at his hair for a moment. “Michael claims you kissed him one night in his room.” He confided.
My entire body went numb. A million thoughts were racing through me head. Had he really been awake when I kissed him? When was he planning on telling me? How did he feel about the kiss? About me?
I turned to Rusty.
“Rusty…you have to tell me--what all did Michael say? You have to tell me.” I demanded.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did. Michael will kill me if he knew I said something to you about this.” Rusty stood up quickly.
“Oh hell no man, you are telling me!” I rose to my feet and caught Rusty by the collar of his shirt. I assume the street in me was starting to come out.
“No way Brynn! I am not about to get fired!” Rusty pushed me back.
“What the hell do you do? You sit and talk with Michael. Hell I do that for free!” I shoved his shoulder hard.
“I am an advisor! Look girl--” Rusty started.
“I’m back!” Michael entered the room juggling three tall glasses against his chest. “I hope you like chocolate.”
“Hey Mike man, something came up at home. I have to go now. Sorry. New song is gonna be a hit!” Rusty gave me a cold look and edged around Michael and out the door.
“Something came up at home? He lives alone.” Michael said more to himself than to me.
“Who knows? Strange things happen.” I shrugged taking a glass from Michael and sipping on the shake.
“Oh well, more shake for me.” Michael chortled and began drinking from one glass and held the other.
As I stood drinking with him, I made a promise to myself to get to the bottom of the Michael/Rusty conversation.

* * *

That night, while Michael was taking his nightly shower, I snuck into his room. While Michael sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow I looked around for his cell phone. I had an idea brewing.
I found the phone on top of his dresser. Michael had a flip phone and it tinkled a little as I opened it and it switched on. I paused and listened to see if Michael had heard the phone jingle.
No, he was still singing about bluebirds.
I accessed Michael’s address book in the phone and started scrolling down.
“Macaulay Culkin…Jermaine Jackson…Tito Jackson.” I mumbled flipped through numbers. Michael had about a hundred numbers in there.
But I eventually found Rusty’s number--he was right under Diana Ross.
At that moment, the water in Michael’s shower ceased it’s running and I hightailed it out of the room and down the stairs. I almost fell and broke my neck when I tripped on the bottom of my nightgown.
I didn’t stop until I was way over by the animal’s habitat. As giraffes and elephants stared at me, I dialed Rusty’s number.
It rang about five times before he picked up.
“Hello?” Rusty sounded as if he’d just woken up.
Doing my best to imitate Michael’s voice, I said,
“Rusty, it’s Mike. I wanted to talk you.”
“Michael? You sound weird. You okay?” Rusty wondered.
Maintaining my façade, I replied, “Yeah, I just think I may have a touch of a cold. Anyway, I wanted to go over what we had spoke about in the studio today.”
Rusty groaned. “Oh man, Michael. I think you better lay off it. I told you that.”
Pushing further I said, “Tell me again: why’d you disagree with me?”
“Damn man, it’s a little late to be playing this game, but I’ll bite alright. I don’t think you should mess with Brynn at all man. You just got over a child molestation trial and now you’re running after a nineteen year old girl!
I mean I know that she’s legally an adult, but just barely. Just barely.” Rusty pointed out.
He continued to talk, but I was on a totally different planet.
Michael Jackson actually liked me? I couldn’t believe it. Maybe all his niceness wasn’t to be taken for just surface value. Maybe he was being nice for a different reason. And I liked the idea of a different reason!
“Well what do you think I should do Rusty?” I asked feeling electrified by this tidbit.
“Leave her the hell alone. She doesn’t know you like her. Don’t pursue it. And if she pursues you, just kindly push her away. The media will have a field day on you if you hook up with that girl.” Rusty warned.
“Uh, huh, sure man, bye.” I hung up on him.
I twirled the phone in my hands, my mind feverishly thinking of what it’d be to Michael Jackson’s girlfriend--to really be a part of his world. To be intimate with him…
“…Brynn!”
The sudden shouting of my name made me jump.
I looked up to see Michael making his way across the large yard to me.
“What are you doing out here? I was looking for you!” He demanded placing his hands in the pockets of his white pajamas.
“Oh, nothing.” I looked down at his phone. “I was trying to take a picture of your animals with the camera on your phone, but I can’t seen to make it work.” I said quickly and smiled at him sweetly. It pained my heart to fib to him.
“Oh, that’s nice, here let me get a photo of you with the giraffe.” He took the phone from me.
“Okay.” I agreed and leaned against the gate by the giraffe’s gated area. One happened to walk up behind me. And it rested it’s head on my shoulder.
“Wow! That’s great. Jabbar never does that for me. Hold still and smile!” Michael giggled.
I flashed him my prettiest smile. As the little flash went off, the giraffe ran away.
Michael viewed the photo and I saw a small, content look cross his face.
“You look so cute here Brynn.” He turned the phone around and showed me the photo.
It wasn’t half bad.
“You have a great natural beauty. I like that.” Michael reached out and pinched my cheek.
I looked up at him, and I could actually feel myself glowing with passion.
He was so beautiful and he had absolutely no idea that I knew his little secret.
And until the time was right, I decided to keep the news--and my raging feelings--to myself.
* * *
That night, I found myself pacing my bedroom to the point my feet were starting to get carpet burn. My emotions were eating me up inside. I wanted to let Michael know how I felt and that how he felt was alright. But it was kind of ridiculous. And what Rusty had said was true. I was only a kid compared to Michael. He was forty-eight years old. And even though I was legal, as Rusty had noted, the media would claim Michael was robbing the cradle. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin Michael’s chances for making a comeback. I didn’t want to hurt him in any way.
My head, tied in a knot from sheer stress, throbbed as I left my room and made my way downstairs.
I had no idea where I was walking. I just was. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.
I found myself in Michael’s trophy room, hundreds of awards and statutes lining the walls and glittering at me.
Michael had worked all his life to get everything he ever had and as I stared at his awards, I knew deep in my soul that I would have to control myself.
But I also knew that Michael would never make the first move. He was far too shy. And I didn’t think that he’d be able to communicate himself beyond a few petty compliments.
A tear of anguish slid down my cheek and many more followed.
In dire need of a tissue, I made my way out of the room and down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms.
As I blew my nose on the toilet paper in there, my ears picked up on soft music playing. It was classical, and very muted.
Intrigued, I followed the music outside. The music led me to Michael’s large carousel, lighted and glittering like a Christmas tree in Las Vegas in the night. It was the only ride going and for a moment, I thought it had been left on by mistake.
That’s when I saw Michael.
He was riding one of the bejeweled horses, and hugging the gilded pole that the horse periodically moved up and down on.
Michael looked absolutely ethereal in white pajamas made with a dragon embroidered along one side of the top, his hair whipping in the wind.
My heart hurt even more looking at him.
I inched closer to the merry-go-round. Michael had his eyes shut and apparently moving his head along to the music.
I found myself standing alongside the ride. I didn’t know what was compelling me, but as it went by, I grabbed onto a horse and pulled myself onto the rides rotating platform.
Struggling to keep my balance, I weaved in and out of the horses, until I saw Michael’s still riding his horse.
In the backwind, I caught a hit of his cologne. I had to hold onto a horse to keep from falling off the ride. The smell was intoxicating.
Making up my mind to go over to him, I collected myself, squared my shoulders and trotted over to him.
His eyes were still closed. And I could hear him audibly humming the classical piece.
I stared at him. He was so sweet, so fragile.
I reached out, my hand trembling and brushed my knuckles against his cheek.
Michael’s head popped up with a start.
“Oh! Brynn…you scared me.” He giggled. His laughter broke off after a few moments when I stayed quiet and continued to look at him.
His eyes searched my face. “Have you been crying?” Michael questioned.
“I…uh, I stubbed my toe earlier. I’m fine now.” I nodded automatically.
“You sure?” Michael looked at me skeptically.
“Yes.” I said trying harder to convince myself than him.
“Why are you up?” Michael pushed up his sleeve and looked at the silver watch he always wore. “It’s after three a.m.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” I shrugged. At least that was true.
Michael slapped the back of the horse. “Get on, maybe the motion will make you sleepy.” He tapped my nose.
After a few slips--it’s hard mounting a moving horse, carousel or otherwise--I squeezed into the “saddle” behind Michael.
“Hold on to me. I don’t want you to fall.” Michael cautioned.
I obeyed, wrapping my arms around his tiny waist and leaning my head against his warm back. His hair tapped my face every so often.
I breathed his cologne in deeply and sighed, feeling content.
“Are you comfortable?” Michael asked after a few minutes.
“Yes…” I whispered dreamily. Without really thinking about it, I began to rub Michael’s chest and abdomen through his shirt.
“Hee…Hee. What are you doing? That tickles!” Michael squealed.
“Well, you told me to hold onto you.” I replied slyly and fondled his chest a bit more.
“Stop.” Michael giggled and gently pulled my hands away.
He turned a little and looked back at me. “Brynn…” He started.
“Yes Michael?” I stared up at him, hoping he’d say he had liked what I was doing.
“I think maybe it’s time to get some sleep. I know I have a lot of recording to do tomorrow. Come on.” Michael hopped off the horse and held his hand out to me.
I grasped it--for the first time, I felt no sparks--and got off the horse.
As Michael stopped the ride so that we could get off without hurting ourselves, I just stood feeling a bit cold.
I wanted to get Michael to admit his feelings, but not at the expense of making myself look like I was too “fast”.
I just didn’t know what to do.