Chapter 17

That Night


“…alright, now tell me again, what on earth possessed you to start a food fight?” I asked working up a lather in Paris’ hair.
The poor child was covered from head to toe in what had to be the entire contents of the pantry at Neverland.
Chocolate and flour smudges covered her tiny face and hands, and everything from Jell-o cubes to marshmallow fluff was tangled into her waist length mane. The last three inches of her hair were packed together with peanut butter.
I still wasn’t sure how the food fight had occurred. The night started out innocently enough. Michael and I had been lounging in Michael’s bed, reading a book when Prince had pranced in, flanked by Paris and Blanket. Prince mildly asked if he could make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for himself and his siblings.
Michael had waved them on out the room, his only advice being:
“Use a butter knife, not a sharp one.”
Ten minutes later, the sounds of screams and containers hitting various surfaces drew Michael and me out and running downstairs.
The kitchen and pantry were an ultimate nightmare and the three children were still in the middle of it all, fighting.
Well sort of. While Paris was chasing Prince around the island, throwing handfuls of grapes, Blanket sat calmly at the counter, head tilted back, a bottle of green sprinkles to his mouth. The only damage to him was an orange Blow-Pop stuck to the back of Batman pajamas. Three empty Jelly Belly Jellybeans bags were next to him, suggesting he had spent the entire fight eating.
Food littered the floor and was lying in a puddle of Kool-Aid, the pitcher overturned on it’s side in the dining room, just inches shy of the expensive Persian rug under the large pine dining table. Several types of cereal were mashed into the floor and on the counters. Somehow a stream of Hershey’s chocolate sauce had been squirted all over the refrigerator and most of the cabinets.
While I tried to pick the candy off of Blanket’s clothes, Michael tried to stop Paris and Prince from running.
Not such an easy task.
He had made a grab for Prince, who was wholly covered with so much chocolate sauce that his blonde hair was brown. And somehow a Maraschino cherry had gotten stuck to the top of his head. He was a walking sundae.
Prince whipped past Michael so quickly that he spun and landed on his tummy in the center of the Kool-Aid, which was blue and which also turned his grey striped pajamas a weird navy color.
That didn’t stop Miss Paris. Oh no! While Michael was down and slipping, struggling to get up, Paris decked him along the back with another handful of grapes.
It took us a half hour to get them to stop running. But not before they had tracked food all over the first floor and outside and halfway to movie theatre. (After Prince and Blanket had both named Paris as the culprit for starting the fight, she had tried to make a break for it. Well as far as a seven-year-old could break for it anyway.)
I was surprised that Michael wasn’t upset at all. The lower level of his mansion looked as though Willy Wonka’s factory had exploded in it.
Instead, Michael giggled happily and said he had hated missing out on the food fight himself, a gesture that warmed my heart until it almost burst. Michael really was the nicest man in the world.
And there I was on my knees along side of my bathtub, picking enough food out of Paris’ head to feed a Sally Struthers’ country.
“Look at this!” I opened my hand showing her a headless green gummy bear that I had freed from her curls.
Paris stared at it and giggled uproariously.
“Did we make a big mess?” She wondered and splashed around.
“Kind of. Nothing that a little sandblasting and maybe a wrecking ball won’t fix.” I snorted and started rinsing her hair.
“Come on kiddo, I think you’re clean.” I smiled draining the tub and holding up her pink robe that had her name and a little Eiffel Tower embroidered on the back in black thread.
As Paris slipped on the robe and started tying it closed I became acutely aware of the sound of music lightly playing.
I looked around and after a moment, my eyes landed on the large, closed make up case sitting on top of my washbasin counter.
The noise was coming from it.
There was only one thing in my case that wasn’t cosmetics:
The purple phone Prince had given me.
I has stashed the phone in there because I so seldom wore make up that I knew it would be one of the last places Michael would look.
My heart momentarily stopped as a realization burned through me.
Prince was calling me!
I glanced back over at Paris. She was haphazardly tying a white towel around her damp hair.
I wondered if she noticed the music playing.
She struggled with the towel.
Nah, she was too busy trying to get all her hair into the towel.
I had to get her out of the room before she heard the phone ringing.
“Paris…” I said gently, placing my hands on her small shoulders.
“Yes Brynn?” She looked up at me, a small smile lighting her face.
“Why don’t you go off to your room, put on your sleep clothes and I’ll come later and read you a bedtime story?” I offered, chewing nervously on my bottom lip.
“Oh God please let this child cooperate with me!”

I prayed silently.
“Can I pick the book?” Paris questioned tugging at the sleeve of my pajamas.
“Sure!” I forced a smile and tapped her head.
“Alright! Thanks Brynn!” Paris wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me a zealous hug. “You’re the coolest grown-up in the world--you know, besides Daddy!” Paris exclaimed and jogged out of the room.
With Paris out the bathroom, I quickly ran and closed and locked the door to my bedroom.
Then I walked, hesitantly back to the bathroom.
It was like walking The Green Mile.
I stood over my make up case, hands a tremble, as the music continued to play.
Prince was actually calling me!
I wondered if I should actually answer it.
The phone kept singing.
I knew that as persistent as Prince could be, he might have let the phone ring all night or until I answered it. Whichever was quicker.
And it continued to ring.
With every ring, my heart pounded even harder.
I knew that the stress was going to be the end of me.
Yeah, Michael would find me in the fetal position, blue, with a little purple phone in my hand, probably still ringing.
Drawing a deep and shaky breath, I opened my case and from under a pile of multicolored eyeliner pencils, I produced the phone.
I was stunned when I realized the song playing as the ring tone.
“Secret Lovers…Secret Lovers…that’s what we are…”
Of all the songs in the goddamned universe he had to choose Atlantic Star’s Secret Lovers!
Why didn’t he just hire a bloody skywriter to stencil it in purple letters over Neverland of my infidelity to Michael?
Irking up the nerve, I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear.
Well in theory the phone was near my ear, but bobbing from my tremoring.
“Hello?” I just barely managed to squeak the words out.
I could make out the sound of someone lightly breathing on the other end.
Just breaths, no response, no anything.
Maybe he had gone to sleep on the other end?
No--I knew that on occasion, Prince would lightly snore. Not a full buzz saw effect, but it was enough to make you sit up and take notice.
Soft breaths in my ear.
My heart was thudding in the other ear.
After a few tense moments, I managed to make myself say,
“Prince?”
A cough.
Silence.
I gazed around my bathroom wondering if I was even speaking to him.
I almost leapt out of my skin when his voice, deep and lurid, simply said,
“Yes.”
I found that I couldn’t make myself speak to him. I actually couldn’t make words come out my mouth.
Prince spoke first.
“How are you Pretty Baby?” Prince’s voice was softer and sexier than ever.
“I’m….I’m fine.” I made myself say. I was far from it.
“I was thinking about you. How cold my bed is without your hot little body in it. Been thinking about you a lot. About us. ”
His words hung in my brain. I was speechless.
Prince actually missed me. I wasn’t just another notch on his belt--if he ever wore one.
“So…did you get the little package I sent to Never, Neverland?”
His voice remained low and steady.
“Yes, I got your package…” I twirled a lock of my hair nervously, thinking of Michael throwing the necklace. “…This is the first time I’ve heard from you since I left.”
“Seems longer than just three days.” Prince chuckled and I heard a note of sadness in his voice. “Been a long, lonely three days, Baby.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off, still half in disbelief that I was taking a call from Prince when I was supposed to be forgetting him.

“And was the One Gloved Wonder happy this damn time? He clowned his ass off at Paisley Park. Everyone is still talking about it.” Prince laughed outright and my heart ached.
It hurt me when anyone made fun of Michael and to have Prince’s entire clique getting enjoyment from Michael’s dismay, was needling me like a red hot poker.
Maintaining my composure and holding my tongue, I forced out,
“Michael is pleased with the photograph.”
“Oh…whatever.” I could actually image Prince rolling those hazel eyes of his.
“And did you get your necklace? I noticed that you left it when Michael swept you out of my house, you know during that little nervous breakdown he was having.”
I nibbled on my lip again. How could I possibly tell him that probably at that moment, Rusty was in East Los Angeles at a seedy pawn shop cashing in my trinket?
“Well?” Prince pushed further.
He was breathing so heavily into the receiver I wondered if he was doing something obscene on his end.
“I don’t have it.” I whispered so quietly and shakily that I hoped Prince didn’t hear me.
“What?” Prince sounded shocked. “You don’t have it? Why the hell don’t you have it?”
“Um…” My mind raced until I could hear blood rushing in my ears trying to mock up a lie in a hurry.
“Tell me!” Prince hissed and fright took me.
“Michael…he…um…he gave it away.” I blurted and braced for the roof to come down on me.
Prince was dumbstruck and for a few moments only sputtered on incoherently in a mash of syllables.
I sank to the floor as Prince screamed erratically.
“He gave the fucking necklace I gave to you away? Why? Who the fuck did he give it to? That bitch! That was a seventy-eight hundred dollar custom made necklace!”
I slipped to the floor in my own wrap of shock. I had been wearing a seventy-eight hundred dollar necklace? And it was in Rusty’s hands?
“Who the hell has the necklace now?” Prince demanded, his voice sliding up and down in shrillness. “Tell me now or I’ll come through this phone and ask Michael my damn self!”
“Rusty has it!” Fear made me tell.
Prince was livid and I heard some sort of glass over the phone shatter.
“He gave it to Rusty?” My eardrum popped Prince shouted so loud.
I frantically tried to explain how Michael felt in regards to the symbol.
Prince cut me off mid-sentence.
“Fuck him. Little high water pants wearing ass! I’m going to see to it that I give you something he can’t possibly give away! Got some goddamned nerve! Shit, you’re my woman! I can give you jewelry when I want! Fu-uck him!”
With that, the line went dead.
“Prince?” I called into the receiver.
“Prince?”
Nothing.
Nauseated, I dropped the phone to the floor and proceeded to the commode to vomit.
I could only ponder what Prince could give me that couldn’t be given away.
I just hoped it wasn’t anything contagious.
I spent the days after my turbulent conversation with Prince trying to contact him again. I punched ‘Pound 31’ under my fingertips were bruised and even bled. I even went as far as to dial up Paisley Park directly from the phone in Michael’s office. (Paisley Park was listed in his Roll-A-Deck, under ‘That Damn Man‘. I didn’t think he’d notice one call to Minneapolis.)
The only person I got a hold of was Mindy and the only information that she’d relay was that “Mr. Prince loves you and is planning something big.”
Only God knew what Prince was planning and how big it was going to be.
And that it wouldn’t cause Michael to go off into the stratosphere.
It didn’t take too long to find out.
* * *
A Few Days Later


“I’m gonna whoop your head!”
“Nah-uh! I’m gonna whoop your head!”
Prince and Paris jeered at each other as Michael led his children and me over to the east side of Neverland that featured a go-cart track and several carts. Rusty trailed behind us several yards, typing wildly into a Blackberry.
I supposed he was making little appointments for Michael. (And I was sure that the Blackberry had been purchased with money made from my pawned necklace.)
As we neared the track I saw that two cars, one red and the other blue were waiting for what was going to be the Battle Royale of the Jacksons. Or at least until the older of the Jackson children found something else to squabble about.
But really life was good.
Well, except for one nagging, almost obsessive thought:
What was Prince (Nelson) up to?
Out of sight, out of mind, that’s what I kept preaching to myself.
As Michael strapped his son and daughter into their carts, I stood, holding onto Blanket’s hand to keep him from wandering out into the track. At only four years old, he was a little too young to drive a go-cart by himself.
In my other hand, I held onto a large red umbrella for Michael to shield his delicate skin from the sun with.
“Alright!” Michael giggled digging into his pocket and producing a white tissue.
“When I give the cue you start your engines! Three laps around the track. And none of that Ben-Hur stuff--Prince!” Michael winked at his son who laughed loudly. In a recent race, Prince had actually bumped Michael’s car several times to get ahead of him.
“Winner gets a big bag of Dum-Dum Pops all to themselves!”
Paris and Prince screamed gleefully.
(I knew that either way the contest fell that both Prince and Paris and even little Blanket were going to get bags of suckers.)
“And be sure your don’t hit me! Took weeks for that bruise on my shin to go away from last time!” Michael chuckled.
“Count it off Brynn!” Michael grinned at me.
“One…” I smiled.
Paris and Prince leaned over their steering wheels, hands tightening in grip, competitor mindsets taking hold.
“Ready for a head whooping Big Bro?” Paris laughed.
“Are you ready for yours?” Prince stuck out his tongue.
“Two…” Michael raised his hanky in the air.
“THREE!”
He dropped his arm and had to pounce off the track as Paris and Prince roared into gear.
“Are you okay?” I cautioned as Michael stepped onto the grass next to me and his youngest child.
“Yes. It’s gonna be a nightmare when they have to get driver’s licenses, I think my kids think the only speed in the world is “Fast”.” Michael guffawed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
“Isn’t that the only way to get around?” I winked at him.
He winked back.
Michael looked extremely casual, even for him.
He wore an oversized white t-shirt with a black and white photograph of my favorite comedy duo, Laurel and Hardy emblazoned the front. Laurel was even in the middle of one of his ridiculous crying spells in the picture.
Michael had paired the shirt with a simple pair of black denim pants, white socks and comfy loafers.
A black fedora was perched on his head, the first time I had seen him in one since I had met him.
He was gorgeous.
Michael took the umbrella from me and started opening it.
As Paris and Prince whizzed by, Michael yelled,
“Go kids! Go!”
“Go Prince! Go Paris!” Blanket echoed, jumping up and down enthusiastically, making my arm jangle in the process.
Michael leaned over, lips poised to peck my cheek.
“Woo! Who’s that making all that noise?” A voice cried, causing Michael,
and me to jump.
Blanket was so engrossed in the race, he didn’t even notice.
We whirled around to see two men, making their way over to us.
They were both waving wildly.
Both men were roughly six feet tall and both of the same brown sugar complexion and appeared to be in their early fifties.
One was thin, not thin as Michael though. He had chiseled facial features and a warm light danced in his dark eyes. His hair, black and frosted with steely grey was piled high and gelled firmly in place into a waved flat top.
The other man was a bit heavier with a rotund body and happy round face. Thick black brows hung over his laughing eyes.
He wore a natural flat top.
Both men wore colorful polo shirts and cargo shorts.
“Hey!” Michael laughed waving back as the men joined us next to the track.
“Michael, my man, what’s going on?” The round man smiled slapping Michael on the back.
“Nothing much!” Michael grinned.
“Man, we couldn’t find a golf cart, had to walk all the way over here.” The thin man chuckled.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Michael looked down at his feet.
“Rusty!” He said sharply.
“Yes Michael?” Rusty trotted over.
“Go bring a golf cart over here, please?” Michael instructed.
“Yes!” Rusty, in another three piece suit--in the California heat--ran off to find a cart.
As Rusty made his retreat, Michael reached out and gently grabbed onto my arm.
“Come here Sweetie, I have some people I want you to meet.” Michael said softly puling me over to the men. I dragged a still screaming Blanket over to me.
“Brynn,” Michael’s eyes glowed. “I’d like you to meet my brothers--”
He motioned to the thin man,
“Jermaine…”
And the rotund man,
“…and Tito.”
“Hi, nice to meet you both.” I grinned, shaking their hands with my free one.
“Michael…” Jermaine looked me up and down. “This is Brynn?” He questioned, gob smacked.
Michael chewed on his bottom lip and nodded sheepishly. I saw that his ears were pink.
“Mike, you old dog you! Go on!’ Tito playfully punched Michael in the stomach. His voice was a little deeper than I expected.
“She’s cuter than Marlon described her .” Jermaine smiled, and I noticed that his voice was as soft as Michael’s.
“Oh Marlon told you?” Michael put his hand to his forehead.
“Word spreads like wildfire in this family, doesn’t it.” I giggled.
The Jacksons moved a story faster than a tabloid. (At least the story being moved was true though.)
Michael, Tito and Jermaine laughed uproariously.
“Got you a little feisty one! I like her!” Tito cackled.

Vibrant shouting drew our attention back to the race track.
Paris and Prince had finished their race and exited their cars and were now arguing about whose head had been whooped.
“Sibling rivalry at it’s finest.” Michael shook his head as we walked over to the children.
“Dad, I whooped her head! I won!” Prince exclaimed tossing his arms up.
“Daddy, I would have won, but he cut me off!” Paris poked out her bottom lip.
“You’re just mad cause I whooped your head!” Prince stuck his tongue out at his sister.
“That’s nice.” Michael ruffled the kids’ hair. “Say ‘hi’ to your uncles.”
As Prince, Paris, and now an alert Blanket hugged Tito and Jermaine, Rusty rode up on a Neverland golf cart.
“Where to?” Rusty smiled as all of us piled onto the cart.
“Uh, over to the barbecue area, and have the cook bring us some sodas.” Michael smiled tucking his arm around me as Rusty put the cart in gear and we shot off across the lawn.
If only I knew that in the bright and happy day, a little purple rain was about to fall.

An Hour Later

“…now I had already told the lady I’d give her an autograph once I got done eating. I take two bites out of my sandwich and she’s in my face with a pen and notepad. Since when is two bites eating an entire meal?” Tito laughed loudly.
Us adults had convened around the pool while Michael’s children we running here and yonder having free run of the ranch.
We were sitting with our bare feet dangling in the cool water.
Behind us, Rusty sat in a deck chair, still fiddling with the Blackberry.
“Did you give her the autograph?” Michael chuckled, his arm around my waist. He hadn’t stop holding me since we had sat down.
His other hand balanced the red umbrella over us.
“I ate my entire sandwich, ate a bag of chips and drank my iced tea before I moved.” Tito snorted.
I was really enjoying Tito and Jermaine’s company. They were characters, cool and funny.
We were talking like we had known each other for years.
“So Brynn, word around the family is that you got to go to Minneapolis to work with Prince?” Jermaine wondered.
Oh why did he have to bring the man up, right when he was almost out my mind?
“Um, yeah. We did a song together, called Game.” I looked down as Michael’s grip on my hip tightened.
I knew he truly disapproved of hearing Prince’s name mentioned.
Jermaine and Tito nodded solemnly.
“Oh, cool.” Jermaine said quietly, eyes fixed on Michael.
“Prince, that’s one crazy little dude. Is his house all purple and junk?” Tito leaned around Jermaine and smiled at me.
At least someone maintained a decent sense of humor.
“Nah, it’s white, but parts are purple.” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around Michael and leaning my head on his chest.
“I’d never send my woman near him. You’re cooler than me Michael.” Jermaine nodded. “Way cooler.”
Grind…grind…grind.

Even though he looked placid, it sounded as though Michael were grinding his teeth into a fine powder.
“Michael, are you gonna let that little dude put his song out before yours?” Tito wondered, kicking his feet back and forth.
“Working on it. Gotta get everything fine tuned. I’m not worried about Prince or anybody.” Michael nodded seriously, hair bouncing against my forehead.
“That’s the spirit! Fear no one.” Jermaine slapped Michael’s knee in agreement.
Oh, how I was about to worry and be fear-stricken.
“Dad! Hey Dad!”
We looked up to see Prince, toting Blanket on piggy back, followed by Paris, rushing over to us.
“What is it?” Michael asked, twirling the umbrella.
Prince stooped and allowed Blanket to drop to his feet.
“Dad, there’s a man in the front of the house…” Prince shook his head until his fair hair swayed.
“A man?” Michael went into Protective Father mode. I was sure he assumed a paparazzi was in the midst.
He quickly jumped to his feet, along with his brothers.
“Yeah Daddy, he’s got a gift for Brynn!” Paris threw her slender arms up in the air.
“A gift? For me?” I stood up next to Michael.
“You got me something?” I grinned up at him, patting his bottom.
My heart slowed when Michael looked down at me, eyes wide and somber, and replied,
“No.”
“Come on!” Paris was tugging at our hands.
“I wonder what this is.” Michael mumbled under his breath as all of us jogged around to the front of the house.
As we made it to the driveway that sprawled in front of the main house, I stopped on a dime.
Michael and everyone else banged into each other.
And we all stared open mouthed and slack jawed.
“Speak of the damn devil.” I heard Jermaine whisper behind me.
My heart started splitting instantly.
There, leaning casually against a dark plum sports car, was Prince.
Jimmy stood a few feet behind his boss, quietly taking up a massive space.
I stared at Prince in a mix of horror and a bit of sheer adulation.
He had truly danced off into the sugary, and glittery world of androgyny.
His small body was covered in black and electric blue paisley print body suit and jacket.
The jacket was cropped very short, just below where his nipples should have been.
The bodysuit clung to him like a second or third skin, the top made like a tank top and inching down his tight body to the bottoms.
And if a tighter than what God would allow fit weren’t enough, two cut outs on the trousers exposed the yellow flesh of Prince’s toned little hips.
A gold chain glittered from under the clothing and around his waist.
His hair sparkled with blue glitter and was blown straight and heightened at the crown.
Dark Versace sunglasses hid his eyes, but his facial make up was noticeable.
His cheeks and lips glowed an unnatural shade of light pink.
How he had even gotten into Neverland was a feat in and of itself.
Neverland had tighter security than the White House and Fort Knox--combined.
Houdini couldn’t have gotten in if he tried.
It was a quiet tense moment.
My heart pounded and my mouth was cottony.
The only sounds came from far off, Michael’s animals grunting and making noises creatures make.
Nobody dared move.
I could feel everyone sizing each other up.
Jacksons sizing Prince, Prince sizing the Jacksons.
My hands shook.
Cracking a sly smile, and sauntering over like Neverland was his piece of real estate, Prince exclaimed,
“Ah, hi Michael!” And flicked his fingers, acknowledging Michael’s presence. If you could call it that.
“I don’t believe this.” Tito murmured.

I looked up at Michael.
He was so duly shocked that Prince was in his presence, little paisley boots touching his landscape.
“Hello.” Michael’s voice was spiky.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this, but I was in Los Angeles on business and swung down by here.” Prince continued to give his mousy look and extended his hand to Michael.
Michael gripped it loosely.
“Michael, aren’t you gonna introduce us to your guest?” Jermaine patted Michael on the shoulder.
Why did I hear knuckles cracking?
Michael quickly and solemnly began rattling off names to Prince.
I knew he wanted to show Prince to the front gate and toss him on his ear in the process.
Prince nodded warmly at Tito and Jermaine and grinned at the Jackson children.
He was charming almost to the point where it was sickening.
A cold sweat trickled down my back, past where Michael had his hand placed firmly on it.
His hand was frighteningly cold.
“I brought something for both of you.” Prince smiled and turning motioned Jimmy over.
Out of his coat pocket, Jimmy produced a CD in a plain case.
“Here is the finished version of Game. Wanted to spring it on you because I’m very close to releasing it.”
Someone sucked on their teeth behind me.
Michael took the CD from Prince and handed it off to Tito. I was sure I’d probably never hear the song.
“And I have something for--”Prince started but stopped when he realized Blanket was tugging at his pant leg.
“Hey Mister…” Blanket smiled.
“Yes?” Prince seemed annoyed and that made me upset.
If he was mean to Blanket, I was going to wear his ass out myself.
In a loud whisper Blanket confided, “You got two big holes in your pants.”
“Blanket!” Michael reprimanded him quickly and scooted the boy behind him with his older brother and sister.
“Cute kid.” Prince chuckled half-heartedly.
“Like I was saying, I brought something special for Miss Brynn.” Prince reached out slowly pulled me from Michael’s grasp.
I felt Michael clutch vainly at the back of the little sundress I wore and his nails picked the skin of my back as I was led closer to Prince.
I glanced back at Michael. He and his brothers looked on grimly.
Tito was shaking his, disapproval all over his face.
At least Michael’s children didn’t really understand the magnitude of the situation and were watching innocently.
“Tell me…” Prince removed his glasses and hung them from chain suspending a small gold symbol near his waist. Blue liquid liner rimmed his light eyes. He fluttered what had to be false eyelashes at me.
“Do you like that car?”
“It’s…it’s nice.” I nodded leadenly.
“That’s an exclusive little car there. It’s a Ferrari with an all custom paint job. They don’t make them purple at the factory. Brand spanking new” Prince laughed.
“Got those hot twenty-two inch chrome wheels. Hot car right?”
Why the hell was Prince going on and showing off his new car?
“Yes…it’s hot.” I glanced up at him, my nose finding his floral cologne.
“Set me back a pretty little penny. But it was all worth it. You really like it?”
Prince’s grin turned from mousy to almost malicious.
I could only bob my head, silently. What was he going at?
“Jimmy.” Prince called and Jimmy handed Prince a set of car keys attached to a silver symbol covered with Swarovski crystals.
He jangled the keys near my face.
“Here, take the keys, it’s yours.” He whispered.
“Say what?” I stared at him, electricity of a shock I had never felt.
Prince was giving me the car!
“You’re…giving me that car? You’re giving me a freaking Ferrari? Shut up! Oh God! No way!” I exclaimed.
Excited, Michael’s children started cheering.
Forgetting where I was, and who I was with, I snatched the keys from him and threw my arms around his slim body. He smelled wonderful and his arms seemed stronger than I remembered.
It was then I noticed that Michael and his brothers were stomping towards us.
Michael grabbed my hand and whirled me away from Prince so quickly that I was several feet away before I stopped spinning.
“Why are you giving her a car? That’s a pretty expensive gift.” Michael pointed out tossing his umbrella down and placing his hands on his hips.
“Well Michael…” Prince rubbed his hands together, arrogance permeating from him. “When you lent me Brynn to sing on Game, we never discussed how she would be paid. She could be paid with money, she could be paid with potatoes, gumdrops…we never said--”
“It was an exchange. She sang for you, you write the songs for me. That was the entire deal.” From where I stood, Michael was getting scarlet and boiling like a kettle.
The keys rattled in my shaking hands. I was praying to high heaven that the Jacksons didn’t jump on and start whipping Prince.
Prince threw up his hands. “Now that ain’t fair. I got something and you got something, but it seems Brynn got gypped in the deal. She didn’t get anything. I just wanted to give her a token of appreciation for the work she did on the song.” He explained calmly.
“Might have bought her a house if she had done two songs.” Jermaine remarked under his breath.
Michael glared at Jermaine then back at Prince.
“I can’t let her accept that. It’s far too extravagant. A Ferrari? That’s like an eighty thousand dollar car.” Michael laughed and waved his hand, indicating I give Prince the keys back.
Remorsefully and nauseated, I walked over and held the keys out to Prince.
Raising an eyebrow, Prince corrected Michael,
“Try a hundred and ten thousand, not including the repaint and customizing. And forget about having it moved here from Minneapolis!”
A hundred and ten thousand dollars? That was a freaking house!
I felt my jaw hanging. He spent that much? On me?
“See that’s way too much. Give him the keys Brynn.” Michael poked his bottom lip out angrily.
“I can’t take the car. I already have three. A Hummer, a Beemer and a little red corvette. Oh and my limo. And besides I couldn’t take the car even if I wanted it.”
At the mention of the corvette, Tito momentarily chuckled.
“Why the hell can’t you take the car?” Michael demanded and I heard his children gasp.
It was probably the first time they’d heard Michael swear.
Michael seemed to have forgotten they were there.
“Because everything is in Brynn’s name. The car, the titles, everything. Look in the car, her name is embroidered on the seats.
“This I gotta see.” Jermaine announced leaving us and walking over to the car.
He opened the door and his eyes bulged.
“Her name really is embroidered on the seats!” The notion sent everyone scrambling to see the car’s interior.
The car had a black on black interior and as noted, on the seats, my name was embroidered in purple thread.
A silver symbol swung from the review mirror.
“Gonna be hard to unload a purple Ferrari with ‘Brynn’ stitched all over the seats. I mean ‘Brynn’ isn’t the most common name in the world. I don’t know another Brynn. Nope.” Prince shook his head and giggled.
He really had Michael up over a barrel of boiling oil.
For a moment I thought Michael was going to throw up. He looked so miserable and unhappy.
And so was I.
It really seemed as though Michael couldn’t give the car away like he had given the charm away.
And Prince knew it.
I guessed Rusty wouldn’t be sporting new wheels anytime soon.
Looking down at his boots, Prince said,
“I hate to be brief, but I just came to drop off the car. I’m back on my way to Uptown. Thanks for having me.” Prince extended his hand.
I was sure he knew his welcome had worn out before it had even worn in.
Michael rolled his eyes, sighed and shook Prince’s hand once more.
I just knew he wanted to pull Prince in and pummel his face.
He was making Michael look bad in front of his brothers and his children.
And most of the Neverland employees who had gathered in the front door of the home to watch the scene.
And me.
“You…” Prince pointed at me. “Enjoy the car.”
He reached at me to hug me.
Michael actually caught me in a half-nelson and pulled me against him.
The hostility hung like a shroud over us.
His teeth ground louder than ever.
Prince pecked his fingertips with his lips and brushed my cheek with it.
Michael growled lowly.
“Nice meeting all of you!” Prince waved and took off with Jimmy.
He was truly acting as if everyone was his best friend at the moment.
They were making their way over to Prince’s yellow BMW which was parked outside of the gate.
As they left, Jermaine grabbed Michael’s shoulders.
“Me and Tito wanna talk to you now.” He said coldly.
Michael loosened his grip on me.
“Michael!” I called as his brothers started ushering him towards his house.
He looked back at me sadly, then disappeared inside the door as his employees scattered out of the way.
Rusty ran to keep up with them.
I kicked at a the pavement.
I didn’t know who I was more upset at, Prince or myself.
Oh why did Prince have to show up? Not only show up but give me a car?
And in front of Michael’s family. It was sure to make Jackson Family News before the sun even went down.
“Brynn…” Paris was tugging at my hand.
“What?” I looked down at her fighting off tears.
“I like your car.” She grinned at me.
It didn’t make me feel any better, because the only person I wanted to like the car was Michael.
“Thanks Honey.” I patted her head.
As Paris and her brothers trotted back over to the amusement part of Neverland, I went into the house to find Michael.
I had to talk to him.
Try to straighten this mess out.
Or maybe the damage done was already irreversible.
The sound of arguing voices led me upstairs to just outside of Michael’s bedroom.
“…and what the hell was that man wearing? Looked like a mini-drag queen with all that make up and shit on his face!” I heard Tito exclaim.
Pushing the door open to just a crack I peered in.
Michael sat at the foot of his bed, Tito and Jermaine pacing in front of him.
Rusty stood off to the side watching.
Michael, sullen , stared down at his hands.
“And you let him come up in here, on your damn property and give your woman a car? A fucking Ferrari? I’ve been dating my girl Selena for four years and I haven’t bought her a Ferrari! I don’t have a Ferrari!” Jermaine shook his head.
“Just what exactly happened in Minneapolis man? What the hell did she do to get a car? I can sing, nobody gave me a car!” Tito pointed out.
“You’ve never heard Brynn sing. She’s got a really good voice. She can make a song a hit.” Michael said quietly.
My chest heaved. Even though Tito and Jermaine were already on to me, a frightening thought, Michael remained vigilant. He believed with his heart that I hadn’t hurt him.
A tear slid out of my eye and under my cheek.
“You make a hit. You do. People know the name Michael Jackson! Nobody knows the name Brynn!” Jermaine stamped his foot.
“Not yet! But I don’t care. I love her! And she loves me, Jermaine.” Michael hopped to his feet and got into Jermaine’s face.
“That may be the case.” Jermaine nodded with understanding, “But Prince is obviously trying to move in on her. Did you see how his ass was looking at her? If she was on a buffet, he’d be getting seconds right now!”
“Yeah Mike man. That’s a cute girl you got, but Prince is one nasty little motherfucker man. Watch him man.” Tito gripped Michael’s shoulders.
“Nobody gives away cars Mike man.”
“You gotta make it so Prince can’t get at her.” Jermaine waved his hands.
“Yeah? How do I do that?” Michael asked calmly. I could tell he was drowning in thoughts.
Jermaine and Tito were quiet a long moment.
“It’ll come to you.” Tito finally said. “But if that cricket tried to give my wife a car, I’d have squished his ass.”
As silence filled the room, Tito and Jermaine made their way to the door. I quickly ducked off into the first room available to me--Blanket’s-- and hid.
“Mike we gotta go now, but you try to figure out what to do. We’ll call you later. Bye.”
The brothers filed out of the room.
They stopped in the hall.
Tito grabbed Jermaine’s shoulder.
“You don’t think that girl did something with Prince? Do you?” He asked quietly, trying to make sure Michael didn’t hear them.
Jermaine shook his head and patted his rock hard hair.
“I don’t know. I hope not. Michael likes that girl a lot. I just hope she didn’t fuck around with that little bean headed man. He’s an STD on legs. Come on man, all this mess has made me hungry…”
As they went downstairs I made my way off into Michael’s room.
A strong glare sent Rusty out the room; thank God he had the common sense to leave us alone.
Michael stood on the opposite side of his room, at a large open window, looking out over Neverland.
A warm breeze blew on him, making his long hair sway.
I quietly walked over and stood beside him.
Michael glanced at me but remained silent.
Below us, Prince and Blanket were playfully wrestling in the grass and Paris dancing off by herself to her own little tune.
I looked up at Michael.
His expression was docile, but I could see he was deep in thought.
“Are you mad at me?” I wondered quietly.
My heart was aching and I desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but I knew if I did, Hell would bust open on me.
“No, Prince keeps bringing his funny looking little self over here with gifts and stuff. My brothers think that Prince likes you and is trying to flirt with you.” Michael shook his head and adjusted his hat.
“Really?” I tried to sound surprised. I sounded fake to myself.
“I don’t blame him, you are really cute. But you’re mine and I’ll strangle him if he tries that crap again.” Michael said so calmly it scared me.
Maybe he and Prince had been seconds from clocking each other on the driveway.
“I’m sure you won’t.” I said absently and held his hand.
“Did he try to flirt with you in Minneapolis?” Michael looked down at me.
For some reason I lied.
“No…I think he has a thing going with his hairstylist. Or maybe that photographer.”
I might have named Wendy and Lisa also I was so busy trying to save myself.
“I figured he’d have a thing for that stylist. What’s her name? Cindy? She looked really loose when I met her.” Michael pulled me close to him.
“And you’re not loose. And I love you.” Michael kissed at the top of my head.
Grief took me and started sobbing.
Surprised, Michael wrapped his arms around me and cradled me as I cried.
He’d have thrown me out the window if he knew why I was crying.
He truly was the kindest man I had ever known.
And I was probably the most disgusting woman he had ever met.
Michael picked me up and carried me to his bed, tucking me and tending to me until I fell asleep in the soft enclosure of his arms.
The kindest man…
* * *