The Next Day
Somewhere Downtown
San Diego, California
“Are you nervous at all?” Michael questioned shyly, patting at my hand.
Michael, Rusty, and I were all crammed into the back of Michael’s black SUV, en route to St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital.
“No, not really.” I offered him a wide smile. “Are you?”
Michael returned my grin with one of his own. “Uh-uh!”
Rusty was on his own planet, chatting on his Blackberry.
Michael was dressed beautifully in a black blazer that featured two sterling silver buckles on the right shoulder and a royal blue band around the right bicep. Under the jacket, he wore a matching royal shirt, a diamond studded pin in the shape of an “M” at his throat. A pair of black pants with buckles down the legs and simple black boots completed the look.
His hair, in loose, springy curls, tumbled around his face and about his shoulders.
Dark glasses hid his eyes.
“Mike.” Rusty called, finally putting the doohickey down.
“I just got off the phone with Sister Mary Agnes--she says that they’re all ready for you at the hospital. We should be there in a few minutes.” He informed us The toys are bagged up and ready to be passed out. Candy too.
“How’s the security look? I don’t want a repeat of Aiken’s.” Michael cautioned.
I nodded, I didn’t feel like having Rusty carry me, anywhere.
“It’s perfect Michael. A few cop cars will be cruising around the hospital about every fifteen minutes and there’s two cops at every entrance and exit. It’s tight. Really tight.” Rusty smiled, smoothing the front of the navy suit he wore.
“And is Sam there?” Michael patting the tip of his nose.
“Yes, Michael, your videographer is there. Sister Mary Agnes says he got there about an hour ago.” Rusty nodded.
“That’s the man with the gold tooth, right?” I giggled, hugging Michael’s arm.
“That’s right, you met him a while back.” He smiled.
“Mike, what’s your story about Brynn?” Rusty questioned, glancing at me. “The Taryll thing?”
“Nope, just say she’s a friend.” Michael replied coolly, reaching down and taking a sip from the bottle of water that was at his feet.
“Do I look okay?” I wondered, wanting Michael’s approval. I wore the pink wrap dress he’d selected, paired with my cross necklace and a pair of heels that matched my dress. A pair of small diamond hoops and a diamond ring--on my right hand--rounded out my outfit.
My hair was smooth and was tucked back behind one ear.
I held my little red camera in my hands, ready to snap photos as keepsakes for the children.
(And of course, I was wearing make up!)
“You look wonderful. Stunning.” Michael assured me and pecked my forehead gently.
“There’s St. Matthew’s!” Rusty proclaimed, pointing.
Looking ahead, past him and through the windshield, I saw a small building coming over the horizon.
St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital was comprised of a somewhat large square shaped, grey two story bricked building.
I saw that the front entrance was accented by two columns made of glass cubes. A policeman was leaning against each cube column.
As we pulled into the parking lot and up the door, a person came rushing out the door.
A nun.
As a policeman opened the door to the SUV and helped, Michael, Rusty and me out, the nun darted at Michael.
“Good Morning Mr. Jackson! Hello! I’m Sister Mary Agnes!” She exclaimed grabbing onto Michael’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you!”
Sister Mary Agnes appeared to be in his early to mid-sixties. She was a pretty, rotund woman with a jolly red face, and dancing eyes that were more grey than green, behind a pair of wide rimmed, tortoise shell glasses.
She wore a simple brown habit. A wooden crucifix hung from around her neck.
“Hello Sister Mary Agnes. It’s wonderful to meet you too.” Michael’s voice slipped into its shy falsetto.
“This is my assistant, Rusty Ross--” Michael pointed at Rusty.
“It’s so nice to finally meet the voice I’ve spoken to for so long!” Sister Mary Agnes doled out another firm handshake.
“And this is my friend, Brynn McAllister. She wanted to come and help out with the toys and everything.” Michael patted my shoulder.
“Hello Sister.” I smiled as she shook my hand, hard.
I hid my pain with another smile.
“Please, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Ross, Miss McAllister, please come in and follow me!” Sister Mary Agnes swung around and led us into the hospital.
The cops were grinning like Cheshire cats at Michael. I knew they were excited to see a supernova go by.
I was surprised. I expected St. Matthew’s to be a desolate place, that would probably reek of the scent of antiseptic.
Instead, the entire place was painted a pleasing shade of pale blue and in the center of the entrance walk way was a large porcelain statue of Jesus with open arms. As we passed by it, I read the little plaque placed at Christ’s feet:
“No Prayer Goes Unheard, No Cry Goes Unanswered.”
And the place smelled like sugar cookies.
“Mr. Jackson. Our first floor is primarily for children in intensive care--we can hold up to fifteen children in the ICU, but thank the Good Lord, the ICU is empty at the present time. There are not children that sick.” Sister Mary Agnes grinned.
“That’s a blessing.” Michael agreed with a nod.
“Our general hospital area is on the second floor. It’s a big open space, so there’ll be plenty of room to go around and pass out toys and things of the like. We are so very glad that you want to help us.” Sister Mary Agnes stared at Michael with eyes flooding over with thankfulness.
“Think nothing of it. I live for this sort of thing. To help the children.” Michael gripped my hand loosely.
“Oh, and we absolutely adore the banner that your children did Mr. Jackson! It’s so beautiful! We hung it up right away!” The nun led us to an already summoned elevator.
“Oh I’m glad you like it. They wanted to help.” Michael smiled happily, as we piled onto the elevator and started to make our ascent.
“Bless their hearts!” Sister Mary Agnes clutched a hand to her ample bosom, and sighed at the Jackson Trio’s thoughtfulness.
The elevator came to a rest on the top floor and the doors popped open.
A familiar figure awaited us.
Sam the videographer.
“Hello Michael!” He called as we stepped off, focusing his large camera on us.
“Hi Sam.” Michael laughed as I waved.
“Mr. Jackson, all the toys are outside of the main ward as you can see.” Sister Mary Agnes pointed out as we rounded a corner.
“Everyone is inside, nobody knows that you’re here--they’ll be so surprised!”
Next to a set of closed blue metal doors and under a portrait of late Pope John Paul II was a huge cart loaded down with toys and goody bags.
“Gosh there’s so much stuff!” I gasped.
Had Toys ’R’ Us emptied out their entire inventory for Michael?
“I’ll push the cart.” Rusty volunteered getting behind it.
“Mr. Jackson was very generous.” Sister Mary Agnes boasted.
“Extremely.” Rusty huffed and I stomped on his foot.
I had seen the check that paid for the toys. The signature on the bottom of it read as “Michael Jackson” not “Russell Ross”.
“Please wait here, while I announce you!” Sister Mary Agnes pleaded, making her way into the room.
As the door started to close, I cracked it so I could peek in. Sam just managed to get his lens in.
I could hear Michael’s song, Black or White, playing faintly.
These were really some little hardcore fans.
I glanced around the ward. Lining the walls were children in hospital beds, most appearing happy at the sight of Sister Mary Agnes. Most of them appeared to have just broken limbs; a lot of them had their arms and/or legs in slings.
Next to each kid was at least one parent.
I saw that the Jackson Trio’s was hanging in a corner.
A little girl, about six years old, in the bed closest to the door, with her arm in a hot pink cast, waved her good hand at me.
I smiled at her and waved back.
“Everyone! Everyone! Please listen to me! I have an announcement. Turn that radio off!” Sister Mary Agnes was waving her hands around like a madwoman.
“As many of you know, last week, I reached out to the organization, Heal The World, in regards to seeing if I could get singer Michael Jackson to come and visit us--”
“Did you get him? I want to meet Michael Jackson!” A child stated from somewhere.
“This is gonna make their century.” I whispered, giddy as Michael took his place right outside the door, just out of view.
He just chuckled. I knew he was excited.
“This is too cute!” Sam commented.
“Well…” Sister Mary Agnes made her way to the door. “No.”
As disappointed chatter sprang up, Sister Mary Agnes flung the doors open.
“I was wrong!” She exclaimed in mock disbelief, as the disappointed chatter became cheers of glee and nearly drowned her out.
“Please welcome The King of Pop, Michael Jackson!”
Laughing and waving Michael entered the room.
“Oh my God! It’s Michael Jackson! Mommy it’s Michael! Oh wow!”
The cheers grew louder, and as Sam and I followed him in, Rusty bringing up the rear with toys, the screams grew yet louder.
I could see mothers overcome with joy, some hugging their children, and their husbands, all applauding.
Three nurses--two female, one male--stood in the far corner clapping.
“Settle down! Settle down! I have more to say!” Sister Mary Agnes tried to stop the sheer hysteria that was ensuing.
As the room started to quiet down, a little black girl, no older than twelve, with a bandage wrapped around her head, called out,
“I love you Michael!”
Automatically, Michael replied, “I love you more!” and more screams rocked the place.
“Children!” Sister Mary Agnes called sternly and order fell back into place. I wondered if she was like that nuns that had taught me in Catholic schools. The ones that talked softly and carried a big ruler.
Every child and parent were staring at Michael.
“Now Mr. Jackson was kind enough to take time out of his busy schedule to come and see you, and he has brought gifts!”
Applause.
“Mr. Jackson and his helpers, Rusty and Brynn, will be making their way around greeting each of you and hanging out gifts. Make sure you tell Mr. Jackson ‘thank you.’”
“Yes Sister Mary Agnes!” The children chorused. I was sure they couldn’t believe their luck.
Sister Mary Agnes, strolled over to me. “I’ll take the pictures for you, so you can pass out toys.” She offered, taking the camera from me.
“Okay, thank you.” I smiled, and walked over to the cart, getting a bag for two boys and a girl. (The bags were so heavy, that was all I could carry.)
I glanced over at Michael. He was across the room, giving a G.I. Joe action figure to a little boy and shaking hands with the boy’s seemingly single father.
They both seemed ecstatic.
I made my way across to the other side of the room, to the little girl I had first waved at.
“Hello Sweetheart. I’m Brynn, what’s your name?” I asked handing her the “girl’s” gift bag.
“This is Janelle.” The woman standing next to the little girl smiled. “I’m Alexia, Janelle’s mother. I just want to tell you that’s it’s so touching and means so much to both of us for Michael to be here. It really does!” The woman’s blue eyes were filled with tears of joy.
“It’s no problem. You can go tell that to Michael.” I grinned, her happy demeanor rubbing off on me.
“Oh, I can’t talk to Michael Jackson! I mean he’s Michael Jackson!” Alexia blushed, twirling her long dishwater blonde ponytail.
“You can talk to him, he’s totally normal.” I grinned.
“Look Mommy! It’s a Barbie and a Cabbage Patch doll! And candy! And a picture wow!” Janelle screamed gleefully as she ripped the Cabbage Patch Kids doll box open and hugged the toy inside.
“That’s nice.” Alexia was halfway across the room to Michael who was posing for a photo with the little girl who had told Michael she loved him.
As Janelle played with the doll, I learned that she had broken her forearm when she tumbled out of a bunk bed at a relative’s house.
“Hey thanks Miss Brynn!” Janelle exclaimed as I gave her a warm hug.
“You’re welcome Sweetie.” I grinned waving at the little girl in the next bed and searching for a little boy to give a “boy’s” bag to.
People were absolutely buzzing over Michael like bees over an orchid.
I spotted a young black boy sitting in his bed. Next to him was a boom box that was playing another MJ tune, Heartbreaker.
As I neared him, I saw that both his legs were in casts.
He was a cute little thing with a bald head, a huge eyes that were focused on Michael.
Next to him was a little white boy with a heavily freckled face and a shock of red hair. His arm was in a blue sling.
Their parents were a part of the crowd following Michael around with camera phones and telling him how they played Thriller oh so much as teens.
“Hi Dears.” I smiled slipping between their beds and handing a bag to each one.
The little redhead turned and stared at me, his pale green eyes widening at the sight of me.
“Oh man! Jonas! That lady is talking to us!” He gasped staring at the bald boy and back at me.
“I know Skylar! I know!” The bald boy, apparently Jonas replied.
“Hi. I’m Brynn.” I held my hand out to the bald child.
He just barely grabbed onto it, he seemed so shocked that I was talking to him.
“Hi! I’m Jonas Alexander Cartwright! I’m eleven!” He exclaimed, voice cracking.
“Nice to meet you Jonas Alexander Cartwright.” I shook his hand.
“And hello.” I held my hand out to the redhead, Skylar.
“Hi! I’m Skylar Dustin Brown. I’m ten! Gosh you’re pretty!” He blurted, and his face instantly matched his hair.
“Thank you!” I giggled ruffling his hair. “You’re cute too.”
“She said I was cute! Oh!” Skylar was bouncing he was so happy.
“Am I cute too?” Jonas stared up at me with begging eyes.
“Of course.” I patted his head.
Jonas laughed bashfully.
“Wow! Is that really, really Michael Jackson? That’s not a look alike?” Jonas questioned, rummaging through his bag and gazing dreamily at the autographed photo.
“Yes, that’s really, really Michael Jackson.” I winked at him.
“Brynn, does he really have that big house with an amusement park and a zoo and a movie theatre?” Skylar was almost tumbling out his bed as he leaned asking the question.
“Yes. That’s Neverland.” I nodded.
“He really lives there? That’s his house? He really bought it?” Jonas wondered, his eyes glimmering.
“Yes, he lives there. He really bought it.” I grinned and tossed my hair.
“And he had money left over?” Skylar blurted, reddening again.
These boys were too sweet.
“Yeah, he had money left over, he’s rich! Right!” Jonas reasoned.
“Right.” I smiled, taking a seat at his side.
“You’ve been to his house?” Skylar shrieked.
“Yep, plenty of times.”
“Are you Michael Jackson’s girlfriend?” Jonas asked, leaning towards me.
“Nope, just a friend.” I smiled, glad to play something that wasn’t the ’Taryll card’.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Jonas grinned broadly. Nope this kid wasn’t pulling any punches.
“Nah, me! He snores when he sleeps!” Skylar accused.
“Do not Carrot head!” Jonas stuck his tongue out at his friend.
“I think I’m a little too old for you boys, sorry.” I gave them a sorrowful smile.
“Well, will you sign my cast? I wanna remember meeting you. I’ve never seen a lady as pretty as you, right Sky?” Jonas asked holding up a pen.
“That’s right!” Skylar agreed.
“Sure.” I took the pen and jotted on his left leg cast,
“To Jonas, All my love, Brynn McAllister.”
“Too cool!” Jonas exclaimed.
“How’d you manage to break both legs anyway?” I snickered, handing the delighted boy his pen back.
I assumed he’d had a mishap like falling out of a tree, something normal that happened to most little boys.
I stopped when I saw Jonas’ face start to droop. Next to him, Skylar was holding his face in his hands.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t offended the children.
What Jonas told me next, struck me like an icicle through the heart.
“Um…” Jonas trailed off. “My dad ran over me with the car.”
Hugging Jonas and not really thinking, I said,
“I’m sure your father didn’t mean to accidentally hit you with the car.”
“Uh, yeah he did. He’s in jail ‘cause he hit me.” Jonas replied in my ear, squeezing me gently.
“What?” I drew back and stared at the boy.
This darling little boy’s father had hit him with a car, on purpose?
Tears of anger, and horror began springing to my eyes.
“Oh my God!” Truly mortified, and not wanting the boys to see me bawling, I turned to flee out the door.
“Brynn?” I heard Michael call as I ran from the room, sobbing.
I found the fire exit and stood in the stairwell, crying.
“Brynn? Brynn!” It was a moment before I realized there were a set of hands gently rubbing my shoulders.
I looked up to see Michael staring at me, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
Behind him, hanging in the doorway of the stairwell was Sister Mary Agnes, wringing her hands nervously.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Michael demanded, softly, wiping at my tears.
“Oh Michael! That little boy! That poor, poor, little boy!” I gasped burying my face into his chest, heaving.
“The little boy I spoke to, Jonas, he’s got two broken legs and he says his daddy is the one that broke them!” I gasped, as Michael placed his hand on the back of my head.
“Oh no!” Michael whispered. To Sister Mary Agnes he asked,
“Is she right? Does a little boy named Jonas have two broken legs because his father hurt him?”
“I’m afraid so Mr. Jackson. His father hit him with their car about a month and a half ago.” Sister Mary Agnes hung her head.
“Jonas has been in here a lot. His father was very abusive. He’s been in and out of here since he was about three. Busted lips, blackened eyes, broken bones…his father is in jail now.” She explained. “He hit Jonas with his car”
“His father hit him with a car?” Michael shrieked. “How does someone do that? How can someone be so cold and callous and evil as to hit a little boy with a car?”
Sister Mary Agnes just stared down at her feet.
She couldn’t answer.
“I want to meet Jonas right now. Right now.” Michael demanded as I came back down to earth and finally straightened myself out.
Shoulder’s square, and head up and taut, Michael started out of the room, the nun and me running behind him.
“What is he up to?” Sister Mary Agnes whispered to me as he made his way back into the ward.
“I don’ know!” I replied, swiping at my face, hoping I looked presentable.
Michael was sitting on Jonas’ bed, shaking hands with elated youngster.
Skylar was crying he was so wrapped up.
Skylar’s mother and father, a couple with hair as brilliant as their sons’ stood snapping photos.
As I stood watching Jonas converse with his idol apparent, a hand tapped my shoulder.
I turned to face a woman.
She appeared to be in her mid thirties with her reddish brown dyed hair gathered into a high ponytail. She was of the same pecan brown as Jonas’ and was giving me a sad smile.
“Hello, I’m Tequana Cartwright. I’m Jonas’ mother.” She nodded at me.
“You’re Jonas’ mother? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. But your little boy--his father really did those awful things to him?” I blubbered.
Tequana nodded. “As sad as it is, it is true. Jonas’ father wasn’t a good man. But he is going to be away for the rest of his life for hitting my Baby.”
“He’s so nice. I don’t’ know why anyone would want to hurt him.” I glanced back and saw that Michael was showing a group of children--Jonas included--how to do the Moonwalk. They were cheering blissfully.
“Thank you Brynn. That’s my one and only there. And the little redhead, Skylar, is his best friend. I haven’t seen my son this happy in years.” Tequana grinned. “And now for him to meet Michael Jackson, I’m surprised he isn’t floating around the room on a pink cloud.”
I watched as Michael hugged Jonas once again. Jonas grin wrapped around his head and then some.
“Tequana, your boy is floating on a cloud. Trust me, he is.” I assured her, patting her shoulder.
We smiled at each other.
* * *
That Night
I sat at the island in the kitchen, a mug of warm tea in front of me, untouched.
All I could think about was that darling little boy. I just couldn’t believe how someone could be such an asshole as to try to kill their own child.
Even when I was on the outskirts with my mother and father, I never once thought that they’d do me physical harm. I just couldn’t see how a person can purposefully harm their child and still look at themselves in the mirror.
I wouldn’t have been able to face myself.
“Brynn?”
I looked up to see Michael standing at the other end of the island, in his pajamas and slippers.
“Oh, hi Mike.” I said quietly and stared down into my mug.
“Are you still thinking about Jonas, Honey?” He asked, taking a seat on the stool next to mine.
“Yeah.” I admitted. “I mean it’s so sad. I was looking at Prince as I said goodnight to him earlier tonight, it made me think of Jonas. He and Prince are about the same age. And I just looked at Prince, Michael. Prince is such a happy boy. Never been hit in his life. I’ve never heard you raise your voice at the boy. And Jonas, that little boy has had nothing but pain all his life Michael. It’s just not fair.” I sniffed, and stared into Michael’s concerned face.
“I just feel useless. I want to do something special for him, and his little friend Skylar, the little redhead.” I sighed.
Michael ran a hand through my hair, “Well Bunny, do you think it would be nice maybe if we invited Jonas and Skylar here?” He suggested, putting his forehead against mine.
“What? Really? Michael, for real?” I questioned, not truly believing it.
“Yes. I don’t want you to feel unhappy, and if I could, I’d bring every sick and unhappy child here to forget their troubles, at least for a few hours. I’ll call Sister Mary Agnes in the morning and discuss it.” Michael nodded sucking his bottom lip in.
I loved that gesture.
“Oh I love you! I love you! I love you!” I screamed, wrapping my arms around Michael.
Michael Jackson was improving the world, one…um two, kids at a time.
He was really “Healing the World.”
* * *
455
Friday, March 16, 2012
Chapter 29
Neverland Valley Ranch
Santa Ynez, California
Two Days Later
“…so you mean to tell me you’re back in California right now? I don’t even get to tell you good-bye?”
Prince’s voice cracked over the receiver of my purple phone. I couldn’t tell if he was still suffering from laryngitis of if the crack in his voice was from sheer disappointment. Either way, the sound of him was tearing my heart to bits. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been that miserable.
“I know and I’m sorry. But as soon as you left yesterday, someone called and told Rusty that Michael had gotten an award from the Humanitarianism Association of America and we had to come back home right quick. I’m sorry.” I repeated, dropping into an Indian-style seated position on a pile of hay in the far back corner of the animal habitat that housed some of Michael’s giraffe’s and llamas.
(In the main house Paris was playing ‘beauty salon’ with my make up, so I had to find yet another hiding place in which I could communicate with Prince in assured secrecy.)
The line fell silent.
I could hear Prince breathing heavily.
Angrily.
Finally he spoke.
“You’ve been gone two days and just NOW you call me to let me know that you’re gone? Are you aware that I’m still in this goddamned penthouse in New York?” He remarked hotly, irritation sparking his prickly tone.
“Prince I’m so sorry. I’ve been moving so fast. We left at an ungodly hour the next day, and I’ve been busy helping Michael try to write an acceptance speech.” I glanced down and knocked a caterpillar crawling up my thigh across the room. I wished I could curl up and fly away like that little green vermin, rather than face the wrath that was spewing from Prince’s lips.
“Why the hell is he writing a speech? All he has to do is take the award, say ‘thank you’ and get his funny looking ass off the stage. Taking shit to the extreme!” Prince alleged matter-of-factly with a hard cough.
“Please don’t be that way. Michael works hard to help the needy.” I admonished calmly even though I was burning with a fiery anger. How could Prince be so callous about Michael’s good deeds?
Sometimes I just didn’t understand that little man.
“All he does is put his John Hancock on a check and stick it in an envelope.” Prince scoffed. “And they give him an award. Any fool can sign a check. Where the fuck’s my award? I donate money too. This might surprise you Baby, but every year, I donate money to my old high school in Uptown. I was on the basketball team and in the band. I donate money for uniforms and instruments and equipment for the kids there. Does anyone honor me with anything? Hell no! That’s too much like doing the right damn thing! No-- they hop all over to give that pasty faced son of a bitch an award. ”
I held the phone away from my ear as Prince continued ranting and raving.
Prince was right; I was shocked. I had no idea that he actually contributed money to his old alma mater!
I could barely believe it. Prince was so stuck up, I doubted he toss a nickel into the paper cup of a bum, much less give funds to a school. Why the hell was everyone keeping their charitable efforts from me?
While Prince paused to catch his breath, I interjected,
“Well, maybe someone from the HAA will call you too. The awards aren’t until the middle of next month. You could get honored too.” I was trying anything to soothe the savage beast.
Prince laughed as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the universe.
“That’s cute. And if I get honored, who’s going to be my date? I assume that you’re going to be Needle Nose’s date, right?” He snickered.
“Prince…you would have taken me as your date?” I questioned, flattered that’d he’d even consider it. And pissed that he’d referred to Michael as ‘Needle Nose’.
“Sure…if I could loosen that chastity belt Michael has tied around you. He wets himself if I come within ten feet of you. He’ll be swimming in his own piss if I take you out someplace. Hell, I’d be worried if my woman were on a date with me too.”
Oh, Arrogant Prince had entered the building, riding a very high horse.
“Watch it. If your head gets any more swollen, you’ll be orbiting the moon.” I pointed out.
It really did dance on my nerves when Prince got into his self worshipping mode.
Prince just chuckled lowly.
I jerked when I felt something cold suddenly touch my shoulder.
I gazed up to see Blanket standing at my side, sucking on a small red Popsicle.
“Hi Brynn! Daddy wants you! He’s waiting at the Ferris Wheel for you.” The boy grinned at me.
“Okay, I’ll be right there. Gimme a sec.” I patted Blanket’s head as I rose to my feet.
Blanket stood waiting, and nibbling on his cold treat.
“I see you’re still playing surrogate mama to Michael’s kids.” Prince observed, his voice crackling and spiking.
Why did he have such an aversion to my bonding with Michael’s children?
“Yeah, I am. And you be nice. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?” I questioned as Blanket started tugging at my free hand.
I didn’t mind Blanket seeing me on the purple phone because he was too young to really understand what was going on.
“Okay. I love you Brynn…Baby.” Prince purred. It would have been sexy, except his voice popped on the very last word.
The line went dead and I deposited the phone into a pocket on the yellow overalls I wore.
The situation had been rectified. I think.
“Come on Brynn!” Blanket exclaimed yanking me past the exotic animals who gazed at us lazily. If those creatures could talk…
“Okay! Slow down! I’m gonna fall!” I chuckled as I tried to keep up with the high strung tot.
Now there was a level, paved lane that led from habitat to the Ferris Wheel, but with Blanket as my escort, I was led stumbling over every grassy bump and dip between the two points.
As we neared the Wheel, I saw that Michael was seated in the grass near it, twirling a pink daisy in his hands, and appeared to be deep in thought.
“Daddy! I found Brynn!” Blanket called happily as if he’d discovered The Holy Grail.
Michael glanced up with a smile.
He got to his feet as his son and I made it to him.
“Daddy, where’s Prince? I wanna play with him. Paris is playing in make up and doing girly junk…yuck.” Blanket commented, poking out his pink bottom lip.
“He’s watching a movie in the theatre. You can go on over there. I want to talk to Brynn.” Michael murmured, placing a hand on my wrist and drawing me to him, tucking the daisy behind my ear.
“I bet you’re gonna kiss her!” Blanket teased before turning and scampering away, headed towards the theatre.
The boy was too adorable.
“He’s a little spitfire.” I chuckled glancing up at Michael.
He was actually blushing.
“You can say that again.” He giggled.
“You wanted to see me Mike?” I reached up and toyed with a curl that had worked its way out of the loose ponytail that Michael’s hair had been gathered into.
“Yes Baby,” Michael turned and walked a few paces from me. “You know the HAA Awards are a few weeks away and I was wondering, do you know what you’re wearing to the ceremony?” He questioned over his shoulder.
“Um, no. I’ll probably have to go into Beverly Hills or something and get a dress, right?” I shrugged.
This was my first awards deal. I just didn’t want to end up on a ‘worst dressed’ list or make Michael look bad. The last thing I ever wanted to do was embarrass him.
“Oh.” Michael flipped his hair. “You’re gonna go to the Hills for your dress.”
Something about his oh-so-casual tone didn’t set well with me.
“You don’t want me to go to Beverly Hills? I’ll go wherever you want me to. I don’t mind.” I suggested, trying to appease him.
“Well anyone can go buy a dress, Brynn.” Michael turned and glanced back at me, bottom lip sucked in. “You’re not just anyone.”
A smile eased its way onto his face. “You’re my woman, and I think you deserve a custom designed and created dress.” Michael said so quietly, I just barely heard him.
I could feel my eyebrows rushing up to my hairline as a wave of disbelief washed over me.
“Michael Joseph Jackson! Are you serious? A custom dress? Oh gosh!” I cried out running over to him and wrapping my arms around his slim figure.
As Michael joyfully laughed, I questioned,
“Who’s making the dress? Versace? Chanel? Gucci? Who? Tell me!”
“Try François.” Michael replied patting my head gently.
I leaned back and stared up at Michael.
“Who is François? I’ve never heard that name before.” I wondered, hoping I didn’t come off as totally ignorant for not knowing of a designer that Michael did.
Wearing a pleased grin, he explained,
“I’m sure you haven’t Honey. Rene François is a designer based in Nice, France. I met him a few years ago when I was on vacation there. I like his work, because not everyone gets his clothing, and I want to make sure you don’t end up wearing something another lady has on at the HAA Awards. Everyone woman hates that! Ha ha! ”
I continued to gaze up into Michael’s adoring, loving face.
My heart pounded. It was astonishing how much thought Michael had put into my outfit. Had he given himself that much consideration?
Michael was spoiling me so rotten that if I had an expiration date, it would read as B.C.
“He’ll be designing both our outfits for the awards.”
Well, that answered my question.
“That’s spectacular Michael! When do I get to meet this man?” I sighed, relieved that he was thinking of himself.
Tapping my nose, he replied sheepishly, “Right now, he’s in the house. Come on.”
Tugging on my hand gently, Michael started leading me back towards the main house.
“Cool beans!” I grinned. I could barely contain myself. Michael was truly pulling out all the stops. I couldn’t believe he had commissioned a French designer to make our outfits. Well, I could believe for his outfit--he was Michael Jackson.
But for little old me, it was incredible!
“I told him to set up in my office, you’re going to love his clothing Sweetheart.” Michael assured me as we passed into the house and slipped down the hall to where the doors to Michael’s office stood closed.
“Anyone you like is good with me.” I replied, floating.
As Michael pushed the doors to the office open, a man seated in one of the armchairs before Michael’s tremendous desk, quickly hopped to his feet, a thick sketchpad tucked under one arm.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Jackson!” He chirped happily with a wave and strode over to us, smiling broadly.
“Brynn McAllister, I’d like you meet Rene François. Rene, this is Brynn.” Michael announced crisply, giving me a soft push towards Rene.
Rene was quite ruggedly handsome, a few years older than Michael. He was about six feet tall with deeply tanned skin, thick white hair moussed back neatly and a matching goatee. His extremely lanky form was clad in a thin pale blue sweater that matched his eyes perfectly and khaki trousers. A plaid ascot circled his throat. A tiny gold hoop glimmered in his right ear lobe.
He kind of seemed like a cross between James Stewart and George Hamilton.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” I put my hand out.
“Mon Dieu! Michael, this stunning creature is the Brynn you spoke of? It will be an honor to outfit her!” Rene exclaimed, his voice heavy with a lilting French accent, taking my hand and pecking the top of it.
“Enchantee beaucoup.” He grinned. “Ca va?”
“Ca va bien, merci.” I smiled back at him, with a raised eyebrow. Michael had managed to track down France’s answer to Morris Day. (At least he was dressed better.)
Rene’s pale eyes widened. “Mon Dieu! Michael didn’t tell me you spoke French, Mademoiselle Brynn!” He declared.
“I didn’t know. Gosh.” Michael wore his surprise like a shroud.
“I know a little bit. I took French in high school. But I’m not fluent.” I admitted.
“Your tone and inflection are fantastique!” Rene complimented.
“Ha ha…thanks.” I looked down at my feet, a shyness consuming me.
“She keeps surprising me.” Michael smiled, motioning for Rene and me to sit in the armchairs and seating himself behind the desk.
“Now let’s get down to the business, shall we?” Rene suggested, placing his portfolio on the desk.
“Monsieur Jackson, when we last spoke, you told me you wanted a military style jacket for yourself and also that you wanted you and your petite fille to match, correct?” He questioned.
“That’s right.” Michael clasped his hands together on his desktop and nodded deeply. “Brynn is going to be my companion to the HAA Awards and I thought it would be a much more cohesive look if our outfits coordinated--that’s okay with you?” Michael’s eyes darted at me for a split second.
“Sure, I don’t mind.” I nodded, just happy I was being included at all.
“I have generated several sketches, and I hope that you and your petite fille find something you agree on.” With that Rene flipped the pad open.
On the first page were little two figures.
A male and a female.
On the male was a somewhat plain lilac military style jacket that was accented with gold braiding across the front and on the ends of the sleeves. Plain black trousers covered the bottom half of the figure.
On the female was a matching lilac dress that fell to the knees in an A-line with an extremely low neckline accented by what appeared to be gold sequins.
“Monsieur, the jacket will be made out of a heavy satin and embellished with a silk braid. And the girl’s dress will be made of the same material…” Rene looked up expectantly at Michael.
Michael was studying the drawings.
“I don’t care too much for this Rene. I don’t really wear purple too often, and the jacket's a little too bare for me. I don’t like the dress at all for Brynn. She’s only nineteen Rene, and we’re going to a Humanitarianism event, so that cocktail length is a little too casual. I want something more embellished for me and more sophisticated for Brynn. It’d be okay if it were the Grammys, but the HAA Awards are different.” He concluded in a low tone.
“That is okay. If at first you don’t succeed…” Rene chuckled, a bit defeated.
Michael proceeded to reject the next five sketches, citing else that the color didn’t suit him, the dresses were too skimpy for me, and that the jackets still left something to be desired.
I sat quietly and let Michael call the shots.
Since I was certain he was footing the bill and taking care of everything else that went with the program, his word was the law.
“Well, sir, this is the last sketch. I do hope that you fancy this one.” Rene looked hopeful as he flipped the page.
My heart swelled at the sight of the images.
On the male figure was what appeared to be a heavily stoned white jacket accented with thick black braiding across the front and on the sleeves. Matching epaulets covered the shoulders and draped from the lest shoulder was a black and white stoned sash. Black bottoms completed outfit.
On the female was a one shouldered mermaid silhouette dress that faded from white to blue and finally to black. A large bow accented the shoulder and it was drizzled with stones.
“Rene…this…this is nice.” Michael whispered, like a child who had found the toy of his dreams. “Tell me about this.”
Face aglow with pride, Rene explained,
“Pour vous, is a jacket that is covered from tip to toe with Swarovski crystals and beads in black and white. Hand sewn of course. The fabric is silk that I import in from China.
The trousers are leather--”
“From Italy?” Michael put in.
“Mais oui, only the best.” Rene replied quickly.
“And the dress if of the same Chinese silk and also is decorated with crystals. And the fabric will be hand dyed. Very couture, very now.”
“I like it, it’s wonderful. Do you like it Brynn?” Michael’s eyes were dancing in his skull.
“Michael, it’s stunning. May I have it, please?” I begged, prepared to drop to my knees and cling to his thigh if I had to.
My heart leapt when Michael responded,
“You will have it. I like the whole set up. A heavy jacket for me--the awards are in Pasadena, it‘s cool around those parts, so the jacket won‘t be too heavy--and a nice long dress for you. It’s great.” Michael grinned, satisfied with his selection.
“Thank you!” I cheered jumping from my seat, rounding the table and hugging Michael around the neck.
“Monsieur Jackson, your girlfriend is absolutely darling.” Rene chuckled, flipping his pad closed.
“Thank you, but Rene, she’s not my girlfriend, just a friend. She’s dating my nephew Taryll.” Michael swooped in, tossing the Taryll card on the table.
“She’s accompanying me as a favor.”
Michael was lying better than the rug on the floor.
“Oh, pardon my mistake. I’ll return tomorrow to record your and Brynn’s measurements, and immediately start work on the ensembles. It is a pleasure to work with the both of you.” Rene rose and shook our hands.
“Excuse me, am I interrupting anything?” On the other end of the room, Rusty was poking his head through the door.
“No, we’re just finishing up, come on in.” Michael motioned at Rusty.
“Hello Monsieur Ross.” Rene greeted Rusty.
“Hello.” Rusty nodded.
“I’ll see myself out. Nice meeting you Brynn.” Rene almost skipped out the room.
“You too!” I called after him, elated.
“What’s up Rusty?” Michael wondered, drawing me into his lap.
“While you were in here with that guy, I got a call from someone at the Heal The World Foundation.” Rusty replied dropping into the chair that Rene had been sitting in.
“Is something wrong?” I questioned, glancing back up at Michael.
“Not really…it’s just that the person I spoke with said they received a call from a nun named Sister Mary Agnes at the St. Matthew Children’s Hospital down in San Diego. It’s pretty small specialized place, with only about fifty children.” Rusty sighed, and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. “They were wondering if you maybe you’d come and see the children, you know hand out toys, things like that. Sister Mary Agnes says that they’ve saved up some money to buy the toys and are offering to pay you five grand to appear at the hospital. Says the kids all like you a lot. I told the people at Heal The World that I’d talk with you about it…” Rusty looked down at his hands.
It warmed my heart to know that even when they were concerned with illness, some children were fans enough of Michael to have somebody reach out to him.
Michael heaved a sigh of his own. “Well Rusty you have my schedule. Do I have an open spot? I want to help those children. Please tell me I have free day since we moved negotiations for Not Over here to California…”
“If Michael can’t go, I’ll go pass out the toys and stuff for him.” I volunteered, the story of the children really getting to me.
“Give me a second.” Rusty pulled his Blackberry out of jacket pocket and started scrolling through it.
“You’re packed pretty tight Michael…” He stammered, and Michael whimpered.
I knew that deep in his heart, Michael wanted to help.
I did too.
“Oh wait…you have next Thursday, all day, free! That‘s about it until the HAA Awards.” Rusty announced, turning his gizmo around to show Michael.
“That’s perfect!” Michael giggled and gave me a squeeze. “You get Heal The World on the phone right now. Tell them to call Sister Mary Agnes, and let her know that Brynn and I will be there!”
“Yippee!” I exclaimed and squeezed Michael back, delighted that I was going to have the opportunity to help him brighten the day of his little fans.
“I’ll go call them right now!” Rusty started for the door.
“Wait!” Michael called.
“Yes Mike?” Rusty spun back around.
“Tell Sister Mary Agnes to keep her money. I’ll supply the toys and show up for free--I can’t take money from a nun and some sick kids. It’s ungodly. And get some photographs printed up so I can give the kids autographs too.” Michael called.
“Of course Michael! Anything!” Rusty ran out the room.
I was truly gob smacked. I had never seen Michael this generous.
It was almost unreal that so much warmth and devotion were pouring out of one person.
Kissing on the dent in Michael’s chin, I asked luridly,
“Do you rent or own Michael?”
“Do I rent or own what?” Michael chuckled, stroking my hair.
“Those wings, you angel, you! You are gonna make those kids so happy! I love you…” I whispered, pecking his chin again.
“I’m glad that you love me. I just felt that I have to do something.” Michael said suddenly serious.
“I’ve been blessed with so much. God has blessed me with so much, wonderful family, wonderful kids, you, my career. And I know He’s given me everything for a reason. He didn’t have to bless me like this, and He did, I feel it is my mission to try and help others. You’ve heard me say it before, Brynn, that I want to be like Him and help others if I can. And it would have crushed me if I wouldn’t have been able to help a nun. A nun is a holy vessel. I think it’s a mission from up Above. It’s the right thing to do.”
Michael tugged on my hair gently.
I smiled up at Michael, a tear running out my eye and dampening my cheek.
“You are amazing Michael!” I whimpered and hugged him tightly.
Kind, wonderful, charitable, giving…
That was who Michael Jackson really was.
* * *
The Following Wednesday Afternoon
“Ah! Another cramp! Another cramp! I got another cramp! Ow!” Michael exclaimed, dropping the Sharpie pen he was holding, and grasping his hand to his chest, grumbling in pain.
“I told you not to try to sign fifty autographs in one setting, but do you listen to me? Nah, I’m only your girlfriend!” I teased, grasping onto Michael’s hand and gently starting to massage the cramp out. It was so bad, his thumb and index finger had become wedged together.
Sniggling, Michael commented, “I know you told me not to, but I’m almost done. I have three more to sign and I’ll be finished.”
“Let me see one.” I reached onto the desk in Michael’s study and picked up a glossy eight by ten photograph.
It was a gorgeous headshot of him. In it, Michael’s hair was straight--as it had been when I first met him--and he wore a black satin shirt with a diamond crown pin twinkling at the collar. A soft smile was on his face.
Absolutely gorgeous.
And every photo was signed,
May God Bless You!
All My Love,
Michael Jackson
Setting the photo back on the table, I questioned,
“Did the toys for the kids arrive at St. Matthew’s yet?”
Michael had called one of the Toys ‘R’ Us warehouses in California and bought a truckload of goodies for the ill children.
“Yup, Rusty said someone called him about it this morning. They’re in storage now. The kids don’t even know we’re coming. It’s going to be a surprise. It’ll be great!” Michael exclaimed jubilantly, picking his Sharpie up and scribbling on the last three photos, adding them to the stack of completed photos.
“What all are you giving away?” I twisted a lock of my hair, thinking of how happy the children were going to be to see the King of Entertainment.
“Well, Sister Mary Agnes says there’s twenty-seven little girls and twenty-three little boys, ranging from about two years old to fourteen. For the girls, they’re getting a Barbie and a Cabbage Patch Kids doll, and the boys are getting some G.I. Joes, and else a fire truck or police car. And a photo. And um, a bag of candy.” Michael smiled.
“You’re a kind, kind man.” I reached over and held onto Michael’s hands.
“Hee-Hee. Thank you.” Michael ducked his head flushing violently.
“You’re welcome.” I winked at him. I loved watching his reaction when I‘d compliment him. “What do you want me to wear tomorrow?”
“Um, I don’t know, Something pink. You look so cute in pink. Wanna go raid your closet and see?” Michael suggesting, rising to his feet.
“Okay.” I followed him stairs to the second floor where Prince and Blanket sat in the hall playing a quiet game of Jacks.
“Dad! You wanna play with us?” Prince asked, catching the red playing ball in his hand and holding it out to his father.
“Save me a game, I’m helping Brynn right now, but I will play. Promise.” Michael reached down and ruffled his oldest child’s blonde locks.
“Cool!” Prince grinned, before returning to his game.
Michael led me over to the door to my room.
Though I regularly slept in Michael’s room, I had so much clothing and junk of my own that I just kept it in a separate room.
We swung the doors to the room open…
And stood stunned for a moment.
Sashaying around my room like a supermodel was Paris.
Hand placed on tiny hip, and just barely staying upright in a pair of my high heeled shoes, the child was wafting back and forth.
And she had gotten into my make up again; she wore enough cosmetics to make up the faces of twenty women!
“Paris Katherine! What are you doing?” Michael demanded, folding his arms over his chest, not really angry.
Paris whirled around, her light eyes swelling.
“Daddy! Brynn! Oooh!” She squinched her face up when she realized she had an audience. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just playing make believe.” She grinned, loud red gloss on her pouty lips.
“And who were you making believe you were? Tammy Faye Bakker?” I giggled sauntering over and tugging on one of her braided ponytails.
“Who’s Tammy Faye Bakker?” Paris stared up at me through lashes caked together with mascara.
“She’s a nice lady preacher who wears too much make up. Like you little lady.” I explained.
“Oh…ladies can be preachers? Cool!” Paris giggled throwing her arms around my waist.
“You can be anything you want.” Michael added, dropping to one knee and hugging her. “Now go wash your face, I wanna see you…I know you’re under there somewhere.” He chuckled.
“Okay Daddy!” Paris turned and streaked into my bathroom, still teetering in the heels. I could hear the faucet start running.
Michael got back to his feet.
“She’s sweet.” I smiled up at him.
“Can I tell you something?” Michael inquired as we strolled over to my closet and started picking through it.
“Sure.” I nodded.
“Paris really looks up to you. You’re pretty much the only woman around here, since, you know, Debbie isn’t in the picture. And I’m glad that she likes you. You’re a very sweet woman. A good role model.” Michael gave me a gentle hug.
“Thank you…but I’m not trying to be a role model…I’m just being me.” I shrugged, my turn to be shy at a compliment. And it made my glow that Paris looked up to me. But Michael was right. Just about everyone else roaming the house was male--Michael, Prince, Blanket, Rusty…
“That’s what I like. You don’t put on airs or anything. You’re showing Paris that being real is a good thing. And I like that.” Michael produced a light pink wrap dress from my closet. “And I like this.”
“I like it too. What do you want me to wear with it?” I wondered, taking it from him and hanging on a hook I used when I set out my clothes to wear.
“It’s up to you, but I would like to see you wear that silver cross I gave you. I mean it is a religious hospital…” Michael tapped my chin with a long finger.
“Of course. What are you wearing?” I didn’t want to clash with My Man.
“You’ll see.” Michael chortled.
“You’re no good.” I kissed his juicy mouth.
I may have been Paris’ role model when it came to things like make up and hair, but I was about to find out that it was Michael’s giving heart that inspired the Jackson Trio.
* * *
Later That Night
“…and that’s why I am so deeply delighted to be an honoree. Once again, thank you Carmen Alonzo, and members of the Humanitarianism Association of America for this lovely award. Thank you.”
Michael squinted at the small sheet of paper in his hands, reciting the speech he and I had been working on for almost two weeks.
“How was that? Did it sound good?” He asked from where he stood at the foot of his bed.
“Yes Honey! That was awesome!” I gave him a thumbs up from where I was snuggled under the covers of his bed.
“You really think so? It isn’t too long? I hate to make a speech and then they play the ‘Get off the stage’ music before I’m finished.” Michael chuckled tossing his curls over his shoulder.
He looked good enough to eat in a set of mint green pajamas, the top completely unbuttoned, and open, exposing his soft creamy chest and abdomen.
“They shouldn’t play the ‘Get off’ music. You’re Michael Jackson. You should be able to talk until your tongue falls out and lands on the floor.” I huffed, and ran a hand through my hair.
Michael tittered and crawled across the bed over to me.
“How about I talk and you knock out the music man, so I can speak as long as I like?” He joked, pulling at the strap of the camisole I was wearing.
“You got a deal.” I replied patting his cheek.
“Shh! Wait!” Michael put his hand up.
“What?” I watched as Michael’s eyes went around the room, ears straining to listen.
“I heard something.” He continued to look around and noticed that he was leaning his head into my chest.
Wearing a cool, wicked smile, Michael concluded,
“Your boobies are screaming, ‘Let us out! Let us out!’ Hee-hee!”
I giggled when I realized he was joking. “You’re silly.”
Michael started pulling the straps of my top down.
Eventually my bosom popped out.
“I love your little melons.” Michael chuckled as his big hands cupped them, sending ripples through me.
I watched as he bent to kiss one.
His lips pursed to prettily.
“Daddy!”
At the sudden shout, Michael’s concentration was broken and he fell face first between my breasts as someone started pounding on the closed doors to the room.
“Michael are you alright?” I gasped, helping him back into a seated position.
“Yeah, luckily your little airbags caught me.” Michael chuckled, helping me back into my top.
“Daddy! Open the door!” The voice screamed again.
“We’ve got company.” Michael slid out of the bed and jogged across his room to the double doors, unlatching and opening them.
Prince, flanked by Paris and Blanket walked into the room, all three clad in pajamas and little robes.
All three of them stood grinning at their father and me, almost as if they knew what we were doing.
(But I was sure they were too innocent to really know.)
“What is it?” Michael asked, running his hands over his hair.
Prince spoke up. “Dad, we know you and Brynn are going to visit those sick kids tomorrow, and Paris, Blanket and I want you to do something for us.” He grinned.
“What’s that?” I asked rolling out the bed and walking over to them.
Prince leaned and whispered something to Paris, who grabbed Blanket and they both ran out of the room and into the hallway.
When they returned, I had to lean against Michael, I almost fainted.
Paris and Blanket were carrying a white poster on which they had stenciled “Get Well Soon!” on it in bright colors. Glitter and stickers adorned the poster.
“We want you to give this to the kids, please?” Prince looked from his father to me and back.
“Oh my God.” Michael whispered, taking the poster from his two younger children and examining it.
“Do you like it Daddy?” Blanket asked, before jamming his thumb in his mouth.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” Michael’s voice broke and I watched as his eyes became moist and tears started tumbling down his sharp cheeks.
I patted his back feebly, unable to speak.
I was purely, naturally, completely stunned. It was one thing for Michael to be open and charitable, but it was a totally different tangent that the Jackson Trio had gotten together and taken the time to hand make a poster for the children at St. Matthew’s. it warmed my hard a thousand fold to see that the Jackson Trio were being so caring about people they had never even met.
We fell silent and the only sound was of Michael weeping quietly.
Finally Paris said sweetly,
“Don’t cry Daddy, we’re sure the kids will get better.”
“I know…” Michael trailed off and rubbed at his eyes.
Stepping behind the children and wrapping them up into a huge hug, I said,
“That’s really a sweet thing to do. You are very, very nice kids. I want you to all go downstairs and make your selves a huge bowl of ice cream. You deserve it!” I announced, bending and kissing the tops of their heads.
“Yay!” Blanket was the first one out the room.
“Thanks!” Prince smiled, grabbing onto Paris’ hand and they exited the room.
Michael was still sobbing.
“Are you okay?” I asked, throwing my arms around his waist and leaning my cheek against his dampened one.
“Yes.” Michael sniffled. “I just can’t believe they did this. I didn’t tell them to. Did you?” Watery eyes sought out mine.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “You’ve got three special little ones Michael. Very special ones. You’re raising them right.” I poked Michael in his bare chest.
“Thank you, Brynn. Sometimes they just amaze me, you know?” Michael shook the poster, bits of glitter falling to the carpet. “They just amaze me. Gosh!”
He threw his arm around me and wept more, head resting on my shoulder.
Tears of my own found their way out of my eyes.
“They amaze me too…”
Santa Ynez, California
Two Days Later
“…so you mean to tell me you’re back in California right now? I don’t even get to tell you good-bye?”
Prince’s voice cracked over the receiver of my purple phone. I couldn’t tell if he was still suffering from laryngitis of if the crack in his voice was from sheer disappointment. Either way, the sound of him was tearing my heart to bits. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been that miserable.
“I know and I’m sorry. But as soon as you left yesterday, someone called and told Rusty that Michael had gotten an award from the Humanitarianism Association of America and we had to come back home right quick. I’m sorry.” I repeated, dropping into an Indian-style seated position on a pile of hay in the far back corner of the animal habitat that housed some of Michael’s giraffe’s and llamas.
(In the main house Paris was playing ‘beauty salon’ with my make up, so I had to find yet another hiding place in which I could communicate with Prince in assured secrecy.)
The line fell silent.
I could hear Prince breathing heavily.
Angrily.
Finally he spoke.
“You’ve been gone two days and just NOW you call me to let me know that you’re gone? Are you aware that I’m still in this goddamned penthouse in New York?” He remarked hotly, irritation sparking his prickly tone.
“Prince I’m so sorry. I’ve been moving so fast. We left at an ungodly hour the next day, and I’ve been busy helping Michael try to write an acceptance speech.” I glanced down and knocked a caterpillar crawling up my thigh across the room. I wished I could curl up and fly away like that little green vermin, rather than face the wrath that was spewing from Prince’s lips.
“Why the hell is he writing a speech? All he has to do is take the award, say ‘thank you’ and get his funny looking ass off the stage. Taking shit to the extreme!” Prince alleged matter-of-factly with a hard cough.
“Please don’t be that way. Michael works hard to help the needy.” I admonished calmly even though I was burning with a fiery anger. How could Prince be so callous about Michael’s good deeds?
Sometimes I just didn’t understand that little man.
“All he does is put his John Hancock on a check and stick it in an envelope.” Prince scoffed. “And they give him an award. Any fool can sign a check. Where the fuck’s my award? I donate money too. This might surprise you Baby, but every year, I donate money to my old high school in Uptown. I was on the basketball team and in the band. I donate money for uniforms and instruments and equipment for the kids there. Does anyone honor me with anything? Hell no! That’s too much like doing the right damn thing! No-- they hop all over to give that pasty faced son of a bitch an award. ”
I held the phone away from my ear as Prince continued ranting and raving.
Prince was right; I was shocked. I had no idea that he actually contributed money to his old alma mater!
I could barely believe it. Prince was so stuck up, I doubted he toss a nickel into the paper cup of a bum, much less give funds to a school. Why the hell was everyone keeping their charitable efforts from me?
While Prince paused to catch his breath, I interjected,
“Well, maybe someone from the HAA will call you too. The awards aren’t until the middle of next month. You could get honored too.” I was trying anything to soothe the savage beast.
Prince laughed as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the universe.
“That’s cute. And if I get honored, who’s going to be my date? I assume that you’re going to be Needle Nose’s date, right?” He snickered.
“Prince…you would have taken me as your date?” I questioned, flattered that’d he’d even consider it. And pissed that he’d referred to Michael as ‘Needle Nose’.
“Sure…if I could loosen that chastity belt Michael has tied around you. He wets himself if I come within ten feet of you. He’ll be swimming in his own piss if I take you out someplace. Hell, I’d be worried if my woman were on a date with me too.”
Oh, Arrogant Prince had entered the building, riding a very high horse.
“Watch it. If your head gets any more swollen, you’ll be orbiting the moon.” I pointed out.
It really did dance on my nerves when Prince got into his self worshipping mode.
Prince just chuckled lowly.
I jerked when I felt something cold suddenly touch my shoulder.
I gazed up to see Blanket standing at my side, sucking on a small red Popsicle.
“Hi Brynn! Daddy wants you! He’s waiting at the Ferris Wheel for you.” The boy grinned at me.
“Okay, I’ll be right there. Gimme a sec.” I patted Blanket’s head as I rose to my feet.
Blanket stood waiting, and nibbling on his cold treat.
“I see you’re still playing surrogate mama to Michael’s kids.” Prince observed, his voice crackling and spiking.
Why did he have such an aversion to my bonding with Michael’s children?
“Yeah, I am. And you be nice. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?” I questioned as Blanket started tugging at my free hand.
I didn’t mind Blanket seeing me on the purple phone because he was too young to really understand what was going on.
“Okay. I love you Brynn…Baby.” Prince purred. It would have been sexy, except his voice popped on the very last word.
The line went dead and I deposited the phone into a pocket on the yellow overalls I wore.
The situation had been rectified. I think.
“Come on Brynn!” Blanket exclaimed yanking me past the exotic animals who gazed at us lazily. If those creatures could talk…
“Okay! Slow down! I’m gonna fall!” I chuckled as I tried to keep up with the high strung tot.
Now there was a level, paved lane that led from habitat to the Ferris Wheel, but with Blanket as my escort, I was led stumbling over every grassy bump and dip between the two points.
As we neared the Wheel, I saw that Michael was seated in the grass near it, twirling a pink daisy in his hands, and appeared to be deep in thought.
“Daddy! I found Brynn!” Blanket called happily as if he’d discovered The Holy Grail.
Michael glanced up with a smile.
He got to his feet as his son and I made it to him.
“Daddy, where’s Prince? I wanna play with him. Paris is playing in make up and doing girly junk…yuck.” Blanket commented, poking out his pink bottom lip.
“He’s watching a movie in the theatre. You can go on over there. I want to talk to Brynn.” Michael murmured, placing a hand on my wrist and drawing me to him, tucking the daisy behind my ear.
“I bet you’re gonna kiss her!” Blanket teased before turning and scampering away, headed towards the theatre.
The boy was too adorable.
“He’s a little spitfire.” I chuckled glancing up at Michael.
He was actually blushing.
“You can say that again.” He giggled.
“You wanted to see me Mike?” I reached up and toyed with a curl that had worked its way out of the loose ponytail that Michael’s hair had been gathered into.
“Yes Baby,” Michael turned and walked a few paces from me. “You know the HAA Awards are a few weeks away and I was wondering, do you know what you’re wearing to the ceremony?” He questioned over his shoulder.
“Um, no. I’ll probably have to go into Beverly Hills or something and get a dress, right?” I shrugged.
This was my first awards deal. I just didn’t want to end up on a ‘worst dressed’ list or make Michael look bad. The last thing I ever wanted to do was embarrass him.
“Oh.” Michael flipped his hair. “You’re gonna go to the Hills for your dress.”
Something about his oh-so-casual tone didn’t set well with me.
“You don’t want me to go to Beverly Hills? I’ll go wherever you want me to. I don’t mind.” I suggested, trying to appease him.
“Well anyone can go buy a dress, Brynn.” Michael turned and glanced back at me, bottom lip sucked in. “You’re not just anyone.”
A smile eased its way onto his face. “You’re my woman, and I think you deserve a custom designed and created dress.” Michael said so quietly, I just barely heard him.
I could feel my eyebrows rushing up to my hairline as a wave of disbelief washed over me.
“Michael Joseph Jackson! Are you serious? A custom dress? Oh gosh!” I cried out running over to him and wrapping my arms around his slim figure.
As Michael joyfully laughed, I questioned,
“Who’s making the dress? Versace? Chanel? Gucci? Who? Tell me!”
“Try François.” Michael replied patting my head gently.
I leaned back and stared up at Michael.
“Who is François? I’ve never heard that name before.” I wondered, hoping I didn’t come off as totally ignorant for not knowing of a designer that Michael did.
Wearing a pleased grin, he explained,
“I’m sure you haven’t Honey. Rene François is a designer based in Nice, France. I met him a few years ago when I was on vacation there. I like his work, because not everyone gets his clothing, and I want to make sure you don’t end up wearing something another lady has on at the HAA Awards. Everyone woman hates that! Ha ha! ”
I continued to gaze up into Michael’s adoring, loving face.
My heart pounded. It was astonishing how much thought Michael had put into my outfit. Had he given himself that much consideration?
Michael was spoiling me so rotten that if I had an expiration date, it would read as B.C.
“He’ll be designing both our outfits for the awards.”
Well, that answered my question.
“That’s spectacular Michael! When do I get to meet this man?” I sighed, relieved that he was thinking of himself.
Tapping my nose, he replied sheepishly, “Right now, he’s in the house. Come on.”
Tugging on my hand gently, Michael started leading me back towards the main house.
“Cool beans!” I grinned. I could barely contain myself. Michael was truly pulling out all the stops. I couldn’t believe he had commissioned a French designer to make our outfits. Well, I could believe for his outfit--he was Michael Jackson.
But for little old me, it was incredible!
“I told him to set up in my office, you’re going to love his clothing Sweetheart.” Michael assured me as we passed into the house and slipped down the hall to where the doors to Michael’s office stood closed.
“Anyone you like is good with me.” I replied, floating.
As Michael pushed the doors to the office open, a man seated in one of the armchairs before Michael’s tremendous desk, quickly hopped to his feet, a thick sketchpad tucked under one arm.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Jackson!” He chirped happily with a wave and strode over to us, smiling broadly.
“Brynn McAllister, I’d like you meet Rene François. Rene, this is Brynn.” Michael announced crisply, giving me a soft push towards Rene.
Rene was quite ruggedly handsome, a few years older than Michael. He was about six feet tall with deeply tanned skin, thick white hair moussed back neatly and a matching goatee. His extremely lanky form was clad in a thin pale blue sweater that matched his eyes perfectly and khaki trousers. A plaid ascot circled his throat. A tiny gold hoop glimmered in his right ear lobe.
He kind of seemed like a cross between James Stewart and George Hamilton.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” I put my hand out.
“Mon Dieu! Michael, this stunning creature is the Brynn you spoke of? It will be an honor to outfit her!” Rene exclaimed, his voice heavy with a lilting French accent, taking my hand and pecking the top of it.
“Enchantee beaucoup.” He grinned. “Ca va?”
“Ca va bien, merci.” I smiled back at him, with a raised eyebrow. Michael had managed to track down France’s answer to Morris Day. (At least he was dressed better.)
Rene’s pale eyes widened. “Mon Dieu! Michael didn’t tell me you spoke French, Mademoiselle Brynn!” He declared.
“I didn’t know. Gosh.” Michael wore his surprise like a shroud.
“I know a little bit. I took French in high school. But I’m not fluent.” I admitted.
“Your tone and inflection are fantastique!” Rene complimented.
“Ha ha…thanks.” I looked down at my feet, a shyness consuming me.
“She keeps surprising me.” Michael smiled, motioning for Rene and me to sit in the armchairs and seating himself behind the desk.
“Now let’s get down to the business, shall we?” Rene suggested, placing his portfolio on the desk.
“Monsieur Jackson, when we last spoke, you told me you wanted a military style jacket for yourself and also that you wanted you and your petite fille to match, correct?” He questioned.
“That’s right.” Michael clasped his hands together on his desktop and nodded deeply. “Brynn is going to be my companion to the HAA Awards and I thought it would be a much more cohesive look if our outfits coordinated--that’s okay with you?” Michael’s eyes darted at me for a split second.
“Sure, I don’t mind.” I nodded, just happy I was being included at all.
“I have generated several sketches, and I hope that you and your petite fille find something you agree on.” With that Rene flipped the pad open.
On the first page were little two figures.
A male and a female.
On the male was a somewhat plain lilac military style jacket that was accented with gold braiding across the front and on the ends of the sleeves. Plain black trousers covered the bottom half of the figure.
On the female was a matching lilac dress that fell to the knees in an A-line with an extremely low neckline accented by what appeared to be gold sequins.
“Monsieur, the jacket will be made out of a heavy satin and embellished with a silk braid. And the girl’s dress will be made of the same material…” Rene looked up expectantly at Michael.
Michael was studying the drawings.
“I don’t care too much for this Rene. I don’t really wear purple too often, and the jacket's a little too bare for me. I don’t like the dress at all for Brynn. She’s only nineteen Rene, and we’re going to a Humanitarianism event, so that cocktail length is a little too casual. I want something more embellished for me and more sophisticated for Brynn. It’d be okay if it were the Grammys, but the HAA Awards are different.” He concluded in a low tone.
“That is okay. If at first you don’t succeed…” Rene chuckled, a bit defeated.
Michael proceeded to reject the next five sketches, citing else that the color didn’t suit him, the dresses were too skimpy for me, and that the jackets still left something to be desired.
I sat quietly and let Michael call the shots.
Since I was certain he was footing the bill and taking care of everything else that went with the program, his word was the law.
“Well, sir, this is the last sketch. I do hope that you fancy this one.” Rene looked hopeful as he flipped the page.
My heart swelled at the sight of the images.
On the male figure was what appeared to be a heavily stoned white jacket accented with thick black braiding across the front and on the sleeves. Matching epaulets covered the shoulders and draped from the lest shoulder was a black and white stoned sash. Black bottoms completed outfit.
On the female was a one shouldered mermaid silhouette dress that faded from white to blue and finally to black. A large bow accented the shoulder and it was drizzled with stones.
“Rene…this…this is nice.” Michael whispered, like a child who had found the toy of his dreams. “Tell me about this.”
Face aglow with pride, Rene explained,
“Pour vous, is a jacket that is covered from tip to toe with Swarovski crystals and beads in black and white. Hand sewn of course. The fabric is silk that I import in from China.
The trousers are leather--”
“From Italy?” Michael put in.
“Mais oui, only the best.” Rene replied quickly.
“And the dress if of the same Chinese silk and also is decorated with crystals. And the fabric will be hand dyed. Very couture, very now.”
“I like it, it’s wonderful. Do you like it Brynn?” Michael’s eyes were dancing in his skull.
“Michael, it’s stunning. May I have it, please?” I begged, prepared to drop to my knees and cling to his thigh if I had to.
My heart leapt when Michael responded,
“You will have it. I like the whole set up. A heavy jacket for me--the awards are in Pasadena, it‘s cool around those parts, so the jacket won‘t be too heavy--and a nice long dress for you. It’s great.” Michael grinned, satisfied with his selection.
“Thank you!” I cheered jumping from my seat, rounding the table and hugging Michael around the neck.
“Monsieur Jackson, your girlfriend is absolutely darling.” Rene chuckled, flipping his pad closed.
“Thank you, but Rene, she’s not my girlfriend, just a friend. She’s dating my nephew Taryll.” Michael swooped in, tossing the Taryll card on the table.
“She’s accompanying me as a favor.”
Michael was lying better than the rug on the floor.
“Oh, pardon my mistake. I’ll return tomorrow to record your and Brynn’s measurements, and immediately start work on the ensembles. It is a pleasure to work with the both of you.” Rene rose and shook our hands.
“Excuse me, am I interrupting anything?” On the other end of the room, Rusty was poking his head through the door.
“No, we’re just finishing up, come on in.” Michael motioned at Rusty.
“Hello Monsieur Ross.” Rene greeted Rusty.
“Hello.” Rusty nodded.
“I’ll see myself out. Nice meeting you Brynn.” Rene almost skipped out the room.
“You too!” I called after him, elated.
“What’s up Rusty?” Michael wondered, drawing me into his lap.
“While you were in here with that guy, I got a call from someone at the Heal The World Foundation.” Rusty replied dropping into the chair that Rene had been sitting in.
“Is something wrong?” I questioned, glancing back up at Michael.
“Not really…it’s just that the person I spoke with said they received a call from a nun named Sister Mary Agnes at the St. Matthew Children’s Hospital down in San Diego. It’s pretty small specialized place, with only about fifty children.” Rusty sighed, and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. “They were wondering if you maybe you’d come and see the children, you know hand out toys, things like that. Sister Mary Agnes says that they’ve saved up some money to buy the toys and are offering to pay you five grand to appear at the hospital. Says the kids all like you a lot. I told the people at Heal The World that I’d talk with you about it…” Rusty looked down at his hands.
It warmed my heart to know that even when they were concerned with illness, some children were fans enough of Michael to have somebody reach out to him.
Michael heaved a sigh of his own. “Well Rusty you have my schedule. Do I have an open spot? I want to help those children. Please tell me I have free day since we moved negotiations for Not Over here to California…”
“If Michael can’t go, I’ll go pass out the toys and stuff for him.” I volunteered, the story of the children really getting to me.
“Give me a second.” Rusty pulled his Blackberry out of jacket pocket and started scrolling through it.
“You’re packed pretty tight Michael…” He stammered, and Michael whimpered.
I knew that deep in his heart, Michael wanted to help.
I did too.
“Oh wait…you have next Thursday, all day, free! That‘s about it until the HAA Awards.” Rusty announced, turning his gizmo around to show Michael.
“That’s perfect!” Michael giggled and gave me a squeeze. “You get Heal The World on the phone right now. Tell them to call Sister Mary Agnes, and let her know that Brynn and I will be there!”
“Yippee!” I exclaimed and squeezed Michael back, delighted that I was going to have the opportunity to help him brighten the day of his little fans.
“I’ll go call them right now!” Rusty started for the door.
“Wait!” Michael called.
“Yes Mike?” Rusty spun back around.
“Tell Sister Mary Agnes to keep her money. I’ll supply the toys and show up for free--I can’t take money from a nun and some sick kids. It’s ungodly. And get some photographs printed up so I can give the kids autographs too.” Michael called.
“Of course Michael! Anything!” Rusty ran out the room.
I was truly gob smacked. I had never seen Michael this generous.
It was almost unreal that so much warmth and devotion were pouring out of one person.
Kissing on the dent in Michael’s chin, I asked luridly,
“Do you rent or own Michael?”
“Do I rent or own what?” Michael chuckled, stroking my hair.
“Those wings, you angel, you! You are gonna make those kids so happy! I love you…” I whispered, pecking his chin again.
“I’m glad that you love me. I just felt that I have to do something.” Michael said suddenly serious.
“I’ve been blessed with so much. God has blessed me with so much, wonderful family, wonderful kids, you, my career. And I know He’s given me everything for a reason. He didn’t have to bless me like this, and He did, I feel it is my mission to try and help others. You’ve heard me say it before, Brynn, that I want to be like Him and help others if I can. And it would have crushed me if I wouldn’t have been able to help a nun. A nun is a holy vessel. I think it’s a mission from up Above. It’s the right thing to do.”
Michael tugged on my hair gently.
I smiled up at Michael, a tear running out my eye and dampening my cheek.
“You are amazing Michael!” I whimpered and hugged him tightly.
Kind, wonderful, charitable, giving…
That was who Michael Jackson really was.
* * *
The Following Wednesday Afternoon
“Ah! Another cramp! Another cramp! I got another cramp! Ow!” Michael exclaimed, dropping the Sharpie pen he was holding, and grasping his hand to his chest, grumbling in pain.
“I told you not to try to sign fifty autographs in one setting, but do you listen to me? Nah, I’m only your girlfriend!” I teased, grasping onto Michael’s hand and gently starting to massage the cramp out. It was so bad, his thumb and index finger had become wedged together.
Sniggling, Michael commented, “I know you told me not to, but I’m almost done. I have three more to sign and I’ll be finished.”
“Let me see one.” I reached onto the desk in Michael’s study and picked up a glossy eight by ten photograph.
It was a gorgeous headshot of him. In it, Michael’s hair was straight--as it had been when I first met him--and he wore a black satin shirt with a diamond crown pin twinkling at the collar. A soft smile was on his face.
Absolutely gorgeous.
And every photo was signed,
May God Bless You!
All My Love,
Michael Jackson
Setting the photo back on the table, I questioned,
“Did the toys for the kids arrive at St. Matthew’s yet?”
Michael had called one of the Toys ‘R’ Us warehouses in California and bought a truckload of goodies for the ill children.
“Yup, Rusty said someone called him about it this morning. They’re in storage now. The kids don’t even know we’re coming. It’s going to be a surprise. It’ll be great!” Michael exclaimed jubilantly, picking his Sharpie up and scribbling on the last three photos, adding them to the stack of completed photos.
“What all are you giving away?” I twisted a lock of my hair, thinking of how happy the children were going to be to see the King of Entertainment.
“Well, Sister Mary Agnes says there’s twenty-seven little girls and twenty-three little boys, ranging from about two years old to fourteen. For the girls, they’re getting a Barbie and a Cabbage Patch Kids doll, and the boys are getting some G.I. Joes, and else a fire truck or police car. And a photo. And um, a bag of candy.” Michael smiled.
“You’re a kind, kind man.” I reached over and held onto Michael’s hands.
“Hee-Hee. Thank you.” Michael ducked his head flushing violently.
“You’re welcome.” I winked at him. I loved watching his reaction when I‘d compliment him. “What do you want me to wear tomorrow?”
“Um, I don’t know, Something pink. You look so cute in pink. Wanna go raid your closet and see?” Michael suggesting, rising to his feet.
“Okay.” I followed him stairs to the second floor where Prince and Blanket sat in the hall playing a quiet game of Jacks.
“Dad! You wanna play with us?” Prince asked, catching the red playing ball in his hand and holding it out to his father.
“Save me a game, I’m helping Brynn right now, but I will play. Promise.” Michael reached down and ruffled his oldest child’s blonde locks.
“Cool!” Prince grinned, before returning to his game.
Michael led me over to the door to my room.
Though I regularly slept in Michael’s room, I had so much clothing and junk of my own that I just kept it in a separate room.
We swung the doors to the room open…
And stood stunned for a moment.
Sashaying around my room like a supermodel was Paris.
Hand placed on tiny hip, and just barely staying upright in a pair of my high heeled shoes, the child was wafting back and forth.
And she had gotten into my make up again; she wore enough cosmetics to make up the faces of twenty women!
“Paris Katherine! What are you doing?” Michael demanded, folding his arms over his chest, not really angry.
Paris whirled around, her light eyes swelling.
“Daddy! Brynn! Oooh!” She squinched her face up when she realized she had an audience. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just playing make believe.” She grinned, loud red gloss on her pouty lips.
“And who were you making believe you were? Tammy Faye Bakker?” I giggled sauntering over and tugging on one of her braided ponytails.
“Who’s Tammy Faye Bakker?” Paris stared up at me through lashes caked together with mascara.
“She’s a nice lady preacher who wears too much make up. Like you little lady.” I explained.
“Oh…ladies can be preachers? Cool!” Paris giggled throwing her arms around my waist.
“You can be anything you want.” Michael added, dropping to one knee and hugging her. “Now go wash your face, I wanna see you…I know you’re under there somewhere.” He chuckled.
“Okay Daddy!” Paris turned and streaked into my bathroom, still teetering in the heels. I could hear the faucet start running.
Michael got back to his feet.
“She’s sweet.” I smiled up at him.
“Can I tell you something?” Michael inquired as we strolled over to my closet and started picking through it.
“Sure.” I nodded.
“Paris really looks up to you. You’re pretty much the only woman around here, since, you know, Debbie isn’t in the picture. And I’m glad that she likes you. You’re a very sweet woman. A good role model.” Michael gave me a gentle hug.
“Thank you…but I’m not trying to be a role model…I’m just being me.” I shrugged, my turn to be shy at a compliment. And it made my glow that Paris looked up to me. But Michael was right. Just about everyone else roaming the house was male--Michael, Prince, Blanket, Rusty…
“That’s what I like. You don’t put on airs or anything. You’re showing Paris that being real is a good thing. And I like that.” Michael produced a light pink wrap dress from my closet. “And I like this.”
“I like it too. What do you want me to wear with it?” I wondered, taking it from him and hanging on a hook I used when I set out my clothes to wear.
“It’s up to you, but I would like to see you wear that silver cross I gave you. I mean it is a religious hospital…” Michael tapped my chin with a long finger.
“Of course. What are you wearing?” I didn’t want to clash with My Man.
“You’ll see.” Michael chortled.
“You’re no good.” I kissed his juicy mouth.
I may have been Paris’ role model when it came to things like make up and hair, but I was about to find out that it was Michael’s giving heart that inspired the Jackson Trio.
* * *
Later That Night
“…and that’s why I am so deeply delighted to be an honoree. Once again, thank you Carmen Alonzo, and members of the Humanitarianism Association of America for this lovely award. Thank you.”
Michael squinted at the small sheet of paper in his hands, reciting the speech he and I had been working on for almost two weeks.
“How was that? Did it sound good?” He asked from where he stood at the foot of his bed.
“Yes Honey! That was awesome!” I gave him a thumbs up from where I was snuggled under the covers of his bed.
“You really think so? It isn’t too long? I hate to make a speech and then they play the ‘Get off the stage’ music before I’m finished.” Michael chuckled tossing his curls over his shoulder.
He looked good enough to eat in a set of mint green pajamas, the top completely unbuttoned, and open, exposing his soft creamy chest and abdomen.
“They shouldn’t play the ‘Get off’ music. You’re Michael Jackson. You should be able to talk until your tongue falls out and lands on the floor.” I huffed, and ran a hand through my hair.
Michael tittered and crawled across the bed over to me.
“How about I talk and you knock out the music man, so I can speak as long as I like?” He joked, pulling at the strap of the camisole I was wearing.
“You got a deal.” I replied patting his cheek.
“Shh! Wait!” Michael put his hand up.
“What?” I watched as Michael’s eyes went around the room, ears straining to listen.
“I heard something.” He continued to look around and noticed that he was leaning his head into my chest.
Wearing a cool, wicked smile, Michael concluded,
“Your boobies are screaming, ‘Let us out! Let us out!’ Hee-hee!”
I giggled when I realized he was joking. “You’re silly.”
Michael started pulling the straps of my top down.
Eventually my bosom popped out.
“I love your little melons.” Michael chuckled as his big hands cupped them, sending ripples through me.
I watched as he bent to kiss one.
His lips pursed to prettily.
“Daddy!”
At the sudden shout, Michael’s concentration was broken and he fell face first between my breasts as someone started pounding on the closed doors to the room.
“Michael are you alright?” I gasped, helping him back into a seated position.
“Yeah, luckily your little airbags caught me.” Michael chuckled, helping me back into my top.
“Daddy! Open the door!” The voice screamed again.
“We’ve got company.” Michael slid out of the bed and jogged across his room to the double doors, unlatching and opening them.
Prince, flanked by Paris and Blanket walked into the room, all three clad in pajamas and little robes.
All three of them stood grinning at their father and me, almost as if they knew what we were doing.
(But I was sure they were too innocent to really know.)
“What is it?” Michael asked, running his hands over his hair.
Prince spoke up. “Dad, we know you and Brynn are going to visit those sick kids tomorrow, and Paris, Blanket and I want you to do something for us.” He grinned.
“What’s that?” I asked rolling out the bed and walking over to them.
Prince leaned and whispered something to Paris, who grabbed Blanket and they both ran out of the room and into the hallway.
When they returned, I had to lean against Michael, I almost fainted.
Paris and Blanket were carrying a white poster on which they had stenciled “Get Well Soon!” on it in bright colors. Glitter and stickers adorned the poster.
“We want you to give this to the kids, please?” Prince looked from his father to me and back.
“Oh my God.” Michael whispered, taking the poster from his two younger children and examining it.
“Do you like it Daddy?” Blanket asked, before jamming his thumb in his mouth.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” Michael’s voice broke and I watched as his eyes became moist and tears started tumbling down his sharp cheeks.
I patted his back feebly, unable to speak.
I was purely, naturally, completely stunned. It was one thing for Michael to be open and charitable, but it was a totally different tangent that the Jackson Trio had gotten together and taken the time to hand make a poster for the children at St. Matthew’s. it warmed my hard a thousand fold to see that the Jackson Trio were being so caring about people they had never even met.
We fell silent and the only sound was of Michael weeping quietly.
Finally Paris said sweetly,
“Don’t cry Daddy, we’re sure the kids will get better.”
“I know…” Michael trailed off and rubbed at his eyes.
Stepping behind the children and wrapping them up into a huge hug, I said,
“That’s really a sweet thing to do. You are very, very nice kids. I want you to all go downstairs and make your selves a huge bowl of ice cream. You deserve it!” I announced, bending and kissing the tops of their heads.
“Yay!” Blanket was the first one out the room.
“Thanks!” Prince smiled, grabbing onto Paris’ hand and they exited the room.
Michael was still sobbing.
“Are you okay?” I asked, throwing my arms around his waist and leaning my cheek against his dampened one.
“Yes.” Michael sniffled. “I just can’t believe they did this. I didn’t tell them to. Did you?” Watery eyes sought out mine.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “You’ve got three special little ones Michael. Very special ones. You’re raising them right.” I poked Michael in his bare chest.
“Thank you, Brynn. Sometimes they just amaze me, you know?” Michael shook the poster, bits of glitter falling to the carpet. “They just amaze me. Gosh!”
He threw his arm around me and wept more, head resting on my shoulder.
Tears of my own found their way out of my eyes.
“They amaze me too…”
Chapter 28
The Following Afternoon
“…come on! Come on Prince…answer!” I whispered quietly, sitting on the washbasin counter, purple cell phone mashed to earlobe.
Much to my aggravation, the other end just rang endlessly. Since the previous night, when the concert had been cancelled I had been calling Prince, vainly trying to get in touch with him.
Dozens of dialings.
Part of me wanted to believe that he had cancelled the concert simply to send Michael and the Jacksons on a wild goose chase. It would have been the perfect prank--have a busload of Jacksons all dressed up, ride across the state and then end up with nothing at all to attend.
But another part of me really thought that Prince was actually sick.
That was one way that Prince and Michael were alike--they both loved performing and adored being onstage.
And they’d have to really be out of sorts to cancel a performance.
If Prince was indeed sick, I wanted to know how he was doing. If he was in any pain.
I cared for him too, even though he was The Other Man.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
A light knocking on the door jarred me from my battle with the phone.
“Just a minute!” I called, hopping off the counter and momentarily skidding in the pink roller skates I wore.
For the biggest part of the afternoon, the Jacksons had been amusing themselves by running skating races up and down the long corridor to the elevator.
(Michael always seemed to come up with unique ways of having fun.)
After stashing the phone in my make up case, I checked myself, straightening my pink t-shirt and dusting off my white and pink pinstriped jeans. I had to look normal.
I skidded over to the door and opened it.
Taj, camera in hand, stood idling in a pair of black and silver skates.
“Hey Brynn! I was wondering where you disappeared to.” He chuckled as we started gliding through the suite.
“Can’t I go to the ladies’ room without a paparazzi following me?” I giggled, reaching up and tapping the lens of his camera. “How do you film and skate the same time anyway? I’d have busted my butt by now!”
Taj laughed heartily. “You see, Young Brynn, I am a master at multi-tasking. You are looking at a man who can drive his car, talk on a cell phone and comb his hair--in downtown LA mind you--without crashing.”
“Okay, you are NEVER driving me anywhere man. I’d rather walk.” I remarked and we busted up.
As we reached the front corridor, excited shouts and cheers began reaching us.
“Sounds like they’re turning it out in there.” I chuckled as we passed through the doors.
In the hallway, the adult Jacksons, and Selena, were lining the walls hooting as Prince, Paris and Blanket were skating earnestly towards the elevator, racing to see who would reach it first.
Rusty was off in a corner playing with that damned Blackberry.
Paris was the clear winner, not only reaching the elevator doors first, but slamming into them.
She sank to the floor laughing.
“Are you okay Baby?” Latoya called, teetering in her own green skates that matched the minidress she wore. I hadn’t seen Latoya in a pair of pants yet.
“I’m good!” Paris exclaimed as her older brother helped her to her feet.
“I wondered where you went off to.” Michael slid over to me and gave me a warm hug.
He was beautiful in a red and white plaid shirt and blue jeans. Red skates contained his large feet.
“Well here I am” I beamed up at him, and picked at a curl that had worked it’s way out of the ponytail at back of Michael’s head.
Such a lovely man.
“Yo Brynn!” Marlon Jr. came flying at me.
“Yeah?” I questioned as Michael wrapped his arm around my hips.
Selena and Latoya were skating wildly towards the elevator.
“You wanna race me? I bet I can beat you!” He grinned, tugging at the large diamond stud in his left earlobe.
“The only reason he’s asking is cause damn near everyone else has whipped him!” TJ put in as he sashayed by smoothly.
“Hey man! Shut up!” Marlon Jr. snarled and gave TJ and firm push, sending him flailing over into his father and against the wall.
“And I was just letting you win! Felt sorry for you!” He continued, his dark eyes flashing under his thick eyebrows.
“Yeah right!” TJ struggled to pull himself and Tito back upright.
Patting his shoulder, I challenged, “Don’t let me win. Bring your A-game.”
“Oooh!” The Jacksons jeered.
“Wow Mars Bar, what are you gonna do?” Michael chuckled, winking at his nephew.
“I guess I’ll have to bring my A-game. Come on Brynn!” Marlon Jr. tugged at my arm and led me to a starting spot that had been marked with a piece of masking tape on the floor.
Beyond us, Marlon Sr. skated in front of us.
“Okay on the count of three, you take off. And no tripping or dirty work--that’s grounds for an automatic forfeit!” He grinned, his mustache glimmering.
“Alright Dad! Just count!” Marlon Jr. whined shrilly.
Marlon Sr. just wanted to mess with us, instead of counting, he merely screamed “THREE!”
“You got a head whooping coming Mars Bar!” I called as we bore down the hallway--I pitied the maids of the Windbush, it would take them forever to get the skid marks off the floor.
“Not if I whip your ass first!” Marlon Jr. laughed maniacally.
Marlon was a good skater. He had a nice lead.
But he wasn’t a great skater.
As I started inching past him, Marlon Jr. reached out and pushed on my shoulder. I was sure he wanted me to go away from him.
But the exact opposite happened.
As a result, I was actually drawn against him.
“No Marlon! No! Aaah!” We both screamed as I collided and fell down in a mangle of arms, legs and wheels on the hard cool floor, a few feet from the elevator.
Marlon was sprawled on his back and I was laying across him.
“Oh God! What a wipeout!” Taj was the first one to get over to us, camera thoroughly focused on us.
“Are you alright?” Michael questioned, worried.
I waved my hand to let him know I was fine.
Michael fretted over the slightest things--he cared do much.
“Man, get that thing out of my face, or I’ll make you eat it!” Marlon growled, placing his hands over the lens and shoving Taj back. “I could have won that!”
Laughter surrounded us. The Jackson Trio were even doubled up on the floor at Michael’s feet.
“Your braids must be too tight Marlon! Your daddy just said no dirty tricks and you did it anyway!” I punched him lightly in the chest and struggled to get up.
“Ha! That means you forfeit!” Taryll and TJ came over and helped me back to my feet.
“Hell! Brynn is smaller than me--less wind resistance! I had to do something!” Marlon Jr. poked out his bottom lip like a toddler.
I was having such a good time, I just wanted to continue vexing him.
“Uh! I win! Make me wanna do a little James Brown!” Pulling away from TJ and Taryll, I placed my hands on the waistband of my pants and attempted to do the fancy footwork The Godfather of Soul was noted for. “In your face!” I cackled and the rest of the Jacksons joined in.
“Man, forget this! I’m going to order room service! I‘m hungry anyway.” Marlon Jr. swiftly climbed to his feet, slapping Taryll’s helping hand out the way.
As he skated off into his room, I couldn’t help hitting him with one more zinger:
“How can you want room service? You’re already full of prunes!”
More jeers and snickers.
“Let’s go get some room service too. I’m kinda hungry.” Michael admitted waving everyone into the master suite.
“Brynn, are you sure you’re okay?” His dark eyes sought me out.
“Yes Michael. I’ll be in there soon.” I winked and bent to start loosening the laces on my skates.
“Okay.” Michael glided into the suite, bringing up the rear, leaving me, Taj, TJ and Taryll in the hall. And Taj’s omnipresent camera, of course.
“So Brynn, what was it like being one half of the best roller skating collision I’ve ever seen?” TJ grinned, the corners of his mouth soaring northward.
“Pretty much the same if you’re on the receiving end of my fist colliding with your face.” I replied sharply and stuck my tongue out at him.
“Damn, she got you!” Taryll chuckled and rolled his eyes at his baby brother.
“I wouldn’t mind losing to a cute girl.” TJ shrugged and gave me a soft push.
“Watch it TJ. Don’t push me and flattery will get you nowhere!” Balancing in my untied skate, I gave TJ a firm shove, sending him flying backwards.
“I’m sick and tired of y’all pushing me!” TJ tore at me, grabbing me around my waist, and whirling me around in a circle.
“TJ! Quit!” I exclaimed as he started playfully wrestling with me.
“No way! You got me mad now!” TJ refused, laughing loudly.
“Oh yeah?” In a free moment, I reached up and caught TJ in a headlock.
“Who’s laughing now! Who’s laughing? Say ‘My name is Sally and I like boys!’” I instructed, tightening my arm around his skinny throat.
“Holy shit! This is gold!” Taj gasped and I could hear his Zoom lens whirring.
“I ain’t saying that! Taryll help me! Taj put down the goddamned camera!” TJ wheezed, trying desperately to shake free.
“Oh right!” Taryll rushed over and actually started giving TJ a noogie.
He was really grinding his knuckles against his brother’s curls.
“Say it!” I yanked on TJ again, making him cough.
“No!” TJ suddenly lurched forward, dropping me to floor.
I landed on my abdomen and was momentarily winded.
And then the fool sat on me!
“TJ! Get off! I didn’t sit on you!” I grunted as he reached and grabbed my arms, tucking them behind me. I wasn’t really angry.
“Brynn, you say, um…” He thought a long moment.
“Say “My name is Buzz and I like girls!”
“Buzz!” Taryll doubled over.
“I am so kicking your ass when I get out of this!” I vowed fighting against him.
“That’s what they all say Baby!” TJ poked me on the back of the neck with a cold finger.
“Uh, guys…”Taj started, standing over me.
“Shut up Taj, I’m doing something right now!” TJ snarled, continued to poke at my neck.
“I’m gonna annihilate you TJ!” I screeched. “Don’t make me call Michael!” I threatened.
“He can’t hear you! He’s on the phone!” Taryll snorted crouching down next to me.
“You guys! We got company!” Taj sputtered.
I watched as Taryll looked up. His eyes quadrupled in size in his head.
“Oh no way!” He whispered, awed. “TJ, get up! Now!”
“What is going on?” I demanded as TJ finally, finally got off my back. For such a slim dude, he was really heavy.
“Holy Toledo!” I heard TJ comment.
“Tell me what’s happening!” I sighed, finally starting to get upset.
I hated being left out of a loop.
Rolling onto my side, I saw that all three of the “Teez” were staring towards the elevators.
Captivated.
I followed their gaze and froze dead cold in my tracks.
At some point during our “fight” the doors to the elevator has opened up.
A single person was in the reflective rectangle--Prince.
And he was gazing directly at me.
I shrank under his glare. I could only wonder what he was thinking, finding me consorting on the floor with two men and third filming everything.
“Hi…hi Prince.” I managed to mumble, climbing to my feet.
At my acknowledgement, Prince casually sauntered off onto the main floor. The doors closed behind him.
His ensemble was another one for the record books.
He wore a very brightly colored polka dot suit, mainly hot pink and purple with a little bit of lime green thrown in for good measure.
The jacket was cropped very high up, exposing his fuzzy abdomen.
Matching trousers just barely clung to his hips.
A hot pink hanky hung out of a pocket on the front of the jacket.
Perched on Prince’s head was another unique hat. It was bright pink and had an extremely wide brim.
Lime buttons adorned the front of the jacket and three more were on the fly of his pants.
Dotted boots clicked as he walked to me.
He looked like a walking bag of Skittles. He was darling.
“Hello Brynn.” He announced seductively, without so much as a sideways glance to the guys. I noticed that his voice seemed dry and cracked a bit.
Did he really have laryngitis?
“Are you alright?” I questioned, uncertainly, wondering if he was truly ailing.
“I’m fine, sore throat. Other than that, I’m fine.” Prince gave me a mousy grin.
I saw that pink and purple shadow adorned his lids and his lips shine with clear gloss.
My chilled blood turned to ice as he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug and his wet lips pecked my cheek.
Prince had to have had the nerve of ten men to arrive alone on a floor just busting with Jacksons and kiss me in front of three of them.
Was he even aware of what kind of beat down he could incite?
“So, introduce me to your friends.” Prince whispered, picking at the two strands of hair that were falling into his face from under the hat.
“Uh, these are Tito’s three sons, Taj, Taryll and TJ.” I don’t know how I managed to correctly name them, I could barely remember my own name.
“Nice to meet you.” Prince smirked at them, tepidly shaking their hands, momentarily rolling his large eyes at Taryll. I don’t even think he noticed.
“Are you really Prince?” Taj questioned, star-struck.
“No, I’m just a shocking simulation.” Prince chuckled and coughed.
The Teez laughed, stiffly.
Tension was starting to fall into place like a Tetris game, filling every conceivable space. If it was this bad with just the Teez…
And at that moment, another piece of the Tetris puzzle fell in.
“Alright you guys, let’s have a rematch.” Marlon Jr. announced suddenly, skating into the hallway.
He almost fell on his ass when he caught sight of Prince.
“Oh! You’re Prince! Hi! I’m Marlon Jr.” He stammered, jamming a large hand in Prince’s face.
What the hell was he doing? I thought the Jacksons ALL hated Prince!
Smiling coolly, Prince shook his hand too.
“I see that Miss Brynn seems to have her fair share of boyfriends up here.” Prince observed snidely, glancing around at the Jackson guys.
Did he think I was messing around with all of them?
“Oh nah, it’s not like that. Brynn’s got one boyfriend--me!” Taryll fell back into boyfriend mode, sliding his arm around my waist.
“Not bad…” Prince looked him up and down. “…you kind of look like me.” Prince commented.
Taryll actually smiled until Prince added, duskily “…if I was about a hundred pounds heavier.”
Taryll’s nails dug into my side. Prince had just called Taryll--who was a bit on the hefty side--fat!
I thanked God that Taryll kept his hair trigger temper in check.
“Brynn! Taj! Taryll! TJ! Mars Bar!” Paris came flouncing out of the main suite in her socks, skates in her hand. “Daddy wants to know…” She trailed off when she laid eyes on Prince.
Why was everyone getting speechless around him?
Her blue eyes seemed to consumed her face, they grew so large.
And the shrieking commenced.
“Daddy! You friend who wears the high heels is here! Daddy! It’s the man in the heels!” Her voice made my eardrums ache.
From somewhere inside, I heard Michael scream “What?”
Paris ran over to Prince like she was his number one fan.
“Hi Mr. Prince! I’m Paris Katherine Michael Jackson! And I like your shoes! They’re cute!” She exclaimed, grabbing Prince’s hand and shaking it until Prince rattled. “I’ve never seen a grown up man in high heels!”
“Thanks.” Prince rolled his eyes again. I was certain he didn’t like to have a seven year old exclaiming that he was the first man in heels she’d ever seen.
“Oh shit.” I whimpered under my breath and The Teez and Marlon Jr. laughed.
I’d hate to send Prince on a first class trip back to Minneapolis via my fist if he was rude to Paris.
Paris gasped as she stood on tip toe to peer into Prince’s face.
“You’re wearing make up too! Wow! My Daddy wears make-up but you’re wearing make-up like Brynn--”
“That’s enough!” I gently grabbed Paris’ hand and pulled her behind me.
I had to stop this girl before I really did have to punch Prince.
“Nice kid.” Prince commented, a bit annoyed.
“Paris, Michael wants to know what you said.” Selena came strolling out of the suite.
A flurry of excited mash of English and Spanish exploded from her red lips when she caught sight of Prince.
At her sudden bi-lingual conversion, the rest of the Jacksons--and Rusty--appeared at the doorway.
“Oh Hell no!” I heard someone chatter as a space cleared for Michael to come forward.
At the sight of a dozen new faces, Prince gave a sharp take in of breath.
I knew that even in his wildest dreams he didn’t expect to see that many people.
I glanced at Prince; he appeared worried.
I had never seen Prince look scared before and it terrified me.
But Prince quickly regained his composure and exhibiting another broad smile and waved as Michael strutted over.
I had never seen Michael look so confident. Head up, body straight, shoulders back. There were students at West Point that could learn from him.
But then again, Michael had an army backing him.
“Ah, hello Michael, long time no see.” Prince laughed dryly and put his hand out.
“Hello Prince.” Michael touched Prince’s hand like he was contagious.
His voice was like ice.
I felt as though I was going to pass out. And vomit.
“I see you have the entire family here…nice.” Prince smiled as the crowd led by Jermaine, Tito and Jackie bled into the hallway, all of them vying to get a look at the man. Rusty had even left his Blackberry alone for once.
By the lethal looks on their faces, they were all mentally squishing Prince under their shoes.
Please don’t fight. Not in front of the children!
“How’s your throat? I heard you got laryngitis.” Michael went right for the jugular.
“That’s right. Got into a minor argument, screamed and fucked up my voice…” Prince explained.
“You said a bad word, Mister.” Paris put in. No one really paid her any attention.
They were all focused on the exchange of The King of Entertainment and His Royal Badness.
“…and I wanted to apologize for ruining the concert last night. I didn’t realize there were so many of you. But I can’t help my voice. Maybe when I’m feeling better, we can reschedule?” Prince stared up at Michael, his hazel eyes almost emerald.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Michael nodded. Michael’s mouth was saying yes, but his body was saying no. I knew he’d have to be dragged kicking and clawing into another Prince engagement.
“Okay. I have to go now, but I wanted to apologize in person. Good bye.” Prince waved at everyone.
“Bye Mr. Prince!” Paris waved happily, unaware of the magnitude of the situation.
Prince reached and embraced me again.
Over his shoulder, I saw that Michael was smoldering.
“Good bye Pretty Brynn.” He murmured quietly.
“Bye.” I replied somberly, as he let go of me, and summoned the elevator.
I was relieved to see him go. By the grace of God, he’d been blessed to get out of there in one piece.
As he stepped on and it swallowed him up, Jermaine burst up behind Michael.
“Mike! That little bastard has got some nerve coming up here! Damn! Ooh!” Jermaine jumped up in a circle.
“Did you get a load of that get up he was wearing? What rainbow puked on him?” Tito chimed in joining them, Jackie trailing behind.
“Well I think it was nice that he came an apologized. He didn’t have to do that.” Latoya called from where she hung in the door way.
“Toy, please. He didn’t drag his funky little self up here to apologize. He came to see Brynn. You saw how he hugged on her. Geez.” Marlon patted Latoya’s arm. “Got the hots for her.”
I couldn’t believe they were discussing the matter as if I weren’t in the room.
“Brynn, are you okay? That skunk didn’t try anything, did he?” Michael cautioned, twisting my ponytail in his hands.
“No…” I started.
“Of course not Uncle Mike, we were here!” Taryll grinned triumphantly.
“And he called you fat!” TJ pointed out.
“Prince called you fat?” Tito demanded, placing his hands on his love handles. I knew he was prepared to follow Prince on the elevator and put a dent into his face.
“I didn’t call anybody fat!” Prince (Jackson) exclaimed before running back into the main suite, Blanket following him.
“He didn’t call me fat!” Taryll exclaimed agitated. “Not in so many words. But I’d rather be fat that a damn midget!”
“You’re saying bad words!” Paris whined, shaking her finger at them.
As a commotion, most siding with “Prince has the hots” angle and a mere few--mainly Selena--going with the notion of “Prince was just apologizing.” I could hear that silly Clay Aiken ringtone on Rusty’s Blackberry chiming.
“Yeah, Mike, I’m telling you, if you want that man outta your hair, I’ll help you kick his ass. I swear Man.” Jackie confided.
“Too many bad words!” Paris moaned and ran off.
“What, so you can go to jail? I’ve been to jail, it’s not a nice place. Don’t do anything stupid Jackie!” Michael poked Jackie in the chest.
“It won’t be stupid Michael.” Jackie rolled his eyes and patted at his hair.
“You saw how he looked when he saw all of us. Scared as shit.” Jermaine laughed.
“Hey! Hey! Michael! Michael!” Rusty suddenly screamed, a smile wrapping itself around his face. If his grin were any wider, he’d have swallowed his neck.
“What is it?” Michael questioned as his brothers continued irritating him.
Rusty came stumbling over, Blackberry in hand.
“We have to go back to California! Now! Right now!” He declared.
Michael paled harshly as the room came to a halt, ears straining.
“Is something wrong? Did something happen to my house?” Michael whispered.
I prayed that it wasn’t more legal problems.
“I just got a phone call from Carmen Alonzo, he says that the HAA is honoring you!” Rusty exclaimed.
“Who’s Carmen Alonzo and what’s the HAA?” I asked no one in particular, not understanding what was going on.
“It’s the Humanitarianism Association of America. And Carmen is the head of the organization! They’re gonna give Michael an award for all the contributions he made with his Heal the World foundation over the years! Yeah!” Rusty actually grabbed Michael and hugged him fiercely.
The story finally hit home for me.
“Michael won an award! Oh my God!” I shoved Rusty aside, taking my turn hugging Michael and topping it off with a deep, sweet kiss.
Way to go Uncle Mike!” Taj chortled recording the kiss.
(He might have wanted to censor that bit--I was fully Frenching Michael!)
“I won? Oh gosh! Oh God! Woo! Hoo! Hoo!” Michael whooped cheerfully as I pulled my lips from his and everyone else rushed over to pat his back and hug and celebrate.
“Someone call room service and have them send up their best bottles of champagne, we’re about to par-tay!” I shouted.
It was finally official: Michael Jackson truly was the kindest man and was getting his accolades for it!
* * *
Later That Same Night
“Are you comfortable Honey?” Michael questioned softly, pulling the thick velvet and silk sheets around my shoulders, tucking me in the bed close to him.
“Of course…I’m with you.” I whispered, smiling up at him.
Michael was truly a tender vision in dark yellow, tone on tone striped pajamas. The color made Michael’s already luminous fair skin radiate even more.
His curls, now in just bare waves, tumbled around his chiseled face.
If Michael were a drink, I’d make him a double.
A triple even.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this Brynn Baby, but, um…” Michael trailed off sheepishly, and ran a hand through his thick mane.
“Yes, Michael?” I searched his deep, seemingly unending eyes, wondering what he was going to say.
“It just seems like everything is turning good since I’ve met you.” Delicate lips tapped my forehead. “I’m on my way to having a hit with Not Over, and then I met you and fell in love…” Another giggle escaped Michael as he wrapped his arms around me under the covers, drawing me even deeper into the folds that was his body. “…and now, I’m getting an award from the HAA. It’s wonderful. Ooh!”
Poking Michael gingerly on his head and down to his dimpled chin, I chirped,
“I’m proud of you Michael Jackson.”
A wide-eyed grin plastered itself on Michael’s face.
As Michael buried his face into my neck, smothering it with smoldering and simmering kisses, a new thought began to form in my mind.
“Mikey?” I questioned, trying to arrange my next inquiry just right, to avoid offending My Man.
“Mmm-hmm?” Michael continued smacking away at my throat.
The sensation was so good; I almost forgot what I was about to say.
“I know that you’re getting a humanitarianism award, but I’ve been with you for the longest, and I…um, I haven’t seen you do anything…”
A small pang of guilt instantly ran through me like an Ex-Lax through a person’s bowels.
The kisses came to a slow halt.
Looking down at his hands, Michael commented quietly,
“Well…I have been doing some work. While you were working in Minneapolis with that Three Inch Creep, I donated some money to a few orphanages in California and a couple in Nevada too. It’s just I’m shy to talk about things like that. I mean you know, I don’t really like to broadcast everything I do.” Michael glanced off to the side and fiddled with his hair.
I stared at Michael.
Dumbstruck.
I had heard that Michael often downplayed his philanthropic endeavors, but it was incredible that he had even kept his donations a secret from me.
“Mike, why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know. I mean I’ve known about the Heal the World Foundation since I was a kid, but I didn’t know you had done anything as recently as when I went to Minneapolis!” I sighed, reeling in the notion that I was indeed, probably the last to know.
“I don’t know. You were so busy. And it’s nothing for me to donate the money. If someone with a good cause comes along, I help.” A small smirk/smile crossed Michael’s pink lips. “Especially sick or impoverished children…I am so sensitive to their pain.”
Placing a hand on his slim shoulder, I chuckled, “Well next time tell me. I want to help too.”
Michael’s face brightened. “Really?”
“Yes!” I threw my arms around his neck. “Anything that concerns you concerns me. Especially the children!”
Michael was so endearing when he was shy.
“Brynn…” Michael wrapped a lock of my hair around his long, thin fingers.
“I’m glad that you feel the same as I do about helping the less fortunate.”
“Of course, Baby. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much, your giving heart.” I grinned and pecked the tip of his impish nose.
“Well, there was something I wanted, and I wanted to ask you properly…” Michael drew a deep breath and grabbed onto my hands.
My own breaths quickened.
Was Michael Jackson about to pop the question?
Not quite, but the question he asked instead was just as thrilling.
“Brynn, would you honor me by being my date to the HAA Awards?”
My jaw dropped.
Michael Jackson was inviting me to share in the awards proceedings with him!
“Yes Sweet Baby! Yes! I’ll go!” I gushed and pressed my lips to Michael’s, triumphantly.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been that happy.
“…come on! Come on Prince…answer!” I whispered quietly, sitting on the washbasin counter, purple cell phone mashed to earlobe.
Much to my aggravation, the other end just rang endlessly. Since the previous night, when the concert had been cancelled I had been calling Prince, vainly trying to get in touch with him.
Dozens of dialings.
Part of me wanted to believe that he had cancelled the concert simply to send Michael and the Jacksons on a wild goose chase. It would have been the perfect prank--have a busload of Jacksons all dressed up, ride across the state and then end up with nothing at all to attend.
But another part of me really thought that Prince was actually sick.
That was one way that Prince and Michael were alike--they both loved performing and adored being onstage.
And they’d have to really be out of sorts to cancel a performance.
If Prince was indeed sick, I wanted to know how he was doing. If he was in any pain.
I cared for him too, even though he was The Other Man.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
A light knocking on the door jarred me from my battle with the phone.
“Just a minute!” I called, hopping off the counter and momentarily skidding in the pink roller skates I wore.
For the biggest part of the afternoon, the Jacksons had been amusing themselves by running skating races up and down the long corridor to the elevator.
(Michael always seemed to come up with unique ways of having fun.)
After stashing the phone in my make up case, I checked myself, straightening my pink t-shirt and dusting off my white and pink pinstriped jeans. I had to look normal.
I skidded over to the door and opened it.
Taj, camera in hand, stood idling in a pair of black and silver skates.
“Hey Brynn! I was wondering where you disappeared to.” He chuckled as we started gliding through the suite.
“Can’t I go to the ladies’ room without a paparazzi following me?” I giggled, reaching up and tapping the lens of his camera. “How do you film and skate the same time anyway? I’d have busted my butt by now!”
Taj laughed heartily. “You see, Young Brynn, I am a master at multi-tasking. You are looking at a man who can drive his car, talk on a cell phone and comb his hair--in downtown LA mind you--without crashing.”
“Okay, you are NEVER driving me anywhere man. I’d rather walk.” I remarked and we busted up.
As we reached the front corridor, excited shouts and cheers began reaching us.
“Sounds like they’re turning it out in there.” I chuckled as we passed through the doors.
In the hallway, the adult Jacksons, and Selena, were lining the walls hooting as Prince, Paris and Blanket were skating earnestly towards the elevator, racing to see who would reach it first.
Rusty was off in a corner playing with that damned Blackberry.
Paris was the clear winner, not only reaching the elevator doors first, but slamming into them.
She sank to the floor laughing.
“Are you okay Baby?” Latoya called, teetering in her own green skates that matched the minidress she wore. I hadn’t seen Latoya in a pair of pants yet.
“I’m good!” Paris exclaimed as her older brother helped her to her feet.
“I wondered where you went off to.” Michael slid over to me and gave me a warm hug.
He was beautiful in a red and white plaid shirt and blue jeans. Red skates contained his large feet.
“Well here I am” I beamed up at him, and picked at a curl that had worked it’s way out of the ponytail at back of Michael’s head.
Such a lovely man.
“Yo Brynn!” Marlon Jr. came flying at me.
“Yeah?” I questioned as Michael wrapped his arm around my hips.
Selena and Latoya were skating wildly towards the elevator.
“You wanna race me? I bet I can beat you!” He grinned, tugging at the large diamond stud in his left earlobe.
“The only reason he’s asking is cause damn near everyone else has whipped him!” TJ put in as he sashayed by smoothly.
“Hey man! Shut up!” Marlon Jr. snarled and gave TJ and firm push, sending him flailing over into his father and against the wall.
“And I was just letting you win! Felt sorry for you!” He continued, his dark eyes flashing under his thick eyebrows.
“Yeah right!” TJ struggled to pull himself and Tito back upright.
Patting his shoulder, I challenged, “Don’t let me win. Bring your A-game.”
“Oooh!” The Jacksons jeered.
“Wow Mars Bar, what are you gonna do?” Michael chuckled, winking at his nephew.
“I guess I’ll have to bring my A-game. Come on Brynn!” Marlon Jr. tugged at my arm and led me to a starting spot that had been marked with a piece of masking tape on the floor.
Beyond us, Marlon Sr. skated in front of us.
“Okay on the count of three, you take off. And no tripping or dirty work--that’s grounds for an automatic forfeit!” He grinned, his mustache glimmering.
“Alright Dad! Just count!” Marlon Jr. whined shrilly.
Marlon Sr. just wanted to mess with us, instead of counting, he merely screamed “THREE!”
“You got a head whooping coming Mars Bar!” I called as we bore down the hallway--I pitied the maids of the Windbush, it would take them forever to get the skid marks off the floor.
“Not if I whip your ass first!” Marlon Jr. laughed maniacally.
Marlon was a good skater. He had a nice lead.
But he wasn’t a great skater.
As I started inching past him, Marlon Jr. reached out and pushed on my shoulder. I was sure he wanted me to go away from him.
But the exact opposite happened.
As a result, I was actually drawn against him.
“No Marlon! No! Aaah!” We both screamed as I collided and fell down in a mangle of arms, legs and wheels on the hard cool floor, a few feet from the elevator.
Marlon was sprawled on his back and I was laying across him.
“Oh God! What a wipeout!” Taj was the first one to get over to us, camera thoroughly focused on us.
“Are you alright?” Michael questioned, worried.
I waved my hand to let him know I was fine.
Michael fretted over the slightest things--he cared do much.
“Man, get that thing out of my face, or I’ll make you eat it!” Marlon growled, placing his hands over the lens and shoving Taj back. “I could have won that!”
Laughter surrounded us. The Jackson Trio were even doubled up on the floor at Michael’s feet.
“Your braids must be too tight Marlon! Your daddy just said no dirty tricks and you did it anyway!” I punched him lightly in the chest and struggled to get up.
“Ha! That means you forfeit!” Taryll and TJ came over and helped me back to my feet.
“Hell! Brynn is smaller than me--less wind resistance! I had to do something!” Marlon Jr. poked out his bottom lip like a toddler.
I was having such a good time, I just wanted to continue vexing him.
“Uh! I win! Make me wanna do a little James Brown!” Pulling away from TJ and Taryll, I placed my hands on the waistband of my pants and attempted to do the fancy footwork The Godfather of Soul was noted for. “In your face!” I cackled and the rest of the Jacksons joined in.
“Man, forget this! I’m going to order room service! I‘m hungry anyway.” Marlon Jr. swiftly climbed to his feet, slapping Taryll’s helping hand out the way.
As he skated off into his room, I couldn’t help hitting him with one more zinger:
“How can you want room service? You’re already full of prunes!”
More jeers and snickers.
“Let’s go get some room service too. I’m kinda hungry.” Michael admitted waving everyone into the master suite.
“Brynn, are you sure you’re okay?” His dark eyes sought me out.
“Yes Michael. I’ll be in there soon.” I winked and bent to start loosening the laces on my skates.
“Okay.” Michael glided into the suite, bringing up the rear, leaving me, Taj, TJ and Taryll in the hall. And Taj’s omnipresent camera, of course.
“So Brynn, what was it like being one half of the best roller skating collision I’ve ever seen?” TJ grinned, the corners of his mouth soaring northward.
“Pretty much the same if you’re on the receiving end of my fist colliding with your face.” I replied sharply and stuck my tongue out at him.
“Damn, she got you!” Taryll chuckled and rolled his eyes at his baby brother.
“I wouldn’t mind losing to a cute girl.” TJ shrugged and gave me a soft push.
“Watch it TJ. Don’t push me and flattery will get you nowhere!” Balancing in my untied skate, I gave TJ a firm shove, sending him flying backwards.
“I’m sick and tired of y’all pushing me!” TJ tore at me, grabbing me around my waist, and whirling me around in a circle.
“TJ! Quit!” I exclaimed as he started playfully wrestling with me.
“No way! You got me mad now!” TJ refused, laughing loudly.
“Oh yeah?” In a free moment, I reached up and caught TJ in a headlock.
“Who’s laughing now! Who’s laughing? Say ‘My name is Sally and I like boys!’” I instructed, tightening my arm around his skinny throat.
“Holy shit! This is gold!” Taj gasped and I could hear his Zoom lens whirring.
“I ain’t saying that! Taryll help me! Taj put down the goddamned camera!” TJ wheezed, trying desperately to shake free.
“Oh right!” Taryll rushed over and actually started giving TJ a noogie.
He was really grinding his knuckles against his brother’s curls.
“Say it!” I yanked on TJ again, making him cough.
“No!” TJ suddenly lurched forward, dropping me to floor.
I landed on my abdomen and was momentarily winded.
And then the fool sat on me!
“TJ! Get off! I didn’t sit on you!” I grunted as he reached and grabbed my arms, tucking them behind me. I wasn’t really angry.
“Brynn, you say, um…” He thought a long moment.
“Say “My name is Buzz and I like girls!”
“Buzz!” Taryll doubled over.
“I am so kicking your ass when I get out of this!” I vowed fighting against him.
“That’s what they all say Baby!” TJ poked me on the back of the neck with a cold finger.
“Uh, guys…”Taj started, standing over me.
“Shut up Taj, I’m doing something right now!” TJ snarled, continued to poke at my neck.
“I’m gonna annihilate you TJ!” I screeched. “Don’t make me call Michael!” I threatened.
“He can’t hear you! He’s on the phone!” Taryll snorted crouching down next to me.
“You guys! We got company!” Taj sputtered.
I watched as Taryll looked up. His eyes quadrupled in size in his head.
“Oh no way!” He whispered, awed. “TJ, get up! Now!”
“What is going on?” I demanded as TJ finally, finally got off my back. For such a slim dude, he was really heavy.
“Holy Toledo!” I heard TJ comment.
“Tell me what’s happening!” I sighed, finally starting to get upset.
I hated being left out of a loop.
Rolling onto my side, I saw that all three of the “Teez” were staring towards the elevators.
Captivated.
I followed their gaze and froze dead cold in my tracks.
At some point during our “fight” the doors to the elevator has opened up.
A single person was in the reflective rectangle--Prince.
And he was gazing directly at me.
I shrank under his glare. I could only wonder what he was thinking, finding me consorting on the floor with two men and third filming everything.
“Hi…hi Prince.” I managed to mumble, climbing to my feet.
At my acknowledgement, Prince casually sauntered off onto the main floor. The doors closed behind him.
His ensemble was another one for the record books.
He wore a very brightly colored polka dot suit, mainly hot pink and purple with a little bit of lime green thrown in for good measure.
The jacket was cropped very high up, exposing his fuzzy abdomen.
Matching trousers just barely clung to his hips.
A hot pink hanky hung out of a pocket on the front of the jacket.
Perched on Prince’s head was another unique hat. It was bright pink and had an extremely wide brim.
Lime buttons adorned the front of the jacket and three more were on the fly of his pants.
Dotted boots clicked as he walked to me.
He looked like a walking bag of Skittles. He was darling.
“Hello Brynn.” He announced seductively, without so much as a sideways glance to the guys. I noticed that his voice seemed dry and cracked a bit.
Did he really have laryngitis?
“Are you alright?” I questioned, uncertainly, wondering if he was truly ailing.
“I’m fine, sore throat. Other than that, I’m fine.” Prince gave me a mousy grin.
I saw that pink and purple shadow adorned his lids and his lips shine with clear gloss.
My chilled blood turned to ice as he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug and his wet lips pecked my cheek.
Prince had to have had the nerve of ten men to arrive alone on a floor just busting with Jacksons and kiss me in front of three of them.
Was he even aware of what kind of beat down he could incite?
“So, introduce me to your friends.” Prince whispered, picking at the two strands of hair that were falling into his face from under the hat.
“Uh, these are Tito’s three sons, Taj, Taryll and TJ.” I don’t know how I managed to correctly name them, I could barely remember my own name.
“Nice to meet you.” Prince smirked at them, tepidly shaking their hands, momentarily rolling his large eyes at Taryll. I don’t even think he noticed.
“Are you really Prince?” Taj questioned, star-struck.
“No, I’m just a shocking simulation.” Prince chuckled and coughed.
The Teez laughed, stiffly.
Tension was starting to fall into place like a Tetris game, filling every conceivable space. If it was this bad with just the Teez…
And at that moment, another piece of the Tetris puzzle fell in.
“Alright you guys, let’s have a rematch.” Marlon Jr. announced suddenly, skating into the hallway.
He almost fell on his ass when he caught sight of Prince.
“Oh! You’re Prince! Hi! I’m Marlon Jr.” He stammered, jamming a large hand in Prince’s face.
What the hell was he doing? I thought the Jacksons ALL hated Prince!
Smiling coolly, Prince shook his hand too.
“I see that Miss Brynn seems to have her fair share of boyfriends up here.” Prince observed snidely, glancing around at the Jackson guys.
Did he think I was messing around with all of them?
“Oh nah, it’s not like that. Brynn’s got one boyfriend--me!” Taryll fell back into boyfriend mode, sliding his arm around my waist.
“Not bad…” Prince looked him up and down. “…you kind of look like me.” Prince commented.
Taryll actually smiled until Prince added, duskily “…if I was about a hundred pounds heavier.”
Taryll’s nails dug into my side. Prince had just called Taryll--who was a bit on the hefty side--fat!
I thanked God that Taryll kept his hair trigger temper in check.
“Brynn! Taj! Taryll! TJ! Mars Bar!” Paris came flouncing out of the main suite in her socks, skates in her hand. “Daddy wants to know…” She trailed off when she laid eyes on Prince.
Why was everyone getting speechless around him?
Her blue eyes seemed to consumed her face, they grew so large.
And the shrieking commenced.
“Daddy! You friend who wears the high heels is here! Daddy! It’s the man in the heels!” Her voice made my eardrums ache.
From somewhere inside, I heard Michael scream “What?”
Paris ran over to Prince like she was his number one fan.
“Hi Mr. Prince! I’m Paris Katherine Michael Jackson! And I like your shoes! They’re cute!” She exclaimed, grabbing Prince’s hand and shaking it until Prince rattled. “I’ve never seen a grown up man in high heels!”
“Thanks.” Prince rolled his eyes again. I was certain he didn’t like to have a seven year old exclaiming that he was the first man in heels she’d ever seen.
“Oh shit.” I whimpered under my breath and The Teez and Marlon Jr. laughed.
I’d hate to send Prince on a first class trip back to Minneapolis via my fist if he was rude to Paris.
Paris gasped as she stood on tip toe to peer into Prince’s face.
“You’re wearing make up too! Wow! My Daddy wears make-up but you’re wearing make-up like Brynn--”
“That’s enough!” I gently grabbed Paris’ hand and pulled her behind me.
I had to stop this girl before I really did have to punch Prince.
“Nice kid.” Prince commented, a bit annoyed.
“Paris, Michael wants to know what you said.” Selena came strolling out of the suite.
A flurry of excited mash of English and Spanish exploded from her red lips when she caught sight of Prince.
At her sudden bi-lingual conversion, the rest of the Jacksons--and Rusty--appeared at the doorway.
“Oh Hell no!” I heard someone chatter as a space cleared for Michael to come forward.
At the sight of a dozen new faces, Prince gave a sharp take in of breath.
I knew that even in his wildest dreams he didn’t expect to see that many people.
I glanced at Prince; he appeared worried.
I had never seen Prince look scared before and it terrified me.
But Prince quickly regained his composure and exhibiting another broad smile and waved as Michael strutted over.
I had never seen Michael look so confident. Head up, body straight, shoulders back. There were students at West Point that could learn from him.
But then again, Michael had an army backing him.
“Ah, hello Michael, long time no see.” Prince laughed dryly and put his hand out.
“Hello Prince.” Michael touched Prince’s hand like he was contagious.
His voice was like ice.
I felt as though I was going to pass out. And vomit.
“I see you have the entire family here…nice.” Prince smiled as the crowd led by Jermaine, Tito and Jackie bled into the hallway, all of them vying to get a look at the man. Rusty had even left his Blackberry alone for once.
By the lethal looks on their faces, they were all mentally squishing Prince under their shoes.
Please don’t fight. Not in front of the children!
“How’s your throat? I heard you got laryngitis.” Michael went right for the jugular.
“That’s right. Got into a minor argument, screamed and fucked up my voice…” Prince explained.
“You said a bad word, Mister.” Paris put in. No one really paid her any attention.
They were all focused on the exchange of The King of Entertainment and His Royal Badness.
“…and I wanted to apologize for ruining the concert last night. I didn’t realize there were so many of you. But I can’t help my voice. Maybe when I’m feeling better, we can reschedule?” Prince stared up at Michael, his hazel eyes almost emerald.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Michael nodded. Michael’s mouth was saying yes, but his body was saying no. I knew he’d have to be dragged kicking and clawing into another Prince engagement.
“Okay. I have to go now, but I wanted to apologize in person. Good bye.” Prince waved at everyone.
“Bye Mr. Prince!” Paris waved happily, unaware of the magnitude of the situation.
Prince reached and embraced me again.
Over his shoulder, I saw that Michael was smoldering.
“Good bye Pretty Brynn.” He murmured quietly.
“Bye.” I replied somberly, as he let go of me, and summoned the elevator.
I was relieved to see him go. By the grace of God, he’d been blessed to get out of there in one piece.
As he stepped on and it swallowed him up, Jermaine burst up behind Michael.
“Mike! That little bastard has got some nerve coming up here! Damn! Ooh!” Jermaine jumped up in a circle.
“Did you get a load of that get up he was wearing? What rainbow puked on him?” Tito chimed in joining them, Jackie trailing behind.
“Well I think it was nice that he came an apologized. He didn’t have to do that.” Latoya called from where she hung in the door way.
“Toy, please. He didn’t drag his funky little self up here to apologize. He came to see Brynn. You saw how he hugged on her. Geez.” Marlon patted Latoya’s arm. “Got the hots for her.”
I couldn’t believe they were discussing the matter as if I weren’t in the room.
“Brynn, are you okay? That skunk didn’t try anything, did he?” Michael cautioned, twisting my ponytail in his hands.
“No…” I started.
“Of course not Uncle Mike, we were here!” Taryll grinned triumphantly.
“And he called you fat!” TJ pointed out.
“Prince called you fat?” Tito demanded, placing his hands on his love handles. I knew he was prepared to follow Prince on the elevator and put a dent into his face.
“I didn’t call anybody fat!” Prince (Jackson) exclaimed before running back into the main suite, Blanket following him.
“He didn’t call me fat!” Taryll exclaimed agitated. “Not in so many words. But I’d rather be fat that a damn midget!”
“You’re saying bad words!” Paris whined, shaking her finger at them.
As a commotion, most siding with “Prince has the hots” angle and a mere few--mainly Selena--going with the notion of “Prince was just apologizing.” I could hear that silly Clay Aiken ringtone on Rusty’s Blackberry chiming.
“Yeah, Mike, I’m telling you, if you want that man outta your hair, I’ll help you kick his ass. I swear Man.” Jackie confided.
“Too many bad words!” Paris moaned and ran off.
“What, so you can go to jail? I’ve been to jail, it’s not a nice place. Don’t do anything stupid Jackie!” Michael poked Jackie in the chest.
“It won’t be stupid Michael.” Jackie rolled his eyes and patted at his hair.
“You saw how he looked when he saw all of us. Scared as shit.” Jermaine laughed.
“Hey! Hey! Michael! Michael!” Rusty suddenly screamed, a smile wrapping itself around his face. If his grin were any wider, he’d have swallowed his neck.
“What is it?” Michael questioned as his brothers continued irritating him.
Rusty came stumbling over, Blackberry in hand.
“We have to go back to California! Now! Right now!” He declared.
Michael paled harshly as the room came to a halt, ears straining.
“Is something wrong? Did something happen to my house?” Michael whispered.
I prayed that it wasn’t more legal problems.
“I just got a phone call from Carmen Alonzo, he says that the HAA is honoring you!” Rusty exclaimed.
“Who’s Carmen Alonzo and what’s the HAA?” I asked no one in particular, not understanding what was going on.
“It’s the Humanitarianism Association of America. And Carmen is the head of the organization! They’re gonna give Michael an award for all the contributions he made with his Heal the World foundation over the years! Yeah!” Rusty actually grabbed Michael and hugged him fiercely.
The story finally hit home for me.
“Michael won an award! Oh my God!” I shoved Rusty aside, taking my turn hugging Michael and topping it off with a deep, sweet kiss.
Way to go Uncle Mike!” Taj chortled recording the kiss.
(He might have wanted to censor that bit--I was fully Frenching Michael!)
“I won? Oh gosh! Oh God! Woo! Hoo! Hoo!” Michael whooped cheerfully as I pulled my lips from his and everyone else rushed over to pat his back and hug and celebrate.
“Someone call room service and have them send up their best bottles of champagne, we’re about to par-tay!” I shouted.
It was finally official: Michael Jackson truly was the kindest man and was getting his accolades for it!
* * *
Later That Same Night
“Are you comfortable Honey?” Michael questioned softly, pulling the thick velvet and silk sheets around my shoulders, tucking me in the bed close to him.
“Of course…I’m with you.” I whispered, smiling up at him.
Michael was truly a tender vision in dark yellow, tone on tone striped pajamas. The color made Michael’s already luminous fair skin radiate even more.
His curls, now in just bare waves, tumbled around his chiseled face.
If Michael were a drink, I’d make him a double.
A triple even.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this Brynn Baby, but, um…” Michael trailed off sheepishly, and ran a hand through his thick mane.
“Yes, Michael?” I searched his deep, seemingly unending eyes, wondering what he was going to say.
“It just seems like everything is turning good since I’ve met you.” Delicate lips tapped my forehead. “I’m on my way to having a hit with Not Over, and then I met you and fell in love…” Another giggle escaped Michael as he wrapped his arms around me under the covers, drawing me even deeper into the folds that was his body. “…and now, I’m getting an award from the HAA. It’s wonderful. Ooh!”
Poking Michael gingerly on his head and down to his dimpled chin, I chirped,
“I’m proud of you Michael Jackson.”
A wide-eyed grin plastered itself on Michael’s face.
As Michael buried his face into my neck, smothering it with smoldering and simmering kisses, a new thought began to form in my mind.
“Mikey?” I questioned, trying to arrange my next inquiry just right, to avoid offending My Man.
“Mmm-hmm?” Michael continued smacking away at my throat.
The sensation was so good; I almost forgot what I was about to say.
“I know that you’re getting a humanitarianism award, but I’ve been with you for the longest, and I…um, I haven’t seen you do anything…”
A small pang of guilt instantly ran through me like an Ex-Lax through a person’s bowels.
The kisses came to a slow halt.
Looking down at his hands, Michael commented quietly,
“Well…I have been doing some work. While you were working in Minneapolis with that Three Inch Creep, I donated some money to a few orphanages in California and a couple in Nevada too. It’s just I’m shy to talk about things like that. I mean you know, I don’t really like to broadcast everything I do.” Michael glanced off to the side and fiddled with his hair.
I stared at Michael.
Dumbstruck.
I had heard that Michael often downplayed his philanthropic endeavors, but it was incredible that he had even kept his donations a secret from me.
“Mike, why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know. I mean I’ve known about the Heal the World Foundation since I was a kid, but I didn’t know you had done anything as recently as when I went to Minneapolis!” I sighed, reeling in the notion that I was indeed, probably the last to know.
“I don’t know. You were so busy. And it’s nothing for me to donate the money. If someone with a good cause comes along, I help.” A small smirk/smile crossed Michael’s pink lips. “Especially sick or impoverished children…I am so sensitive to their pain.”
Placing a hand on his slim shoulder, I chuckled, “Well next time tell me. I want to help too.”
Michael’s face brightened. “Really?”
“Yes!” I threw my arms around his neck. “Anything that concerns you concerns me. Especially the children!”
Michael was so endearing when he was shy.
“Brynn…” Michael wrapped a lock of my hair around his long, thin fingers.
“I’m glad that you feel the same as I do about helping the less fortunate.”
“Of course, Baby. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much, your giving heart.” I grinned and pecked the tip of his impish nose.
“Well, there was something I wanted, and I wanted to ask you properly…” Michael drew a deep breath and grabbed onto my hands.
My own breaths quickened.
Was Michael Jackson about to pop the question?
Not quite, but the question he asked instead was just as thrilling.
“Brynn, would you honor me by being my date to the HAA Awards?”
My jaw dropped.
Michael Jackson was inviting me to share in the awards proceedings with him!
“Yes Sweet Baby! Yes! I’ll go!” I gushed and pressed my lips to Michael’s, triumphantly.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been that happy.
Chapter 27
Saturday Night
The Main Suite
6:30 p.m.
“Has anyone seen my shoe? It’s a black loafer with tassels!” I heard Taj shout from somewhere in the hallway.
The sixteenth floor of the Windbush Hotel was a madhouse as everyone trying to get dressed and coiffed for the Prince show.
“Damn a loafer! I can’t find my hat!” Tito yelled back.
It would be nearly impossible for fifteen people to all be ready to get down in cars in less than an hour.
Latoya, Selena and I were crowded into the bathroom of the main suite, because, apparently, the main suite had the largest counter space and largest mirror.
Sitting in the empty bathtub, in her own little world, Paris had gotten a tube of goldish pink lipstick from somewhere and was applying it.
Cosmetics covered every free surface and the scent of hairspray was thick in the air.
In the confusion, I was applying Dior mascara. I had no idea who the hell it was for, because I usually wore Maybelline mascara.
“Do I look fat in this?” Selena asked suddenly, backing up and spinning around in front of the mirror.
She wore a clingy, knee length long-sleeved white dress with a beaded red rose running up the side. Because of her red hair, if she wore something red close to her face, it would clash.
Her long hair was tied back into a French braid, held in place with a jeweled hair tie.
She tried to maintain her balance in red espadrilles.
It was the fourth dress she had tried on. Jermaine and Michael had nearly come to blows before deciding on the dress.
Michael had been all over the floor, examining everyone’s ensembles, wanting to put the best foot forward in front of Prince.
“No, girl, you look great!” Latoya patted her shoulder.
“What about me?”
Latoya wore a deep red, almost maroon, sleeveless silk minidress that had an extremely low, lace up back. Her hair had been straightened, and had been brushed over her left shoulder, exposing a huge ruby and diamond chandelier earring. A matching cuff bracelet shimmered on her wrist.
Crystal encrusted heels completed her look.
“Those shoes are nice.” I pointed out, spraying my hair.
Michael had insisted that I curl my hair. I think it was an effort to recreate the look I had had while in Minneapolis.
Michael was really going all out to spurn the hell out of Prince.
“Your shoes are great! Did Michael have those custom made?” Latoya, leaned into the mirror slicking blush onto her cheeks.
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “Where is Michael?”
I hadn’t seen him since the battle to get clothed started.
“I think he’s trying to help Tito find that damn hat.” Selena giggled, applying clear gloss to her pouty lips.
“I look okay?” I questioned, turning in a circle.
The top was okay, but my trousers felt like they were a size too small.
In the mirror, they looked almost painted on!
“Well…” Selena, paused, hand on hip, gave me a once over.
“You got your shirt buttoned up all the way.”
“Huh?” I glanced down at myself.
Selena trotted over and started loosening the buttons until the top of my bosom started to peek out.
“You got chi-chis, show’em off!” She grinned. “Isn’t tonight about making Prince mad?”
I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Prince wouldn’t be mad.
If anything, at the sight of my chest half way popping out of my top, he’d get horny.
But it seemed he was pretty much horny all the time.
“Prince would be kinda cute, if he wasn’t so small. I could put him in my purse!” Latoya joked and we snickered.
As I started to put a pair of diamond studs in my ears, a voice hooted,
“Smile ladies!”
We glanced up in time to see Marlon with a camera in hand, snapping a photograph.
He wore a red satin shirt and black slacks. An undone black and red dotted tie hung around his neck.
“Marlon! We’re not ready yet!” Latoya threw a make-up sponge at him.
It whizzed past his head.
“You all look lovely!” Marlon cackled and jogged away.
“The nerve of him!” Latoya huffed rolling her eyes, false lashes batting.
“Why didn’t Janet and Rebbie come?” Selena wondered, applying silver shadow to her lids.
“Well, you know Janet is tied up with Jermaine Dupri in Stockholm right now. He’s promoting some single, and Rebbie has a cold.” Latoya shrugged, examining her appearance again and fluffing her hair.
“Why can’t I go?” Paris whimpered suddenly, crawling out of the bathtub and walking over to me, fluffing out her yellow dress.
“Honey, a Prince concert is no place for a seven year old.” Latoya patted Paris’ head gently.
“Why, Auntie Latoya? Everyone else is going. ‘Cept me, Blanket and Prince!” She stamped her little foot, bottom lip quaking.
“The things he sings about, you’re not old enough to hear them.” Selena pointed out.
“I can’t help it if he has a potty mouth!” Paris wailed and ran out of the room.
Potty mouth? That was putting it mildly.
Teasing my hair, I wondered to myself.
What would Prince sing? I hoped that it wouldn’t be too raunchy.
Having a jam session at Paisley Park with friends and hanging in front of The Jacksons was a totally different story.
Maybe the clash wouldn’t be too great.
“You girls almost done?” Michael sauntered into the room.
I almost pulled a lock of hair out my own head at the sight of him.
Michael Jackson was sheer divinity in motion.
He was dressed in a crimson, crushed velvet jacket. Clear bugle beads crisscrossed the front of the coat.
A diamond tasseled pin was at the center of the stand up collar.
The ends of the sleeves were edged with black braid, and vented slightly so that if Michael wanted to, he could cuff them back.
The jacket was lined in black satin.
Michael wore tight black denim pants. Bright, highly polished silver shin guards covered his knees on down to the tops of his shoes.
Leather boots covered Michael’s long feet.
And Michael’s hair was another change.
Instead of being straight, Michael’s hair fell around his shoulders in glossy, almost wet looking loose curls.
His lightly lined eyes widened at the sight of me.
“Oh Brynn, Baby, you look gorgeous!” He gushed rushing over and hugging me.
If my cleavage showing bothered him, he didn’t mentioned it.
“You…look…sexy.” I was breathless.
Michael blushed sheepishly, tapping the tip of his nose shyly.
“You all look great.” Michael smiled at his sister and Selena.
“Thanks.” They replied, grinning.
“Come on, the limo’s here.” Michael wrapped his arm around my hips.
He wore a spicy, woodsy cologne.
I knew a limousine--or a bus--would be the only way to transport all of us.
As we joined the rest of the men in the hallway, whistles and catcalls ensued.
Most of the Jackson men wore red button down shirts and black slacks. Tito wore a black bowler on his head and Randy, a black newsboy cap.
The Jackson Trio stood pouting, with Bo, who was going to watch them that night.
Behind them, Rusty, in a bright red suit also pouted.
He was so sure that the night would be a terrible one.
I prayed he’d be wrong.
Taj, in a red shirt open over a white t-shirt and jeans, held his camera.
“Look at all of us! All this hotness in one room. ‘Bout to blow the roof off this place!” He laughed.
Someone started singing,
“I’m too sexy for my shirt/ Too sexy for my shirt/Too sexy yeah!”
Soon everyone was singing along.
As we piled onto the elevator, Michael paused to hug his children and tell them good night.
A good night was what I needed.
* * *
An Hour and a Half Later
Somewhere In Upper Manhattan
“What does everyone think Prince will sing tonight?” Taj asked from where he was seated at the far end of the limo near the driver.
Almost unanimously everyone replied,
“Purple Rain.”
“I bet he’s gonna wear something purple!” Jermaine cackled and his son snorted.
“Hey Michael, whatever happens, we’re behind you a hundred and ten percent man!” Tito reached out and slapped Michael’s knee.
“Tito, nothing is going to happen. That Damn Man is going to sing his little tunes and we’ll go back home.” Michael said calmly, peeking at his brother over the tops of his aviator shades.
Only Michael could wear sunglasses at night and not look silly.
“Do you want me to just bust his ass the minute we see him, then we can be outta there in fifteen minutes tops?” Jackie offered cracking his knuckles loudly and the Jackson men guffawed.
Rusty moaned in agony. In his eyes, Michael was probably sabotaging the best thing to happen to him since Thriller.
I was quite surprised that Rusty wasn’t airing his grievances like he had done earlier to Michael. But I supposed he didn’t want to get sucker punched by the Jackson closest to him.
“No! We’re not going in there to start anything! We’re going…” Michael noticed that Taj was still filming
“Turn that thing off!” He barked. . I was sure he didn’t want taped evidence if he was indeed plotting to kick Prince’s ass.
Hail Mary Full of Grace…
“Yes Sir!” Taj hurriedly put the camera away.
“Now like I was saying,” Michael tossed his head. “Jackie, we’re not going in looking for trouble, but if the Purple Prick brings it, we’ll throw it right back. We have class.” Michael instructed.
“I still can’t believe that Prince was so rude to you and Brynn at that restaurant…it’s amazing.” Latoya sighed, eyes wide from where she was wedged between me and Selena.
“It’s sickening is what it was!” Randy grimaced, adjusting his hat so that the front dropped between his eyes.
“You’re better than me Mike, I would’ve kicked him a new asshole--pardon me ladies.” Jermaine waved his hands apologetically.
I leaned my head against Michael’s shoulder.
This was going to be a long night.
“Now, we need to get serious.” Michael’s voice was heavy with sternness.
“We all have to be on our P’s and Q’s tonight. Remember, Taryll is supposed to be Brynn’s boyfriend--not me. So Taryll, stay close to her…I’ll be close to you too, Baby.” Michael leaned and softly pecked my forehead.
“I know you will be.” I murmured, not really noticing I was talking.
I wondered what kind of pep talk Prince was giving his cohorts, if any.
He always struck me as the type to scream, “Make it funky!” and then throw himself onstage.
“…you can’t really trust Prince. I’ve learned from talking to him, he seems very, um…” Michael stroked his dimpled chin, searching for a word.
“…very perverted.” He sighed, for lack of a better term.
“We have three ladies with us. Brynn, Latoya and Selena…we have to look out for them. Don’t put anything past Prince. He’s a sneaky little something. And that Morris jerk--”
“That guy made me wanna smack him into next year.” Taryll sneered and TJ giggled.
At that moment, the limo screeched to a halt, jostling everyone inside a bit.
Behind Taj, the privacy glass between us and the driver came down.
“We’ve reached Club Groovement, Mr. Jackson.” He said solemnly.
Straight away, everyone was pressed up against the left side of the limo, trying to see what the nightclub looked like.
Elbowing between Marlon, Jr., and Jermaine Jr., I finally found a viewing spot.
Looking around, I saw that Prince had chosen yet another secluded venue.
Club Groovement was a two-story brick building, that appeared the only structure on the side of the road.
It seemed appealing, painted a shade of light beige that made it stand out against its dark and somewhat gloomy surroundings.
The name of the club flashed in purposefully haphazardly set neon block letters extending from the roof.
“Man, this is wild, I’ve never seen a street in New York that had only one building on it.” Marlon mumbled from somewhere behind me.
“Looks like something in a horror movie.” Latoya chimed in, leaning over me, and gazing out, her chin on top of my head.
“Yeah, where’s Jason?” Selena simpered.
I glanced back and saw that she was pulling Jermaine’s arm around her.
“Oh shit! There’s your Jason, Selena!” TJ exclaimed, his hand shooting out from around Michael and pointing.
Directing my attention back to the front of the club, I saw a tremendous form hulking out of the double glass doors of the building.
A collective gasp swathed us like a cloud.
I could hear Selena praying quietly in Spanish.
“I, Tariano Adaryll Jackson, Jr., being of sound body and mind, do hereby bequeath--” Taj began reciting into the lens of his camera.
“Boy, shut up!” Jackie gave him a strict shove.
“I knew you should have left me at the hotel!” Rusty complained, fright in his voice.
“That’s one hell of a bouncer.” Marlon Jr., shook his head.
As the moving brick wall approached the car, a sigh of absolute relief escaped me.
“You guys…that’s no bouncer.” I half laughed/half cried.
“Who is it?” Michael questioned, resting his hand on the back of my neck; his touch was icy.
“That’s Jimmy, he’s Prince’s assistant.” I pointed out as Jimmy got to the door and held it open for us.
“Looks like a Neanderthal.” Rusty quipped sliding out first and holding his hand out to help everyone else out onto the sidewalk.
“Oh be quiet…Seacrest!” I sniffed, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the sidewalk. “You’d probably be happier at a Clay Aiken show.” I rolled my eyes at him.
I was worried enough to have a bunch of fight-ready Jacksons on my hands. The last thing I needed was Rusty’s bitching and going on.
Rusty turned as red as his suit, but held his tongue.
“Hello everyone. My name is Jimmy.” Jimmy grinned at us warmly, his grey eyes flashing.
“Mr. Jackson…” He held his hand out to Michael.
After a moment of hesitation, Michael reached out and shook it.
“Mr. Prince wanted me to welcome all of you and show you to your seats inside. My, there’s so many of you.” He laughed and a little ripple joined him from the rest of us. Jimmy started towards the building.
“Safety in numbers.” I heard someone stammer as we started following the mammoth man.
Jimmy turned and led us to the door, holding it open for us.
The Jacksons clustered together like bees around a honeycomb.
“That is one huge motherfucker.” I heard TJ snicker, as he went by.
(Other than Michael, he was the thinnest man in the group.)
“Watch your mouth boy!” Tito reprimanded him.
As we walked down the long dim hallway, which smelled of long smoked cigarettes and peppermint incense, I reached down and grabbed Michael’s hand. I knew I was supposed to hanging off of Taryll, but at that moment, I needed Michael.
At the far end of the hallway was the opening to the club, noted by a purplish-white light.
An unbearable tension seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and was filling every nook and cranny of the corridor. I could barely breathe.
If it was this bad with just Jimmy around, Lord help us when Prince appeared.
With every step I prayed vainly that the evening would go off without any incidents that would land the entire lot of us in the penitentiary.
It was so quiet; the only sounds came from our shoes clicking on the bare concrete floor.
“Oh, Miss Brynn.” Jimmy turned suddenly.
“Yes?” I stopped so swiftly, that I bumped against Taryll, who was in front of me.
“Um, Mr. Prince requested that he see you before his performance tonight.” Jimmy replied calmly, glanced around the crowd.
My blood stopped pulsing in my veins and dropped, like a red brick of lead.
Prince wanted to see me?
Was he crazy? I was up to my chin in Jacksons and he was singling me out?
Finding the courage from somewhere, I snuck a peep around.
All the Jackson men, first and second generations, were glaring at Jimmy with a such a quiet ferocity that it was maddening.
Please don’t shoot the messenger!
Nerves were running so high and hard that I knew that if Jimmy said the wrong thing, or even the right thing with the wrong inflection, ten men would be all over him.
“What…what does he want to see me for?” I stammered, looking up at Michael apprehensively.
His face was set harder than that of a marble bust. All the color seemed to have drained from him and white hot anger had set in.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine shifted from one foot to the other, anxiously.
Another set of knuckles cracked loudly--thumb knuckles too.
The ten pops were barely audible over the thumping of my own troubled heart.
Michael had just gotten done prophesizing that we all stay together and already I was being plucked from the bunch.
“I don’t know Miss Brynn. He just wanted to see you before show time.” Jimmy shrugged helplessly.
I saw that where we had stopped, behind Jimmy an even dimmer hallway stretched behind him, marked by several doors on each side, all closed.
“Uh…uh…” I looked to Michael for guidance. He was adjusting his glasses on his nose. “…is it okay?”
Michael’s mouth tightened so much, that it all but disappeared off his face.
Glancing down at the diamond studded watch on his wrist, he instructed in a tone so serious that I couldn’t help but take heed,
“It’s fifteen to nine. Go see what That Damn Man wants. You be out there with us at nine. If a second past nine goes by, I’m coming for you. Understand?”
“That Damn Man.” Taryll echoed, rolling his eyes.
I stood for a moment, stunned.
Michael was actually allowing me to go see Prince?
Who was this man and what had he done with Michael Jackson?
The Michael I knew would have tossed me over his wiry shoulder and carried me off into the club without so much as an explanation to Jimmy.
I noticed that Michael was looking around at his brothers.
He must have been keeping up his front; showing his brothers that he didn’t care about Prince.
I knew he didn’t care about Prince. Even a blind man could see that!
He cared about me.
“Alright…” I was hesitant. “…are you sure?”
“Go!” Michael waved his hand over my head.
“If that midget tries anything, kick him in the nuts!” Marlon Jr. rooted from the back of the group and several supporters hooted in agreement.
“The club is right through that opening.” Jimmy pointed out the light at the end of the corridor.
Placing a beefy hand on my shoulder, he said to me,
“Come along Miss Brynn.”
I watched dejectedly as the Jacksons shuffled past me.
I just knew they hated me. I mean they had to.
The last thing I heard, was Jackie whispering to Marlon, loudly,
“Flirty ass motherfucker…needs to find his own woman. It’ll be a hot second before Michael busts his ass!”
I was walking away from Michael to see The Other Man.
I was so confused.
The only smile I got was from Selena.
But it wasn’t the same, she wasn’t a blood Jackson. She wasn’t even married to a Jackson!
A storm cloud of trepidation flashing above my head, I let Jimmy lead me down the dimmer hallway to the third door, on the right.
As he tapped the door, I stood wondering why I hadn’t broken and run off after Michael.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
Just as I was about to turn and take off like a track star, the door cracked open.
Mindy, smoking flat iron in her hand, stepped out.
A smile instantly creased her face at the sight of me.
“Oh hi Brynn!” She exclaimed jubilantly and wrapped her arms around me, hugging tightly. “You look great!”
Leaning back from her and trying regain the breath that had been pushed out of me, I managed to squeak,
“You look great too!”
At least her outfit was a bit more tame.
She wore a white fishnet blouse over a lime green bra and pair of white leather trousers. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, accenting the peridot earrings glittering in her ears.
And for once, she was wearing natural looking make-up.
“I do my best.” She giggled, pushing the door open further.
“Come on in,” Nestling her arm around my shoulders, she tugged me into the room.
Looking around, I saw that the dressing room definitely had Prince’s touch all over it.
Sequined pink and turquoise fabric had been draped all over the walls and every available surface, even the make up table.
One of Prince’s guitars, the White Cloud, was leaning against the wall.
On the far side of the room, the door to the changing stall was closed.
“Mr. Prince will be right with you, he’s changing into his stage costume.” Mindy giggled, walking over and setting the iron on top of the make up counter. On the counter, containers of concealer, foundation, and tons of eyeliners were strewn about. Prince was probably the King of Androgyny Land tonight.
I stared at the closed door, wondering what type of ensemble Prince would be changing into. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be anything offensive, or at least show any pubic hairs.
“Looking for someone?” A voice whispered into my ear hotly, and I jumped.
Startled.
I whipped around to face Prince.
I could feel my eyes widening at the sight of him.
Earlier that evening I had been sideswiped by Michael’s stunning appearance. Michael was incredibly handsome.
Prince on the other hand was stunning in that he was so pretty. If he were any prettier, Mindy would have been all over him like ants on a sucker.
Prince had an entirely new look.
His hair, normally black, was now streaked with shades of honey, cinnamon and sandy brown, warming his light skin.
Heightened at the crown and falling at an angle over his left eye, Prince’s hair was a lesson in the art of hair color.
Prince’s eyes were as usual, heavily lined with black. His ultra long lashes were crusted with mascara.
The rest of his facial make-up was fairly muted, except for the writing on his right cheek.
Scribbled in fanciful script with a black liner pencil was the word “Sexy.”
A long, floor sweeping black cloak covered Prince’s diminutive body.
The tips of snow white boots stuck out from under the cloak.
Please don’t this man be nude under that cloak!
“Hi…Prince.” I said nervously, as his large light eyes seemed to devour me.
“Damn…Brynn you look pretty.” Prince murmured, a smile creasing his face as Mindy came over and started putting a large gold hoop earring through his right earlobe.
“Thank you.” I whispered, feeling hot because Prince looked so good and cold because Michael was a few feet away.
“You came to my show…after dark…and Michael let you see me alone. What happened? He get drunk on the way here?” Prince chuckled, opening his arms and embracing me.
Lavender surrounded us.
“That man better be careful. You might come to the Penthouse with me tonight…we can have our own after show.” Damp lips pecked my cheek.
The man hadn’t even gotten onstage and already he was talking of sex?
“Prince…what are you gonna play tonight? Michael brought a lot of his family…” I trailed off as Prince raised and put a finger to my lips.
“Shh…it’s a secret. And I don’t care if I scare the shit outta Michael. If I sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star it’ll probably be too raunchy for the man who can’t say ‘titties‘.” Prince blew at the lock of hair covering his eye.
“Speaking of titties, I’m surprised he let you come around with yours hanging out your shirt like that. Ha ha.” Prince wagged his head defiantly.
Mindy scurried to comb the hair he had shaken back into place.
“Please…be nice.” I begged looking down at my hands.
“I’ll think about it. You and Mindy go on off into the club. I’ll be onstage soon.” Prince nodded solemnly.
“Let’s go.” Mindy grinned putting a shaky hand on my shoulder and leading me to the door.
As I made my way past Prince, he clapped my bottom hard.
“And when I play, I wanna see that cute little ass of yours wiggling!” He called as the door shut behind us.
As Mindy and I picked our way down the dark corridor to the main club, I fretted,
“What is that man wearing under that cape? Minds, tell me please!”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Prince told me not to tell you. But he’s not naked under that cloak. I can promise that.” Mindy chuckled.
“His ass cheeks aren’t gonna be hanging out? Or his balls huh?” I ran a hand through my hair, nearly pulling it out.
“No! His ass…and balls are covered. Calm down Brynn! You don’t usually care that much about what Mr. Prince wears.” We stopped in the door way of the club.
“Well, Michael and half the Jackson family aren’t usually around him. If it were just me, he could dance around buck naked with a Coke bottle up his nose for all I care, but Mike and his family are out there and if Prince does anything bad, it could be like pouring kerosene on a lit match. Oh I don’t know what to do…” I buried my face in my hands.
“Brynn…I know you’re upset because your two boyfriends are gonna be in there. Just play it cool because if you get all flustered, it’s all gonna go to hell really fast. I know, I got caught between two girlfriends and ended up losing both of them and getting my nose broken, just cause I lost my cool. Be calm…I’m there for you.” Mindy gave me a warm smile.
A broken nose? If Michael and Prince started doing the WWE dance, there would be more than a broken nose, especially if they both individually kicked me into the next hemisphere.
But it was nice to know that I had someone in my corner.
The hallway eventually opened up to the main club.
As Mindy and I passed into the club, and excited and awed gasp escaped me.
Now, I know when I had looked at the placard on top of the building, the name had read as Club Groovement.
But this couldn’t possibly be Club Groovement.
As I looked around, this place had to be Club Prince.
The entire interior of the club was decorated in shades of rich purple and silver.
The club stretched on for two stories, the dancers’ balcony on the second story highlighted by lilac neon tubes.
Decorative, open staircases leading to the balcony ended at each wall with a curve.
Silver beads and purple crystals hung from the ceiling just above our heads. A few strands swayed in the wind coming from the cooling units.
Across the room, a bar made of gleaming clear and lavender glass blocks gleamed.
A female bartender, in a plum vest over a white blouse and black trousers was wiping down the bar top.
And I saw that every bottle, glass and flute in the bar were also else clear or purple.
Before us, nearly thirty, small, round two seater tables dotted around the ground floor.
Each table was a covered a white table cloth. And the centerpiece of each table was a gleaming silver candlestick, featuring Prince’s symbol.
As we moved further into the club, I saw that in the center was a huge multicolored lighted dance floor, just like in Saturday Night Fever.
Every wall featured color and black and white portraits of Prince all from the early eighties to the present, encased in thick silver frames.
In front of the dance floor, taking up most of the west wall was the stage.
The stage was massive, and was hidden by a long, sweeping, plum velvet curtain.
It stood at least ten feet above the dance floor.
Michael and Co. sat at a grouping of tables to the left of the dance floor.
As I neared them, I saw that two extra people were standing and holding a lively conversation with Michael.
Upon closer inspection, I recognized them as Suki Yakamato and the Mouth On Legs himself, Morris E. Day.
Suki had totally revamped her look. Extensions brought her hair down to her waist. The blue rim was gone, replaced with sunny yellow framing her face. Not blonde, yellow.
And Suki looked as though she had come from a Cyndi Lauper garage sale.
She wore a bright pink crinoline skirt over a strapless yellow body suit that matched the streaks in her hair. Her face was heavily made up.
Pink ankle boots completed the ensemble.
“Brynn! Hi!” She exclaimed cheerfully rushing over with open arms. “You look great!”
“So do you.” I managed to giggle along with her.
“Wow, there’s a lot of Jacksons!” Mindy chuckled.
“I know! I said the very same thing. They’re all really nice.” Suki grinned.
Peeking over her shoulder, I saw that Morris was still chatting with Michael who looked as though he’d rather chew glass.
I knew that Michael detested that man with every inch of his nearly six foot tall being.
The rest of the Jacksons were talking amongst themselves.
Rusty sat a few tables away, by himself, sulking.
Morris looked like the love child of a tangerine and a peppermint stick.
He wore a green and orange, thick striped Zoot suit over an orange shirt.
Orange loafers, covering the schooners he called feet, squeaked loudly with every move he made.
“…and I said, you must be mistaken! I’m Morris Day! Not that dude from
A Different World! A-Ha!” Morris cackled loudly.
Michael offered a forced, strained and polite laugh and sipped at the tall glass of Shirley Temple he was holding.
A second glass of the same drink was next to him.
Obviously for me.
I was trying to make a beeline for Michael, but Morris noticed me and opened that Black Hole of a mouth.
“Well hello Miss Brynn!” He exclaimed abandoning Michael and running over to me.
“Don’t you look cute in all that red and zebra!” He gave me a soft pat on the back.
As Morris withdrew his arm, I saw that he was wearing a heavy gold watch.
“What time is it?” I questioned, wondering if I had made it back to the Jacksons before nine.
“Oh, well let’s see Miss Brynn…” Morris glanced at the watch face. “You like this? It’s Piaget. I got it from Harrods in London--”
“Yes, it’s lovely. What time is it?” I pushed, not caring if he was wearing a bargain basement piece with the Looney Tunes on it!
“It’s eight fifty-five…” Morris trailed off.
I had made it with a mere five minutes to spare.
“Oh hell! I gotta get on the bandstand! I’m doing drums!” He exclaimed and rushed back over to Michael.
“Hey, Thriller man! It was nice talking to you. Gotta get up onstage. Later man.” He grabbed Michael’s hand and shook it so violently that Michael cried out in pain. “Bye Jacksons!”
A few mumbled a good bye to Morris.
I was sure that he had annoyed them all to near tears.
Rushing to the concealed stage, Morris screamed at the barmaid, who was still wiping down the bar.
“Tara! Baby, ix-nay on that scotch on the rocks, I gotta play!”
“Okay Mr. Day!” Tara called back with a wave.
“Hi Michael.” I smiled as Mindy, Suki and I walked over to him.
“Hey…” His face brightened at the sight of me.
He then noticed Mindy.
“Hello Cindy.” His voice was like an arctic blast.
“Hi Mr. Jackson…uh…” Mindy picked at her ponytail. “My name is Mindy sir, not Cindy.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Oh…sorry.” Michael didn’t sound sorry.
“It’s okay Mr. Jackson.”
“Hey there…” Marlon Jr., a content smile on his face strolled over.
His eyes were fixed on Suki.
The man might have had a chance.
“Hi.” Suki flipped her hair and gave him a warm smile.
At the end of the table, Marlon Sr. shook his head with disapproval. I knew he didn’t want his son to mix with Prince’s crowd.
As Marlon Jr. started to “get his mack on”, the over head lights started to dim.
Michael quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into my seat and Mindy dragged Suki away from Marlon Jr. and they found a spot behind Michael and me.
Defeated, Mars Bar returned to his seat next to Latoya.
Jermaine Jr. and TJ laughed at him.
“I guess That Damn Man is about to play his tunes.” Jermaine, seated on Michael’s other side, leaned in and whispered.
Michael nodded grimly, taking off his dark glasses and setting them on the table top.
His dark eyes were stormy with defiance.
“Hey…what did Prince want to talk to you about?” Taryll leaned his head on my shoulder, sipping at his Cosmopolitan.
He was taking this boyfriend role too close to heart.
“Nothing I can’t talk to you about.” I snipped, not in the mood to try to explain my brief encounter with Prince to him. My butt was still stinging.
“I got my zoom lens ready.” Taj announced, kneeling at Taryll’s side.
“It’s the only way I’ll be able to film Prince!” He snickered.
“Be nice!” Selena called from the other side of Jermaine.
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
Everyone jumped at the sound of Prince’s voice suddenly booming over the sound system.
“Dearly Beloved/ We have gathered here today to get through this thing called life…OH NO! Let’s Go! ”
“What the hell is this? A wedding?” Jackie exclaimed from the other end of the table.
“I can’t believe he’s singing this song.” Michael laughed to no one in particular.
Yes, Michael was just there to take up a seat, he was there in no way shape or form to cheer on Prince.
I was just relieved that he was singing Let’s Go Crazy. The song was so docile, I could have played it for Blanket.
The curtain concealing the stage dropped.
A blinding spotlight illuminated the stage. I could make out Wendy and Lisa on the right of the stage.
Wendy wore a plain short, black minidress and matching knee high boots. A cross on a long chain hung at her throat. Her hair had been straightened and slicked back.
Her fingers moved effortlessly over her red bass guitar.
Lisa wore a see through turquoise button down blouse over a matching tank, all tucked into a pair of black wide legged trousers. Lisa’s hair had been tightly curled and was held back on side with a large white flower.
She was pounding away at her keyboard/synthesizer combo.
Both were so engrossed in their playing, they had their eyes closed and were gently swaying to the beat.
On the opposite side of the stage, Morris sat, jacketless, was thumping the drums, lips poked out with earnest.
At the other keyboard Dr. Fink, in black doctor’s scrubs with a white surgical mask tied at his throat was wiggling back and forth to the music, a large grin on his face.
And there…was Prince.
Standing under a larger than life, lighted version of his symbol, Prince was a vision in white.
Wearing a tighter than second skin body suit, Prince glowed.
The front of the suit dipped low in the front, exposing his tan hairy chest and abdomen. The deep “V” of the suit, rims of it’s bell sleeves and wide legged bottoms were trimmed with large golden hologram sequins.
They caught and threw the light back, making him glow.
Draped over Prince by a rhinestoned strap was the Yellow Cloud guitar.
Fingers a blur on the instrument, Prince half sang/half shouted into his golden gun microphone, mounted on a stand before him.
“If you don’t like the world you’re living in/ Take a look around you/At least you got friends!”
He was wiggling sexily in front of the mike stand, playing the fire out of the Cloud.
“Woo!” Behind us, Mindy and Suki were up and dancing to the song. Down the line, Selena was also up and jamming. I could see Jermaine trying unsuccessfully to get her to sit down.
In spite of themselves, I saw that most of the Jacksons were in some way chair dancing to the song.
Even Rusty was bobbing along, mouthing the words.
I stole a peek up at Michael.
His eyes were locked on Prince. Studying him, looking for any flaw in his performance.
“Let’s Go Crazy!/ Let’s Get Nuts Y’all!/ Look for the purple banana ‘til they put us in the truck!”
Mindy and Suki ran around us to the dance floor and began grooving.
I wanted so badly to rush out there and join them, but I knew Michael would have probably pulled my hair out if I tried to dance.
“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down?/OH NO! Let’s go!”
With a high leap into the air and devilish grin on his face, Prince landed on his knees and wrestling with his guitar violently, sent out a whining and encapsulating solo.
I had seen him fight with a guitar like that since Paisley Park where he had made water shoot out of his Hohner.
“Damn! That man can play!” Taj whispered, still kneeling between me and his brothers.
I saw that his eyes were wide as saucers as he stared into the little screen on his camera.
“I’ll say.” Taryll set his glass down and was clapping along to the beat.
“That’s an amazing guitar!” I heard Tito murmur to himself.
“Dig them shoes!” Marlon exclaimed shaking his head.
Was Prince actually starting to win over some of the Jacksons?
As the song winded down, Prince rose to his feet and approached the microphone again, a smirk on his face.
Polite applause greeted him.
“Thank you!” He exclaimed kissing his fingertips and opening his arms.
I saw that Prince was surveying the crowd, for the first time seeing just how many Jacksons Michael had brought along.
“Hey Morris!” Prince called, lifting his guitar off over his head and handing it off to Jimmy who had appeared at the base of the stage.
I saw that the front of his suit dipped so low that that a small amount of his pubic hair was peeking out. And a gold symbol, hanging on a chain glimmered near his belly button.
Please don’t let Michael notice.
It’d be a miracle if he could perform without an extra band mate making a “special appearance“.
“Yeah Prince?” Morris tapped the snare drum lightly.
“Look at all the people that came to my party man! All the Jacksons! So many of them…” Prince squinted out at us.
“I see Michael…Latoya…Tito…Dopey, Sneezy, Bashful! Hell there’s so many of y’all out there!” Prince laughed deeply and Morris crowed.
“Dopey, Sneezy and Bashful? Must have us mixed up with his tiny ass.” Taj commented, the amazement over Prince’s guitar skills waning quickly.
“I’m just joking with y’all.” Prince winked directly at me. “Y’all know how I am…arrogant!”
The opening bars to Arrogance began to play.
Grasping the gun, Prince lifted it up and began to walk back and forth across the stage, golden heels of his shoes glinting under the lights.
“What makes a man wanna rule the world?/ Make him man enough to say he’s fifty-fifty girl?/What make a man wanna curse and swear?/ Then blame it on Heaven cause he’s already there?” Prince whipped around and shook his booty. It jiggled so true to life, that it took me a moment to realize he was actually wearing trousers.
“Pimp Rag/Tootsie Pop/And a Cane.”
Not really paying attention, I heard myself singing the chorus,
“A-Double A-Double Arrogance!”
Prince may have been arrogant, but he was sure talented.
Nearly everyone around me was starting to loosen up.
Maybe.
And I was thankful.
An Hour Later
“…I guess must be dumb/Because you had a pocketful of horses/Trojan and some of them used…”
I looked around me, an assured and relieved smile inching onto my face. I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but everyone was jammed onto the lighted dance floor, grooving the night away.
Tito, Jackie, Randy and Marlon dancing among themselves, Jermaine boogying with Selena, the second generation Jacksons taking turns with Latoya. Even Rusty was over twirling Tara the bartender in circles.
“I’m actually have a good time!” Michael exclaimed drawing me close to him before leaning me back. Dipping me.
He was truly a vision, his tendrils bouncing as he danced casually. Not the full out Moonwalk, just a superstar at ease.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Giggling as he brought me back up, I glanced at Prince.
He was clinging to the mike stand, wailing the chorus to Little Red Corvette.
I wanted to kiss that man. Not because he was perspiring and looked like a slippery treat, but since the performance had started, he had sang nothing but a tirade of clean hits. Everything from Let’s Go Crazy, to Thieves in the Temple, to now, Little Red Corvette.
Not a single curse word had crossed the threshold of his mouth, and he had been thrilling the entire group more with his guitar riffs and splits, rather than gyrating and being obscene.
And somehow he had managed to entice everyone out of their seats and had them shaking their money makers for all they were worth.
“Little Red Corvette! Yeah!” Taryll and TJ sang in unison as they boogied past Michael and me.
Behind them, Mindy and Suki were cheering Prince on at the base of the stage, on either side of Jimmy.
Taj was bobbing off in a corner filming the whole scene.
I was just so utterly pleased that Michael was having a good time. He had been so sour on the entire idea and now he was whipping me around him, as if we were partying at Neverland.
But like the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
Prince was about to lose his mind and morals.
And I was going to get caught in the crossfire.
In the middle of the second verse of Little Red Corvette, Prince suddenly cried out.
“Stop! Quit playing! Stop!”
The music came an abrupt and off-key mangled halt.
Nearly all of us danced on for a few extra steps before we realized that there was no longer any tunes being played.
“Aw gee!” Selena whined, throwing her arm around Jermaine’s midsection.
Michael tugged me close to him, the first smile I had seen on him since we had gotten to Club Groovement lighting his beautiful, sharp features.
Breathing heavily into microphone, Prince paused to wipe perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand and fluff out his highlighted hair.
Droplets of sweat glistened all over his chest and down his tight stomach.
“I must be outside my mind tonight.” Prince commented, drawing a chuckle from the crowd.
“How so?” Wendy dared to question, steadying her guitar against her body.
“I got my friend in here…been jamming for over an hour and I haven’t invited them up onstage.” Prince grinned like a mouse.
I raised an eyebrow.
Was Prince really about to invite Michael up onstage with him?
“Alright Mike, show’em how it’s done.” Marlon came up and tapped Michael’s shoulder approvingly.
Beside him, his son gave Michael a thumbs up.
“Who’s your friend?” Dr. Fink pushed.
Prince was smiling at Michael so hard, I thought his little cheeks--all four--were going to pop.
I nearly fainted when Prince replied haughtily.
“Miss Brynn!”
“What?” I exclaimed as Morris began banging on the drums to accent Prince’s point.
From somewhere a spotlight found and illuminated me.
Prince wanted me to sing with him?
Me?
Little Brynn Sue McAllister from Nowhere, Texas?
I gazed at Prince, pointing to myself, not truly believing he wanted me to share the stage with him.
A jam session in Minnesota was one thing, a real live show in front of a real crowd was something totally different.
“Come on Brynn! I refuse to let you leave the building without singing something with me!” Prince was waving at me.
“Go on Honey!” Michael whispered, his hot lips touching my ear. “Get up there and show everyone just how great a performer you are!”
His encouragement and sweetness were exactly what I needed.
“Thank you!” I hugged Michael tightly, elated.
“Someone help Brynn up here!” Prince cackled.
Real applause surrounded me as I jogged up to the front of the stage and Jimmy, big old Jimmy, lifted me up onto the stage, just a few feet away from Prince.
“Way to go Brynn! Yay!” Suki screamed, throwing her hands in the air.
“Turn it out!” Mindy agreed.
Prince approached me, a happy glint in his clear eyes.
“Doesn’t Brynn look pretty everyone?” Prince questioned, pinching my chin.
More applause.
I blushed nervously. I was used to playing second banana to Prince and Michael, and here he was making me feel like a real star.
“Hey kid, you with the little plaits!” Prince motioned at Taj. “Make sure you get some good shots of this lady!”
“You got it man!” Taj came running, camera in hand.
I glanced out and saw that Michael was at the base of the stage, eyes wide and aglow with adoration at me.
It was almost too much.
“You ready to jam?” Prince questioned, and held the gun mike under my mouth.
“Yes.” I beamed at him.
“Just a minute.” Prince stood and pretended to study my appearance for a moment.
“Something’s missing. You can’t sing up here, without this!” Prince lifted his necklace off and draped it over my head.
Oh no! He put another symbol on me.
I stared down at Michael. He was rolling his eyes, but still smiling.
I made a mental note to give the necklace back to Prince as soon as I got done singing.
“Get over there with Wendy!” He instructed, giving me a light hug.
I floated over to Wendy to share her microphone.
Turning back to the crowd grouped at the front of the stage, Prince shrieked,
“Shut up already…damn!”
Doop! Doop-Doopity-Doop! Morris started cranking out the opening beats to one of my favorite Prince jams, Housequake.
Even though I was happy, I was a little worried, Prince did swear in this song.
“Tell me, who in this house know about the quake?” Prince questioned, replacing his mike on the stand.
“We do!” The Revolution and I replied.
“Bullshit!” Prince remarked.
An audible gasp escaped the Jacksons.
“I said really?” Prince flipped his head, hair swirling.
“Really!”
“You ain’t hip to that rare Housequake!”
Another split.
The man was in rare form tonight.
After the initial shock of Prince cursing wore off, I saw that Michael and the Jacksons were once again dancing along, and Prince even pulled me out and had me dance along side him for my favorite part of the song.
“Everybody do the Twist/A little bit harder than you did in ‘66/A little bit faster than you did in ‘67/Twist little sister and go to Heaven!/Come on y’all let’s jam/’Fore the police come!”
Little did I know it would only go downhill from there.
After a rousing rendition of Alphabet St. (in which he let me rap at the end, drawing screams from everyone) Prince donned a new guitar, The Black Symbol.
Leaning into Wendy’s and my microphone, he announced with a smirk,
“That song was dedicated to all the girls who like boys….this is dedicated to all the girls who like girls!”
Under him Mindy and Suki whooped.
A few Jacksons looked confused. Latoya just looked disgusted.
I stared at Prince in blinding horror.
Never mind that at some point in the future I’d have to explain to Michael how Prince could be dating Mindy if she was dating Suki.
There was only one song in Prince’s repertoire that he introduced as being the song for “girls who like girls.”
My entire body stiffened as the seventies-funk infused riff to the song Bambi began oozing from Prince’s fingertips.
“I knew from the start/That I loved you with all my heart/But you were untrue/You had another lover and she looked just like YOU!”
Cold beads of perspiration were streaming down my back.
I was afraid to even think of looking at Michael.
“All your lovers/They look just like you/But they can only do the things that you do…ooh!”
Prince stalked across the stage, face contorted as he whipped into another blazing solo.
I couldn’t believe That Damn Man was performing this song.
In front of Michael and Family.
I finally dared to look at Michael.
He was staring at Prince, mouth agape. I didn’t know what is jaw was hanging from--the awesome solo or the tawdry lyrics.
A hundred on Tawdry Lyrics to win.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine were having a powwow, heads close together as the rest of the group moved around them.
Latoya still looked disgusted.
I could only imagine what was being said.
Then for a hot second, I thought Prince had regained sanity, luridly rattling off his ballad, Damn U.
That all went to hell.
Prince stared clapping loudly, rhythmically, and started in on a tune I had never heard before, Broken.
It started out as another simple sweet ballad, then Prince warbled off one offensive line,
“Lonely/I’m so lonely/Lonely/Until you bring your sweet pussy/ Bring it on home to me!”
I banged into Wendy, I was so startled at the lyric.
Michael was on the floor, mouth twisted, eyeing Prince angrily.
The dirty lyrics kept pouring. Every so often Prince would glimpse at me, and I just knew I had to sing back up, or I’d be pulling a huge guitar out of my forehead.
I nearly threw up during Gotta Stop Messing About:
“…I’ve been playing with my toy so much/ I’m gonna go blind!”
Then came Come:
“…with my tongue in the crease/Baby I go around/When I go down!…”
With each passing smut laced song, a Jackson would stop dancing and just stand there, staring in shock.
Eventually the only people bopping were Rusty, Tara, Mindy and Suki.
I was trembling so badly, it was a wonder I was still upright.
Once again, Prince shouted for the music to come to a cease.
“Morris!” Prince said into his microphone.
“Yes?” Morris wiggled his eyebrows.
“You got The Time?” Prince asked with a grin.
“No…but I got The Revolution!” Morris exclaimed hopping up and catching Prince’s microphone as he threw it.
“Brynn!” Morris pointed me out. “I dedicate this song to you and those zebra print pants you’re wearing out!”
“Oooh-Oooh, Ah! Ah! Ah!” Morris screeched like a monkey and the band launched into his hit, Jungle Love.
As Morris sauntered and strutted around the stage, dancing poorly, I noticed that Prince had disappeared from the stage.
“Brynn! Brynn!” At the sound of my name, I saw that Michael, Jermaine and Tito were huddled at me end of the stage.
“Get the hell off of there now! We’re going home! Now!” Michael called through gritted teeth, his face red.
I had never seen Michael that perturbed. Not even when Prince and Morris were a couple of gutter mouths at The Ivy Lounge.
Nodding, with heart broken tears in my eyes, I started towards them to hop off.
“To the sauce!” Morris suddenly grabbed me around my waist and was bumping his hip against mine.
I watched helplessly as Michael tried to get Tito and Jermaine to lift him up onstage. I just knew he was going to drag me offstage.
After several tries, Tito lost his balance and tumbled to the floor, Michael landing on him.
Morris didn’t notice; he was basking in his fifteen nanoseconds of fame.
Then Prince’s voice, louder than I had ever heard it, drowned out the song,
“That’s enough Morris--shut the fuck up!”
Entering stage right, I saw that Prince had changed costumes.
He wore an oversized purple tunic, over matching wide bottomed trousers and black boots.
Extending from around the neck and pointing at a bit of an angle Prince’s symbol was printed on the front in black. The left sleeve of the tunic was also black.
Tucked under his arm was a large white box.
“I need everybody to quiet down. I have something to say.” Prince declared taking the gun from Morris.
“Brynn get off!” I heard Michael yell.
“I’m doing Gett Off later Michael, calm down!” Prince cackled and the Revolution chuckled.
“Now I wanna tell you guys something funny.” Prince said seriously and trotted over to me, an evil grin on his face.
“When I first met Brynn at my studio, Paisley Park, we had a little argument. You remember our argument Pretty Lady?” Prince patted my cheek gently.
“Yeah.” I leaned away from him. Just what did he have in that box?
Behind me, Michael was trying again to get a leg up onstage.
Surveying the crowd, That Damn Man continued,
“Brynn had a little aversion to wearing make-up and she thought that I made women look like Barbie dolls.”
Giving me once-over he giggled, “As you can see, she’s over her aversion, now.”
The Revolution laughed and Morris crowed.
“You don’t look like a Barbie, you’re much cuter.” Prince winked at me through his streaky hair.
“Damn it!” Michael’s foot slipped and he landed back on the floor.
“Uh…thanks.” I replied shakily. What was he going at?
The rest of the Jacksons were watching solemnly.
Annoyed.
Michael stumbled.
Holding the box out to me, Prince quipped, “This is for you. And I hope it finally puts our little argument to rest.”
I hesitated; I didn’t want to make the situation any worse than what it was.
“Take it.” Prince urged.
Finally just to wipe that holier-than-thou expression off his face, I grabbed the box, my mind made up that no matter what was inside, I’d act unmoved.
I ripped the top on the box open and discovered a smaller, pink box inside.
Lifting the pink box out, I wheezed.
Through a clear front panel on the box was a doll.
About the same size of a Barbie, the doll was black with long curly hair and wore a green and blue dress matching gloves. A little gold symbol was attached to the right glove.
It was me.
A doll version of me in the outfit that was in my photo from Paisley Park.
“I…I don’t believe it.” I whispered, staring at the figure.
I was a doll. Prince had had a Barbie doll of me created?
“You like that? I had the nice people at Mattel create a little Brynn.” He chuckled taking the doll from me and displaying it to everyone.
“Brynn’s a Barbie!” Latoya exclaimed, wedging in between Mindy and Suki.
“Damn, that dude is going all out!” Taj said to TJ, a little too loudly.
“Do you like that?” Prince’s voice floated near me.
“Yes…” I stared up at him. “Thank you.”
Prince smothered me in a tight hug.
It was then I felt a hand grip the back of my shirt, scratching my skin in the process.
Michael loomed over Prince and me.
A wild look was in his eyes.
“We’re leaving Brynn, come on.” He gripped my arm so tightly, I felt blood vessels constricting.
“Mike, you can’t leave now, the show is just getting good.” Prince commented innocently, reaching out and putting his arm around my waist.
Putting the microphone to his mouth, Prince exclaimed,
“Enough of that tame shit, who wants some Head?”
Michael looked as though he’d been slapped.
Shocked and stunned gasps and exclamations dotted the room.
On cue, the Revolution launched into the opening bars of Head.
Prince, brimming with smugness, began singing, skipping the first verse and chorus and went directly to the second verse.
“You know you’re good girl/I think you like to go down/You wouldn’t have stopped but, uh, I came all over your wedding gown/But I must confess…”
Prince pulled his top off, exposing his still shining upper body.
“I wanna get undressed/And go to bed…”
Michael grabbed me around my waist and lifted me up.
“That’s it. I’m sick of his little ass. We’re going home. Sickening!” Michael shook his head.
I frowned at Prince, brimming with a hot anger. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, he just had to try to pluck Michael’s nerves and gross out everyone in the place.
Then Prince had to go there.
“Don’t take her away…let her give me some Head.” Prince cooed seductively.
The entire room came to a standstill at the statement.
Wendy and Lisa shook their heads, frowning.
“Did he just say what I thought he said?” Taj groaned looking into his camera.
I felt Michael’s total being go cold.
Pushing me aside, he screamed in an almost unearthly tone,
“I’m gonna kick your little nasty ass up and down the street then around the corner!”
Michael Jackson whooshed past me and lunged at Prince.
Prince didn’t stand a chance.
“No Mike man! No!” Jermaine and Tito rushed around me as the rest of the Jackson brood pressed up against the stage rooting on the impending fight.
Jermaine and Tito were about a second too late.
Michael bitch slapped Prince and sent him whirling into the drum set
“Aw fuck no!” Morris threw down his drumsticks and rushed at Michael, grabbing onto Tito and punching him in the face.
“You asshole! That’s my father!” Taryll and TJ hopped up on the stage, Taj trailing behind.
Before I knew it, every person in the place was fist fighting.
Michael beating on Prince, yanking his hair mercilessly. Dr. Fink going at it with Randy. Latoya doing a battle royal with Mindy and Suki.
Wendy and Lisa joined in, fists landing blows everywhere.
Bodies rolled all over the stage and most of the dance floor.
Selena was begging Jermaine to stop clobbering Jimmy.
This was a nightmare.
“Brynn…Brynn…”
I opened my eyes to find myself still inside the limousine, the Jacksons packed in around me.
Michael was tapping my cheek gently.
“Baby, you fell asleep.” He grinned at me, warmly.
“Honey, I have some bad news.” He said softly.
All around me, the Jacksons groaned unhappily.
Rusty, though, was beaming like he’d just inherited a billion dollars.
I glanced out the window. We were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.
“What?” I questioned. Michael looked so fresh and well groomed, how could he look that nice after beating Prince to a stump?
Not a hair was out of place.
“The concert got cancelled, Prince came down with laryngitis. We’re going home.” He ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry you got all done up for nothing.”
I stared at Michael, bewildered.
The concert? It had been cancelled? So Prince didn’t get nasty? And Michael didn’t knock him into another galaxy?
It had all been a dream?
“There’s no concert?” I whispered, my mind not truly grasping the idea.
“No, how does someone the size of a tonsil get laryngitis? Damn, I was geared up for the show!” Marlon, Jr. whined.
“I guess we won’t be able to kick his little ass tonight.” Jackie remarked and the limo laughed.
I snickered, not because Jackie had made a cute joke, but because if my dream had been anything like a premonition, we’d have had the local precinct filled to the brim, all on assault and battery charges.
I had never been so thankful for a sore throat in all my life!
Snuggling up close to my Main Man, I planned to make sure we had a party of our own and if Michael did get hurt, it would be a sexy hurt.
The Main Suite
6:30 p.m.
“Has anyone seen my shoe? It’s a black loafer with tassels!” I heard Taj shout from somewhere in the hallway.
The sixteenth floor of the Windbush Hotel was a madhouse as everyone trying to get dressed and coiffed for the Prince show.
“Damn a loafer! I can’t find my hat!” Tito yelled back.
It would be nearly impossible for fifteen people to all be ready to get down in cars in less than an hour.
Latoya, Selena and I were crowded into the bathroom of the main suite, because, apparently, the main suite had the largest counter space and largest mirror.
Sitting in the empty bathtub, in her own little world, Paris had gotten a tube of goldish pink lipstick from somewhere and was applying it.
Cosmetics covered every free surface and the scent of hairspray was thick in the air.
In the confusion, I was applying Dior mascara. I had no idea who the hell it was for, because I usually wore Maybelline mascara.
“Do I look fat in this?” Selena asked suddenly, backing up and spinning around in front of the mirror.
She wore a clingy, knee length long-sleeved white dress with a beaded red rose running up the side. Because of her red hair, if she wore something red close to her face, it would clash.
Her long hair was tied back into a French braid, held in place with a jeweled hair tie.
She tried to maintain her balance in red espadrilles.
It was the fourth dress she had tried on. Jermaine and Michael had nearly come to blows before deciding on the dress.
Michael had been all over the floor, examining everyone’s ensembles, wanting to put the best foot forward in front of Prince.
“No, girl, you look great!” Latoya patted her shoulder.
“What about me?”
Latoya wore a deep red, almost maroon, sleeveless silk minidress that had an extremely low, lace up back. Her hair had been straightened, and had been brushed over her left shoulder, exposing a huge ruby and diamond chandelier earring. A matching cuff bracelet shimmered on her wrist.
Crystal encrusted heels completed her look.
“Those shoes are nice.” I pointed out, spraying my hair.
Michael had insisted that I curl my hair. I think it was an effort to recreate the look I had had while in Minneapolis.
Michael was really going all out to spurn the hell out of Prince.
“Your shoes are great! Did Michael have those custom made?” Latoya, leaned into the mirror slicking blush onto her cheeks.
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “Where is Michael?”
I hadn’t seen him since the battle to get clothed started.
“I think he’s trying to help Tito find that damn hat.” Selena giggled, applying clear gloss to her pouty lips.
“I look okay?” I questioned, turning in a circle.
The top was okay, but my trousers felt like they were a size too small.
In the mirror, they looked almost painted on!
“Well…” Selena, paused, hand on hip, gave me a once over.
“You got your shirt buttoned up all the way.”
“Huh?” I glanced down at myself.
Selena trotted over and started loosening the buttons until the top of my bosom started to peek out.
“You got chi-chis, show’em off!” She grinned. “Isn’t tonight about making Prince mad?”
I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Prince wouldn’t be mad.
If anything, at the sight of my chest half way popping out of my top, he’d get horny.
But it seemed he was pretty much horny all the time.
“Prince would be kinda cute, if he wasn’t so small. I could put him in my purse!” Latoya joked and we snickered.
As I started to put a pair of diamond studs in my ears, a voice hooted,
“Smile ladies!”
We glanced up in time to see Marlon with a camera in hand, snapping a photograph.
He wore a red satin shirt and black slacks. An undone black and red dotted tie hung around his neck.
“Marlon! We’re not ready yet!” Latoya threw a make-up sponge at him.
It whizzed past his head.
“You all look lovely!” Marlon cackled and jogged away.
“The nerve of him!” Latoya huffed rolling her eyes, false lashes batting.
“Why didn’t Janet and Rebbie come?” Selena wondered, applying silver shadow to her lids.
“Well, you know Janet is tied up with Jermaine Dupri in Stockholm right now. He’s promoting some single, and Rebbie has a cold.” Latoya shrugged, examining her appearance again and fluffing her hair.
“Why can’t I go?” Paris whimpered suddenly, crawling out of the bathtub and walking over to me, fluffing out her yellow dress.
“Honey, a Prince concert is no place for a seven year old.” Latoya patted Paris’ head gently.
“Why, Auntie Latoya? Everyone else is going. ‘Cept me, Blanket and Prince!” She stamped her little foot, bottom lip quaking.
“The things he sings about, you’re not old enough to hear them.” Selena pointed out.
“I can’t help it if he has a potty mouth!” Paris wailed and ran out of the room.
Potty mouth? That was putting it mildly.
Teasing my hair, I wondered to myself.
What would Prince sing? I hoped that it wouldn’t be too raunchy.
Having a jam session at Paisley Park with friends and hanging in front of The Jacksons was a totally different story.
Maybe the clash wouldn’t be too great.
“You girls almost done?” Michael sauntered into the room.
I almost pulled a lock of hair out my own head at the sight of him.
Michael Jackson was sheer divinity in motion.
He was dressed in a crimson, crushed velvet jacket. Clear bugle beads crisscrossed the front of the coat.
A diamond tasseled pin was at the center of the stand up collar.
The ends of the sleeves were edged with black braid, and vented slightly so that if Michael wanted to, he could cuff them back.
The jacket was lined in black satin.
Michael wore tight black denim pants. Bright, highly polished silver shin guards covered his knees on down to the tops of his shoes.
Leather boots covered Michael’s long feet.
And Michael’s hair was another change.
Instead of being straight, Michael’s hair fell around his shoulders in glossy, almost wet looking loose curls.
His lightly lined eyes widened at the sight of me.
“Oh Brynn, Baby, you look gorgeous!” He gushed rushing over and hugging me.
If my cleavage showing bothered him, he didn’t mentioned it.
“You…look…sexy.” I was breathless.
Michael blushed sheepishly, tapping the tip of his nose shyly.
“You all look great.” Michael smiled at his sister and Selena.
“Thanks.” They replied, grinning.
“Come on, the limo’s here.” Michael wrapped his arm around my hips.
He wore a spicy, woodsy cologne.
I knew a limousine--or a bus--would be the only way to transport all of us.
As we joined the rest of the men in the hallway, whistles and catcalls ensued.
Most of the Jackson men wore red button down shirts and black slacks. Tito wore a black bowler on his head and Randy, a black newsboy cap.
The Jackson Trio stood pouting, with Bo, who was going to watch them that night.
Behind them, Rusty, in a bright red suit also pouted.
He was so sure that the night would be a terrible one.
I prayed he’d be wrong.
Taj, in a red shirt open over a white t-shirt and jeans, held his camera.
“Look at all of us! All this hotness in one room. ‘Bout to blow the roof off this place!” He laughed.
Someone started singing,
“I’m too sexy for my shirt/ Too sexy for my shirt/Too sexy yeah!”
Soon everyone was singing along.
As we piled onto the elevator, Michael paused to hug his children and tell them good night.
A good night was what I needed.
* * *
An Hour and a Half Later
Somewhere In Upper Manhattan
“What does everyone think Prince will sing tonight?” Taj asked from where he was seated at the far end of the limo near the driver.
Almost unanimously everyone replied,
“Purple Rain.”
“I bet he’s gonna wear something purple!” Jermaine cackled and his son snorted.
“Hey Michael, whatever happens, we’re behind you a hundred and ten percent man!” Tito reached out and slapped Michael’s knee.
“Tito, nothing is going to happen. That Damn Man is going to sing his little tunes and we’ll go back home.” Michael said calmly, peeking at his brother over the tops of his aviator shades.
Only Michael could wear sunglasses at night and not look silly.
“Do you want me to just bust his ass the minute we see him, then we can be outta there in fifteen minutes tops?” Jackie offered cracking his knuckles loudly and the Jackson men guffawed.
Rusty moaned in agony. In his eyes, Michael was probably sabotaging the best thing to happen to him since Thriller.
I was quite surprised that Rusty wasn’t airing his grievances like he had done earlier to Michael. But I supposed he didn’t want to get sucker punched by the Jackson closest to him.
“No! We’re not going in there to start anything! We’re going…” Michael noticed that Taj was still filming
“Turn that thing off!” He barked. . I was sure he didn’t want taped evidence if he was indeed plotting to kick Prince’s ass.
Hail Mary Full of Grace…
“Yes Sir!” Taj hurriedly put the camera away.
“Now like I was saying,” Michael tossed his head. “Jackie, we’re not going in looking for trouble, but if the Purple Prick brings it, we’ll throw it right back. We have class.” Michael instructed.
“I still can’t believe that Prince was so rude to you and Brynn at that restaurant…it’s amazing.” Latoya sighed, eyes wide from where she was wedged between me and Selena.
“It’s sickening is what it was!” Randy grimaced, adjusting his hat so that the front dropped between his eyes.
“You’re better than me Mike, I would’ve kicked him a new asshole--pardon me ladies.” Jermaine waved his hands apologetically.
I leaned my head against Michael’s shoulder.
This was going to be a long night.
“Now, we need to get serious.” Michael’s voice was heavy with sternness.
“We all have to be on our P’s and Q’s tonight. Remember, Taryll is supposed to be Brynn’s boyfriend--not me. So Taryll, stay close to her…I’ll be close to you too, Baby.” Michael leaned and softly pecked my forehead.
“I know you will be.” I murmured, not really noticing I was talking.
I wondered what kind of pep talk Prince was giving his cohorts, if any.
He always struck me as the type to scream, “Make it funky!” and then throw himself onstage.
“…you can’t really trust Prince. I’ve learned from talking to him, he seems very, um…” Michael stroked his dimpled chin, searching for a word.
“…very perverted.” He sighed, for lack of a better term.
“We have three ladies with us. Brynn, Latoya and Selena…we have to look out for them. Don’t put anything past Prince. He’s a sneaky little something. And that Morris jerk--”
“That guy made me wanna smack him into next year.” Taryll sneered and TJ giggled.
At that moment, the limo screeched to a halt, jostling everyone inside a bit.
Behind Taj, the privacy glass between us and the driver came down.
“We’ve reached Club Groovement, Mr. Jackson.” He said solemnly.
Straight away, everyone was pressed up against the left side of the limo, trying to see what the nightclub looked like.
Elbowing between Marlon, Jr., and Jermaine Jr., I finally found a viewing spot.
Looking around, I saw that Prince had chosen yet another secluded venue.
Club Groovement was a two-story brick building, that appeared the only structure on the side of the road.
It seemed appealing, painted a shade of light beige that made it stand out against its dark and somewhat gloomy surroundings.
The name of the club flashed in purposefully haphazardly set neon block letters extending from the roof.
“Man, this is wild, I’ve never seen a street in New York that had only one building on it.” Marlon mumbled from somewhere behind me.
“Looks like something in a horror movie.” Latoya chimed in, leaning over me, and gazing out, her chin on top of my head.
“Yeah, where’s Jason?” Selena simpered.
I glanced back and saw that she was pulling Jermaine’s arm around her.
“Oh shit! There’s your Jason, Selena!” TJ exclaimed, his hand shooting out from around Michael and pointing.
Directing my attention back to the front of the club, I saw a tremendous form hulking out of the double glass doors of the building.
A collective gasp swathed us like a cloud.
I could hear Selena praying quietly in Spanish.
“I, Tariano Adaryll Jackson, Jr., being of sound body and mind, do hereby bequeath--” Taj began reciting into the lens of his camera.
“Boy, shut up!” Jackie gave him a strict shove.
“I knew you should have left me at the hotel!” Rusty complained, fright in his voice.
“That’s one hell of a bouncer.” Marlon Jr., shook his head.
As the moving brick wall approached the car, a sigh of absolute relief escaped me.
“You guys…that’s no bouncer.” I half laughed/half cried.
“Who is it?” Michael questioned, resting his hand on the back of my neck; his touch was icy.
“That’s Jimmy, he’s Prince’s assistant.” I pointed out as Jimmy got to the door and held it open for us.
“Looks like a Neanderthal.” Rusty quipped sliding out first and holding his hand out to help everyone else out onto the sidewalk.
“Oh be quiet…Seacrest!” I sniffed, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the sidewalk. “You’d probably be happier at a Clay Aiken show.” I rolled my eyes at him.
I was worried enough to have a bunch of fight-ready Jacksons on my hands. The last thing I needed was Rusty’s bitching and going on.
Rusty turned as red as his suit, but held his tongue.
“Hello everyone. My name is Jimmy.” Jimmy grinned at us warmly, his grey eyes flashing.
“Mr. Jackson…” He held his hand out to Michael.
After a moment of hesitation, Michael reached out and shook it.
“Mr. Prince wanted me to welcome all of you and show you to your seats inside. My, there’s so many of you.” He laughed and a little ripple joined him from the rest of us. Jimmy started towards the building.
“Safety in numbers.” I heard someone stammer as we started following the mammoth man.
Jimmy turned and led us to the door, holding it open for us.
The Jacksons clustered together like bees around a honeycomb.
“That is one huge motherfucker.” I heard TJ snicker, as he went by.
(Other than Michael, he was the thinnest man in the group.)
“Watch your mouth boy!” Tito reprimanded him.
As we walked down the long dim hallway, which smelled of long smoked cigarettes and peppermint incense, I reached down and grabbed Michael’s hand. I knew I was supposed to hanging off of Taryll, but at that moment, I needed Michael.
At the far end of the hallway was the opening to the club, noted by a purplish-white light.
An unbearable tension seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and was filling every nook and cranny of the corridor. I could barely breathe.
If it was this bad with just Jimmy around, Lord help us when Prince appeared.
With every step I prayed vainly that the evening would go off without any incidents that would land the entire lot of us in the penitentiary.
It was so quiet; the only sounds came from our shoes clicking on the bare concrete floor.
“Oh, Miss Brynn.” Jimmy turned suddenly.
“Yes?” I stopped so swiftly, that I bumped against Taryll, who was in front of me.
“Um, Mr. Prince requested that he see you before his performance tonight.” Jimmy replied calmly, glanced around the crowd.
My blood stopped pulsing in my veins and dropped, like a red brick of lead.
Prince wanted to see me?
Was he crazy? I was up to my chin in Jacksons and he was singling me out?
Finding the courage from somewhere, I snuck a peep around.
All the Jackson men, first and second generations, were glaring at Jimmy with a such a quiet ferocity that it was maddening.
Please don’t shoot the messenger!
Nerves were running so high and hard that I knew that if Jimmy said the wrong thing, or even the right thing with the wrong inflection, ten men would be all over him.
“What…what does he want to see me for?” I stammered, looking up at Michael apprehensively.
His face was set harder than that of a marble bust. All the color seemed to have drained from him and white hot anger had set in.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine shifted from one foot to the other, anxiously.
Another set of knuckles cracked loudly--thumb knuckles too.
The ten pops were barely audible over the thumping of my own troubled heart.
Michael had just gotten done prophesizing that we all stay together and already I was being plucked from the bunch.
“I don’t know Miss Brynn. He just wanted to see you before show time.” Jimmy shrugged helplessly.
I saw that where we had stopped, behind Jimmy an even dimmer hallway stretched behind him, marked by several doors on each side, all closed.
“Uh…uh…” I looked to Michael for guidance. He was adjusting his glasses on his nose. “…is it okay?”
Michael’s mouth tightened so much, that it all but disappeared off his face.
Glancing down at the diamond studded watch on his wrist, he instructed in a tone so serious that I couldn’t help but take heed,
“It’s fifteen to nine. Go see what That Damn Man wants. You be out there with us at nine. If a second past nine goes by, I’m coming for you. Understand?”
“That Damn Man.” Taryll echoed, rolling his eyes.
I stood for a moment, stunned.
Michael was actually allowing me to go see Prince?
Who was this man and what had he done with Michael Jackson?
The Michael I knew would have tossed me over his wiry shoulder and carried me off into the club without so much as an explanation to Jimmy.
I noticed that Michael was looking around at his brothers.
He must have been keeping up his front; showing his brothers that he didn’t care about Prince.
I knew he didn’t care about Prince. Even a blind man could see that!
He cared about me.
“Alright…” I was hesitant. “…are you sure?”
“Go!” Michael waved his hand over my head.
“If that midget tries anything, kick him in the nuts!” Marlon Jr. rooted from the back of the group and several supporters hooted in agreement.
“The club is right through that opening.” Jimmy pointed out the light at the end of the corridor.
Placing a beefy hand on my shoulder, he said to me,
“Come along Miss Brynn.”
I watched dejectedly as the Jacksons shuffled past me.
I just knew they hated me. I mean they had to.
The last thing I heard, was Jackie whispering to Marlon, loudly,
“Flirty ass motherfucker…needs to find his own woman. It’ll be a hot second before Michael busts his ass!”
I was walking away from Michael to see The Other Man.
I was so confused.
The only smile I got was from Selena.
But it wasn’t the same, she wasn’t a blood Jackson. She wasn’t even married to a Jackson!
A storm cloud of trepidation flashing above my head, I let Jimmy lead me down the dimmer hallway to the third door, on the right.
As he tapped the door, I stood wondering why I hadn’t broken and run off after Michael.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
Just as I was about to turn and take off like a track star, the door cracked open.
Mindy, smoking flat iron in her hand, stepped out.
A smile instantly creased her face at the sight of me.
“Oh hi Brynn!” She exclaimed jubilantly and wrapped her arms around me, hugging tightly. “You look great!”
Leaning back from her and trying regain the breath that had been pushed out of me, I managed to squeak,
“You look great too!”
At least her outfit was a bit more tame.
She wore a white fishnet blouse over a lime green bra and pair of white leather trousers. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, accenting the peridot earrings glittering in her ears.
And for once, she was wearing natural looking make-up.
“I do my best.” She giggled, pushing the door open further.
“Come on in,” Nestling her arm around my shoulders, she tugged me into the room.
Looking around, I saw that the dressing room definitely had Prince’s touch all over it.
Sequined pink and turquoise fabric had been draped all over the walls and every available surface, even the make up table.
One of Prince’s guitars, the White Cloud, was leaning against the wall.
On the far side of the room, the door to the changing stall was closed.
“Mr. Prince will be right with you, he’s changing into his stage costume.” Mindy giggled, walking over and setting the iron on top of the make up counter. On the counter, containers of concealer, foundation, and tons of eyeliners were strewn about. Prince was probably the King of Androgyny Land tonight.
I stared at the closed door, wondering what type of ensemble Prince would be changing into. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be anything offensive, or at least show any pubic hairs.
“Looking for someone?” A voice whispered into my ear hotly, and I jumped.
Startled.
I whipped around to face Prince.
I could feel my eyes widening at the sight of him.
Earlier that evening I had been sideswiped by Michael’s stunning appearance. Michael was incredibly handsome.
Prince on the other hand was stunning in that he was so pretty. If he were any prettier, Mindy would have been all over him like ants on a sucker.
Prince had an entirely new look.
His hair, normally black, was now streaked with shades of honey, cinnamon and sandy brown, warming his light skin.
Heightened at the crown and falling at an angle over his left eye, Prince’s hair was a lesson in the art of hair color.
Prince’s eyes were as usual, heavily lined with black. His ultra long lashes were crusted with mascara.
The rest of his facial make-up was fairly muted, except for the writing on his right cheek.
Scribbled in fanciful script with a black liner pencil was the word “Sexy.”
A long, floor sweeping black cloak covered Prince’s diminutive body.
The tips of snow white boots stuck out from under the cloak.
Please don’t this man be nude under that cloak!
“Hi…Prince.” I said nervously, as his large light eyes seemed to devour me.
“Damn…Brynn you look pretty.” Prince murmured, a smile creasing his face as Mindy came over and started putting a large gold hoop earring through his right earlobe.
“Thank you.” I whispered, feeling hot because Prince looked so good and cold because Michael was a few feet away.
“You came to my show…after dark…and Michael let you see me alone. What happened? He get drunk on the way here?” Prince chuckled, opening his arms and embracing me.
Lavender surrounded us.
“That man better be careful. You might come to the Penthouse with me tonight…we can have our own after show.” Damp lips pecked my cheek.
The man hadn’t even gotten onstage and already he was talking of sex?
“Prince…what are you gonna play tonight? Michael brought a lot of his family…” I trailed off as Prince raised and put a finger to my lips.
“Shh…it’s a secret. And I don’t care if I scare the shit outta Michael. If I sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star it’ll probably be too raunchy for the man who can’t say ‘titties‘.” Prince blew at the lock of hair covering his eye.
“Speaking of titties, I’m surprised he let you come around with yours hanging out your shirt like that. Ha ha.” Prince wagged his head defiantly.
Mindy scurried to comb the hair he had shaken back into place.
“Please…be nice.” I begged looking down at my hands.
“I’ll think about it. You and Mindy go on off into the club. I’ll be onstage soon.” Prince nodded solemnly.
“Let’s go.” Mindy grinned putting a shaky hand on my shoulder and leading me to the door.
As I made my way past Prince, he clapped my bottom hard.
“And when I play, I wanna see that cute little ass of yours wiggling!” He called as the door shut behind us.
As Mindy and I picked our way down the dark corridor to the main club, I fretted,
“What is that man wearing under that cape? Minds, tell me please!”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Prince told me not to tell you. But he’s not naked under that cloak. I can promise that.” Mindy chuckled.
“His ass cheeks aren’t gonna be hanging out? Or his balls huh?” I ran a hand through my hair, nearly pulling it out.
“No! His ass…and balls are covered. Calm down Brynn! You don’t usually care that much about what Mr. Prince wears.” We stopped in the door way of the club.
“Well, Michael and half the Jackson family aren’t usually around him. If it were just me, he could dance around buck naked with a Coke bottle up his nose for all I care, but Mike and his family are out there and if Prince does anything bad, it could be like pouring kerosene on a lit match. Oh I don’t know what to do…” I buried my face in my hands.
“Brynn…I know you’re upset because your two boyfriends are gonna be in there. Just play it cool because if you get all flustered, it’s all gonna go to hell really fast. I know, I got caught between two girlfriends and ended up losing both of them and getting my nose broken, just cause I lost my cool. Be calm…I’m there for you.” Mindy gave me a warm smile.
A broken nose? If Michael and Prince started doing the WWE dance, there would be more than a broken nose, especially if they both individually kicked me into the next hemisphere.
But it was nice to know that I had someone in my corner.
The hallway eventually opened up to the main club.
As Mindy and I passed into the club, and excited and awed gasp escaped me.
Now, I know when I had looked at the placard on top of the building, the name had read as Club Groovement.
But this couldn’t possibly be Club Groovement.
As I looked around, this place had to be Club Prince.
The entire interior of the club was decorated in shades of rich purple and silver.
The club stretched on for two stories, the dancers’ balcony on the second story highlighted by lilac neon tubes.
Decorative, open staircases leading to the balcony ended at each wall with a curve.
Silver beads and purple crystals hung from the ceiling just above our heads. A few strands swayed in the wind coming from the cooling units.
Across the room, a bar made of gleaming clear and lavender glass blocks gleamed.
A female bartender, in a plum vest over a white blouse and black trousers was wiping down the bar top.
And I saw that every bottle, glass and flute in the bar were also else clear or purple.
Before us, nearly thirty, small, round two seater tables dotted around the ground floor.
Each table was a covered a white table cloth. And the centerpiece of each table was a gleaming silver candlestick, featuring Prince’s symbol.
As we moved further into the club, I saw that in the center was a huge multicolored lighted dance floor, just like in Saturday Night Fever.
Every wall featured color and black and white portraits of Prince all from the early eighties to the present, encased in thick silver frames.
In front of the dance floor, taking up most of the west wall was the stage.
The stage was massive, and was hidden by a long, sweeping, plum velvet curtain.
It stood at least ten feet above the dance floor.
Michael and Co. sat at a grouping of tables to the left of the dance floor.
As I neared them, I saw that two extra people were standing and holding a lively conversation with Michael.
Upon closer inspection, I recognized them as Suki Yakamato and the Mouth On Legs himself, Morris E. Day.
Suki had totally revamped her look. Extensions brought her hair down to her waist. The blue rim was gone, replaced with sunny yellow framing her face. Not blonde, yellow.
And Suki looked as though she had come from a Cyndi Lauper garage sale.
She wore a bright pink crinoline skirt over a strapless yellow body suit that matched the streaks in her hair. Her face was heavily made up.
Pink ankle boots completed the ensemble.
“Brynn! Hi!” She exclaimed cheerfully rushing over with open arms. “You look great!”
“So do you.” I managed to giggle along with her.
“Wow, there’s a lot of Jacksons!” Mindy chuckled.
“I know! I said the very same thing. They’re all really nice.” Suki grinned.
Peeking over her shoulder, I saw that Morris was still chatting with Michael who looked as though he’d rather chew glass.
I knew that Michael detested that man with every inch of his nearly six foot tall being.
The rest of the Jacksons were talking amongst themselves.
Rusty sat a few tables away, by himself, sulking.
Morris looked like the love child of a tangerine and a peppermint stick.
He wore a green and orange, thick striped Zoot suit over an orange shirt.
Orange loafers, covering the schooners he called feet, squeaked loudly with every move he made.
“…and I said, you must be mistaken! I’m Morris Day! Not that dude from
A Different World! A-Ha!” Morris cackled loudly.
Michael offered a forced, strained and polite laugh and sipped at the tall glass of Shirley Temple he was holding.
A second glass of the same drink was next to him.
Obviously for me.
I was trying to make a beeline for Michael, but Morris noticed me and opened that Black Hole of a mouth.
“Well hello Miss Brynn!” He exclaimed abandoning Michael and running over to me.
“Don’t you look cute in all that red and zebra!” He gave me a soft pat on the back.
As Morris withdrew his arm, I saw that he was wearing a heavy gold watch.
“What time is it?” I questioned, wondering if I had made it back to the Jacksons before nine.
“Oh, well let’s see Miss Brynn…” Morris glanced at the watch face. “You like this? It’s Piaget. I got it from Harrods in London--”
“Yes, it’s lovely. What time is it?” I pushed, not caring if he was wearing a bargain basement piece with the Looney Tunes on it!
“It’s eight fifty-five…” Morris trailed off.
I had made it with a mere five minutes to spare.
“Oh hell! I gotta get on the bandstand! I’m doing drums!” He exclaimed and rushed back over to Michael.
“Hey, Thriller man! It was nice talking to you. Gotta get up onstage. Later man.” He grabbed Michael’s hand and shook it so violently that Michael cried out in pain. “Bye Jacksons!”
A few mumbled a good bye to Morris.
I was sure that he had annoyed them all to near tears.
Rushing to the concealed stage, Morris screamed at the barmaid, who was still wiping down the bar.
“Tara! Baby, ix-nay on that scotch on the rocks, I gotta play!”
“Okay Mr. Day!” Tara called back with a wave.
“Hi Michael.” I smiled as Mindy, Suki and I walked over to him.
“Hey…” His face brightened at the sight of me.
He then noticed Mindy.
“Hello Cindy.” His voice was like an arctic blast.
“Hi Mr. Jackson…uh…” Mindy picked at her ponytail. “My name is Mindy sir, not Cindy.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Oh…sorry.” Michael didn’t sound sorry.
“It’s okay Mr. Jackson.”
“Hey there…” Marlon Jr., a content smile on his face strolled over.
His eyes were fixed on Suki.
The man might have had a chance.
“Hi.” Suki flipped her hair and gave him a warm smile.
At the end of the table, Marlon Sr. shook his head with disapproval. I knew he didn’t want his son to mix with Prince’s crowd.
As Marlon Jr. started to “get his mack on”, the over head lights started to dim.
Michael quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into my seat and Mindy dragged Suki away from Marlon Jr. and they found a spot behind Michael and me.
Defeated, Mars Bar returned to his seat next to Latoya.
Jermaine Jr. and TJ laughed at him.
“I guess That Damn Man is about to play his tunes.” Jermaine, seated on Michael’s other side, leaned in and whispered.
Michael nodded grimly, taking off his dark glasses and setting them on the table top.
His dark eyes were stormy with defiance.
“Hey…what did Prince want to talk to you about?” Taryll leaned his head on my shoulder, sipping at his Cosmopolitan.
He was taking this boyfriend role too close to heart.
“Nothing I can’t talk to you about.” I snipped, not in the mood to try to explain my brief encounter with Prince to him. My butt was still stinging.
“I got my zoom lens ready.” Taj announced, kneeling at Taryll’s side.
“It’s the only way I’ll be able to film Prince!” He snickered.
“Be nice!” Selena called from the other side of Jermaine.
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
Everyone jumped at the sound of Prince’s voice suddenly booming over the sound system.
“Dearly Beloved/ We have gathered here today to get through this thing called life…OH NO! Let’s Go! ”
“What the hell is this? A wedding?” Jackie exclaimed from the other end of the table.
“I can’t believe he’s singing this song.” Michael laughed to no one in particular.
Yes, Michael was just there to take up a seat, he was there in no way shape or form to cheer on Prince.
I was just relieved that he was singing Let’s Go Crazy. The song was so docile, I could have played it for Blanket.
The curtain concealing the stage dropped.
A blinding spotlight illuminated the stage. I could make out Wendy and Lisa on the right of the stage.
Wendy wore a plain short, black minidress and matching knee high boots. A cross on a long chain hung at her throat. Her hair had been straightened and slicked back.
Her fingers moved effortlessly over her red bass guitar.
Lisa wore a see through turquoise button down blouse over a matching tank, all tucked into a pair of black wide legged trousers. Lisa’s hair had been tightly curled and was held back on side with a large white flower.
She was pounding away at her keyboard/synthesizer combo.
Both were so engrossed in their playing, they had their eyes closed and were gently swaying to the beat.
On the opposite side of the stage, Morris sat, jacketless, was thumping the drums, lips poked out with earnest.
At the other keyboard Dr. Fink, in black doctor’s scrubs with a white surgical mask tied at his throat was wiggling back and forth to the music, a large grin on his face.
And there…was Prince.
Standing under a larger than life, lighted version of his symbol, Prince was a vision in white.
Wearing a tighter than second skin body suit, Prince glowed.
The front of the suit dipped low in the front, exposing his tan hairy chest and abdomen. The deep “V” of the suit, rims of it’s bell sleeves and wide legged bottoms were trimmed with large golden hologram sequins.
They caught and threw the light back, making him glow.
Draped over Prince by a rhinestoned strap was the Yellow Cloud guitar.
Fingers a blur on the instrument, Prince half sang/half shouted into his golden gun microphone, mounted on a stand before him.
“If you don’t like the world you’re living in/ Take a look around you/At least you got friends!”
He was wiggling sexily in front of the mike stand, playing the fire out of the Cloud.
“Woo!” Behind us, Mindy and Suki were up and dancing to the song. Down the line, Selena was also up and jamming. I could see Jermaine trying unsuccessfully to get her to sit down.
In spite of themselves, I saw that most of the Jacksons were in some way chair dancing to the song.
Even Rusty was bobbing along, mouthing the words.
I stole a peek up at Michael.
His eyes were locked on Prince. Studying him, looking for any flaw in his performance.
“Let’s Go Crazy!/ Let’s Get Nuts Y’all!/ Look for the purple banana ‘til they put us in the truck!”
Mindy and Suki ran around us to the dance floor and began grooving.
I wanted so badly to rush out there and join them, but I knew Michael would have probably pulled my hair out if I tried to dance.
“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down?/OH NO! Let’s go!”
With a high leap into the air and devilish grin on his face, Prince landed on his knees and wrestling with his guitar violently, sent out a whining and encapsulating solo.
I had seen him fight with a guitar like that since Paisley Park where he had made water shoot out of his Hohner.
“Damn! That man can play!” Taj whispered, still kneeling between me and his brothers.
I saw that his eyes were wide as saucers as he stared into the little screen on his camera.
“I’ll say.” Taryll set his glass down and was clapping along to the beat.
“That’s an amazing guitar!” I heard Tito murmur to himself.
“Dig them shoes!” Marlon exclaimed shaking his head.
Was Prince actually starting to win over some of the Jacksons?
As the song winded down, Prince rose to his feet and approached the microphone again, a smirk on his face.
Polite applause greeted him.
“Thank you!” He exclaimed kissing his fingertips and opening his arms.
I saw that Prince was surveying the crowd, for the first time seeing just how many Jacksons Michael had brought along.
“Hey Morris!” Prince called, lifting his guitar off over his head and handing it off to Jimmy who had appeared at the base of the stage.
I saw that the front of his suit dipped so low that that a small amount of his pubic hair was peeking out. And a gold symbol, hanging on a chain glimmered near his belly button.
Please don’t let Michael notice.
It’d be a miracle if he could perform without an extra band mate making a “special appearance“.
“Yeah Prince?” Morris tapped the snare drum lightly.
“Look at all the people that came to my party man! All the Jacksons! So many of them…” Prince squinted out at us.
“I see Michael…Latoya…Tito…Dopey, Sneezy, Bashful! Hell there’s so many of y’all out there!” Prince laughed deeply and Morris crowed.
“Dopey, Sneezy and Bashful? Must have us mixed up with his tiny ass.” Taj commented, the amazement over Prince’s guitar skills waning quickly.
“I’m just joking with y’all.” Prince winked directly at me. “Y’all know how I am…arrogant!”
The opening bars to Arrogance began to play.
Grasping the gun, Prince lifted it up and began to walk back and forth across the stage, golden heels of his shoes glinting under the lights.
“What makes a man wanna rule the world?/ Make him man enough to say he’s fifty-fifty girl?/What make a man wanna curse and swear?/ Then blame it on Heaven cause he’s already there?” Prince whipped around and shook his booty. It jiggled so true to life, that it took me a moment to realize he was actually wearing trousers.
“Pimp Rag/Tootsie Pop/And a Cane.”
Not really paying attention, I heard myself singing the chorus,
“A-Double A-Double Arrogance!”
Prince may have been arrogant, but he was sure talented.
Nearly everyone around me was starting to loosen up.
Maybe.
And I was thankful.
An Hour Later
“…I guess must be dumb/Because you had a pocketful of horses/Trojan and some of them used…”
I looked around me, an assured and relieved smile inching onto my face. I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but everyone was jammed onto the lighted dance floor, grooving the night away.
Tito, Jackie, Randy and Marlon dancing among themselves, Jermaine boogying with Selena, the second generation Jacksons taking turns with Latoya. Even Rusty was over twirling Tara the bartender in circles.
“I’m actually have a good time!” Michael exclaimed drawing me close to him before leaning me back. Dipping me.
He was truly a vision, his tendrils bouncing as he danced casually. Not the full out Moonwalk, just a superstar at ease.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Giggling as he brought me back up, I glanced at Prince.
He was clinging to the mike stand, wailing the chorus to Little Red Corvette.
I wanted to kiss that man. Not because he was perspiring and looked like a slippery treat, but since the performance had started, he had sang nothing but a tirade of clean hits. Everything from Let’s Go Crazy, to Thieves in the Temple, to now, Little Red Corvette.
Not a single curse word had crossed the threshold of his mouth, and he had been thrilling the entire group more with his guitar riffs and splits, rather than gyrating and being obscene.
And somehow he had managed to entice everyone out of their seats and had them shaking their money makers for all they were worth.
“Little Red Corvette! Yeah!” Taryll and TJ sang in unison as they boogied past Michael and me.
Behind them, Mindy and Suki were cheering Prince on at the base of the stage, on either side of Jimmy.
Taj was bobbing off in a corner filming the whole scene.
I was just so utterly pleased that Michael was having a good time. He had been so sour on the entire idea and now he was whipping me around him, as if we were partying at Neverland.
But like the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
Prince was about to lose his mind and morals.
And I was going to get caught in the crossfire.
In the middle of the second verse of Little Red Corvette, Prince suddenly cried out.
“Stop! Quit playing! Stop!”
The music came an abrupt and off-key mangled halt.
Nearly all of us danced on for a few extra steps before we realized that there was no longer any tunes being played.
“Aw gee!” Selena whined, throwing her arm around Jermaine’s midsection.
Michael tugged me close to him, the first smile I had seen on him since we had gotten to Club Groovement lighting his beautiful, sharp features.
Breathing heavily into microphone, Prince paused to wipe perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand and fluff out his highlighted hair.
Droplets of sweat glistened all over his chest and down his tight stomach.
“I must be outside my mind tonight.” Prince commented, drawing a chuckle from the crowd.
“How so?” Wendy dared to question, steadying her guitar against her body.
“I got my friend in here…been jamming for over an hour and I haven’t invited them up onstage.” Prince grinned like a mouse.
I raised an eyebrow.
Was Prince really about to invite Michael up onstage with him?
“Alright Mike, show’em how it’s done.” Marlon came up and tapped Michael’s shoulder approvingly.
Beside him, his son gave Michael a thumbs up.
“Who’s your friend?” Dr. Fink pushed.
Prince was smiling at Michael so hard, I thought his little cheeks--all four--were going to pop.
I nearly fainted when Prince replied haughtily.
“Miss Brynn!”
“What?” I exclaimed as Morris began banging on the drums to accent Prince’s point.
From somewhere a spotlight found and illuminated me.
Prince wanted me to sing with him?
Me?
Little Brynn Sue McAllister from Nowhere, Texas?
I gazed at Prince, pointing to myself, not truly believing he wanted me to share the stage with him.
A jam session in Minnesota was one thing, a real live show in front of a real crowd was something totally different.
“Come on Brynn! I refuse to let you leave the building without singing something with me!” Prince was waving at me.
“Go on Honey!” Michael whispered, his hot lips touching my ear. “Get up there and show everyone just how great a performer you are!”
His encouragement and sweetness were exactly what I needed.
“Thank you!” I hugged Michael tightly, elated.
“Someone help Brynn up here!” Prince cackled.
Real applause surrounded me as I jogged up to the front of the stage and Jimmy, big old Jimmy, lifted me up onto the stage, just a few feet away from Prince.
“Way to go Brynn! Yay!” Suki screamed, throwing her hands in the air.
“Turn it out!” Mindy agreed.
Prince approached me, a happy glint in his clear eyes.
“Doesn’t Brynn look pretty everyone?” Prince questioned, pinching my chin.
More applause.
I blushed nervously. I was used to playing second banana to Prince and Michael, and here he was making me feel like a real star.
“Hey kid, you with the little plaits!” Prince motioned at Taj. “Make sure you get some good shots of this lady!”
“You got it man!” Taj came running, camera in hand.
I glanced out and saw that Michael was at the base of the stage, eyes wide and aglow with adoration at me.
It was almost too much.
“You ready to jam?” Prince questioned, and held the gun mike under my mouth.
“Yes.” I beamed at him.
“Just a minute.” Prince stood and pretended to study my appearance for a moment.
“Something’s missing. You can’t sing up here, without this!” Prince lifted his necklace off and draped it over my head.
Oh no! He put another symbol on me.
I stared down at Michael. He was rolling his eyes, but still smiling.
I made a mental note to give the necklace back to Prince as soon as I got done singing.
“Get over there with Wendy!” He instructed, giving me a light hug.
I floated over to Wendy to share her microphone.
Turning back to the crowd grouped at the front of the stage, Prince shrieked,
“Shut up already…damn!”
Doop! Doop-Doopity-Doop! Morris started cranking out the opening beats to one of my favorite Prince jams, Housequake.
Even though I was happy, I was a little worried, Prince did swear in this song.
“Tell me, who in this house know about the quake?” Prince questioned, replacing his mike on the stand.
“We do!” The Revolution and I replied.
“Bullshit!” Prince remarked.
An audible gasp escaped the Jacksons.
“I said really?” Prince flipped his head, hair swirling.
“Really!”
“You ain’t hip to that rare Housequake!”
Another split.
The man was in rare form tonight.
After the initial shock of Prince cursing wore off, I saw that Michael and the Jacksons were once again dancing along, and Prince even pulled me out and had me dance along side him for my favorite part of the song.
“Everybody do the Twist/A little bit harder than you did in ‘66/A little bit faster than you did in ‘67/Twist little sister and go to Heaven!/Come on y’all let’s jam/’Fore the police come!”
Little did I know it would only go downhill from there.
After a rousing rendition of Alphabet St. (in which he let me rap at the end, drawing screams from everyone) Prince donned a new guitar, The Black Symbol.
Leaning into Wendy’s and my microphone, he announced with a smirk,
“That song was dedicated to all the girls who like boys….this is dedicated to all the girls who like girls!”
Under him Mindy and Suki whooped.
A few Jacksons looked confused. Latoya just looked disgusted.
I stared at Prince in blinding horror.
Never mind that at some point in the future I’d have to explain to Michael how Prince could be dating Mindy if she was dating Suki.
There was only one song in Prince’s repertoire that he introduced as being the song for “girls who like girls.”
My entire body stiffened as the seventies-funk infused riff to the song Bambi began oozing from Prince’s fingertips.
“I knew from the start/That I loved you with all my heart/But you were untrue/You had another lover and she looked just like YOU!”
Cold beads of perspiration were streaming down my back.
I was afraid to even think of looking at Michael.
“All your lovers/They look just like you/But they can only do the things that you do…ooh!”
Prince stalked across the stage, face contorted as he whipped into another blazing solo.
I couldn’t believe That Damn Man was performing this song.
In front of Michael and Family.
I finally dared to look at Michael.
He was staring at Prince, mouth agape. I didn’t know what is jaw was hanging from--the awesome solo or the tawdry lyrics.
A hundred on Tawdry Lyrics to win.
Behind him, Tito and Jermaine were having a powwow, heads close together as the rest of the group moved around them.
Latoya still looked disgusted.
I could only imagine what was being said.
Then for a hot second, I thought Prince had regained sanity, luridly rattling off his ballad, Damn U.
That all went to hell.
Prince stared clapping loudly, rhythmically, and started in on a tune I had never heard before, Broken.
It started out as another simple sweet ballad, then Prince warbled off one offensive line,
“Lonely/I’m so lonely/Lonely/Until you bring your sweet pussy/ Bring it on home to me!”
I banged into Wendy, I was so startled at the lyric.
Michael was on the floor, mouth twisted, eyeing Prince angrily.
The dirty lyrics kept pouring. Every so often Prince would glimpse at me, and I just knew I had to sing back up, or I’d be pulling a huge guitar out of my forehead.
I nearly threw up during Gotta Stop Messing About:
“…I’ve been playing with my toy so much/ I’m gonna go blind!”
Then came Come:
“…with my tongue in the crease/Baby I go around/When I go down!…”
With each passing smut laced song, a Jackson would stop dancing and just stand there, staring in shock.
Eventually the only people bopping were Rusty, Tara, Mindy and Suki.
I was trembling so badly, it was a wonder I was still upright.
Once again, Prince shouted for the music to come to a cease.
“Morris!” Prince said into his microphone.
“Yes?” Morris wiggled his eyebrows.
“You got The Time?” Prince asked with a grin.
“No…but I got The Revolution!” Morris exclaimed hopping up and catching Prince’s microphone as he threw it.
“Brynn!” Morris pointed me out. “I dedicate this song to you and those zebra print pants you’re wearing out!”
“Oooh-Oooh, Ah! Ah! Ah!” Morris screeched like a monkey and the band launched into his hit, Jungle Love.
As Morris sauntered and strutted around the stage, dancing poorly, I noticed that Prince had disappeared from the stage.
“Brynn! Brynn!” At the sound of my name, I saw that Michael, Jermaine and Tito were huddled at me end of the stage.
“Get the hell off of there now! We’re going home! Now!” Michael called through gritted teeth, his face red.
I had never seen Michael that perturbed. Not even when Prince and Morris were a couple of gutter mouths at The Ivy Lounge.
Nodding, with heart broken tears in my eyes, I started towards them to hop off.
“To the sauce!” Morris suddenly grabbed me around my waist and was bumping his hip against mine.
I watched helplessly as Michael tried to get Tito and Jermaine to lift him up onstage. I just knew he was going to drag me offstage.
After several tries, Tito lost his balance and tumbled to the floor, Michael landing on him.
Morris didn’t notice; he was basking in his fifteen nanoseconds of fame.
Then Prince’s voice, louder than I had ever heard it, drowned out the song,
“That’s enough Morris--shut the fuck up!”
Entering stage right, I saw that Prince had changed costumes.
He wore an oversized purple tunic, over matching wide bottomed trousers and black boots.
Extending from around the neck and pointing at a bit of an angle Prince’s symbol was printed on the front in black. The left sleeve of the tunic was also black.
Tucked under his arm was a large white box.
“I need everybody to quiet down. I have something to say.” Prince declared taking the gun from Morris.
“Brynn get off!” I heard Michael yell.
“I’m doing Gett Off later Michael, calm down!” Prince cackled and the Revolution chuckled.
“Now I wanna tell you guys something funny.” Prince said seriously and trotted over to me, an evil grin on his face.
“When I first met Brynn at my studio, Paisley Park, we had a little argument. You remember our argument Pretty Lady?” Prince patted my cheek gently.
“Yeah.” I leaned away from him. Just what did he have in that box?
Behind me, Michael was trying again to get a leg up onstage.
Surveying the crowd, That Damn Man continued,
“Brynn had a little aversion to wearing make-up and she thought that I made women look like Barbie dolls.”
Giving me once-over he giggled, “As you can see, she’s over her aversion, now.”
The Revolution laughed and Morris crowed.
“You don’t look like a Barbie, you’re much cuter.” Prince winked at me through his streaky hair.
“Damn it!” Michael’s foot slipped and he landed back on the floor.
“Uh…thanks.” I replied shakily. What was he going at?
The rest of the Jacksons were watching solemnly.
Annoyed.
Michael stumbled.
Holding the box out to me, Prince quipped, “This is for you. And I hope it finally puts our little argument to rest.”
I hesitated; I didn’t want to make the situation any worse than what it was.
“Take it.” Prince urged.
Finally just to wipe that holier-than-thou expression off his face, I grabbed the box, my mind made up that no matter what was inside, I’d act unmoved.
I ripped the top on the box open and discovered a smaller, pink box inside.
Lifting the pink box out, I wheezed.
Through a clear front panel on the box was a doll.
About the same size of a Barbie, the doll was black with long curly hair and wore a green and blue dress matching gloves. A little gold symbol was attached to the right glove.
It was me.
A doll version of me in the outfit that was in my photo from Paisley Park.
“I…I don’t believe it.” I whispered, staring at the figure.
I was a doll. Prince had had a Barbie doll of me created?
“You like that? I had the nice people at Mattel create a little Brynn.” He chuckled taking the doll from me and displaying it to everyone.
“Brynn’s a Barbie!” Latoya exclaimed, wedging in between Mindy and Suki.
“Damn, that dude is going all out!” Taj said to TJ, a little too loudly.
“Do you like that?” Prince’s voice floated near me.
“Yes…” I stared up at him. “Thank you.”
Prince smothered me in a tight hug.
It was then I felt a hand grip the back of my shirt, scratching my skin in the process.
Michael loomed over Prince and me.
A wild look was in his eyes.
“We’re leaving Brynn, come on.” He gripped my arm so tightly, I felt blood vessels constricting.
“Mike, you can’t leave now, the show is just getting good.” Prince commented innocently, reaching out and putting his arm around my waist.
Putting the microphone to his mouth, Prince exclaimed,
“Enough of that tame shit, who wants some Head?”
Michael looked as though he’d been slapped.
Shocked and stunned gasps and exclamations dotted the room.
On cue, the Revolution launched into the opening bars of Head.
Prince, brimming with smugness, began singing, skipping the first verse and chorus and went directly to the second verse.
“You know you’re good girl/I think you like to go down/You wouldn’t have stopped but, uh, I came all over your wedding gown/But I must confess…”
Prince pulled his top off, exposing his still shining upper body.
“I wanna get undressed/And go to bed…”
Michael grabbed me around my waist and lifted me up.
“That’s it. I’m sick of his little ass. We’re going home. Sickening!” Michael shook his head.
I frowned at Prince, brimming with a hot anger. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone, he just had to try to pluck Michael’s nerves and gross out everyone in the place.
Then Prince had to go there.
“Don’t take her away…let her give me some Head.” Prince cooed seductively.
The entire room came to a standstill at the statement.
Wendy and Lisa shook their heads, frowning.
“Did he just say what I thought he said?” Taj groaned looking into his camera.
I felt Michael’s total being go cold.
Pushing me aside, he screamed in an almost unearthly tone,
“I’m gonna kick your little nasty ass up and down the street then around the corner!”
Michael Jackson whooshed past me and lunged at Prince.
Prince didn’t stand a chance.
“No Mike man! No!” Jermaine and Tito rushed around me as the rest of the Jackson brood pressed up against the stage rooting on the impending fight.
Jermaine and Tito were about a second too late.
Michael bitch slapped Prince and sent him whirling into the drum set
“Aw fuck no!” Morris threw down his drumsticks and rushed at Michael, grabbing onto Tito and punching him in the face.
“You asshole! That’s my father!” Taryll and TJ hopped up on the stage, Taj trailing behind.
Before I knew it, every person in the place was fist fighting.
Michael beating on Prince, yanking his hair mercilessly. Dr. Fink going at it with Randy. Latoya doing a battle royal with Mindy and Suki.
Wendy and Lisa joined in, fists landing blows everywhere.
Bodies rolled all over the stage and most of the dance floor.
Selena was begging Jermaine to stop clobbering Jimmy.
This was a nightmare.
“Brynn…Brynn…”
I opened my eyes to find myself still inside the limousine, the Jacksons packed in around me.
Michael was tapping my cheek gently.
“Baby, you fell asleep.” He grinned at me, warmly.
“Honey, I have some bad news.” He said softly.
All around me, the Jacksons groaned unhappily.
Rusty, though, was beaming like he’d just inherited a billion dollars.
I glanced out the window. We were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.
“What?” I questioned. Michael looked so fresh and well groomed, how could he look that nice after beating Prince to a stump?
Not a hair was out of place.
“The concert got cancelled, Prince came down with laryngitis. We’re going home.” He ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry you got all done up for nothing.”
I stared at Michael, bewildered.
The concert? It had been cancelled? So Prince didn’t get nasty? And Michael didn’t knock him into another galaxy?
It had all been a dream?
“There’s no concert?” I whispered, my mind not truly grasping the idea.
“No, how does someone the size of a tonsil get laryngitis? Damn, I was geared up for the show!” Marlon, Jr. whined.
“I guess we won’t be able to kick his little ass tonight.” Jackie remarked and the limo laughed.
I snickered, not because Jackie had made a cute joke, but because if my dream had been anything like a premonition, we’d have had the local precinct filled to the brim, all on assault and battery charges.
I had never been so thankful for a sore throat in all my life!
Snuggling up close to my Main Man, I planned to make sure we had a party of our own and if Michael did get hurt, it would be a sexy hurt.
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