Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The Fifty-Fifty Restaurant

Beverly Hills, California

An Hour and a Half Later

“Oooh! I’m so glad that you were able to come to dinner with me!” Selena giggled happily as we followed the maitre d’ through the already packed restaurant.

“I’m glad that you invited me.” I smiled, tossing my ponytail over my shoulder.

As we continued walking, I glanced around the restaurant. Michael hadn’t been lying, the Fifty-Fifty was a really nice, upscale place.

But I wasn’t dressed too casually, Selena was wearing a bright pink satin blouse and black and pink floral print trousers.

With it’s burgundy interior and gilded Etruscan furniture, it was easy to forget that I was still in the USA. I completely felt like I was in Venice.

I kept looking around for the gondola.

Light Italian music played from hidden speakers.

“Here we are ladies.” The maitre d’ spoke up, as Selena and I slid into our seats at a table on the east side of the eatery, situated a few feet from a large golden fountain the featured blue colored water spouting out of the mouth of a marble mermaid.

“Would you ladies like to order drinks and peruse the menu, or would you like to place your full order now?” He questioned, loudly tapping the two leather bound menus he was holding against his chest.

“We’ll order now…” Selena leaned and peered at the name tag attached to the pristine white shirt the man wore. “Mauricio.”

“I’ll have a the Veal Sicilian with baby carrots and a glass of White Zinfandel.” Selena nodded.

“What’ll you have?” She grinned around the lighted crystal candelabra in the center of our table at me.

“Ah…” I stared up at Mauricio. He was staring back at me, his dark eyes solemn. “My boyfriend said I should try the blackened cod?”

“Yes ma‘am, that’s our Cod Tuscany. What would you like to drink?” Mauricio ran a hand through his heavily oiled black hair.

I stared straight ahead. I wasn’t so sure about what to get, I was still underage!

Luckily Selena saw that I was floundering and tossed me a lifesaver.

“What do you suggest?” She grinned up at the man.

“I find that peach schnapps marries quite well with the delicate flavor of the cod.” He pointed out.

“Well, peach schnapps it is!” I put in.

“Very well, I shall alert the chef of your order. Thank you.” Mauricio turned on his heel and started away.

“Thanks for helping me!” I gasped at Selena. “I didn’t know what to say, I don’t drink that much.”

“Oh no prob. I love this place. I eat here all the time. You know I actually met Jermaine here.” Selena giggled again, fluffing out her auburn curls.

“Really?” I was starting to loosen up and feel more at ease in her company. She truly was a sweet person and very easy to get along with.

Selena’s honey colored eyes widened. “Yes. Four years ago! I was in here eating lunch and he was in the back corner eating too. We couldn’t stop looking at each other…then he came over and point blank asked for my number. Took some nerve.” Selena chuckled. “And we’ve been together ever since. I mean I’ve been dating Jermaine Jackson for four years. It’s crazy. Doesn’t seem real.” She sighed contentedly.

“I totally know what you mean. Sometimes I wake up, and have to physically reach out and touch Michael. From time to time I worry that I’ll go to sleep and wake up to find that it was all a dream!” I laughed.

Selena and I really were on the same wavelength. We were both dating stars.

Selena tapped herself in the chest. “Me too! Me too! Right now I live with

Jermaine in his big house here in Beverly Hills. You know where I used to live?”

“No, where?” I questioned.

“I used to live in a crowded, five story walk up in East Los Angeles. The only reason I was in here the day I met Jermaine was because I had won a free lunch here in a raffle!” Selena exclaimed.

“No!” I grinned. “It was like fate?”

“Totally!” Selena snorted as a waitress who introduced herself as Isabella presented us with our drinks and assured us that our meals would be out within the next ten minutes.

If I had known what kind of night I was going to have, I would have ordered something stiffer than a peach schnapps!

* * *

Forty Five Minutes Later

“Michael was so right about this cod. It’s awesome.” I announced, taking another bite of my half eaten fish.

“I like that too, but the veal is my favorite.” Selena chuckled. “Hey, what’s the plans for tomorrow? I think Jermaine mentioned that you and Michael were hosting those two little boys tomorrow at the ranch?” She sipped at her White Zinfandel. (Her third glass.)

“Yeah, we have a jam-packed day. The caterers and people that run the rides are coming at like four a.m. and then Mike’s videographer is coming at seven. Then I have to get up at seven also, because I gotta get dressed and all gussied up. Because he wants me to look older than what I am…of course.” I chuckled, thinking of how whenever someone outside our secure circle had to encounter me, Michael insisted I pile on the cosmetics.

“When do the boys come?” Selena wondered.

“Around ten. Michael wanted to make sure that some of the food was cooked and all. Mike is going all out. The boys are coming in a red stretch Hummer limo.” I shivered, just trying to imagine how elated Jonas, Skylar and their folks would be to see their “chariot”.

“That is so cool. Michael is a really generous person. Oh, are you excited about the HAAs?” Selena pushed.

“Don’t even get me started Honey.” I threw my hands up. “I can’t wait to go. I felt like royalty in that dress man! It is amazing!” I shook my head, feeling lightheaded and happy about the impending awards.

“Well…Michael is the King of Pop.” Selena pointed out and we giggled like schoolgirls. “You should feel like royalty!”

“It feels surreal you know? I mean first I get to sing with Michael and now I’m, going to an awards show as his date? I mean get out of town.” I shook my head until my ponytail flew.

“Yeah, I know I mean it’s so breathtaking…” Selena stopped short, staring past me.

“Um, Brynn, there’s a woman over there and I think she’s trying get your attention.” She said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

“What?” I dropped my fork. Who would possibly trying to attract my attention?

“Over there.” Selena pointed a fuchsia tipped finger.

I twisted in my seat and followed the direction Selena was indicating.

I almost ralphed up my entire meal all over the stucco floor when I saw a woman rushing over to me, from the back of the restaurant.

She almost looked like a supermodel, in a clingy blue minidress, and strappy gold heels, pale blonde waves floating around her face.

I knew this woman.

I knew this woman.

And I wished I didn’t.

It was Mindy!

“Oh my gosh! Hi Brynn!” She exclaimed as she got to the table and leaning, gave me a soft hug. (And gave most of the people sitting behind her a view of her panties.)

“Hi…Mindy.” I said haltingly, sneaking glances all around the building. I knew that if Mindy was somewhere, Prince wasn’t usually too far behind.

I hoped I was hallucinating.

Maybe this wasn’t Mindy. Maybe this was the schnapps distorting a person.

Maybe I was really hugging Paris Hilton.

I looked at the woman.

No, this lady had boobs.

It was Mindy!

I heard Selena clear her throat loudly.

“Oh, um…Mindy, this is my friend Selena Yves. Selena, this is Mindy--” I paused. I didn’t know Mindy’s last name.

“I’m Mindy Batalli, nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to Selena who shook it lightly.

“You too.” She echoed.

Not being able to stop myself, I blurted,

“Mindy, what are you doing here?”

Dropping into the other empty seat at our table, Mindy grinned broadly.

“Well, I got the night off. And I wanted some good Italian food--I’m half Italian. This place makes me think of home. Hee.” She chuckled.

“You’re by yourself?” I whispered, hoping that Prince was on a flight to Minneapolis or Abu Dhabi, or someplace far away from California.

“Yeah, Mr. Prince wanted to be alone so he could write some songs in peace…” Mindy started.

“I thought your name sounded familiar! You’re Prince’s make up artist right?” Selena butted in.

I stared at her, horrified. Prince wasn’t there! There was no need to talk about him!

“Yes. Brynn spoke about me?” Mindy seemed flattered at the thought that I had been talking about her.

“Not exactly. My man, Jermaine, said Michael had mentioned you a few times.” Selena set the record straight.

“Oh that’s cool. Michael Jackson spoke about me.” Mindy’s cheeks turned scarlet. “You know actually, I was supposed to drive up to Neverland after I got done with my dinner here.”

Was it just me, or had the temperature dropped to a negative eighty?

What in the hell was Mindy doing going to Neverland? Was Prince slowly trying to send everyone he’d ever met in his life to Michael’s house?

He really did want Michael to kick his abundant yellow ass.

“Why was Prince sending you to Neverland?” Selena beat me to the punch. I noticed that she was staring at Mindy the way a woman stared at another one before they commenced to pulling each other’s hair out.

“Um…” Mindy stared down at her French tipped nails. “Well, Mr. Prince said that Brynn had told him that she and Michael were hosting two little disadvantaged boys at Neverland and he wanted to send a gift along to them too.” Mindy rose suddenly. “I have it out in my car. Let me go get it! I’ll be right back.” She was halfway across the room before I could speak to stop her.

I buried my face in my hands.

This was rapidly spinning out of control like a demon possessed Merry-Go-Round.

Prince was already a thorn in Michael’s cute booty and I knew that Michael’s cool would go AWOL if he was presented with a gift to give the boys that he hadn’t bought.

And it was about to get worse.

“Brynn…how did Prince know that you and Michael were having those kids over at his house tomorrow?” Selena inquired in a low, serious tone.

Face still covered, I replied,

“I told him when he showed up to the house the other day. He invited me to a basketball game, and it was Saturday, the same day as the boys’ visit. I had to tell him.”

“Is that the same day, he, like, kidnapped you?” Selena pushed further.

“Yeah…” I peeked through my fingers at her.

She was staring at me curiously.

“Prince invited you to a basketball game? Like a date? Prince asked you out on a date?” She remarked.

“No! No! It wasn’t a date!” I snapped, fighting off a wave of tears. “It was an outing, like this is an outing! But I couldn’t go! I’m not going!”

“Yeah, but you disappeared with him for hours.” Selena retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Michael called Jermaine and he was crying his eyes out. I mean really.”

I was struck speechless. Michael had been crying over me while I had been off frolicking with Prince like a character in a Disney movie?

Great, now I felt even worse.

(If that was possible.)

“He was crying?” I whimpered, my bottom lip quivering.

Selena nodded deeply, her light eyes wide. “Yes. I heard him on the phone. He said his kids told him they saw Prince drive away with you. He thought that Prince was going to rape you or something. He didn’t hurt you…did he?” She was wringing her tiny hands over the remnants of her dinner.

Good God, did the whole Jackson clan believe I had done “the marshmallow” with Prince?

“No…” I shook my head. “He was test driving the Ferrari. We went around Los Angeles and Malibu. Just talked. I sat in the car the entire time. He never once touched me. Never.” That was sort of the truth.

Selena sighed deeply. “Can I be honest with you about something?” She asked.

I nodded, almost too weak to speak.

“Okay, I feel like you’re a nice friend Brynn, and I think it’s best that I say this, you know, since I’m not a blood Jackson or anything. A lot of the family thinks that there was something that happened between you and Prince in Minneapolis when you were up there recording with him. And he keeps showing up bearing gifts, especially that car. It looks kinda shitty--pardon the expression.” Selena looked down at her hands. “And you know he kept popping up in New York and all that…”

I was struck speechless yet again. Was the veil that I shrouded my secret with Prince that transparent?

Just how many people thought--knew--that there was something going on with the little minx in heels?

I could have fallen apart at that admission.

I really should have.

But I didn’t.

Frowning until I felt wrinkles on the back of my head, I sneered,

“How dare you or anyone else speculate that I did anything with Prince? How can any of you even start to think that I’d treat Michael like that? I love Michael. Sure Prince may have a little crush on me--hell if I know--but he believes that stupid story that I’m dating Taryll. And do you think he’s crazy enough to risk getting a new hole kicked in his ass by every member of the family? I don’t think so! And that’s an insult to me. Does the family just think that I’m a groupie who’ll sleep with anything that makes a record? I do have scruples you know!” I slammed my hand on the table and all of the flat ware jingled.

“Now wait a minute!” Selena threw her hands up, her face paling. “Don’t lump me in with the rest of them! I never said I believed that shit. I personally think that you’ve been true to Michael. Lord knows Michael is in love with you. Ay Dios Mio. I see how Michael looks at you. How he glows. The man glows! It’s just that it looks bad. It looks really bad.” Selena fluffed her hair out again. “Brynn, I like you. And I like Michael too. And I like that you two are together and love each other. But Prince seems like a sneaky little man. Jermaine says that. Jermaine said he saw the way Prince looks at you. It’s different than how he looks when he’s talking to someone else. He says it looks like Prince is fucking you with his eyes!” She exclaimed so loudly a couple at the next table glanced at her.

“He can look all he want!” I rose to my feet, ready to storm out of the place. “I haven‘t done anything with him! Are you kidding? There are kindergartners bigger than him! I am not attracted to him in anyway. And you can tell all the Jacksons that. Jesse too!”

“Hey Brynn--” A new voice started.

“What?” I snapped, whirling around.

Mindy gave me a sour look. “It’s just me. Are you okay? You look angry.” She pointed out.

“I’m fine.” I tossed my hair and gave Selena an evil stare.

She avoided my eyes.

“Here are the gifts for the boys.” Mindy held out two small white boxes, both wrapped with bright violet bows.

I could make out the boys’ names written on the boxes in Prince’s handwriting.

“What are they?” I was skeptical. I hoped that it wasn’t wallet size versions of Prince’s nude photo.

“Little guitar picks. They’re white with his symbol on them and he signed each one. He told me to tell you to tell the boys he hopes they like them.” Mindy smiled openly at me and wrapped her arms around me in another hug.

I glanced over her shoulder and saw Selena giving me a anxious stare.

Just what had I gotten myself into?

How deep was this grave I seemed to be perpetually digging?

And if Prince kept cutting up, would Michael kick him off into it?

Ay Dios Mio!

　

* * *

　

The Following Morning

　

“…Brynn? Brynn? Hey wake up Sleepyhead.” A warm voice gently crooned and I could feel my shoulder being shaken lightly.

After a still slumber heavy moment, I allowed my eyes to flutter open.

I giggled when I saw that Michael’s lovely, smiling face was just a few inches away.

He looked almost good enough to eat with his body wrapped in his plush navy robe.

“Good morning, my little PYT. It’s seven a.m. Time to get up.” He grinned, leaning in and smooching my forehead.

“Oh gosh, it’s seven already?” I groaned, reaching up and toying with the curls that danced across his smooth cheeks. I could tell he had just gotten out of the shower; his hair was still a little damp and he was fragrant with the scent of his spicy cologne.

“Yes Baby.” Michael replied with a bemused chuckle and slid off of the bed.

“You must have been really tired from your dinner with Selena last night. You came right up to your room. I came in here about ten minutes later to ask you about your meal and you were knocked out.” Michael laughed again as he made his way over to one of the large windows in my room, pausing to open it.

Down below from the amusement park portion of Neverland, I could hear calliope music playing faintly.

“Did you and Selena have that much fun last night?” He questioned.

“Um…”

I looked down and saw that I was wringing my hands violently in my lap.

If only it were true. If only the night had indeed been uneventful, with just Selena and me going to dinner and chatting the night away.

Why did we have to run into Mindy?

Why did she have to forward a Prince laden gift to us?

It wasn’t fun that had sent me to bed as soon as I had gotten home, it was sheer worry.

The only pit stop I had made before collapsing in my bed was running to my closet to hide the guitar picks until I could think of what to do with them.

If Michael knew that I had something from That Damn Man in my possession…

At the thought of Michael, I glanced over at him.

He was still standing at the window, calmly gazing outside.

I didn’t want to ruin what was supposed to be a stress-free day, but something was compelling me to tell Michael what had happened at the Fifty-Fifty Restaurant.

Keeping secrets seemed to only complicate things and at the moment, I had more secrets that the government.

“Uh, Mikey, Sweetie?” I began tentatively, pushing the covers back and getting out of bed.

“Hmm?” He looked over his slender shoulder at me.

My nerves shook when I took notice of the affection spilling from his dark, doe eyes.

Selena was right, Michael really was in love with me.

And I was really, really in love, out of the park, over the moon, stupid for him.

I had to tell him.

“About last night…” I started, slowly walking over to him. “I want to talk to you about it.”

“Did you try the blackened cod? It was good, huh?” Michael grinned broadly, pushing my tousled hair back.

“Yes, the food was yummy--” I reached out and grasped his thin arm. “Michael, something happened last night and I need to tell you about it.” I quickly blurted, fearing I’d lose my nerve.

Realizing that what ever I was about to say was truly of importance to me, Michael’s face took on a serious pallor and he placed his arm around my hips.

“What is it Brynn?” He questioned, eyes searching mine.

I drew in a breath so sharp, my throat ached. It was now or never.

Do or die.

(And Michael did get supremely angry, he’d probably kill me, then turn Prince into a Purple Stain on the concrete.)

“Well, uh, last night while Selena and I were eating, we kind of ran into somebody.” I was surprised my hands weren’t bloody, I was twirling them so rapidly.

“Really?” Michael’s voice dropped a couple of octaves and for a moment, I almost lost my cool. “Who?”

“Yes…um, Mindy showed up and--” I was cut off by Michael exclaiming disdainfully,

“That Mindy woman showed up? Oh Lord.”

“Yeah, and um, she gave me a couple gifts from Prince.” I spit out and inwardly hunkered down, bracing for the impending explosion.

Before Michael could whip himself into a lather, or just plain whip me, I added hastily,

“They weren’t for me. They were for Jonas and Skylar. He sent the gifts for the boys. Mindy said they’re little guitar picks that Prince autographed.”

I stared up at Michael, praying that he wouldn’t be too angry.

Michael Jackson was quiet for an extremely long moment.

I turned my gaze away from him and looked over the expanse estate where I could see many of the rides were already in motion.

Bright, shiny and inviting, it all seemed the complete and total opposite of what I felt.

When he finally spoke, I almost tumbled out of the window in shock.

“I know that Prince sent some gifts for the boys.” He announced almost grimly.

“Y-y-y-you do?” I sputtered, waves of shock running the length of my spine several times over.

How did he know?

Michael nodded solemnly.

“Like I said, you must have really been tired last night.” He commented and a small smiled crossed his plump little lips.

“I--I don’t understand.” I whimpered, peering into Michael’s pretty face, trying to grasp his meaning.

Wiggling a thin white finger at me, Michael instructed.

“Follow me.”

Truly dumbstruck and starting to perspire with trepidation, I could only shuffle along behind him as he led me to the closet and pushed the doors to it open.

Directly in the center of the closet, a long white garment bag hung, a matching white shoebox nestled under it.

“Well, earlier, I was in your here, putting away your outfit for today--Rusty brought it from the cleaners--and I saw the little presents in a corner on the floor.” Michael noted with a light tap to the tip of my nose.

I was shocked wordless.

I had tossed the presents on the floor?

I could have sworn that even in my semi-awake state, I had hidden the gifts on the top shelf.

“See Honey?” Michael asked pointing towards the back of the large closet.

With a painful gulp, I let my eyes follow to where he was pointing. Sure enough, in the back corner, next to a yellow duffel bag, were the presents.

Oh, nothing made sense anymore.

I stared up at Michael. He seemed so calm.

And his skin had its usual beautiful , milky translucent white cast to it.

There was no sign of a raging red marring it’s surface.

“Are--are you angry with me? I mean for accepting the gifts from Prince? I know you and he aren‘t exactly the best of friends.” I inquired, turning my attention to staring at my feet, unable to bear looking at Michael’s sweet, trusting face anymore.

He continued,

“I have to admit, I was a little shocked to find the presents in there, because Prince never struck me as the type of man to want to do anything nice. You know, he’s such a little conniving piece of slime.” Michael sighed.

“But for him to send those little things makes him seem…almost human.”

I brought my head up so fast, my neck popped.

Michael Jackson was actually alright with my having gifts from Prince Nelson on my person?

Was this the Outer Limits?

I was surprised that Michael hadn’t burned the gifts then had a priest sprinkle Holy Water on the ashes.

“What do you want me to do with the picks?” I whispered, almost inaudibly.

Michael put his long hand up and softly stroked my chin.

“You can give them to the boys. I’m still a little surprised that Prince humbled his haughty ass enough to do that, but if it’s a gift for the boys, go ahead and give it to them.” He pecked my forehead again.

I could gaze at him, stunned, as Michael reached and removed the garment bag from the closet.

Michael Jackson was truly the kindest man in the world.

“Now, that the trouble about the presents is over, would you like to look at the outfit I brought? I designed it myself.” He inquired bashfully, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Sure!” I exclaimed excitedly as he started to unzip the bag. It was astonishing to me that Michael had found the time to personally design my outfit. He was in such a whirlwind from all of his other activities, it seemed nearly impossible that he’d find the time.

The man was a living superhero.

“Ta-da!” Michael sang triumphantly, letting the bag drift to the floor.

“Oh Mike! I love it!” I shrieked, and unable to control myself, I was bouncing up and down like a five year old.

There, suspended from the hanger, was an oversized hot pink and white tie dyed shirt.

On the front of the shirt in a sort of silver glittery decorative paste was a the outline of the globe--with all the continents noted--and the words “Heal the World” circling the globe.

Also dangling from the hanger was a matching tie dyed stretchy headband and a pair of dark rinsed skinny jeans.

“Mike! It’s so cute! I really like it! Thank you!” I leapt into his arms and gave him a loud kiss on his sweet cheek.

Chortling and guffawing, Michael tried to loosen my grasp.

“Wait until you see the shoes Bunny.” He cautioned, and stooped to retrieve the shoe box.

While he was bent over, I softly patted his derrière.

“Brynn!” Michael snickered jumping up and pausing to smack at my mouth.

“What can I say, you’re just as cute coming as you are going!” I teased, taking the box from him and lifting the top off.

I stopped laughing when I saw the shoes.

Inside was a pair of Converse high-tops that had been tie dyed to match my shirt.

“Mike, these shoes are cool! I’ve never seen shoes like these. They’re awesome!” I gasped lifting one out.

There was even a tiny glitter globe on the side of it.

“I’m glad that you like them. You and the kids will be wearing shirts like that--all different colors. I have a shirt--it’s a little different, but I think you’ll like it.” Michael was chewing on his bottom lip again.

I grinned at him broadly. Michael wanted all of us to match. I liked when he wanted things to be a sign of solidarity in the Jackson household.

Rubbing my hair, Michael suggested,

“Why don’t you go get dressed? It’s almost a quarter to eight and the boys should be here around ten or ten-thirty.” He pointed to the clock on my bedside table. “Sam--the videographer--will be here at nine.”

“Okay.” I agreed. “Anything special you want me to do with my make up or my hair?” I wanted to look absolutely perfect for Michael.

This was his day to show out.

And I was proud to be a part of it.

Michael drew me close against him.

“Do whatever you see fit Sweetie. You look so pretty and cute no matter what you do.”

Tilting my head back, Michael’s soft lips mashed mine.

I truly loved him.

* * *

Thirty Minutes Later

“…she’s just a P.Y.T.--a pretty young thing…”

I sang quietly to myself as I stood in front of the large mirror in my bathroom, putting the finishing touches on my look.

I had to admit, I looked good. Michael Jackson had wonderful taste when it came to putting clothes on me. Everything fit me perfectly.

I had to hand it to Michael, he really knew how to dress me. The color of the shirt complimented my skin and everything.

I was just dying to see what he had on!

And I wouldn’t have to wait long…

Tap!…Tap!…Tap!

I looked up from the little diamond studs I was putting in my ears at the sound of someone mildly knocking on the door to my bathroom.

“Come on in! The door’s open!” I called, picking up my brush and raking it through my hair again.

“Hi, Honey, you look wonderful.” Michael commented as he calmly sauntered into the room.

“So do you…” I gasped, hand to my ear lobe, slowly turning to gaze at him.

“Wow!”

Michael was so hot he was almost blinding!

He wore a crisp white button up shirt, that was accented with a black and white tie-dyed cuffs, collar, epaulettes and front pocket. On the pocket was the silver glitter globe motif.

A tie-dyed band encircled his right arm.

The look was completed with a pair of sharply creased, black ankle trousers, a peek of white socks and highly polished black loafers.

Michael’s long, thick mane cascaded around his shoulders in loose, springy tendrils that framed his lovely sharp face beautifully.

His facial make up was minimal, just a touch of foundation with his usual Kohl outlining his eyes.

His superb, slim lips were glossed to a light sheen.

“Now Brynn, I have a special thought, and I hope you’ll go along with it.”

Michael announced approaching me, and placing his long, fair hands on my shoulders.

His touch was so warm.

“Sure, what?” I smiled up at him, ready to go along with anything he suggested.

“Well, you know that big red Hummer limo that’s supposed to pick up Jonas and Skylar and their parents?” Michael almost whispered, toying with my loose hair. A large smile was creeping across his mouth.

“Yes, of course.” I nodded, wondering just Mr. Jackson had up his sleeve.

“Well, the Hummer is parked outside. I was thinking it’d be pretty cool if you rode in the car and met the boys at their house. You know since the whole visit was your idea.” Michael chuckled and carefully kissed at my cheek.

Another gasp escaped me.

Michael Jackson was sending me along to pick up the boys in the red stretch Hummer limo?

“Are you serious? I really get to go and greet them? Really?” I could feel myself glowing.

“Yes Dear, I’d like for you to go. And it’s not too far away. The boys live in Van Nuys. Will you go Sweetie?” He questioned, hope in his gentle voice.

“Yes Michael! I’d love too! Oooh!” I exclaimed jumping up into his arms.

As excited as I was, I knew the boys were probably bonkers with pleasure.

　

* * *

Forty Five Minutes Later

Some Residential Neighborhood

Van Nuys, California

　

“Don’t laugh at me…I’m warning you Brynn. You laugh at me, and you’ll have to walk back to Neverland!” Rusty grunted from where he sat across from me in the large back seat of the stretch Hummer limousine.

I was honestly trying my best not to laugh at the man, but it was proving incredible hard.

Rusty Ross had an entirely new look. Instead of his usual three piece business suit, he was dressed in an orange shirt that matched mine. The only difference between his outfit and mine was that he wasn’t wearing a head band and instead of fancy sneakers, he wore a pair of plain brown Earth Shoe sandals on glowing--tanless-feet.

A pair of rose tinted sunglasses were perched in his highlighted hair.

The man was one bong away from being ready for Woodstock.

“I’m sorry!” I snorted and doubled over laughing. “But you look like you’re about to play a Beatles 8-track and light up a doobie.”

“That’s it! Get out this car right now!” Rusty scolded, slamming his fists into his lap.

“Calm down Rust Bucket, I’m just ribbing you. Jeez.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“Yeah, whatever.” Rusty replied coolly, rolling his blue eyes.

“Oh Rusty, be happy. We’re about to make the century for Jonas and Skylar. At least try to crack a smile, hmm?” I winked at him with a giggle.

Rusty merely sulked. It seemed whenever the man had to be without one of his tailored suits, he turned into a crybaby.

(Kind of reminded me of a certain purple someone.)

As the limo turned onto another street, dotted here and there with cute, trimmed lawns and neat, well kept one story homes, I became aware of the sound of faint cheering.

Looking past Rusty’s frowning mug and through the front window of the limo, I could make out two small figures on the corner at the end of the street, jumping and clamoring and screaming.

As we neared them, I could make out the boys, Jonas and Skylar shrieking elatedly.

When the car came to a stop, the boys ran up around it , vainly trying to peer into the heavily tinted windows.

“Those little guys sure are happy, huh?” Rusty chuckled, pushing the door open, and hopping out.

“Oh man! It’s Mr. Rusty and Brynn! Look!” I heard Skylar exclaim, as he and Jonas rushed towards us.

“Hi Brynn!” Jonas made it to me first, and threw himself into my arms in a warm hug.

“Hi Jonas! Hi Sweetie! Oh you’re walking!” I giggled picking him up and spinning him in a circle. “That’s so good!”

“Yeah! I can walk. It’s so cool. I was hoping my casts came off before we went to Neverland and they did--last night!” Jonas grinned up at me, his large dark eyes dancing wildly in his head.

“My turn! My turn!” Skylar declared, pushing his friend out of the way and wrapping his arms around me.

“Hiya Brynn!” He chuckled, nestling his head near my shoulder.

“Hey Skylar! I see you got the cast off your arm. It looks great.” I noted, ruffling his red locks.

I stood back and looked them over. They looked like two MJ peas in a pod wearing oversized Bad tour T-shirts and jeans.

“I like your shirts. Very cute.” I grinned, their energy perking me up even more.

Who needed a Red Bull?

“Thanks! My mom got them on eBay. She’s in the house with Mr. Brad and Miss Susan. I’ll get them.” Jonas giggled, turned and running towards to his quaint, pink and bricked home.

He screamed “Mom!” the entire way.

“Man this is so wicked awesome. I mean not only do I get to go to Neverland and see Michael Jackson, but I get to go in a red stretch limo? That’s a Hummer right?” Skylar questioned, gazing longingly at the car.

I almost presumed he liked the thought of riding in the car more than he liked the notion of spending the day with Michael. (Hee-hee.)

“Yes, son, it is.” Rusty replied, sliding his sunglasses down and onto the bridge of his nose.

“Man, that’s a sweet ride. Does Michael own that?” Skylar, reached up and fingered the chrome handle of the door delicately.

“Nah, Michael has a black stretch limo--something like Chrysler or something. But it’s being repainted now.” I smiled. I had a feeling Skylar was a vehicle buff.

“Oh cool. I bet Michael Jackson has a bunch of nice cars. He’s cool like that.” Skylar grinned at me, his freckled turning scarlet.

“Here we are!” Jonas cried out running up to us as his mother, and Skylar’s parents walked over, waving calmly.

I could see that Tequana Cartwright had had a field day over on eBay. She and Brad and Susan Brown all wore various MJ tour shirts from the Dangerous and HIStory tours.

After our drawn out salutations, everyone piled into the limo and we started on our merry way.

“Wow, I knew that we were going to be going to Michael Jackson’s house, but in a Hummer limo? Wow!” Brad gasped, running a hand through his thinning, carrot colored hair.

“It’s so amazing.” Susan agreed, twirling the long French braid that tumbled down her back.

“You got that right.” Tequana laughed.

“I’m glad that everyone is happy.” I smiled, wrapping my arm around Jonas as he leaned his head against my shoulder.

I had truly taken a shine to this kid.

“Happy isn’t the word to describe it. The boys didn’t go to sleep until after three a.m. and were bouncing off the walls three hours later.!” Tequana put in reaching and patting her son’s knee.

“Mom! We’re really excited. It’s not everyday you get to go to a real superstar’s house. And Michael’s about as super as they come!” Jonas cried out, slapping his hands together in his lap and beaming up at me.

I returned the smile, knowing just how super his day was going to be.

* * *

A Short While Later

Near The Neverland Valley Ranch

Santa Ynez, California

“Oh man, I’m ‘bout to burst! I can’t believe were almost there!” Skylar shook his head, as he pressed himself against one of the windows, peering out at the bare landscape going by.

“I still can’ believe I’m rolling in a Hummer limo! Dang!” Jonas whispered to no one in particular.

“Mike lives pretty far out doesn’t he?” Susan questioned, her steely eyes wide with what I took to be wonder.

“Yes, Michael is a very private man…he likes to do things off on his own. Neverland is his own private world.” I smiled more to myself than to her, thinking about how nicely secluded Michael Jackson’s home was.

“I think it’s cool. He really, really has all those animals and things?” Jonas stared up at me hopefully.

“Yup, really, really.” I nodded.

“And you stay with Michael there?” Tequana put in, picking at her hair, which had been arranged in what looked like hundreds of micro braids.

“Uh…” I glanced over at Rusty. He was staring at me with wide eyes.

His expression told me to choose my response carefully.

I knew that these people were “near friends”, but they weren’t far enough in the circle to know that I was Michael’s girlfriend.

“Well, yes, I stay with Michael. He and I have been working on a new song together.” I made myself say.

“You’re doing a song with Michael Jackson? Oh wow!” Skylar looked up from the window.

“You sing?” Brad questioned.

I nodded, feeling myself blushing. Michael was the real star and I felt weird getting notoriety.

“Dang! Brynn is going to be a star too--” Jonas started but was cut off by Skylar shouting at the top if his little freckled lungs:

“I SEE THE GATES! I SEE NEVERLAND! LOOK! IT’S NEVERLAND!”

Almost instantaneously, the boys and their parents were pressed up against the windows, looking at the plain wooden gates that were beginning to swing open.

As the driver guided us up the path to the second, gold crested gates, the shouts within the car hit a fevered pitch.

“I SEE MICHAEL JACKSON! OH MY GOD! IT’S MICHAEL! LOOK MOM! IT’S MICHAEL!”

Jonas wailed, bouncing on his knees in the seat, pounding against the window.

Peeking around the jumping beans that were the boys, I saw that Michael, and his children, all dressed in multicolored tie-dyed shirts that matched mine, standing just outside of the opening golden gates, all waving.

Sam the videographer stood off to the side, filming the entire scene.

The limo had barely come to a stop before the boys had kicked the door open and were racing to Michael, with open arms.

“This is making their lives!” Tequana confided, as us adults hopped out of the car and started making our way towards where Michael was hugging the boys tightly.

“You got that right!” Brad chuckled.

“Hello! Tequana! Susan! Brad! Welcome to Neverland!” Michael laughed, reaching and hugging everyone each in turn.

“Hi Michael!” Tequana and Susan gushed, obviously star struck. (As long as they kept their hands to themselves, we’d be all right!)

“Are these your kids?” Brad wondered, glancing down as the Jackson Trio each took turns reaching and shaking his hands.

“Yes! These are my children--Prince, Paris and Blanket.” Michael nodded.

“Are you all ready to have fun?” Michael pulled Jonas and Skylar close.

“Yes sir!” The boys chorused.

“Goodie.” Michael reached over and pinched my cheek. “We’re gonna walk over to the train--”.

“You got a train?” Skylar interrupted and his face instantly matched his hair in embarrassment.

“Yes.” Michael replied with a grin. “I’ll take you on a tour of the grounds. Then we can play anything you want.” He explained, taking each of the boys hands in his own and leading all of us past the gates and into the wonderland that Neverland.

“Oh man look! An giraffe! And a Ferris wheel! Gosh!” Skylar exclaimed.

“Mom look! He’s got the Spider and the Zipper. I’m in Heaven!” Jonas cried bouncing up and down.

Not missing a beat, and quoting the first words Michael had ever spoken to me, I said,

“Actually, I think Heaven is much prettier.”

“Man, I swear, I’m going to Mass tomorrow. That’s a promise.” Skylar laughed.

“You and me son. You and me!” Brad giggled.

“It’s so amazing that one person could have accumulated the wealth to fund this--and still be so generous!” I heard Susan comment to Tequana.

“There’s only one Michael Jackson.” She replied with a sigh.

My head was becoming so swollen with elation, I could barely keep my toes on the ground.

From all around us, vendors dispensing everything from flavored popcorn to Sno-cones to cotton candy were issuing out samples and everyone was nibbling on some type of treat by the time we reached the train that circled all over Neverland.

As we crowded onto the train, which was styled like a turn of the century locomotive, I felt a hand grab mine.

“This is better than Disneyland!” Skylar crowed, tossing his arms above his head and claiming the first available seat behind the conductor.

(The conductor was so cute, a man in his sixties, dressed in overalls topped up with a large red hat.)

Jonas was staring up at me, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Sit next to me, please Brynn?” He begged.

“I get dibs on the other side!” Paris chimed in as we all squished into the seat behind Michael.

“I see little Jonas found the prize seat on this train.” Michael teased glancing back at me with wink.

“Yeah…” Jonas nodded, and was settling next to me.

Moments later, his hands were pressed to his bald head as he, his best friend, and their parents marveled at the exotic sights that greeted them.

It was such a happy time.

Why was it that whenever a good time started happening it started raining purple on the parade?

* * *

Two Hours Later

“…woo, man I told you that Spider ride was nothing nice!” Michael chuckled, placing his hands on the shoulders of Skylar’s father. It was his first time ever riding the wild and out spinning whirly-gig and his pale skin had an unusual, sickly green cast to it.

“We call it the ‘Puke Bucket’!” Prince laughed before taking a bite out of the large cloud of orange cotton candy he was sharing with Blanket.

“Don’t say puke!” Brad Brown warned and staggered over to the closest seat--a wooden bench a few feet from the Ferris Wheel--and dropped onto it.

“I don’t know why you got on that ride. You get motion sickness so easily!” His wife scolded him.

“Well I wasn’t gonna come to Neverland and just stand around!” Brad stuck his tongue out at Susan like a child.

Neverland was working it’s magic.

I looked around me.

Paris, Tequana, and Rusty were screeching happily on the Zipper ride, and Prince was tugging Blanket towards the “Puke Bucket”.

“What should we go on next?” Jonas was asking Skylar, who was trying to eat a sucker that was larger than his head.

“I think we should go on…” Skylar trialed off and I noticed that he was staring just past the main house, at the collection of cars parked alongside it.

“Oh man! Look Jonas! Look at the cars! Ooh-wee!” Skylar started to run towards the cars, but thinking better of it, turned to me.

“Brynn, can we go look at the cars? We promise to God and Jesus we won’t touch anything.” Skylar begged, his minty green eyes huge. Next to him, Jonas was clutching his hands together, eyes pleading.

I glanced over at Michael. He was seated next to Brad, patting him on the back and trying to help him ward off nausea. (And the vomiting that went along with it.)

“Well I could show you the cars, but only if you really promise not to touch. Pinkie swear.” I announced, holding my pinky up.

“We swear!” Jonas linked his pinky with mine.

“Follow me.” I grinned and led the way to the side parking lot.

Much to my displeasure, the boys zoomed right past Michael’s SUV, half painted limousine and made a beeline over to my Ferrari.
“Woo-wee! Michael’s got a Ferrari! And it’s purple! I’ve never seen a purple car before!” Jonas gaped, running around the sports car.

“Man, a Ferrari. That’s one expensive car. If I ever get crazy rich like Michael, I’m gonna get me one. Candy apple red though.” Skylar snickered.

“I’d get me a black one.” Jonas nodded his head with a contended sigh.

“That car’s not for my Dad.” A new voice pointed out.

I turned to see the Jackson Trio standing behind us.

“It’s not Michael’s car?” Skylar gasped before his car obsessed mind flew off onto another tangent.

“Is this car for Mr. Rusty?” He questioned gazing at everyone, searching for an answer.

“No, that car’s for Brynn.” Prince smiled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

“I love that car!” Paris giggled.

“Me too!” Blanket chimed in before shoving his thumb into his pink mouth.

The point seemed to blow the minds of the boys, who stood staring at me in pure shock for several minutes.

“That’s your car Brynn? Michael bought you that car? Gosh.” Jonas slapped his hands to his bald head once again.

“Daddy didn’t buy that car. Mr. Prince did.” Paris pointed out and I whipped around to stare at her.

Not today.

Today was going too good.

No need to drag Prince Nelson into it kicking and screaming.

Too late.

At the mention of the Purple One, Jonas and Skylar became almost deliriously belligerent.

“Oh man! You know Prince? The little Purple Rain dude? Wow!” Jonas’ face was the color of a radish he was so enthralled.

“My mom loves Prince. She has like three of his albums on vinyl. They don’t make vinyl anymore.” Skylar noted staring up at me with adoring eyes.

And Paris wouldn’t shut her little glossy mouth for anything in the world.

At the sudden interest in Mr. Prince, all the facts of my working with him spilled from her mouth like word vomit.

“Brynn is the absolute coolest! I tell you, she’s gonna be a star. Making songs with Michael Jackson and Prince!” Jonas cried, throwing his arms around my waist.

“When you make your first CD, will you autograph one for me?” He questioned, his face brimming with a smile.

“What’s going on over here? A little powwow?” I became aware of a soft hand grasping my shoulder.

I looked up into Michael’s smiling face.

Behind him Jonas and Skylar’s parents were walking towards us, divvying up a huge puff of blue cotton candy.

“Nothing, Mike, we’re just talking.” I said quickly, hoping that no one would bring up the topic of Prince.

No such luck.

“She was telling us that she got to make a song with Prince.” Jonas grinned, thinking he had unleashed a bit of good news.

Did I have an upside down thirteen tattooed on my ass?

At the mention of Prince, Michael’s mouth flattened out into a thin pink line.

I knew he was stewing because this day was supposed to be about Michael Jackson and Michael Jackson’s good deeds not anything having to do with Prince. (Unless it was Michael’s son.)

And then Skylar asked a question that almost brought me to smacking his teeth out. (And I had never hit a child in my life!)

“Hey Brynn, since Prince bought you a Ferrari, does that mean he’s your boyfriend?” He questioned running his hands along the front fender of my car.

Blue veins appeared on Michael he paled so harshly. He looked like a map of Route 66.

I stared up at him afraid to speak, to move, to even breathe.

As sore as Michael was about the topic of Prince Nelson, to be asked point blank--without warning--whether I was Prince’s woman was probably a slap across his pointy cheeks.

But Michael was quite the rebounder. As quickly as he paled, he pinked back up. And he never lost his composure.

“Skylar, Brynn merely received the car as a payment for the vocals she did on the song with Prince. She’s actually dating my nephew Taryll.” Michael spoke so easily, every hair on my head stood.

Even though Michael was calm, I could see the muscles in his jaw standing up like worms on a marble table.

Jonas was opening his mouth to ask another question Prince and I thought enough was e-damn-nough!

“Um, Michael…” I started, reaching out and grasping his icy hand in mine. “Weren’t you going to show a movie in the theatre right about now?” I asked, putting on my sweetest smile and flashing it at him.

(I knew that at some point Michael had wanted to herd everyone into the theatre so that a few of his employees could bring out the gifts he had gotten for the boys. What better time than now?)

Michael seemed relieved that I had brought up the theatre.

“That’s right. What would you boys like to watch? I have any movie you could want to see.” Michael placed took his hand from mine and wrapped his arm around me. “I got the Three Stooges, Charlie Chaplin, Dumbo…” He suggested, the tension easing off and a tiny grin lighting his face.

“Give us a minute please.” Jonas smiled, grabbing a hold of Skylar.

Both boys lowered their heads and conversed for a while, trying to decide what to watch.

“Come on boys, Michael doesn’t have all day.” Tequana urged impatiently.

“Really, I don’t mind. Let the boys talk.” Michael smiled at her over his shoulder.

Tequana blushed as Michael’s grin.

“Okay, okay, we know what we wanna watch.” Skylar finally announced.

“Oh…what?” I sighed, glad that Prince-gate seemed to be winding down.

The boys smiled and replied in unison:

“Michael Jackson videos!”

* * *

An Hour Later

The Theatre Neverland

“…you been hit by…Ow! You’ve been struck by…A Smooth Criminal…”

The lyrics to Michael’s hit blared over the loud speakers as a larger than life image of Michael Jackson illuminated the huge screen stretched across the back wall of Michael’s huge private theater.

“Dang! This song is the jam!” Jonas declared from where he was chair dancing between Prince and Skylar. On the other side of Skylar, Blanket was happily clapping--at times offbeat--to the song.

“Whoa! Look at that move!” Skylar replied pointing as the onscreen Michael executed the famous forty-five degree angle lean.

“I like the outfit the Asian lady is wearing.” Paris whispered loudly into my ear from where she sat behind me and her father.

Glancing back at her, I gave her a wide smile. “I like it too.”

The woman wore a flapper style hunter green dress.

As Paris returned to her seat, I looked over at Michael.

His eyes were glued to his video image, and he was quietly mouthing the words to the song.

Behind us about three rows back, the parents were chair dancing and mouthing the words too.

Sam was lurking back and forth, quietly filming.

Everything seemed a little too tame for my taste.

Everybody’s booty was still in the seat.

Time to make this party noteworthy.

As Smooth Criminal ended, I saw my chance began to flicker on the screen.

The short music film for Beat It was starting.

Jumping out of my seat, I spun around and faced the children.

“Whoever wants to dance with me better get up on stage right now!” I announced, before making tracks up the small staircase to the stage.

There was a minor stampede as all the children--and Michael--followed me up onstage.

Hand held camera from the parents immediately began flashing as Michael grabbed onto Jonas and I grabbed Skylar and we began instructing the steps to the video as the Jackson Trio danced around us.

“…Beat It…Beat It…No one wants to be defeated…”

I sang jubilantly as I fell into step with everyone doing The Worm.

“I’m dancing with Michael Jackson! And Brynn!” Jonas shrieked as Michael whirled him around.

“This was a good idea Honey!” Michael cackled.

“You like dancing with Michael and Brynn and the kids?” Sam called to Skylar from where he had crouched in front of the stage.

Wearing a grin that wrapped around most of his head, Skylar replied.

“Yes sir!”

We proceeded to dance through Beat It, Thriller and Rock With You.

“Woo! That was fun huh?” Michael gasped for air as he bent and picked up Blanket.

“Yeah Daddy!” The boy nodded, his ringlets bouncing around his face.

“I just danced with a star Mom!” Jonas cried into his mother’s bosom as she greeted him offstage.

“Is anyone hungry?” Michael questioned bouncing his youngest son on his hip.

I could tell by the glimmer in his eye that he was excited about unveiling the presents to Jonas and Skylar.

“I could use some ice cream. The ice cream man out there thirty-six different flavors. I thought they only made thirty-one.” Prince chuckled, draping his arms around the necks of Jonas and Skylar.

“Me too, man.” Jonas laughed.

I could tell that the boys were becoming fast friends.

“Will you share a big sundae with me?” Paris questioned, twisting the hem of her blue tie-died shirt.

“Of course!” I ruffled her curls.

As all of us filed out of theatre, past the candy counter and statues of E.T. and Pinocchio, and out back onto the main paved walkway of Neverland.

“Um, we’re eating over by the Ferris Wheel!” Michael called, shooting me a broad smile.

The moment seemed almost too perfect.

The sun was beginning to set and as we neared the Wheel, it suddenly lit up, followed the rest of the attractions as the Amusement Park Neverland.

“Oooh! It’s so pretty Honey.” I heard Susan gush to Brad.

The boys ooh’d and aah’d along with their parents.

But their gasps turned to screams as the Wheel came into full view.

Rusty stood, hands on his waist, a grin on his face. Behind him a mountain of gift wrapped treasure glittered under the ride lights.

“Oh my God!” The boys shouted. “Is that for us?”

Michael nodded deeply and in an instant, the boys were digging through the pile, unwrapping gifts that bore their names.

“Dang! I got a bicycle! And look a Neverland shirt! Gosh! Thanks Michael!” Jonas jumped up and into Michael’s arms.

“Oh wow-wee! I got a bicycle too! Look man! I got a X-Box game system! Mike you rock!” Skylar gave him a thumbs up.

The Jackson Trio was on their hand sad knees helping the boys tear into their prizes.

“Michael, Brynn, is all that really for our children?” Tequana wondered, in an astonished tone, patting our arms.

“Yes, Michael hand picked every gift for the boys.” My heart warmed when I saw tears of happiness starting to spring up in her eyes.

“This is almost too much!” Susan cried from behind her and I could see Brad comforting his wife.

“Jonas and Skylar have been through so much, I just wanted to treat them.” Michael responded shyly and hugged each woman.

“Thank you so much! My son has never been this happy in his life. Oh God!” Tequana sobbed as I embraced her.

“It’s okay. Jonas is a good boy, and good things happen to good people.” I assured her.

“That’s right.” Michael concurred, as the boys continued to clamor over their gifts. “Those are good boys.”

Susan sniffed.

“I’m glad there’s still nice people in the world.”

* * *

Late That Night

“Well, I think the boy’s visit to Neverland went splendidly. Don’t you?” I sighed, settling under the thick covers of Michael’s bed.

Across the room, Michael, clad in cherry red, tone on tone windowpane checked pajamas stood dabbing cologne from a clear bottle onto his long swanlike throat.

His still damp hair--fresh from another shower--was held back in a ponytail.

“I had a really great time. It really warmed my heart to see how happy Jonas and Skylar were. It makes me feel great when I can use my money and things like that for good, you know?” He turned, and slowly sauntered over to the bed, a grin on his face.

As he snuggled up next to me, I pecked at his soft and sweet smelling neck.

“Michael, I just want to thank you for making my idea of bringing the boys here to life. I knew that they’d have a good time, but you really rocked their worlds. They’ll never forget this.” I whispered, with a smile, thinking of how the boys had hugged on Michael and me for almost a full ten minutes when it came time for them to go back to their hones in Van Nuys.

“I know, those are great kids. Nice and polite. And I think my kids made friends with them. I like for my kids to meet other nice children.” Michael commented and hugged me against him.

“You know Brynn, I have a special thought about Jonas and Skylar and I want to bounce it off you.” He smooched the tip of my nose.

“Bounce away.” I giggled.

“Well, seeing how happy Jonas and Skylar were when they came here, it just made me want to make them happy again, and I was…um…” Michael trailed off and chuckled shyly.

“What?” I gazed up at him, “Out with it Jackson. It must be good--your ears are turning red!”

“Well, I was wondering wouldn’t it be nice if we took the boys along with us to the HAA awards?” Michael finally blurted and patted at my back.

I could feel my eyes swelling in my head.

“Really? You want to bring the boys with us? That’s great! Oh Mike! You lovely, lovely man!” I threw my arms around his neck and pressed mouth to him smacking at him greedily.

“I knew you’d agree!” Michael chuckled and buried his face in my neck, starting a hickey on me.

As he sucked on my throat, I just beamed at the top of his curly head.

I know it’s becoming repetitious in my saying it, but Michael Jackson really was the kindest man.

527


　

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The Following Morning

I awoke with a rude start.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the bright, almost cheerful beams of sunlight pouring in through the open windows of Michael bedroom.

Glancing around the room, it almost seemed normal.

The Jackson Trio’s toys scattered about the floor, a video game projected on the large plasma screen TV, a half eaten Twix candy bar on the nightstand.

It all seemed, so truly, painfully, normal.

But one quick look across the room at Michael’s scarlet and gilded throne, and anyone could tell that something was amiss, if not downright chaotic.

Clad in a thin white t-shirt and black silk pajama bottoms, Michael was curled up in the massive seat, sound asleep.

A Louisville Slugger baseball bat was clutched in his smooth, pale hands tightly against his chest.

At the sight of Michael wielding the weapon, I stared down at my lap a mixture of grief and shame thundering over me.

The dancing Spongebobs and Patricks on my own pajama bottoms smiled up at me.

As I continued to look at the silly cartoon characters the events of the previous night began replaying in my mind like a record on a hellish broken player.

It seemed unreal, a nightmare that the likes of Wes Craven could only dream up.

After fully explaining to Michael that Prince had taken me away from Neverland--not the other way around--I had been led up into Michael’s boudoir where he proceeded to spend the following three hours all but lecturing me on not to be afraid to scream if I’m ever being abducted again.

(And as sneaky as Prince was, it wasn’t that big a stretch of the mind.)

Michael had even spoken of hiring a bodyguard for me.

Then came the rush of sadness.

Michael talking about how he was so worried, and scared for me to be away with Prince.

How he didn’t trust That Damn Man.

Michael asked me about twenty different times if Prince had violated me in anyway.

“Did he try to kiss you?”

“Did he try to touch you?”

“Did he try to force himself on you?”

“Did he threaten you?”

I believe that if he could have gotten away with it, he would have dusted my body for Prince’s fingerprints.

I knew that for five hours, Michael’s mind had been fevered and woolgathered with images of Prince’s diminutive body on mine, his stiletto boots in the air as he committed all sorts of unspeakable and lewd acts on me.

I had spent half the night tearfully confirming, reaffirming and reaffirming the previous confirmation that Prince I had merely driven through LA and Malibu, and that nothing obscene had occurred.

(Of course I left out the tidbit about Prince prancing around in the pond in a few spare threads of underwear. And that fact that I had joined him in my undergarments.)

Michael’s worry then gave way to pure, pulsating, unabashed anger.

I don’t think Prince will ever know just how alarming close he had come to sweeping his pearly whites up with a broom and picking a black loafer out of his backside.

Prince had a nauseating habit of nursing an unwelcome visit within an inch of death.

And he almost had a multiple orgasm when it came to plucking Michael nerves he got so much pleasure from it.

I noticed that when it came tine for Jimmy to bring Prince his beloved Beemer, instead of getting in the car and merely exiting, like any other normal human being on the planet would have done, Prince instead got into his car, cranked the stereo system somewhere between “Loudest” and “Bleeding Eardrums” and began blaring his song, My Name is Prince, almost as a proclamation against Michael that he couldn’t be touched.

Oh how he had almost gotten touched.

And punched.

And kicked.

And slapped.

I had been dragged halfway through the house, clinging to Michael’s hips trying to stop him from running out of the house and kicking Prince off the globe and onto Mars.

Michael would have gotten out the front door if, by some angelic force, he hadn’t tripped on a Barbie doll that Paris had left on the floor.

Sure, the doll got decapitated when Michael stepped on her, but better Barbie than Prince!

It took three body guards, all larger than Jimmy--who knew you could Super Size people?-- to tuck Prince into his car and see him off property.

They followed Prince to the gates in straining golf carts, just to make sure he was gone.

It was ten minutes before I was no longer able to hear his car stereo.

Somewhere in the middle of the din, the Jackson Trio were begging Michael, from their rooms, to stop the noise so they could sleep.

That’s where the Louisville Slugger came into play.

(The Jackson Trio really needed to stop leaving their toys around.)

Michael got to the door right as Prince sped out of Neverland, and found the baseball bat.

It was another cat and mouse chase to try to catch him as he ran, bat in hand, in a fruitless effort to catch Prince, and hit a home run across his forehead.

For as thin a man as Michael Jackson was, it took two of his beefy guards to restrain him and bring him back into the house.

To my dismay, I saw in a second story window that his children were watching the scene, a look of fear on their faces that I had only seen once before--during the clash at Aiken’s Jewelry Store.

I didn’t want the children to see their father like that.

Nobody should see their father like that.

And I had been sick the rest of the night.

I looked back up at Michael, still snoozing and cradling the baseball bat the way Blanket snuggled his favorite teddy bear.

Even Prince wouldn’t have been crazy enough to try to come back and take me from Michael, not from his bedroom.

Not unless he suddenly got an over whelming urge to try to breathe around a rhinestone glove as it pulled his spinal cord out through his eye.

I slowly, and tiredly rolled out of bed and walked up to Michael.

Gazed down at his fair, smooth face, as he snored softly.

His tendrils tumbling around his shoulders.

He was so sweet, and nice and unassuming.

It hurt me so badly that he was caught in the fight, and not really knowing what he was fighting for.

Like a soldier at war, he knew he was in battle, but the real struggle wasn’t happening in the foxhole.

It was on the home front.

It didn’t seem true at all.

I had a man ready to beat the holy shit out of another man with a wooden--not aluminum--baseball bat over me.

And the man was Michael Jackson.

And the other man was Prince.

Michael Jackson was trying to protect me.

Brynn Sue McAllister.

Trying to protect me from what Michael hailed as the Threat to Intimacy, Prince.

And once again, Michael didn’t blame me for anything other than being the victim of Prince’s hot perversion.

I found myself, kneeling at Michael’s side, inches away from his little pink toes.

I don’t know, maybe my subconscious was making me get down and almost beg Michael for his forgiveness.

I didn’t feel worthy of even kissing Michael’s little tootsies…

And yet it seemed like the right thing to do.

Kiss Michael’s feet.

At least to start the process.

I had been so wrong, done so wrong.

Treated Michael so horribly.

My lips hovered near his toes.

“Brynn? What are you doing?”

A voice asked suddenly and I jerked back on my heels, away from Michael.

Prince (Jackson) stood in the doorway, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of the Incredible Hulk robe he wore.

“Prince?” I gasped staring at the boy.

“Prince? What? Where? I’ll kick his ass!”

Jarred awake by my sudden utterance of his nemesis’ (and son’s) name, Michael hopped to his feet, bat clutched and ready to swing.

“Whoa!” Clearly frightened, Prince turned and dove behind the small coffee table in the center of the room that held an oversized chess set.

“Michael! Michael! It’s your son! Not Prince! Not that Prince. It’s your son!” I exclaimed jumping upright and placing my hands over the bat and trying to make him realize that he was about to strike his own flesh and blood!

“Yeah Dad!” Prince echoed from where he was peeking over the table top, blonde locks all over his head and falling into his eyes.

Michael took a quiet moment to glance from me to his oldest child, and back.

Even though he seemed calm, Michael’s eyes still had a wild glint to them.

“Give me the bat Honey, please. Prince is long gone. He’s probably halfway to Minneapolis right now.”

I could only hope that Prince (Nelson) was halfway to the Minneapolis.

“The only Prince here is your son.” I gently tugged the bat away from Michael.

Michael stared at me a moment longer, then crushed me against his body in a fierce hug.

“I’m going downstairs! Man, grown ups are weird!” I heard Prince call as he ran out of the room.

I knew that to Prince (Jackson) the hug appeared to be nothing more the an show of affection.

But I knew better.

It was him demonstrating that even though Prince might have taken me from him, that in the end, I was his.

It was Michaels’ equivalent of taking a victory lap.

Who knew that before the day was over, Prince (Nelson) was going to trip Michael up as he ran?

* * *

A Few Hours Later

“Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh! Firefighter to the rescue!” Blanket, dressed in a child sized version of a firefighter’s uniform came flying by me on his Granny Smith Apple Green bicycle.

“Ooohhh! Save us! Save us! Please!” Paris and Prince pleaded melodramatically from where they were splashing around in the shallow end of the swimming pool.

“I guess you really can buy a child anything his heart desires from Neiman-Marcus, huh?”

I giggled, squeezing alongside Michael on the deck chair he was lounging in.

Michael only replied with a shy chuckle of his own and sipped from the tall glass that contained his iced tea.

Another set of Not Over meetings had to wait until tomorrow, because after Prince’s little purple appearance, Michael was nowhere near in the mood to be stuck in a boardroom for endless hours.

A few feet beyond us, Rusty was dozing in another deck chair, the hand containing his Blackberry dragging the ground.

As Blanket made a show of tossing a small rope to his brother and sister, ‘rescuing’ them and pretending to give them CPR, I nuzzled closer to Michael, rubbing my nose against the soft flesh of his throat, taking in his musky, woodsy cologne.

He was finally starting to calm down.

So was I.

I liked the tranquil affect Neverland seemed to have on me.

On everyone.

No matter how mad or unhappy a person was, if they hung around Neverland long enough, they’d forget their troubles.

“Mikey, Baby?” I questioned, tucking a curl behind his peachy ear.

“Mmmhmm?” Michael mumbled taking another sip of tea.

“Do you have everything ready for Jonas and Skylar? Saturday is two days away.” I pointed out taking the glass from him and stealing a swig of tea for myself. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I had an overwhelming need to do something, anything for Michael to make myself feel that he was satisfied with me.

Something besides just sit there in a light lilac bathing suit.

Michael gave me a cherubic smile.

It was like giving sugar cubes to a diabetic.

Seemed like a good idea, but ultimately hurt you in the end.

“No, Honey, everything is set. All I need you to do is show up with your Heal the World shirt on.” He giggled and pinched my chin.

“I can do that.” I grinned back at him.

“You’re so good.” Michael leaned and pecked at my mouth.

If only it were true!

“Ew!” I heard Paris call as Michael continued to kiss at me.

Leaning around Michael, I saw that the Jackson Trio had gathered close to us.

“Can’t I kiss your father in peace?” I asked, reaching and ruffling the little girl’s wet curls.

“Kisses are yucky! Cooties! Cooties!” Blanket chimed in pointing and the kids giggled.

“Kisses are yucky? Really?” I reached and grabbed the small boy in a hug onto my lap pecking at his round cheeks loudly.

“No Brynn! Hee-Hee! No!” Blanket screeched and laughed, flailing around in my arms.

Prince and Paris howled with laughter as I kissed on Blanket’s little face, knocking his firefighter’s hat to the ground.

“She’s got you now!” Michael teased as I finally let Blanket go.

He ran to his father, face red and still sniggling.

“Okay! Who’s next?” I exclaimed jumping up as the children tried to make a run for it.

“Not me! Not me!” Paris and Prince screamed, linking hands and storming towards the house.

“Yeah you!” I cried giving chase, running out of my clear flip flops near the house.

Prince and Paris were cunning little creatures.

Instead of blazing through the house as I thought they would, the kids split up, Paris going around the left side of the house and Prince around the right.

But that was alright. Catching one child was better than catching none.

And I knew that by far, Paris was a much slower runner than her older sibling.

Within a few moments, I had caught up to her as she was trying to open the front door to the main house.

“Ha-ha! Gotcha!” I whooped grabbing her around her waist and whirling her in the air.

“No cooties!” She snorted loudly as I set her back on the ground.

Holding her little face in my hands I kissed her damp forehead.

“You, Dear, are Cootie-fied!” I chuckled as she jumped up and down, whining. Not really angry though.

“I almost got away!” Paris persisted, placing her hands over her hips under the green and blue striped swimsuit she wore.

“Yeah almost!” I chuckled.

“Yahoo! I win! You didn’t get me!” Prince strutted over to his sister and me, chest poked out proudly.

“Oh yeah?” Running over to him, Paris leaned and smooched Prince’s cheek loudly.

“Now we’ve all got the Cooties!” He pouted crossing his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me, Miss McAllister?”

Laughing, I looked up to see one of the large bodyguards who routinely circled Neverland, keeping fans and paparazzi at bay.

He was also one of the guards who had seen Prince off the property only a few hours earlier.

“Yeah, Scott?” I giggled looking up at him as Paris threw her arms around my waist.

Pushing aside a couple of his (dyed) golden blonde dreadlocks, Scott replied solemnly.

“There’s a man at the front gate who’s looking for you. He says he has something for you and Mr. Jackson.”

“Something for me and Michael?” I repeated, vainly praying that Prince hadn’t been so haughty as to show his slim yellow face around our neck of the woods again. “Who is it?”

“Some doctor.” Scott narrowed his beady dark eyes as he tried to recall the name. “I think he said Dr. Mink or Dr. Link or something.”

I could feel my jaw dropping as Scott continued to mumble over the name.

“He sent Dr. Fink?” I spit out, not really conscious I was speaking and loosening Paris’ hands from my hips.

“Fink! That’s it! Dr. Matt Fink!” Scott grinned, not really understanding that he had unwittingly been cordial to one of His Royal Nastiness’ cohorts.

“Scott,” I placed my hand on one the biceps bulging from under the short sleeve of his white shirt that had “Neverland Security” emblazoned on it in green stitching.

(All Neverland bodyguards wore it.)

“Yes?” Scott smiled at me. He really had no honest clue.

“Go get Michael. I’ll take care of Dr. Fink.” I instructed, striking out towards the front of the estate.

I knew that Michael needed to be informed about any of “Prince’s People” who might drop by and I sure didn’t want a repeat of the night before.

“Yes ma’am!” Scott called back as I trudged onwards.

It was like walking the Green Mile.

My mind was suddenly electrified and pounding with dozens of thoughts, the main concern in my mind being,

Just what the hell had Prince sent Dr. Fink along for?

(Was Morris Day unavailable to do Prince’s bidding at the time?)

And just what did he have for Michael and me?

As I neared the front gates, which were open just a bit, I saw that Dr. Fink was standing just inside the perimeter of Neverland.

And as usual, he was in full physician attire from yellow scrubs, to a blue stethoscope dangling around his neck.

A pair of black Ray-Bans completed the look.

A plum faux leather portfolio was clasped in his hands.

A box, gift wrapped in shimmering purple paper was nestled at his feet.

“Hey Brynn!” Dr. Fink called with a wave as if it were commonplace for him to drop by Neverland bearing gifts with that certain Paisley Park aura about them.

“Hi…Fink.” I murmured placing my hands on my hips and giving him a once over.

I was in no mood for a social call. I was still trying to shake the shame and anguish I had.

“Who’s your friends?” Dr. Fink questioned and I noticed that he was looking around behind me.

Turning I saw that we had company.

Somehow I had missed the fact that two-thirds of the Jackson Trio had followed me to the gate.

Prince (Jackson) and Paris stood silently behind me, smiling shyly at Dr. Fink.

“Uh…” I stammered a moment, not really sure if it was in good taste to introduce him to Michael’s children.

Paris made the decision for me.

Putting out her little hand, she announced,

“Hello Dr. Fink. I’m Paris Jackson, and this is my brother Prince.”

Shaking her hand, and then Prince’s Dr. Fink laughed.

“Mike’s got some little polite ones huh?” He joked.

Enough of the dramatics.

“Okay Fink, why are you here?” I questioned, a bit rudely, but not really caring. Better I be rude to him, than Michael.

“I know Prince sent you.” I tossed my hair arrogantly.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I Brynn?” He grinned, punching my shoulder playfully.

“What’s going on here?” A new voice demanded.

From seemingly nowhere, Michael had appeared at my side.

And his cheeks were as rosy as the red shirt he wore.

Anyone could see he was disgusted almost to the point of regurgitating at the sight of the ‘doctor’.

“Hi Michael!” Dr. Fink stuck his hand out. “Remember me? I’m Dr. Matt Fink. You met me at the jam session in Paisley Park a while back.”

I shook my head, feeling nauseated.

That was the last thing I needed; someone reminding Michael of that train wreck, that resulted in my prompt ejection from Minneapolis.

Michael made no move to shake Dr. Fink’s hand.

“I…uh…played the keyboards.” He murmured, slowly taking his hand away as Michael regarded him with an icy stare.

Was it just me, or was the world coming to an end?

The chipper smile that had been creasing Dr. Fink’s face, tumbled off.

Nope, Michael wasn’t going for the Congeniality award today.

“Um, anyway, I have a couple of packages. One for Brynn and one for you.” He announced holding out the folder to me.

“This is for Brynn.”

I gazed up at Michael, wondering if he’d let me accept the portfolio.

I knew that he hated it when I accepted gifts from Prince.

That Damn Man.

“What is it?” Michael inquired, grasping my wrist and pulling me around behind him.

Dr. Fink struggled to explain,

“You know that Prince had Brynn sing on that new song he’s trying to put out--Game?”

“Yeah?” Michael shoved balled fists into the pockets of his blue jeans.

“Well, Prince took some test shots, for the cover of the single, and he wants Brynn to pick which photo she likes best.” He nodded, his brown tresses bouncing.

“What?” I exclaimed, leaning around Michael and nearly stepping on Prince (Jackson)’s toes.

Even though I was supposed to be upset, even angry that Prince was once again throwing a monkey wrench into Michael’s day, I was excited.

Genuinely excited.

Prince was allowing me, little Brynn Sue McAllister from Nowhere, Texas to pick the cover of his next single!

“Are you serious?” Michael’s voice escalated in decibels. “He’s letting her pick the cover?”

“Oh cool!” I heard Paris cheer from somewhere.

I don’t know what was pissing Michael off more: The fact that Prince had actually gotten around to shooting potential covers for his song, (while Michael was still talking distribution) or that he was once again going out of his way giving me an absurd privilege.

Dr. Fink looked over his shades at Michael, his pale green eyes twinkling.

“Yeah man. He claims she has impeccable taste.” He held the folder out to me.

“Get it over with Brynn, right now.” Michael whipped his head around and barked at me.

His tone immediately set my body to nearly convulsing with trepidation.

I almost dropped the folder as Dr. Fink handed it to me.

“Prince narrowed it down to four photos, so it shouldn’t be too hard to choose one.” Dr. Fink pointed out as I flipped the book open.

“Oh!” I gasped as I caught sight of the first photograph.

“Oh Lord.” I heard Michael mutter under his breath.

Beside him his children were perched on their tip toes, quietly straining to see the pictures.

In the first shot, Prince stood against a stark white backdrop. It was a full body shot and Prince’s body was clad in a sheer ruffled blouse and tight bottoms made of what appeared to be embellished red lace. Even his boots were covered in lace.

His hands were perched on his hips, hair brushed back away from his face.

His make up was minimal, and almost natural, give the heavy black liner circling his eyes.

A gold oversized symbol glittered near his waist and tangled in his black chest curls.

He looked as though he was gearing up for a fight, taunting someone (Michael?) with a self-absorbed smirk on his face.

“Does he still think it’s 1984? Gosh!” Michael sniffed, wafting an arrogance all his own.

I flipped the page and was met with a head shot of Prince.

At least his attire was much more sedate.

Instead of lace, he wore a dark violet suit over a gold shirt, loosened to show his chest, of course. A matching gold pocket square was jammed into the breast pocket.

His hair this time was artfully arranged in wispy curls that danced across his forehead.

If Prince continued with his supercilious smirk, I was certain his face was going to get twisted into that expression.
“Is that the only pose he knows? Reminds me of Zoolander.” Michael announced, reaching down and tapping the page.

Beside him, Prince (Jackson) laughed at the joke.

Paris was peeking curiously at the photograph.

“I like his hair.” She whispered sedately, trying not to let her father hear her approving of Michael’s enemy.

Prince changed up his look in the Picture Number Three.

His hair was slick and smooth, and he was grinning openly in a wild, multicolored Ikat print tunic.

“That shirt looks like throw up.” Prince (Jackson) declared in a hushed tone, running a hand through his still damp hair.

Everyone was a critic.

And then came the last photo.

“Oh my goodness!” It felt as though all the air was being sucked out of my body.

“What on earth?” Michael squawked before he coved his children’s faces with his hands and hugging them against him to shield them from the image before them.

The children protested loudly, pleading with Michael to let them go.

I continued to stare at the cellophane wrapped photo, my breaths becoming strained.

In the last photo…

Prince was….

Naked.

Well almost.
Lying on a bed of cobalt blue satin pillows, Prince was nestled, in the nude, clutching a gleaming white Model C guitar against his body.

The body of the guitar hid Prince’s crotch, and his leg was wrapped around the instrument, almost as if he were trying to hump it!

White, bejeweled boots encased his feet.

A seductive pout was on Prince’s face; he almost looked like a pin up from Playgirl magazine.

“Okay, this is too damn much!” Michael exclaimed snatching the folder from me and actually throwing it at Dr. Fink.

“Daddy!” Paris gasped, shocked that Michael had cursed right over her head.

I knew it was bad enough that Prince had sent along a nearly pornographic photo, but it was even worse that two of Michael’s children had gotten a glimpse of it.

“Brynn, take my children and go in the house.” Michael instructed scooting Prince and Paris into my arms.

“Y-yes Michael.” I replied, my chin quivering as the onset of bawling started to take me.

Giving Dr. Fink a sour glance, I started up the lane with the children.

Behind me I could hear Dr. Fink trying to offer Michael the box that contained his gift.

Michael swiftly replied,

“I want nothing from your kind! Take that package and tell Prince to shove it!”

By the time I reached the doors of the main house, tears were streaming down my cheeks, meeting under my chin and dripping down onto my chest.

I sank down onto the couch, wholly sobbing.

Prince may have sent the last obscene photograph as gadget to irk Michael.

But he didn’t realize…

When he hurt Michael Jackson…

He also hurt me.

* * *

The Next Afternoon

“Ouch! You stuck me!”

“Monsieur Jackson! Please, you’re going to have to hold still Sir, or I’ll continue to jab you.” Rene François mumbled through a mouthful of pins from where he knelt at Michael’s side.

“Stuck, jabbed, whatever--they all hurt!” Michael grumbled, rubbing the sore patch near his wrist where the designer had mistakenly nabbed him.

(He was supposed to be standing absolutely still, with his arms at his sides.)

Michael’s black and white formal jacket for the Humanitarian Association of America Awards was slowly coming together on his slim form.

Even though the coat was in its early stages, I knew that the finished product was going to be mind blowing.

The fabric, white and studded with tens of thousands of Swarovski crystals, caught light at every angle and threw it back and forth, turning Michael Jackson into a human diamond.

Rene was calmly trying to pin thick, black crystal braid to the cuffs of the coat. More braid had already been attached down the front, and was accented by wide, heavily tasseled epaulets on Michael’s slim shoulders.

Michael Jackson truly looked like a stroboscopic military man.

“Brynn, do you like the way my outfit is coming together?” Michael asked after a while, as Rene, waddling on the knees of another pair of khaki trousers, topped off by a red and white striped tee began pinning the braid to the other cuff.

“It looks lovely.” I grinned at him from where I was lounging casually across his throne.

“Merci, Mademoiselle.” Rene put in before Michael could reply.

Giggling, Michael managed to get out, “Merci to you too Rene. You‘re doing excellent work.”

“I can’t wait to see how my dress looks.” I sighed, glancing longingly at the silver garment bag carefully placed across Michael’s bed, that contained my ensemble.

“Me either.” Michael admitted, picking at his long, spirally ponytail. “How far along is Brynn’s dress?” He reached down and tapped the top of Rene’s pristine white hair.

Still speaking around a mouth of stickpins, Rene replied, “Almost completed. Though I still have to attach the shoulder bow and few more crystals.”

“That’s splendid!” Michael exclaimed clapping his hands together suddenly.

“Ouch!”

“By the time Rene gets done, you’ll look like Swiss cheese Mike.” I teased, hopping up and strolling over to one of the windows near his bed.

Peering out as Michael laughed sarcastically, I saw that the Jackson Trio were crouched down on the east side of the ranch, sprawled out on part of the pavement that made up the front driveway. I could make out a large magnifying glass clasped in Prince’s (Jackson) hands.

I wondered if they were trying to fry the defenseless ants that happened to be walking by.

“Oh Brynn…” My attention was drawn from the children and their insect torture techniques, but a hand softly touching my shoulder.

I looked up into Michael’s bright and smiling face.

“Yes?” I grinned up at him.

“It’s your turn up on the ‘chopping block’” Michael snickered pulling me against him in a quick hug.

Behind him, Rene was lifting the bag holding my dress in it up and beginning to unzip it.

“I’m sure I won’t be made into Swiss cheese--I know how to be still!” I cackled reaching up and tapping Michael’s nose.

“You’re too much!” Michael chortled and pecked my forehead.

* * *

Fifteen Minutes Later

“Oh my God! I feel like Princess Diana!”

I exclaimed in an excited whisper, spinning around in front of the floor length mirror just inside of Michael’s walk in closet.

Michael and Rene, hanging in the doorway to my side, just smiled contentedly at me.

I felt like true royalty in my gown. I had known that my dress was going to be spectacular, because the sketch had been flawless…

But to see the dress near completion and for real on me, against my body…

It was magic.

The Chinese silk clung and skimmed over me in the right places, totally setting off my figure. And the way the cloth faded from snow white, to midnight blue to deepest black made my skin glow.

Strategically placed stones twinkled and glittered at me.

“You look really fantastic. It’ll be an honor to have you on my arm at the HAAs” Michael announced walking up behind me and patting my bare shoulders.

“Michael…” I blinked at his reflection through a sheen of happy tears that were starting to dampen my eyes. “Thank you so much…!”

I spun around an swiftly embraced him.

“Oh you’re welcome. You deserve it.” Michael whispered softly, pulling my hair back from my ear and his plump lips bumped the lobe.

I quivered at the sensation. I only hoped that Rene wouldn’t notice that I was blushing.

“Mademoiselle, you shall love the garment even more once I attach the bow.” I heard Rene say.

I half laughed/half cried into Michael’s chest as he continued to squeeze me against his soft form.

It was almost too much to imagine. Me going to an awards banquet in a custom made gown…

On the arm of Michael Jackson, the biggest star in the history of the world.

Things like this just didn’t happen to kids like me who came from The Sticks.

It was a dream come true.

I came back down to reality as The Blue Danube began to play ever so softly from the right side of Michael’s groin.

I leaned back against the mirror and wiped at my face as Michael produced his cell phone from his trouser pocket and flipped it open to his ear.

“Hello?” He answered, lightly cracking his knuckles.

“Oh hey, Jermaine!” A wide smile creased his face as he began chatting with his older sibling on the other end. “What’s up Big Bro?”

“Let me help you out of that.” Rene offered as Michael dropped into an Indian-style seated position on the cool tiled floor of the closet.

“Mmmhmm…” Michael mumbled as Rene began loosening the hidden zipper on the back of the garment. “We’re just getting out HAA outfits refitted…”

Before the dress could drop and expose my undies, I quickly slipped on my green sundress that fell into place as I stepped out of my gown.

I didn’t want Rene to see me in front of Michael in my panties, since I was only supposed to be Michael’s “friend”.

(And I didn’t mind being in my underwear in front of Rene, because he already had a ‘partner’. If you catch my drift.)

I didn’t want to take it off. I feared dress post-partum depression.

“…okay, if that’s what she wants to, then. Sure. Good-bye.” Michael quietly hung his phone up and sat twirling it in his hands. He seemed troubled.

“Is everything alright?” I questioned, handing my dress off to Rene.

After a moment, Michael appeared to hear me.

“Oh! Yeah.” He quickly got to his feet. “That was Jermaine. He says that Selena wanted to invite you to dinner tonight at the Fifty-Fifty Restaurant in Beverly Hills. You know, a girls’ night out thing. She’s coming for you around eight o’clock. That’s if you want to go?” Michael gingerly ran his fingers through my hair.

“Um…” I glanced over at Rene; he was busying himself loading my gorgeous gown back into its bag.

I wasn’t really sure about what to say to Michael, because I wasn’t really used to going anywhere without him, especially at night.

“Is it okay with you?” I looked down and realized I was unconsciously shuffling me feet.

Michael chuckled and threw his arm around my waist. “Of course Honey! Selena is your friend. You don’t need my permission to go to dinner with your friend. Just try to be home a little early, you know we have a long day with Jonas and Skylar coming tomorrow.” He pointed out.

I grinned up at him, feeling relieved that he didn’t mind me going out ‘alone’.

“Thanks Michael.” I nodded, giving him a gentle hug.

Michael shook his head until his curls flew. “No need to thank me. You have a good time. Now come outside with me, I have a hankering for some cotton candy!” He chortled, escorting me past Rene and out of the closet.

As made our way out of the house, I was feeling happy, and good that I was going to go out “on the town.”

If I had known any better, I would have been nervous.

　

* * *

Later That Same Evening

“…so, my Pretty Brynn…what did you think of the photos I sent you? Hmmm?”

Prince hummed seductively into my ear over the receiver of my ‘secret’ purple phone.

Much to my displeasure, Prince hadn’t yet made his tracks back to Minneapolis. He claimed he was calling me from his ‘other’ home in the Hollywood Hills.

(I only prayed that Michael wouldn’t find this out and rush over with another baseball bat!)

Pulling myself up onto the counter of the washbasin of my bathroom, I heaved an annoyed sigh and fastened my red robe around my body. Leave it to Prince to conveniently call me as I was trying to get myself together to go out with Selena.

“That was a rotten thing to do Prince, you know Michael was already up in arms from you snatching me away and then along came that little care package!” I replied, tapping my fingernails on the countertop.

“Whatever do you mean?” He quipped in mock innocence.

(Prince probably hadn’t been innocent since before he had lost his baby teeth.)

I stifled an anguish riddled howl and hissed,

“You know full well what I mean! Sending that naked picture of yourself--” I was cut off by Prince laughing hysterically.

“Dr. Fink told me about that! Said Mike almost knocked his damn teeth out when he threw that binder at him! That was some funny ass shit. I almost pissed myself laughing.” Prince gasped loudly and busted up some more.

“It’s not funny Princey!” I admonished, slamming my fist down. I’m sure the effect would have been better had Prince been in the same room with me.

“Yeah it is!” Prince insisted, and continued caterwauling.

“Two of the kids saw that picture of you. That’s what got Michael all bent outta shape. That wasn’t cool, they didn’t have to see that.” I whined remembering how quickly Michael has nearly smothered Prince-Michael and Paris at the sight of Prince’s just barely covered form.

“Oh please. That’s bullshit Baby. Jacko wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about you seeing me. He knew I was reminding you what a real man looks like. Not that wicked hermaphrodite mess Michael’s made himself into. I still don’t understand what you see in him. It must be like sleeping with another woman to be with him.” Prince chuckled, his swollen head surely soaring higher than the Goodyear blimp.

“It’s Jackson, not Jacko.” I retorted coldly. (Why did he insist upon insulting Michael at every turn?) “And Michael is a man. All man.”

“Please, Michael is two tits shy of a full blown sex change!” Prince cackled wildly.

“If you’re going to be this way, I can hang up. I’m going out for dinner with a friend, and I still need to get done getting ready.” I simpered, thoroughly burning from Prince’s stinging comments about Michael.

“You’re going out to dinner? Michael’s letting you out after dark? Is he high or something?” Prince’s voice seemed to weaken at the mention of plans--that didn’t include him.

“Who are you going to dinner with? Who’s this friend? Your other man? Terrence or whatever the hell his name is?”

“No! I told you Taryll is nothing to me. Jermaine’s girlfriend Selena invited me to dinner…why?” I wondered timidly, praying to God and all of Heaven that Prince didn’t plan to crash dinner. And probably get sent to the emergency room in a gum wrapper.

That man was sneaky and I knew he’d probably shake out the continental United States to find my whereabouts.

“Hmm…Jermaine’s little woman taking you to dinner. That’s so sweet I’m getting a toothache.” Prince teased in a high pitched tone.

“Can’t you be nice?” I begged, beads of cold sweat starting to trickle down my back. I had a feeling that if I did rub Prince in the wrong direction, I’d find an extra RSVP at the dinner table.

“Not about anyone concerned with the bitch that called me ‘That Damn Man’. You can forget that Baby.” I could just imagine Prince scowling the way his spiking voice indicated.

I stared across the room as Prince began to breathe heavily into the receiver, and my ear was actually starting to feel damp.

There was no way of getting through to him.

He just didn’t give a hoot in Hell about Michael, and it seemed the more they ran into each other, the more their distaste for each other grew.

What was I going to do?

Prince continued huffing at me.

“Pretty Brynn?” He questioned after a spell.

“Yes?” I twirled a lock of my semi-damp hair, wondering why his voice had suddenly gotten so soft.

He almost sounded sincere.

“Do you know what my ideal dinner date with you would be, Sugar?”

Prince’s voice was so even, I couldn’t tell if he was putting on or being for real.

“No…what?” Somehow I knew that by the way Prince’s breaths were increasing in frequency,

“Brynn…” His voice was strained. “…I’d have you on a bed of watercress… eat you up ‘til there ain’t no more.”

“Prince!” I gasped at the expression of the sudden dirty thought. And yet I was charmed. He had made a meal of me once before, I knew it would have been nothing for him to do it again.

“You know I like that. I love you. You’re so sweet. You look sweet…and smell sweet…and taste so damn sweet. Shee-oop!” Prince moaned erotically and I wondered if he was doing something obscene on his end.

“Oh God.” I mumbled, burying my face in my hands.

“I just wanna get you wetter than the morning dew Baby.” He crooned nastily.

Did the man know I was only wearing a robe?

“You’re a grimy man…humph.” I snickered, trying to fight off the thought of the dirty acts that Prince could perform.

“I know.” Prince replied with a chuckle. “Just thinking about all that sweet, sticky, goodness…” He trailed off.

I found myself leaning in, waiting anxiously for his next words.

“…If I was there with you right now…” He began.

“Yes?” I whispered, my body bouncing with the onset of arousal.

I jumped as the line clicked and went dead.

“Prince?” I whimpered. “Prince?”
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it.

I couldn’t believe That Damn Man had gotten me going like that, only to leave me hanging.

Once again.

But the effect wasn’t wasted.

If his intention was to leave me wanting me more, he had succeeded.

I wanted more.

My mind flashed back to that night in Minneapolis, where Prince had indeed roughed me up, but had me climbing the walls for him.

The mixture of his butterscotch body against my chocolate one.

The things that man could do with his mouth…

“Hey Brynn!”

I was snapped from stroll down Muck Lane at the hasty pounding on my bathroom door.

I hopped off the countertop and for a moment almost fell as I scrambled to stow my phone back away in my make up case.

I knew that voice anywhere!

Michael was just on the other side of the door!

If he knew I had just received a dirty phone call from his arch-nemesis…

“Brynn!” He knocked on the door once more.

“Just a minute!” I called impatiently, giving myself a glance.

I looked normal enough, save for a couple of extra rosy cheeks.

Again I collided with the door as I ran to open it.

(If this continued, Prince would inadvertently be responsible for me having a broken nose.)

Making sure my robe was secured and squaring my shoulders, I slowly pulled the door open.

I was met by Michael leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest, a cool smile on his face.

“There’s my little P.Y.T.” He chuckled, reaching and embracing me. “I was wondering where you had gone to Sweetie.” He smooched my cheek softly.

“Um, I was just getting done with my shower.” I explained hastily, pecking the dimple in Michael’s chin. “It’s tricky tying this robe.” I said quickly, glad that my bedroom was chilled.

Sometimes it amazed me how well I moved so seamlessly from one life to the other.

From being Michael’s woman, to Prince’s side dish and back to Michael.

David Copperfield had nothing on me.

“You look lovely Dear.” Michael gave me a warm squeeze. “I came up to see if you wanted any help picking an outfit to go to the Fifty-Fifty.” He offered, arm around my waist, strolling over to the closet.

He really had no true clue.

My heart ached, and it took a ton of willpower to fight off the urge to tell Michael the truth.

Instead, I heard myself ask,

“What kind of place is the Fifty-Fifty Restaurant? Is it dressy or casual?”

“It’s a nice place. I’ve been there a few times.” Michael sighed picking through the racks of clothing in my closet. “It’s kind of dressy, but you can wear pants if you want. “ He continued shuffling through the clothing.

“You have to try the blackened cod fish. It’s really good.”

“Okay, I will.” I agreed, some of Michael’s easy going spirit finally rubbing off on me and I was finally shaking the aroused glow Prince had bestowed up on me.

“This is cute.” Michael turned, holding up two garments: a pair of white silk trousers and a turquoise and white giraffe print blouse. “You want to wear this?”

“If you like it.” I shrugged reaching and taking the pieces from him.

“I like all your clothing Brynn. You look pretty in everything.” Michael murmured, kissing the top of my head.

“Now you go ahead and get dressed, Selena should be here soon.” He smiled making his way to the door.

“Don’t forget to bring me a doggy bag!” He called cheerfully as he closed the door behind him.

Smiling, I turned to get dressed.

If I only knew what the night held for me…