Chapter 16

Somewhere Over Arkansas
Two Hours Later


I held my face in my hands, bent over my knees, fighting off nausea.
Michael had taken me from Paisley Park and Minneapolis so swiftly, he didn’t even give me a chance to pack, explaining that he’d send for my belongings. I had only stopped long enough to change into a blouse and trousers.
I was so glad that Michael had left Rusty in California, because I knew that he’d be chiming in after Michael’s every word with thoughts no one wanted to hear.
Ever since we had boarded the private plane, Michael had been voicing his displeasure with how I had been dressed while in Minneapolis.
Michael didn’t directly blame me for how I looked. He confided that he had actually blamed himself, because he had told me to follow along with Prince’s program. Well, he didn’t actually call Prince “Prince”.
He referred to him as “That Damn Man”.
“Michael…” I whined, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that the outfit would bother you so much.” I hated to see Michael upset and I was afraid his pretty head was gonna explode with steam.
“Brynn…honey.” Michael brought my hand to his cheek and cradled it against his soft skin. I could feel the beginnings of beard stubble starting to sprout up.
“It’s just that I think about first impressions. You were dancing and singing with all those people and dressed like that. Brynn you’re such a nice person. That Damn Man had you dressed like…like…”
Michael’s deep, doe eyes squinted around the plane cabin as his searched for a word. “Like you were loose. And you’re not loose. You’re nice and sweet and lovely.” Michael leaned and kissed my mouth.
At the touch of his soft, plump lips on mine, I melted.
I completely forgot about That Damn Man.
“It’s just clothes. It doesn’t change who I am.” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder. He smelled like Heaven.
“I’m still your Sweetie.”
“I know. If I ever see That Damn Man again, it’ll be on my turf. My rules.” Michael nodded and pecked at me again.
“That must have been the most awful place. All that cursing and the clothing. Especially that Morris guy. What a loudmouth. And that make-up artist…Mindy? No offense, but she looked like a hooker.” Michael giggled to himself. “But then again it is Prince. Man can sing and play--I’ll give him that--but I think his idea of fashion is whacked. I should have known when I searched the web and found that he had a girl’s band that wore nothing but lingerie. It‘s sick. ”
Michael reached out and grabbed my hands, his large hands overlapping mine.
“I’m so, so glad I got you away from there. And I’m glad the children didn’t see that. That’s just a rude environment. Would have scarred them for life. Especially that naked picture of That Damn Man in the front hall. Just distasteful. It’s just…I missed you so much.”
Michael kissed my hands and ran his lips along my wrists.
…This is your Captain speaking. We will be landing at Los Angeles International Airport in exactly ninety minutes…Thank You…
“Now we can concentrate on going home, and getting back to normal life at Neverland.” Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.
“Yeah.” I replied softly.
Life back to normal.
If there was such a thing, with Prince tossed into the mix like a monkey wrench into the gears of a machine.
A machine called “Michael and Me.”
Neverland Valley Ranch
Three Days Later

“You look so beautiful…” Michael murmured into my ear, as droplets of warm water washed over our bare bodies.
I looked up into Michael’s lovely, deep eyes, as he gently pulled me against him, the mixture of water, perspiration, and fresh soap suds on his body combining with the same cocktail on mine.
I could feel the adoration and sweetness in his heart beating against my chest.
“We had some fun last night, huh?” Michael giggled, and moved his hands up into my hair, his long fingers pulling out the tangles in it.
My already hot body warmed even more against his.
I continued to stare up at him. I could only manage a nod.
He was truly a gorgeous sight. His long hair, normally straight, now dripping wet, fell in springy tendrils around his milky face, creased with a giddy grin.
Droplets all over his pristine nude figure sparkled like diamonds.
It was amazing that my heart still pounded when I gazed at him.
My mind recalled the events of the night. Michael and I had finally had some “alone” time.
Since I had gotten back from Minneapolis, I had been wearing three lovely little accessories: Prince, Paris and Blanket.
The children had tackled me when I had stepped into the main house, and clung to me, telling me how they missed me and loved me…
Not that I was complaining. I did love Michael’s children as much as if they were my own.
Michael’s trio followed their father and me around, all over and had even spent my first night back home slumbering between us.
After the kids had drifted off, a Three Stooges comedy short playing on the TV, Michael had confided in a shy whisper that he couldn’t wait to get those big hands of his on me. That the two weeks without me had been extremely difficult for him. That after a day and a half, he had wanted to come to Minneapolis right then.
And truthfully, I wanted Michael to ravage me.
Even though I had been with Prince and I did have feelings for him, it was Michael who was deep in my heart planting flowers of love.
I was doing my best to put Prince out of my mind.
He was a sexy mistake and I hoped I never heard his name again, unless the ‘Prince’ being referenced was Prince Jackson.
In just two weeks, I had almost forgotten just how talented a man Michael was. It was amazing to watch him put all his kids to bed--in their respective rooms--and come back to me.
He had given me another box of chocolate strawberries and we had slowly fed them to each other. I had even nibbled one out of the little dimple that was Michael’s navel.
Part of me had wanted to travel further south on the fantasyland that was Michael Jackson’s body, and partake of the treats that were God-given to him, but I held back.
I knew that Michael, even in the throes of passion, was a very conservative man and I knew that if I tried to do to him what I had done to “That Damn Man” he might have been turned off, or worse disgusted.
And I truly never wanted to upset him. I was still trying to recover from his distaste at Paisley Park. I never wanted to see that side of him ever again.
Michael was such a sweet lover. Sure I was tired after outrageous love making, but Michael never purposefully tried to hurt me, like another person had done.
Everything about Michael was gentle.
And I appreciated everything about him.
I glanced back up at Michael.
He was humming the melody to his song , You Are My Life, and still playing in my hair.
As soon as I had gotten back to Neverland, without being asked, I had straightened my hair. I had an inkling that Michael was pissed with my “Shirley Temple on LSD” look.
I knew I was seething with guilt and doing everything possible to appease Michael. (He didn’t even know what he was getting appeased for and I prayed Hail Mary’s and Novenas that he never would find out.)
But it was strange that just three days out of Minnesota, and trying to put the Purple Pervert behind me, he would start to rear his little head again.
As Michael continued to hum You Are My Life, a question started bubbling in me, and within seconds it bubbled out of my mouth:
“Do you mean that?”
“What?” Michael stopped humming and looked down at me, puzzlement on his sweet face.
“You’re humming You Are My Life…” I looked down at my toes and watched water swirling down the drain.
Michael sucked in his bottom lip, and I noticed that his ears, neck and down to his shoulders were glowing red.
He took my face in his hands.
“If I’m humming it…then it must be true.” Michael giggled and his plump rosy lips mashed mine.
I clung to him, a sudden want for him making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up stick straight.
“Daddy! Brynn!”
The sudden shout caught us a little off-guard and Michael actually bit down on my bottom lip.
“Ouch!” I laughed.
Michael touched his nose shyly.
“Sorry. Your mouth is so tasty, I lost control.” He chuckled.
“Yours is too.” I poked Michael in the little depression sitting at the base of his throat.
He giggled uncontrollably.
“Gosh!”
“Daddy! Brynn!” The little voice screamed again and it was so shrill I couldn’t tell which of Michael’s children it was.
“Just a minute! Daddy’s coming!” Michael called shutting off the water, and opening the shower door for me.
We quickly scrambled into robes and wrapped towels around our wet hair.
I opened the door to the bathroom and Paris, already dressed in jeans and a Strawberry Shortcake tank top, ran in.
“Daddy!” She exclaimed trotting in so quickly that she ran into me.
“Excuse me!’ She grinned up at me.
“What is it Honey?” Michael questioned, using one hand to hold the towel on his head and the other to pat her head.
“Rusty is downstairs. He says he has something really important to give you.” She gasped for air.
“Okay, you go tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes in my office. Can you remember that?” Michael patted her head again.
“Yes sir. Bye!” Paris turned and ran out the room.
“That’s what all the hubbub is about? Rust Bucket?” I giggled, taking the towel off my hair and starting to dry it.
“I guess so. It must really be off the charts if he sent Paris to get me.” Michael nodded, a worried expression taking over his chiseled features.
I followed Michael out the bathroom and over to his dresser where he picked up a pair of underwear and proceeded into his closet.
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” I murmured, my mind snapping. I just hoped that it wasn’t more court troubles.
“Hail Mary, Full of Grace…”
“Brynn, go get dressed, meet me in my office too.” Michael gave me a small push.
“Alright.” I turned and jogged away.
A while later I made my way down to Michael’s office.
Just outside the door, I could hear Michael and Rusty conversing.
“This came for me?” I heard Michael ask, disbelief highlighting his voice.
“Actually for you and Brynn.” Rusty assured Michael in a calm tone.
Upon the announcement of my name, I opened the door.
I looked over Rusty who was reclining in an arm chair as if he owned the place.
Michael sat bolt upright, clutching a large beige manila envelope.
“Is everything okay?” I inquired in a low voice.
Michael glanced up at me.
“Sit down Sweetie, please.” Michael pointed to the other armchair.
I quickly took a seat.
“This…” Michael shook the envelope. “…came for us.”
“From Paisley Park.” Rusty put in.
At the mention of Paisley Park, my blood cooled about 30 degrees. Why would Prince send a package to Michael?
My heart raced. I hoped like all hell that it wasn’t anything that would expose what had happened in Minneapolis.
I nervously dug my nails into the wood of the chair as Michael flipped the envelope over and started opening it.
On the address label I could make out Prince’s purple ink.
It was actually addressed to “Mr. Michael Jackson.”
It was odd that he’d be so formal before blowing my world to pieces, chunks and shrapnel.
Michael pulled out what appeared to be a handwritten letter.
“Oh gosh!” Michael exclaimed. “He wrote me a note, and he used all those numbers and funny little drawings in it. Why can’t he write like a normal human being instead of in code?”
Rusty chuckled.
“What…what does it say?” I murmured.
“Let’s see.” Michael squinted at the page. He opened a drawer and produced a small pair of silver rimmed, oval reading glasses.
After popping them on, he began reading,
Michael,

Eye wanted to apologize for what happened at Paisley Park the other day. Eye had No idea that U’d react the way U did to that photograph of Brynn. At the time, Brynn didn’t seem to have a problem with the costumes. But since U were so unhappy with the first picture, Eye have decided to take it down and replace it with another 1. Eye hope that this 1 will suit you better.

Prince

PS--Eye enclosed a little trinket for Brynn that she left at my house.
“Hmm…” Michael tossed the letter down and dug into the envelope bringing out an 8’’x10’’ photograph.
“Oh gosh!” Michael exclaimed and his large dark eyes grew even larger.
“What?” I hopped up, along with Rusty and raced around the desk to see the photograph.
I vainly prayed that it wasn’t a photo of me in the black panties.
I quickly heaved a sigh of relief.
It was a photo of me in the blue/turquoise bodysuit. I was singing off into the microphone and Prince was behind me, zealously playing his symbol guitar.
“Holy shit, Brynn! Is that really you?” Rusty giggled, eyeing the portrait.
His blue eyes were even wider than Michael’s.
“Nah, it’s the Queen of England. Yes it’s me you block head! Rust Bucket!” I pushed him.
Rusty rolled his eyes, annoyed.
“Well I suppose this is better.” Michael sighed. “There is only one leg out. That other outfit looked like an embellished t-shirt.”
“Are you happy with this?” I mumbled, afraid Hurricane Michael might return.
“I’ll get used to it.” Michael gave me a weak smile.
“And what is that get-up Prince is in? He is strange!”
Michael continued to look at the photograph.
I could actually hear his teeth grinding.
“What’s the trinket that’s left?” Rusty wondered after a while.
“Oh.” Michael turned the envelope upside down and shook it.
The silver symbol pendant necklace that Prince had given me fell onto the table.
It glittered in the light.
“Oh no!” Michael’s voice was so sharp, he sounded like he was screaming through a straw.
“He sent you another one of these damn things?” Michael picked up the necklace and stared at it.
“Is that real?” Rusty questioned. Leave it to that snake to be think of monetary value at that point in time.
Michael paid him no mind.
“I don’t like these things at all!” Michael shook the necklace, his face turning scarlet.
“Michael, it means something spiritual. Prince told me that. He’s a Jehovah’s Witness!” I blurted, once again trying to soothe Michael.
Michael’s eyes were stormy.
Tapping himself in the chest, he announced,
“I was a Jehovah’s Witness for the first almost twenty-five years of my life. I have never in my life seen anything like this associated with my religion. You met my mother, Brynn, she wore a cross around her neck, not this…this…bullshit!”
With a low grunt, Michael hurled the necklace across the room.
It hit the opposite wall and landed on the floor.
Hopping to his feet and pointing at the bauble, he instructed,
“Rusty, you get that out of my house and off my property right now! I don’t like it. And make sure my children don’t see it. Paris likes jewelry and she might try to take it from you. I don’t want them to ever see that.”
Michael slammed his hand on the desk top, making both me and Rusty jump.
“Okay Michael!” Rusty scurried to retrieve the necklace. “Can I have it?”
“Pawn it, sell it on eBay, just don’t ever let me see you wearing it!
If I do, Rusty Ross, you’re fired! You understand?” Michael slammed the desk again.
“Yeah!” For the first time I since I had net him, Rusty actually appeared frightened. He was grey.
As quickly as Michael had gotten angered, he calmed back down.
“Thank you. It’s just I feel that symbol has something to do with voodoo or the occult and I’d rather not ever see it.”
Michael sank back in his seat, pale.
“Michael…” I touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Michael glanced up at me. “For what? You didn’t ask for that thing. That Damn Man sent it on his own volition.”
He smiled.
“It’s not your fault Baby.”
He grabbed my hand and kissed at my knuckles.
If only Michael knew. If only he knew.
I couldn’t bear to look at him and focused on the other being in the room.
Rusty was heavily inspecting the silver necklace.
If Michael really knew it was my fault, he’d have been singing a different tune.
All the while moonwalking and sidefloating on my face.
And some how, I knew that the necklace was only going to be the start of trouble from The Purple One.