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…”