Chapter 26

The Following Afternoon

“Michael Jackson! I still think you’re making a tremendous mistake! This whole “Jacksons meets Revolution” bull crap is gonna sever all the ties you’ve made to Prince!” Rusty scolded from where he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.
“Rusty…” Michael sighed, annoyed, brushing and pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail on top of my head. “I keep telling you, I’ve got everything from Prince I wanted. The ball’s in my court now, and I intend to play.”
I kept my comments to myself and stared down at my hands like they were the most interesting things in the universe.
Michael had been doing a lot of moving and shaking, placing calls all over the country, getting a hold of his siblings and asking for them to come to New York to attend Prince’s show.
Michael hadn’t given me any specifics on who was coming or how many people there would be.
I knew one thing for sure: when one Jackson needed the others, they all fell in almost immediately.
Everyone that Michael could get a hold of and who was free was flying in that afternoon.

I knew the media would have had a massive heart attack if they knew that the sixteenth floor of the Windbush Hotel would be filled to the brim with Jacksons.
And I was panicky as sin.
With the way the story of Prince giving me a Ferrari was running rampant around the family like a malignant cancer, I wondered how I would be received. So far the only Jackson--outside of Michael-- to treat me with genuine niceness was Michael’s mother.
Taryll was kind enough, but I had an inkling that he didn’t quite trust me. And Tito and Jermaine were probably steering that boat.
But I tried to act cool and happy in front of Michael.
Rusty continued squealing a pig caught under a fence.
“…I’m not talking about what you’ve already gotten from Prince, I mean future projects. What if he wanted to do something for you in the future? You could blow it all to Hell!”
“Why don’t you go blow yourself to Hell?” I snapped, whipping around to glare at Rusty. I had enough troubles and his constant whining wasn’t helping anyone.
And once again, Prince was unreachable. I tapped sore fingertips on the counter. I knew he purposefully didn’t answer his phone just to aggravate me.
Rusty turned scarlet, as if on cue.

“Brynn!” Michael giggled, shocked, twirling a black elastic band around my hair, securing my ponytail.
Shooting me a stare of pure hate, Rusty retorted,
“Fine, go ahead and ruin everything. I’m staying here.”
“Oh, no you’re not.” Michael calmly picked up a bottle of hairspray and began misting my hair. “You’re tagging along too. And if you don’t, you’re no longer on my payroll.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Russell.” I winked at him haughtily.
With a cry of pure angst, Rusty ran away from the door.
“Won’t you tell me who you invited, so I can try to put names with faces?” I asked, looking up at Michael’s reflection in the mirror over the washbasin.
We were dressed somewhat alike.
We both wore oversized black t-shirts and black jeans.
The only difference was that Michael’s shirt had a white silhouette of Mickey Mouse on it and mine had a white version of Michael’s interlocked “MJ” symbol on the front of it.
Everything seemed to be an act of Jacksons solidarity.
Even though I was dressed so casually to the point of near boredom, Michael had made sure that I was wearing a considerable amount of cosmetics.
I was sure my age would be a flaming topic.

“Honey, there’s so many people coming in, I’ll just wait until everyone is here to go through intros.” Michael grinned bashfully as I reached down and started putting on a pair of large silver hoop earrings.
“Mike, I’m worried.” I blurted out, my fears popping up to the surface. “I know that you invited most all the Jacksons in this hemisphere, but I don’t want any trouble. You and Prince almost started fist fighting at The Ivy Lounge, and I don’t want a fight to happen at Club Groovement.” I lowered my head, the sordid events of that fateful evening rushing back to me.
“Stop worrying, Baby.” Michael reached down and rubbed my shoulders.
“Everything is going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. I guarantee it.” Michael leaned and smooched the back of my neck.
I almost believed it.
At that moment, The Blue Danube started playing.
Michael reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and put it to his ear.
“Hello? Oh hey Tito!” Michael chuckled.
I watched him in the mirror, so happy, so carefree.
The exact opposite of me.
As Michael hummed and nodded to the conversation, the more worried I became.
I just wanted everyone to like me.

“Hey Brynn.” My attention flooded back to Michael at the sound of his gentle voice.
He was tucking his phone back into his pocket.
“Yes?” I made myself look up at him.
“That was Tito, he’s says everyone is riding up on the elevator, right now. Come on…” Michael grasped my hand tightly. “Let’s go greet them.”
The Jacksons were here? Now? Already?
It was too soon.
But there I was, being dragged along behind Michael through our room, the foyer and out into the hallway where the Jackson Trio were already patiently waiting next to the elevator.
They were wearing child sized shirts with their fathers image on the front.
As we got to them, the doors to the elevator swung open and a crowd stepped off all dropping the luggage they carried into what became a massive mound in the corner near the elevator doors.
It was a swarm of smiling faces and I swept into a gaggle of hugs, cheek kisses and salutations.
I instantly recognized Tito, Jermaine, and Marlon, but there were at least ten more people whom I didn’t really know.
I couldn’t believe it. Michael had managed to round up a small army.
I also realized that just about everyone was male.

All those men couldn’t possibly be Michael’s brothers. He had five brothers and there were at least double that amount of men there!
There only appeared to be two women.
And everyone was dressed in jeans and (matching) colorful t-shirts. The last time I had seen a show of unity like that, the Jacksons were escorting Michael to court, all dressed in white.
There was enough testosterone in the corridor to reach from the Earth and past the Moon.
Over the din of greetings, Michael yelled,
“Everyone! Hey! Everybody!” He was waving his arms like a maniac.
As the noise died down Michael reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist.
I was relieved to see that most everyone was smiling warmly at me.
“I want all of you to meet Brynn McAllister.” He chuckled like a child with a pocketful of candy.
“I love this little lady.” He grinned and ripple of laughter went through the group.
“Hi, everyone.” I waved meekly. “Mike, introduce me to everyone.” I beamed up at him, for the first time that day, feeling at ease.
I truly wanted to see if Michael would be able to correctly name all the people there.

“Okay…” Michael glanced around. “This is Jackie…”
Jackie stepped forward. I knew he was the oldest male Jackson. (Michael’s older sister Rebbie was the oldest of all the Jacksons.)
Like all the Jackson men, Jackie had very clean cut features and was very handsome, and appeared younger than his age which was some where in the mid-fifties. An orange cap that matched his shirt, was covering his black hair. He also appeared to be the tallest of the bunch.
“Randy…”
Randy looked almost as though he could be Tito’s twin. He was a bit pudgy, cute, and had a clean shaven head. It shimmered under the lights in the hall. His deep eyes danced happily at me.
“You know Marlon…” Michael smiled down at me.
“Hey.” Marlon grinned affectionately.
Yes, these people seemed to like me. I just hoped they weren’t fronting for Michael.
“…and this is Marlon’s son, Marlon, Jr.”
Marlon, Jr. appeared to be in his mid-twenties and was pretty attractive. He was a shade or so lighter than his father, and had thick black hair pulled back into braided cornrows. He definitely had a little hip-hop flair to him.
“Call me Mars Bar--like the candy--everyone does.” Marlon Jr. reached out and patted my shoulder with a large hand. A thick gold ring shined on his pinky finger.

“Okay, Mars Bar.” I nodded with a laugh.
“Tito of course, and these are his two other sons, Taj and TJ.” Michael pointed the two guys out.
Taj was a lighter version of Tito and had hair that was arranged in little braids and tumbled across his forehead. For the first time I noticed he was holding a little camcorder, filming the entire scene. (I’d have to keep a copy of that tape to remember everyone!)
And like most of the second generation Jacksons he was else in his twenties or early thirties.
TJ was a stunning man, tall and thinner than Taryll and Taj, with a deeper complexion. His hair hung down to his chin in loose, reddish-brown tendrils.
He smiled at me with a mouth that curled up at the ends like an elf.
“…Jermaine and Jermaine, Jr.”
Jermaine acknowledged me with a wave and his son did the same.
“Call me Junior.” Jermaine, Jr. suggested with a laugh.
He was about thirty-five with, thankfully, a natural short afro and a bit of a round face. He had glittery eyes like his father.
“And Jermaine’s girlfriend, Selena Yvez.”
Selena came forward and hugged me.
She was a pretty, petite Hispanic woman who looked a bit like Gloria Estefan. Her waist length pin-straight hair, was dyed a deep shade of auburn.

“Nice to meet you Brynn.” She whispered patting my back, her honey colored eyes wide.
“You too.” I beamed, elated that I was really being received well!
“And…” Michael waved the other woman forward.
“This is my sister, Latoya.”
I regarded Latoya, a bit shocked.
I had known that Latoya bore an extremely striking resemblance to Michael, but to see her up close and in the flesh was a different story.
She did appear to be a female version of Michael.
In every aspect: tall, particularly slim, fair-skinned.
She was very beautiful with long curly brown hair, streaked with blondish highlights.
And she was the only Jackson not wearing jeans; she wore a demin pleated miniskirt and was teetering in electric blue wedges that coordinated with her shirt perfectly.
I knew she was almost fifty years old, but actually had a figure that women half her age would commit Murder One for! She was incredibly fit.
“Oh Michael, she’s so cute. Hi Brynn!” Latoya enveloped me in a hug so tight that I was partially lifted off the ground. She even sounded like Michael when she spoke!
In hugging her, I discovered something else, she was wearing Women’s Armani perfume--Prince’s scent!

I kept the little tidbit to myself and instead replied,
“Nice meeting you Latoya.”
She seemed really sweet.
“I think that’s everybody.” Michael announced as Latoya finally let go of me.
Laughter erupted again.
“Hey Uncle Mike!” Taj called as the laughter subsided.
“Yeah?” Michael questioned, still chuckling and grasping my hand warmly.
“What’s a man gotta do to get some decent food? All they fed us was freeze dried crap on the plane!” Taj replied.
“But you ate like a champ!” TJ snickered slapping Taj on the back so hard, he nearly dropped his camera.
“So I was hungry! And those rations didn’t hit a lick at a snake man!” Taj poked out his bottom lip, his chubby chipmunk cheeks jiggling.
“You’d probably eat the snake if it was deep fried!” Taryll hooted and the Jackson men laughed.
Taj became burgundy around the neck, and seemed a little embarrassed.
“Okay, why don’t you all spread out, pick your rooms, and I’ll go order room service?” Michael suggested, happily.
I saw that his eyes were flashing all over the place; this man definitely had it in for Prince.

“Ha! Ha! That’s the ticket! Yeah man!” Marlon exclaimed as the group broke up and started to retrieve their luggage, the Jackson Trio following Tito’s three sons.
While they scrambled to pick their prospective rooms, Michael wrapped his arms around me, and drew me close.
He smelled so wonderful. Could I get him in a bun to go?
“You think they really like me?” I questioned, tapping the end of Michael’s nose with my finger.
“Honey, if you were a record, you’d be solid gold right now.” Michael smooched my forehead.
“Now let’s order that food…”
Gleefully, I followed Michael back to the main suite.

* * *

An Hour Later

The sixteenth floor of the Windbush had calmed down considerably. After a large lunch that covered everything from a Sloppy Joe burger for Blanket to Fois Gras for Marlon, most of the Jacksons had retired to their rooms for a nap.

The only ones still awake were the Jackson Trio, still at the dining table playing Jenga, Latoya, at the other end of the table, flipping through an Elle magazine.
Taj, Taryll, TJ, Marlon Jr., and Jermaine Jr. sat on the floor on the other side of the room, shooting dice. Well, not Taj; he was busy filming the game.
I leaned against the wall, watching the game. I didn’t join in because they were playing for money and I knew about as much about shooting dice as I did about flying a Boeing Jet.
“Nah son! I told you don’t mess with me!” Marlon Jr. cackled, tossing the dice down with a loud snap of his fingers.
Snake eyes.
“Damn!” He exclaimed angrily.
“No, we’re not gonna mess with you--you keep losing!” Taryll snickered tossing a dollar into a pile that held at least a hundred dollars and started rattling the dice in his hand.
“Oh, you’re funny.” Marlon, Jr. quipped sarcastically.
“If I roll a twelve, I’ll be richer too,” Taryll grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Less talk, more shooting!” TJ lightly punched Taryll in the shoulder.
Snap!
Eleven.

“Oh shit.” Taryll shook his head as Jermaine, Jr. danced to his feet.
“I won! Ha! Ha! Oh yeah!”
“Brynn?” A hand tapped my shoulder.
I turned to see that Michael had appeared behind me.
“Hey, Uncle Mike, you wanna play?” TJ offered, holding the see through green dice in the palm of his hands.
“Not right now.” Michael smiled, clutching my wrist. “I’ll be right back.”
“Honey, I want to show you something.” He mumbled, pecking at my cheek.
“Sure Mike.” I giggled, blushing a bit. It was still new for him to kiss me in front of other people.
He started leading me back towards our room.
If Michael was planning on getting nasty with a floor full of Jacksons, I didn’t know what I would do.
As we passed through the doors to the bedroom, a voice very close behind us, narrated,
“Here they are, the happy couple, Michael and Brynn!”
Michael and I spun like tops to find Taj standing there, camera poised on us.
Michael placed a large hand over the lens. “What are you trying to do Tajjy? Be a paparazzi?” He teased.
“Nope, just filming y’all. I can’t be a paparazzi, I don’t feel like getting kicked in the nads all the time.” Taj chuckled.

“Smart cookie.” I nodded in agreement.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Taj wondered, fiddling with the buttons on his camera.
“Nah,…he wants to be a director.” Michael explained as the three of us walked into the room.
“Oh cool.”
“Yeah, I could be the next Spike Lee. I look great in a baseball cap!” Taj snickered.
“Wait here.” Michael stopped me and disappeared into the closet.
“So Brynn…what’s it like dating Michael Jackson? Everything it’s cracked up to be?” Taj questioned focusing his lens on me.
I decided to mess with him.
“Oh it’s great. Michael is sweet and kind…” I paused dramatically.
“…with a body that won’t quit.” I winked at him.
“Oh man! I can’t believe you just said that!” Taj laughed so hard, he jostled his camera.
“Yup.” I batted my lashes at him innocently.
Taj actually began playing along.
“You mean to tell me that despite the age difference between you and my uncle, things are…hot?” He murmured.
“Wanna see my bruises?” I grinned mischievously at him.

“You’re killing me girl!” Taj busted up.
“What’s so funny?” Taj’s brothers, Marlon Jr., and Jermaine Jr., trotted into the room.
“I wanna laugh too.” TJ’s mouth curled up into that elfish grin again.
“Well, Brynn was telling me that she and Uncle Michael are…active.” Taj switched the lens around to TJ.
“Oh…” TJ seemed confused. Then the meaning hit home. “Oh!”
“Uncle Mike is a pimp!” Marlon Jr. exclaimed and the room filled with laughter.
“You’re really just nineteen?” Jermaine Jr. questioned, skepticism in his voice.
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“Uncle Mike is a pimp! Man I tell ya! I can’t even get a nineteen year old!” Marlon Jr. rushed over and hugged me.
“Are y’all exclusive?” He giggled spinning me in a circle. “You’re kinda cute Brynn!”
“Yes Mars Bar!” I chuckled, lightly tapping his forehead.
I knew that Marlon Jr.’s ‘flirting’ was harmless. (He had mentioned during lunch that he was dating a girl named Eliza.)
“Well, I tried.” Marlon Jr. shrugged nonchalantly.
The Jackson guys laughed insanely.

“Hey, what’s Prince like? I’ve never seen him in person before. My dad says when he gave you that car at Neverland, he looked like a real Fruit Loop.” TJ, hunched over, gasped for air.
The mood was so intensely light, I honestly didn’t mind the question.
“Prince is okay. And he just likes playing that androgyny card a lot. He’s not fruity--he’s straight.” I flipped my ponytail.
“Uncle Tito said he looked like a drag queen with all that make up and heels on!” Marlon Jr., shook his head sadly.
“Somebody needs to tell his little ass androgyny went out in the eighties!” Jermaine Jr. snapped and laughed loudly, stomping his foot.
“He really gave you a purple Ferrari?” Marlon, Jr. inquired, camera back on me.
“Yeah, it’s a sweet ride…I haven’t actually driven it yet.” I admitted, remembering with a pang of guilt how Michael had looked so utterly dejected when Prince had handed me the keys.
“Man, I might date him if he gave me a Ferrari!” Taryll snorted.
“I always wondered about you!” TJ gave Taryll a playful shove in the chest.
“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Taryll jumped in front of the camera, wildly waving his hand under his chin.
I tossed my head back, laughing.

“So, does Prince date normal sized women, or midgets, y’know, since he’s like only five feet tall?” Marlon Jr. asked, snatching the camera from Taj.
More chuckles.
Before I could answer, Taj wisecracked,
“He could date normal sized women if he stood on a soap box!”
“Wait! Wait! Look!” Taryll dropped to his knees at my side.
“Don’t I look just like Prince?” He squinched up his face and pouted, tilting his head to the side. “I’m tiny and purple and probably should be examined by a doctor.” He dropped his voice, making a sloppy attempt to mimic Prince’s deep speaking tone.
“Shee--oop!”
“Oh man, if Prince sees you doing that, he’d kick your yellow ass!” Marlon Jr. doubled over.
A giggle escaped me.
“Please! He comes up to my navel!” Taryll rose back to his feet, grinning.
“He can kick me in the big toe!”
“I can do the Prince too.” TJ volunteered and made a feeble try at Prince’s shuffle dance, tripping and falling to the floor in the process.
I knew Prince would be red hot if he saw Michael’s nephews making fun of him like that.

I wasn’t really offended--Prince had been pretty nasty about Michael in the past.
“I’m actually looking forward to the concert on Saturday.” Jermaine Jr. announced seriously.
“Really?” Eyebrows around the room went up.
I didn’t think anyone was really interested in seeing Prince, just showing up to back Michael.
“Hell yeah man, brought my magnifying glass and everything!” Jermaine Jr. chortled.
“Stop it!” TJ cried out from where he was still lying on the floor, curled into a ball, sniggling.
“Here we go!” Michael flounced out of the closet, a pink garment bag on a hanger in one hand and a shoe box in the other.
“What’s that?” I wondered as Michael held the items out to me.
“I got your outfit for the concert.” Michael explained handing the shoebox to Jermaine Jr.
“Oh you already got me something?” I took the garment bag from Michael, wondering what was in the bag.
“Do we all still have to wear something red to the show?” TJ said, finally climbing to his feet.
“Yeah, blood is thicker than water.” Michael nodded dourly.
Damn! Michael was leaving no stone unturned.
He was really going for a rock solid, united front.
I unzipped the garment bag and immediately gasped.
In side was a heavily jeweled and embellished red blouse and a pair of black and white zebra print skinny legged trousers.
“Michael…this is really cute!” I reached out and embraced him.
“I love it.”
“Dig the shoes. Only the best for my woman.” Michael took the box from his nephew and opened it.
Inside were a pair of red stilettos, accented with zebra print toes and heels, that matched my outfit perfectly.
His dark eyes glowed with a mixture of admiration and determination.
“Prince is gonna be green like a leprechaun when he sees Brynn on your arm, Uncle Mike.” Taj threw an arm around Michael’s shoulders.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Michael smiled devilishly.
Somehow I knew that more would go on at the concert besides Prince kicking his hardest grooves.
I just prayed that Club Groovement didn’t turn into Club Torture.

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