Chapter 4

A Few Hours Later

“Michael, man, I gotta tell you this track is hot.” Quincy Jones remarked that afternoon as he, Michael and I sat in studio, playing Not Over.
“Yeah, you like those beats?” Michael asked leaning over and increasing the volume a bit.
“Yeah. It’s gonna make a great dance hit. And I want to produce this.” Quincy nodded running a hand over his thinning, graying black hair.
Michael grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“And you…” Quincy looked up at me. “Young lady, you’re the one doing the singing on this record?”
“Yes sir.” I smiled.
“You have an amazing voice. Truly amazing. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?” He asked.
The smile slipped off Michael’s face.
“Quincy, Brynn, is nineteen.” He said seriously.
“Oh, forgive me. You just look young for your age.” Quincy apologized, giving me a warm smile in an effort to smooth things over.
“There’s no harm done. A lot of people think I look younger than what I am.” I giggled.
(Of course, it wasn’t helping that I was wearing a T-shirt with “Barbie” written on it in pink rhinestones.)
“Oh, Michael. I wanted to tell you…” Quincy glanced at Michael.
“I’m having a lawn party in a couple weeks and I wanted to invite you. Brynn too.”
Michael looked at me and I nodded earnestly.
“Sure, who all is going to be there?” Michael rubbed his chin.
“Oh not too many people, just a few people I’m working with and producing. Nothing fancy, just some light lunch and a little music. I’m still working out all the details, but when I get it together I’ll let you know.” Quincy slapped Michael’s knee.
“That’s cool.” Michael nodded.
At the time, I smiled, not knowing just what was in store for me at his party.
I was going to meet Prince.

* * *

But in the mean time, I had to meet another Prince:

One Week Later

“Do you think they’ll like me?” I asked Michael as we rode along in the back of his large, black SUV. It was else a Land Rover or a Range Rover. I can’t remember, I just knew it was a big car.
We were in en route to his brother, Marlon’s house to finally pick up his three children.
“Brynn, they are going to love you!” Michael tapped my hand.
“I hope so.” I nodded looking out the window.
Marlon’s house, a Spanish style mansion, sprawled before us.
As we passed through the iron gates, I saw that three children were kicking a large red ball around in the front yard.
I saw a little girl, about seven years old with long curly brown hair gathered in a ponytail romping around with two little boys.
The older boy appeared to be about eight and had his hair dyed a light, sheer blonde. The younger boy had long curly hair like the girl, but it flowed loosely around his little shoulders. He couldn’t have been any older than maybe four years old. All three of them had an olive-tan complexion.
There they were, Michael Jackson’s children.
The SUV came to a stop and the moment Michael slid out, the kids abandoned their ball, and screams of “Daddy!” erupted.
“Oh I missed you so much!” Michael exclaimed, dropping to his knees, kissing and hugging the children.
“We missed you too!” The little girl replied.
I noticed that the older boy was staring at me over Michael’s shoulder.
“Who are you?” He asked and his dark eyes twinkled.
He definitely had his father’s eyes.
“I…I’m Brynn.” I willed myself to keep cool and I smiled at the child.
“Cool. I’m Prince.” The boy stepped from around Michael and extende d his hand.
I grasped it and gently shook it.
“Michael, he’s such a little gentleman.” I giggled.
In the simple motion of shaking my hand, I felt that little Prince was trying to accept me.
“That’s my boy.” Michael rose back to his feet.
Feeling a little better, I asked, “Why don’t you introduce me to your brother and sister?”
I glanced at Michael. If he was glowing any harder, he would have out shone the sun.
“This is Paris.” Prince nudged his sister towards me.
“Hi Paris.” I shook her hand.
She smiled up at me, her blue eyes wide.
(She had obviously gotten her eyes from her mother, Michael’s second wife, Debbie Rowe.)
“Wow, you’re pretty.” She gasped.
“So are you.” I tapped the top of her head.
She grinned at me, then ran and hugged Michael’s leg.
“And this is my brother. His name is Prince too, but we call him Blanket.”
I understood that Michael’s oldest son was named Prince Michael Jackson, Jr. and this his brother was named Prince Michael Jackson, III.
The youngest of the Jackson children toddled over to me.
“I’m Blanket.” He said and he reached up at me.
“He wants a hug.” Michael laughed.
“Is it okay?’ I cautioned. I didn’t go around just randomly hugging other people’s children.
“Of course!” Michael picked up his son so that he could hug me around the neck.
“Are you my daddy’s girlfriend?” Paris asked as Michael set her brother back on the ground.
I glanced at Michael nervously. He gave me an approving smile.
“Yes, sweetie, I am.” I reached out and grasped Michael’s hand, one of the biggest “signs” that children attributed to a man and woman being a couple.
“Yay!” Paris giggled, throwing her arms in the air.

“Who told you that? I was supposed to tell you that myself.” Michael pouted.
“Uncle Marlon told us. He said Grandma told him.” Paris smiled sheepishly.
Michael shook his head and gave me a sour look.
“Hey Mike! I didn’t see you come up!” A voice called cheerfully.
Looking past Michael, I saw his brother Marlon walking across the lawn towards us.
He was a handsome man, a year older than Michael. His skin was the same shade of brown that I had seen in their mother. His hair was black and in a short afro.
He embraced Michael.
“Man, I thought you had fallen off the face of the Earth.” Marlon chuckled. “Hadn’t heard from you in so long.”
“Well you know how it is working and all.” Michael grinned.
“Yeah, but the kids had a good time.” Marlon grinned down at the children who were standing quietly and looking up at me.
“So Michael, is this Brynn?” Marlon asked and smiled at me.
“Yes.” Michael’s voice hit a falsetto.
“Marlon, I’d like you to meet Brynn McAllister.” He placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Hello Brynn, nice to meet you.” Marlon shook my hand firmly.
“Nice to meet you too Marlon.” I grinned.
“You’re a very pretty girl.” He observed.
I grinned until he asked a question I was starting to hate.
“How old are you?”
Before I could answer, Michael asked,
“Didn’t Mother tell you?”
“No. She just told me that you were dating a younger woman. She never told me how old.” Marlon paused and gave me a once over. “You can’t be very old. Like what? Seventeen?” He rubbed his thick black mustache.
I grimaced. “No, I’m actually nineteen.” I sighed.
“I was close. Michael you devil you!” Marlon gave Michael a playful punch in the arm.
Michael snickered shyly.
“You’re making me look old as hell. She’s younger than my three kids!” Marlon laughed loudly.
From what I already knew about him, Marlon had three adult children, all in their twenties.

“Well Brynn, I wish you could meet my wife Carol and my kids, but unfortunately they had to go run an errand.” Marlon apologized.
“Maybe next time.” I smiled.
“Well Marlon, we’re going to be going.” Michael rubbed his nose. To his children he said,
“If you’re all packed, go and get your things. And don’t forget to thank Uncle Marlon for letting you stay with him for so long.”
The kids scampered towards Marlon’s house, mangling good byes with childish laughs.
As Michael and Marlon continued to chat and kid each other, I wondered if Michael’s kids were actually taking a shine to me or just being polite in front of their father. They seemed nice enough and I was genuinely starting like them.
Only time would tell.


* * *

A Few Days Later

“Brynn?”
I looked up from the magazine I was flipping through in the den of Michael’s house.
Paris stood at the opposite end of the couch I was lounging on. She wore a little blue and white swimsuit.
“Yes?” I smiled at her.
“Daddy wants you. He’s in his room.” She walked around the side of the couch and plopped onto it.
“Okay.” I got up and started past her.
“Paris, are you going to play in the pool?” I asked gently.
“Yes.” She nodded and her long loose hair bounced. It was so long it almost reached her tiny little waist.
“Don’t go out there alone. Take someone with you.” I warned.
I knew that even though it was unspoken, that by being Michael’s lady I had assumed some responsibility for his children.
“Oh I’m not. Prince is going with me. But he’s such a slow poke, he’s taking all day.” Paris twirled a lock of her hair.
“Well wait. Alright?” I started up the stairs.
“Alright!” Paris called after me.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I almost collided with a small figure.
Prince, clad in red swim shorts, flew past me.
“Excuse me Brynn!” He called as he continued to run.
I was still shocked by how polite Michael’s children were.
I found Michael in his room lying across his bed.
“You wanted me?” I questioned closing the door behind me.
Michael looked up with a mischievous grin on his face.
“Yes.” He pulled himself into a sitting position.
“Well what is it?” I smiled walking over to him. I knew something was up by the look on his face.
“As you know Quincy’s party is this coming Saturday--he just called and filled me in--and I know that you’re going to need something to wear to the party.” Michael rubbed his hands together.
“Yeah, I know, but I have a closet full of outfits that you bought me.” I placed my hands on his slim shoulders.
“Oh.” Michael frowned. “Then I guess you wouldn’t want what’s in that box over there!” He pointed a slim finger at his throne.
I noticed there was a long, white box in it.
“Michael!” I gasped and ran over to it.
“What is it?” I picked up the box and smiled gleefully.
“Open it and see.” Michael sauntered over.
I ripped the box open.
Inside lay a beautiful white dress with vibrant blue polka dots.
“Oh Michael! It’s lovely!” I reached out and hugged him.
I mashed my lips against his cheek in a loud kiss.
“Go try it on!” Michael escorted me to his bathroom.
Once inside the bathroom, I quickly disrobed and in a flash I had the dress on.
I twirled around in front of the mirror. It hugged my every curve. The dress had an empire waist and was trimmed in a blue that matched the dots. The dress was made of the softest chiffon I had ever touched.
I noticed that the dress was cut a bit low. I didn’t usually wear clothes that were too revealing, but if Michael liked it, I would have worn a thong and pasties. I turned to the side to make sure that there was no “side-boob” exposed.
As I did, I saw that the price tag was still attached to the dress.
I pulled it off and read it.
“Christian Dior.” I was amazed to be wearing such a high end dress.
As I continued to read the tag, I noticed the price.
“Thirty-seven hundred dollars?” I gasped quietly.
I knew that some of the clothing that Michael had bought for me had been kind of costly, but I didn’t know he would blow that much on a simple dress.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. When I was scooting around in West Hollywood down on my last dollar, I had seen dresses made just like the one I was wearing in everything from thrift stores to K-Mart. And none of them were over 30 dollars. Sure they weren’t made of chiffon, but I just thought that it was kind of over the top.
As I thought about it, I realized that when Michael and I had gone shopping, he had never bothered to look at the price tags on things. I assumed that Michael picked the dress out without looking at the price once again.
“Brynn, is everything alright in there? Come out so I can see the dress on you!” Michael’s voice wafted through the door.
Moving over to the door, I drew a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked out.
Michael’s eyes swelled.
“Brynn! You look wonderful!” He exclaimed walking around me. “Oh it fits you perfectly.”
“I like it. It’s cute.” I smiled. In my life I never wanted to make Michael unhappy.
“You’re so cute!” Michael wrapped his arms around me.
“So are you.” I replied and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
“What are you wearing to the lawn party?” I wondered running my fingers through his hair.
“Oh this shirt I had made. It kind of matches your dress. It’s blue with crystals and stuff on it. I have Rusty picking it up from the tailor right now.” Michael ran his hand along my back.
“Michael, about Rusty…” I pulled back from him. “What exactly is his job?”
“Rusty is my assistant actually. He runs errands and stuff for me. Offers me a little advice, stuff like that.” Michael gave me an assuring smile.
“Oh ok…he’s not coming to Quincy’s party with us?” I asked. Ever since I shoved him into the pool, I had had a growing disapproval of Rusty Ross.
“No Brynn, honey. It’s just a lot of industry insiders.” Michael ran a hand through my hair.
“Do you think I’ll fit in with everyone else. I’m sure there’s going to be a lot of people who have won Grammys and stuff. Do you think they’ll like me?” I worried, looking down.
“Honey, of course! You are an extremely likeable person. Don’t you notice that everyone has taken a shine to you?” Michael grabbed my shoulders. “My mother, Marlon, Quincy, my children.”
Michael placed his hand under my chin and lifted my head so that I looked up at him.
“You know, I want to tell you something that happened last night.” His dark eyes danced.
“I was up late doing some reading when Prince came in. I thought that he had had a bad dream or something. But when I asked what was wrong, he said nothing. Just that he was happy that you were here and that he and Paris and Blanket liked you a lot. That made me so happy.” Michael looked away from me and I saw a tear slide down his cheek.
“Michael! Don’t cry!” I reached up and brushed the tear away.
“It’s okay. I’m…I’m happy.” Michael sniffed. “I want nothing but happiness for my kids and to know that they like the woman I love makes me so happy.” Michael walked a few steps from me.
I put my hands to my chest, touched that Michael was so concerned that his children like me.
I went up behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.
“Michael--” I started. “You’re a great man.”
Michael sobs became audible.
“Please…Brynn…I don’t want you to see me…like this.” He hiccupped.
“It’s alright.” I massaged his shoulders gently.
“Brynn please.” Michael stepped from my grasp.
Instead of pushing the issue, I turned and started to leave. I was a little hurt. But I respected Michael’s privacy and wishes.
“I’m sorry Brynn.” Michael whispered as I closed the doors.
“Hi Brynn!” A cheerful voice exclaimed as I stepped into the hall.
I looked down to see Blanket on his hands and knees in the middle of the floor pushing around a toy fire truck.
“Hi Blanket.” I walked over to the child and gave him a brave smile.
“Why aren’t you swimming with Prince and Paris?” I asked ruffling his curls.
“I wanted to go, but I can’t go swim without a grownup.” Blanket smiled up at me.
“I’ll tell you what Blanket. If you go get a swimsuit, I’ll go outside with you so you can swim.” I offered.
“Really?” Blanket’s dark eyes grew with excitement.
He jumped to his feet.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Okay!” The little boy ran at top speed into his room.
Smiling, I went to my room to find a swimsuit of my own.

* * *

The Following Saturday

“You look really pretty.” Paris commented as I sat in my robe at my vanity applying make-up, getting ready for Quincy Jones’ lawn party.
“Thank you sweetie.” I pinched her cheek.
Paris reached into my large, open make-up case and pulled out a tube of lipstick.
“I wish I could go to Mr. Jones’ party with you and Daddy.” She remarked and proceeded to open the tube.
“I wish you could too, but you heard what your Daddy said this morning: ‘The party is only for adults.” I replied as I applied a sheer dose of blush on my cheeks. This was another occasion where Michael insisted that I try to look older than my age. Which I thought was funny, but went along with it. I supposed that Michael hadn’t noticed that I was barefaced when I first met Quincy.
“I’ll be glad when I get to be a grown up so I can go to parties and stuff.” Paris whined and rolled the tube of lipstick--a bright shade of red--and went to her mouth with it.
“Don’t rush your time. Enjoy being a kid.” I smiled. “And that lipstick’s the wrong color for you.” I took it from her and handed her a lipstick that was a medium shade of pink that would bring out her coloring.
“You don’t mind me playing in your make-up?” Paris stared at me with huge eyes.
“As long as you ask first.” I tapped her little upturned nose.
“Oh…” Paris thought a moment. “May I use some make-up?”
“Yes you may.” I opened up my own tube and began coloring my lips.
I looked down at Paris and was a little surprised to see her applying make-up like a pro.
“Who taught you how to put on lipstick like that?” It would shock anyone to see a seven-year-old putting on lipstick like a 20-year-old.
“Oh, my Aunt LaToya showed me. She’s really nice.” Paris grinned, replacing the top to the lipstick and placing it back in my make-up box.
“I’m sure she is.” I smiled and swiped on a few coats of mascara.
I patted my nose with powder and rose up to make way to my closet to retrieve my dotted dress.
Since Michael’s kids had come home from Marlon’s house, Michael and I hadn’t been sharing his room. Which was alright with me because we wanted to slowly ease his children into the idea that I was there and living at Neverland. I just kind of missed rubbing against him at night. (Ha ha!)
“If you want to wait, I’ll be changed in a second.” I said and went into my walk-in closet.
Inside, I slipped on my dress and blue heels that matched my dress perfectly.
I polished off the look with a patent leather blue purse.
I stepped back out.
“I like that dress!” Paris jumped up and down.
“Thanks.” I smiled.
I moved back over to my mirror to make sure that I hadn’t messed up my hair, which was gathered into a ponytail held with a blue pony-holder.
“Brynn.” Michael entered my room. “Are you almost ready?” He asked.
I looked up.
He looked absolutely scrumptious in a bright blue shirt that was heavily studded with twinkly rhinestones and clingy black leather pants. Rhinestoned boots encased his long feet. His long hair fell smoothly into his face and black Ray Ban glasses hid his eyes.
“Yeah. Wow, you look gorgeous.” I giggled.
“Daddy, you look nice.” Paris smiled.
“Thank you both. Brynn, you look lovely… I have something for you.” Michael reached behind him and produced a long thin box.
“Another gift! Michael you’re too kind.” I walked over and took it from him.
“Open it! What is it?” Paris bounced up and down trying to get a peek.
When I opened the box, I nearly fainted.
On the inside, there, suspended by a long platinum chain--trust me, I knew the difference between silver and platinum--was a diamond studded, open heart-shaped pendant.
“Gee! That’s pretty!” I heard Paris say from somewhere.
“Michael, It’s beautiful.” I whispered staring at the trinket.
“Hee-Hee. It’s nowhere near as beautiful as you baby.” Michael smiled lifting the necklace out of its setting in the box.
It twinkled in the light.
“I wanted to get something that kind of subtly shouted that you were mine.” Michael walked behind me and looped the necklace over my head, fastening it in the back. He kissed the nape of my neck gently.
“Yeah I think this is subtly shouting.” I said breathlessly and turned to look up at him.
“You’re wonderful!” I hugged him and pecked at his mouth.
“Ewww!” Paris giggled.
“Now come on!” Michael grabbed my hand. “Let’s get to partying!”
“Bye Daddy! Bye Brynn!” Paris called after us as we made our way downstairs and out to the huge driveway where Michael’s big SUV was parked. (Michael wanted to be as low-key as possible so as not to attract media attention.)
As we neared the SUV, to my utter disgust, I saw that Rusty was leaning against the front of the car.
“Michael, I thought you said that Rusty wasn’t going to be attending the party with us!” I exclaimed and yanked my hand from his.
“Brynn, he’s not!” Michael stared down at me, then looked up and glared at Rusty. “What are you doing here?”
Rusty came forward with his hand up in dismay.
“Michael, I found out something about Quincy Jones’ party that you might want to know about!” He cautioned.
“What?” Michael crossed his arms and began tapping his foot. “All I know is that you’re making me and Brynn late for our party.”
“I heard that Quincy invited Prince to his party too!” Rusty blurted, his face turning red.
Michael and I laughed loudly. “Rusty! Why would Quincy invite Michael’s son to an all adult party? Where’d you get your information? The National Enquirer?”
Rusty ran a hand through his hair.
“Not that Prince! The other Prince! The singer!” He cried.
Our laughter came to an abrupt stop.
I stared up at Michael.
His face was set with a quiet anger. His jaw muscles were tightened and he appeared to be whiter than normal.
“Rusty Ross, you better be telling me a lie.” Michael said quietly.
“Would I lie to you?” Rusty questioned.
Michael looked off. “I can’t believe that Q would do that! Invite Prince. He knows I can’t stand that man.” He grumbled.
From what I understood, there I had been bitter blood between Michael and Prince--the singer--since around 1984 when both men were at their musical peaks. Michael had chilling everyone with Thriller and Prince was soaking everyone with Purple Rain. They were constantly battling each other on the record charts. (Obviously Michael won.)
The rift became even worse in 1987 when Michael had planned for his song Bad--which would later become a hit solo for Michael-- to be a duet and had offered the other part to Prince. Prince had turned Michael down for the part and I don’t think they had more than two words to each other since then.
As Michael continued to stare off into the distance, I asked meekly,
“Are you not going to go to the party?”
Michael finally looked back at me. “Under any other circumstance, I would back out of it so fast it’d make his head swim. But since you went to so much trouble getting ready and everything, I’ll go.” He sighed.
I latched onto his arm and dove in front of him.
“Michael, don’t go on my account! It was nothing. We can stay here.” I nodded hard.
“That’d be in poor taste Michael.” Rusty said from behind me. “Do you want Prince to get the impression that you didn’t show because you didn’t want to see him?”
“He doesn’t want to see him!” I snarled.
“Yeah I know that and you know that and Michael knows that, but God forbid that Prince figures that out.” Rusty continued.
“I’m going to that party.” Michael stated.
His words hung in the air.
I stared up at him in pure shock. “Michael! No! You don’t want to go! You don’t have to go! You’re a grown man!” I nearly shouted.
“Yeah, but I don’t want that pygmy in high heels to think that he intimidates me, because he sure as hell doesn’t! I‘ll be fine as long as you’re there, Brynn.” Michael pulled free of me and proceeded to get in the SUV.
I walked up to Rusty who was giving me a self assured smile.
“You know I hate you right? Michael doesn’t want to do that shit. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near Prince.” I declared in a deadly tone.
“Yeah but I talked him into it.” Rusty gloated.
“Yeah, because you brought his image into it. That was a dirty thing to do. You know how concerned Michael is about that. You may have him in your corner, but you’ll never have me you sick bastard.” I started around Rusty.
“You look older today.” Rusty commented.
“Go to Hell and tell Hitler I said hello.” I jumped into the SUV and slammed the door.
As the chauffer steered the car away, I looked over at Michael.
He was sitting on the other side of the long seat in the back of the SUV we shared.
I could tell he was deeply troubled because he was leaning against the glass and had one of his long hands pressed to his forehead.
The drive from Neverland to Quincy’s home was over an hour long and the whole while, Michael was silent. The only sound I heard from him was the sound of him breathing lightly.
I knew that it was going to be an extremely long day.