Chapter 31

　

A Few Days Later

“Gosh…this is the first time in almost a week that I’ve been able to do absolutely, positively, nothing.”
Michael Jackson whispered happily from where he was resting his head in my lap.
“I know Sweetie.” I giggled, brushing a few stray curls off his forehead, and bending down to peck at it ever so softly.
He looked like he needed to be kissed.
He deserved to be kissed.
It was a sweet quiet moment in what had been a pretty hectic week.
Over the last few evenings Michael had been moving and shaking endlessly to find an opening in his erratic schedule so that he could free up a day where Jonas and Skylar could visit Neverland and forget all their troubles.
For a few hours, anyway.
During the last four or five days, Michael Jackson had barely been seen around his home, cramming a set of meetings and negotiations that would have normally taken at least two weeks into such a short span of time.
But Michael was determined to be at Neverland and a gracious host of the two disadvantaged boys.
And that wasn’t the only tune Michael was dancing to. He was also trying frantically to close negotiations for the distribution and marketing of Not Over. Then throw in fittings and refittings for the clothing for the HAA Awards, it was a wonder Michael didn’t resemble a zombie from the Thriller short!
I continued to stare into Michael’s face, mulling over the seemingly limitless generosity that flowed so freely from him.
If only people knew what he was going through to help Jonas and Skylar.
On the other side of the Ranch, in a storage shed, piles of new clothing and toys were put away for the boys. Michael had been working days and shopping nights for the kids. And somehow, even if Michael’s plate wasn’t already overflowing like Niagara Falls, he had taken the time to create a menu for the boys visit and personally taste test everything that was going to be served from burgers to pizzas to Snow Cone flavors.
If Michael’s heart got any bigger, it would need it’s own Zip code.
It seemed to be a miracle that he wasn’t in a meeting at that present time.
(The only reason he was at home at was because the wife of one of the music execs he was negotiation with had gone into labor and their meeting had to be cancelled.)
Michael and I were relaxing on the east side of Neverland, just beyond the tennis court--that I had never seen anyone play on!--on a blanket, sharing a platter of assorted cubed fruit.
Even though he was dressed comfortably in an oversized black sweatshirt and black jeans, and wore an exuberant expression on his face, you could see Michael’s seemingly imminent exhaustion bubbling under the surface.
“How’s everything going with the single?” I questioned, tugging a curl that fell into Michael’s eyes. It was actually stuck to one of his long eyelashes!
“It’s going okay…I’m just going to have to find time to shoot a cover for the single…I’ll consult with Rusty, and we’ll see.” He replied pressing a square of watermelon past my lips.
“Oh, a photo shoot! How fun! Can I help pick your wardrobe?” I begged, rubbing at his sweet, soft chest through the thick fabric covering it.
Visions of mesh, lace and leather were dancing through my head.
“Of course my little Dear.” Michael replied, grinning broadly.
“When do you plan on having the shoot done?” I picked at the dent at the base of Michael’s throat.
“Oh Gosh! A long time from now. Sometime after the awards, at least.” He chuckled again.
“Maybe you should take the rest of this week off and just sleep or something. I don’t want you to get too tired.” I whispered, and smooched the cleft in his chin. I just knew he’d be back in the boardroom the next day.
“I’ll get my day off this Saturday.” Michael stated matter-of-factly and blew a stray tendril out of his eyes.
“Really? What’s this Saturday?” I sighed, happy that he was going to be “resting”.
“Jonas and Skylar are coming to visit--duh.” An amused look to his face, Michael tapped my nose gently.
“This Saturday? The boys are coming this Saturday? You’ve managed to slap things together for them for Saturday?” I stared at Michael astounded.
Michael sucked in his bottom lip and nodded sheepishly.
I knew the boys were coming soon, but not that soon.
Michael Jackson was a true one of a kind.
“Saturday was the only time I could find that would accommodate everyone. I don’t have to work, the boys’ parents are off from work, the boys are out of school, my kids aren’t being schooled.” Michael patted my head as he raised up into a seated position.
(The Jackson Trio got home schooled by a tutor who came by every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.)
“Alright, I just didn’t think it was this soon.” I smiled. “But I look forward to seeing Skylar and Jonas. They need this.”
“I think every child needs a place where they can go and just be a kid. Not worry about war or poverty or illness or anything--just how many cheeseburgers they can eat in one sitting.” Michael giggled and leaned his forehead against mine.
Reaching down and grabbing one of Michael’s long hands in my own, I confided,
“You’re the nicest person I know.”
Michael blushed heavily at my compliment.
“Oh…Brynn…” He whimpered and ducked his head.
His dark eyes took a slightly devilish glow and I became aware of him peeling back the thin white denim jacket I wore over the top my navy and white polka dotted dress.
As Michael proceeded to greedily bury his face against my neck, coving it with little hot kisses, a small voice cried out loudly.
“Ewww!”
We jumped a moment, startled.
Standing at the edge of the blanket was little Miss Paris.
Her face was still contorted with childish disgust at Michael’s kissing me.
“What is it Darling?” Michael sighed, a spark of disappointment in his voice.
I knew he wanted to “neck” in private.
And I wanted him to!
“Uh…” Paris looked up at the sky as she struggled to remember what she was going to say to us.
“Oh, yeah! I wanted to ask Brynn something.” She trotted across the blanket over to me and threw her tiny arms around my neck.
“Yes?” I glanced up at her, wondering just what she had under the sleeves of the Smurf’s t-shirt she wore.
“Well, Brynn, you know how you have such really pretty, straight hair?” Paris questioned intertwining a strand of my hair in her fingers.
“Yup.” Michael and I exchanged knowing stares.
“What are you gunning for Paris Katherine?” Michael asked, patting his daughter on the back firmly.
“Well, I was wondering…” Paris giggled slyly, “ Brynn, will you straighten my hair for me?”
Flipping her hand downwards, she sighed,
“Curly hair is so passé.”
“Hey!” Michael exclaimed, in mock anger and indicated his own curls.
“Oops! Sorry Daddy! I like your hair! But I want my hair straight--please?” She batted long lashes at me.
“Well, I don’t know.” I mumbled glancing over at Michael.
Though I usually helped comb Paris’ hair--and her brother’s hair--in the morning, brushing curls and putting them in scrunchies and actually taking a hot flat iron to her tresses were two totally different deals.
And Lord knows we didn’t need a mini repeat of Michael’s Pepsi Cola commercial incident.
“Is it okay with you, for me to straighten her hair?” I questioned, reaching out and patting Michael’s arm. I wanted to pass all matters concerning his children by him before I took on anything.
Michael grinned at me gleefully.
“Sure Honey, I don’t mind. Just use a low setting on the flat iron, her hair scorches really easily.”
He cautioned rising to his feet and helping me up.
“While you’re doing her hair, I’m gonna go in a take a nap.” Michael announced as we started back towards the main house.
“You need it.” I concurred, playfully punching his arm.
Paris, in sheer delight at the thought of having straight hair, skipped merrily around us.
It seemed like such a happy moment.
Who knew that in a short matter of time, a lilac colored, lavender scented tornado was about to descend on the Neverland Valley Ranch?

* * *

Two Hours Later

“Oh my Gosh! Wow! Yay!” Paris exclaimed shrilly, dancing and prancing around in front of the mirror in my bathroom, marveling at her new, needle-straight hair.
“So, you like it?” I giggled, hoisting myself up onto the counter of the washbasin, tucking a still warm flat iron into the drawer that housed it and my curling irons.
I was thoroughly tired. I knew that Paris had a lot of hair, but to actually sit straighten it section, by section, by yet another section was wholly time consuming.
But it was all worth it to see the smile that was wrapping itself around Paris’ little face. (And I was glad that I hadn’t burned her or her hair.)
“Brynn! I love my hair! I love you!” The child cried out, reaching and wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug.
“I love you too,” I smiled patting the top of her head.
Paris grinned up at me before squeezing my waist again.
“You really are the coolest grown-up in the world! Besides Daddy!”
She gushed resting her head against my arm and mumbling happily.
“Now my hair looks just like yours!”
I smiled at her, warm with pride. Michael was right; his sweet little girl did look to me as a role model.
“Hey, Brynn, are you busy?” A new voice asked meekly.
I glanced up to see Michael looming in the doorway to the bathroom, arms crossed firmly over his chest.
Before I could answer, Paris shrieked,
“Daddy! Look at my hair! It looks so cool! Brynn is the best!”
She raced over and wrapped her arms around her father.
“You hair looks nice.” Michael said seemingly absently and tapped her cheek.
I hopped down from the countertop.
“Michael Jackson, what are you doing up? You know full well that you should be taking a nap.” I nagged with a smile waving a finger at him.
Michael was supposed to be somewhere over the rainbow in the Land of Nod, not up and about, probably working himself into a listless stupor.
(Somehow I just knew Rusty the Rat had a hand in this.)
A serious light lit Michael’s dark eyes as he bent down and picked Paris up.
“We’ve, um…we’ve got a little situation downstairs in my office.” He announced, turning and leading the way out of the room and off into the hallway.
I instantly knew something was amiss just by the leaden way Michael’s voice was leaving his pretty plump lips.
“Michael, what’s wrong?” I gulped, worried.
I vainly hoped that it wasn’t any legal troubles. Lord knew that was the last thing that man needed.
“You’ve got a visitor.” Michael started down the stairs, Paris clinging to his neck.
I stopped a moment.
“I’ve got a visitor?” I raised a curious eyebrow. I didn’t generally get visitors. Anyone who came to Neverland were usually seeking Michael and passed me over to get to him.
I tugged at Michael’s sleeve. “Who is it?”
Michael stopped and turned to look at me.
His eyes were so stormy they could have rated as a Category Five hurricane.
When he replied, I almost fainted dead away on the stairs.
“Prince.”
“What?!?” I shook my head and even banged on one of my ears, just to make sure I had heard Michael Jackson correctly.
Michael’s mouth formed a pink line.
“You heard me: that little Purple Punk is in my office right now. He says he has something he wants to ask you and he wants to ask you in person.” I heard a low rumble and swiftly realized that Michael was grinding his teeth.
“Mr. Prince is here? Can I say hi to him, please, Daddy? I like his shoes! They’re cute!” Paris said suddenly, twirling a lock of her hair.
Michael turned pink at the compliment Paris had paid Prince.
I knew it was bad enough for him to even have Prince on his property, but then to have his only daughter cooing over him, was probably an inch within ‘too much’.
“No Honey, you can’t. Prince is here on what he claims is business. I want you to go outside and play with your brothers.” Michael set Paris on her feet.
“Aw Daddy! Please!” Paris whined and poked out her bottom lip.
Usually the puppy dog face swayed Michael.
But not today.
“Paris Katherine Michael Jackson, go on outside, please.” Michael gave Paris a soft push.
Grumbling to herself, she trudged downstairs and out of sight.
Michael continued down the stairs, the only sound emitting from him was of enamel grating.
I followed him, my mind ablaze with sheer horror.
Why was Prince there?
What did he have to ask that was so important it had to be done in person?
Please don’t let it be anything scandalous!
I wrung my hands to the point I thought they’d start bleeding.
Prince was so eerily unpredictable, I just couldn’t measure him.
He was a five-foot-two inch question mark. (Five-foot-six if you counted his shoes.)
Michael rounded the corner and we started towards his office.
The double oak doors stood closed.
It was so quiet.
So painfully, ear-shatteringly quiet.
As I neared the door, Michael grabbed onto my shoulder.
“Brynn, I want you to listen to me.” He cautioned, his tone inky.
“Yes, Mike.” I looked up into his widened eyes.
“I don’t know what that little weirdo is about to ask you, but I want you to turn him down. I don’t trust him at all. You understand?” He explained, eyes flashing.
I stared down at the tops of the white flip flops I wore.
“Of course, Michael.” I whispered, feeling a bit sick.
What had I gotten myself into?
Satisfied with my agreement, Michael turned the knobs on the doors and pushed them open.
Prince had been seated in one of the overstuffed leather chairs that sat opposite Michael’s large desk, but at the sight of me in the door, he swiftly rose to his feet.
My breath turned to ice cubes in my windpipe at the sight of him.
Even though I was near insanity with worry, I couldn’t help but notice how truly, wonderfully good he looked.
Prince was resplendent in a turquoise suit, over a tangerine shirt, loosened just far enough to expose his tuft of chest curls. A matching handkerchief was tucked into his front breast pocket.
Tangerine heels completed the outfit.
His hair was immaculately coiffed, curled slightly, and combed slickly back on the left side.
Dark Versace sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could feel his gaze just the same.
“Hello Pretty Brynn.” He announced, strongly, full-voiced as he sauntered towards me. I could tell his bout with laryngitis was long over with.
The golden rings that lined his fingers--except for his bare wedding finger--glittered.
A gold symbol hung near his tiny waist.
A cloud of cologne covered me, as Prince gently wrapped his arms around me in a gentle hug.
Damn it, he smelled so nice!
It was almost intoxicating.
“Hi…Prince.” I managed to choke out, staring over at Michael.
Michael looked as though he had sucked on a hundred lemons; his mouth was twisted to the side, and hands planted firmly on his hips.
His eyes were little brown fireballs in his head.
Prince had to be the bravest--or stupidest--man God had ever put breath into. He was actually hugging me in front of Michael Jackson!
The Other Man was hugging me in front of The Main Man!
(I noticed he was making a point of blatantly squishing his chest into mine.)
Prince withdrew his embrace and leaned back, a small smirk/smile on his tanned face.
Though the grin seemed innocent, I could detect something vaguely nasty looming just underneath the surface.
We all stood in silence for a moment.
Michael glaring at Prince, Prince smiling at me, and me trying to avoid eye contact with both men.
“Let’s all have a seat.” Michael said suddenly, ending the silence that was breaking my eardrums.
I don’t recall walking across the room, just sinking into the chair like I was drowning in a black abyss of sorrow.
Michael leaned against the front of his desk as Prince sat in the other chair, crossing one slender leg over the other as if the office were his own at Paisley Park.
“Go ahead and ask the question.” Michael urged, his voice seeming to strain each word out like noodles through a colander.
“Uh, Brynn.” I turned my attention to Prince as he cleared his throat.
He leaned in towards me, clasping his hands together over his knee.
“You see…” He purred, “I’m in town because I got tickets to a Los Angeles Lakers/Minnesota Timber Wolves game. I was supposed to go with Morris…” Prince was momentarily interrupted by Michael sighing loudly, obviously airing his grievances about his feelings towards Morris Day.
All that bad blood…
He glanced at Michael, then turned back to me.
“…but unfortunately, he had to back out at the last minute. I was wondering, would you like to go with me? I remember when you were in Uptown with me, you said you liked Shaquille O’Neal. He plays for the Lakers.” Prince’s little glossy pink mouth curled up into a mischievous grin.
I stared at him in disbelief, mouth agape.
Was Prince really asking me out on a date?
In front of Michael Jackson?
In Michael Jackson’s house?
How many bottles of Liquid Idiotic had he been drinking?
What contest in Hell had I lost?
“Um, Prince…” Michael said slyly, softly tapping Prince’s shoulder.
I hoped the touch wouldn’t spark a knock down, drag out brawl.
“Yes?” Prince answered him, but continued to look at me.
“Shaquille O’Neal doesn’t play for the Lakers anymore. I heard he got traded to the Miami Heat.” A smug smile plastered itself on Michael’s giddy face.
Prince’s face grew rosy at being corrected by his rival.
But the man didn’t lose his cool.
“My mistake. But Brynn did express a liking for the Lakers. And I’ve got good seats--courtside. We’ll probably be right between Spike Lee and Jack Nicholson.” His grin grew even wider.
He was a mouse in shades.
“So what do you say?” He wondered, allowing his voice to drop to a sexy octave.
“Uh…” I looked to Michael for assistance.
His eyes bulged, and nostrils flared.
I knew he wanted me to turn Prince down fast, quick and in a hurry, but unless I had a good excuse, I knew that Prince would pick me apart until he got a yes.
Or until Michael kicked him in the eye, whichever happened first.
“Um…” I searched vainly for a loophole that I could wiggle out of.
“When is the game?” I whispered, feeling cold.
Michael cocked his head to the side, mouth slightly open with dazed fury.
“It’s Saturday night at eight. But since you live here in the Valley, I’ll have to come pick you up at about six-thirty.” Prince proceeded to keep talking, but I didn’t hear anything past “Saturday night.”
The loophole I was looking for came in the form of a noose that Prince had unwittingly wrapped around his own long throat.
An inner gasp of relief flooded my body.
But now I had to gracefully turn Prince down.
And he was smiling so hard.
“Princey?” I began, my hands jittering in my lap.
“Yes Pretty Brynn?” Prince’s grin grew yet wider. The man was close to licking his own ears.
“I can’t go…to the game…” I murmured haltingly, waiting for Prince’s head to blow off with purple sparks.
“What?” Prince tilted his shades and stared at me over then.
His large, heavily made up, glistening eyes were jade green with surging anger.
“I can’t go to the game.” I repeated, feeling nauseous. I couldn’t remember the last time I had said no to Prince.
Or if I had ever said ’No’ to him at all.
“I’d like to know why not.” His voice was tight.
I snuck another glance at Michael.
He was looking down, calmly, cleaning under his fingernails.
A content smile had his delicate features glowing like a radioactive beacon.
“Well…Prince…Saturday, Michael and I are hosting two little inner city boys here. I have to be here because the boys will be here all day. It’s an agreement I made with Michael, and I have to honor it. I’m sorry…” I dropped my head back down feeling defeated.
It was one thing to have to turn down Prince’s invite, but to do it in front of Michael…I knew his ego had to be somewhere between downtrodden and hell ridden.
“Shit.” I heard Prince remark under his breath.
Out loud, he said,
“Well, that’s okay. I just wanted to offer the ticket to you. But if you’ve got a prior engagement, then, I can’t make you break it.” Prince removed his shades and hung them from the pocket on the front of his jacket.
His eyes showed his hurt. The corners were dipping down.
He sucked his lips in.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
We turned to see Rusty, who was poking his highlighted head into the room.
“No, what is it?” Michael questioned, cracking his knuckles loudly over Prince’s head.
“Rene François is on my phone. He’s saying something about having a problem with some fabric.” Rusty announced.
“I’ll take it.” Michael stood. “Please excuse me.” He inched out of the room.
As the doors closed behind him, I peeked up at Prince.
He was silently focused on me, making semicircles under his lips with his tongue. He truly looked unhappy.
For a moment, I thought he was simply going to get up and leave.
But that was too much like doing the right damn thing.
Instead of walking out the door, Prince leapt onto my case.
“So you can’t go to the ballgame with me because some little boys are coming to Neverland? Why do you have to be here?” He demanded, twisting his mouth to the side.
“Prince I told you, I made an agreement with Michael to be there. Those two little boys were in a children’s hospital. I personally invited them to the Ranch. I have to be here.” I whimpered and gazed down at my hands.
Prince exhaled quietly.
“See, I told you, when you’re locked away in this fucking fantasyland, you lose all sense of reality. You turned down an outing to a game with me, a man, to sit here and play with some kids.”
I shook my head at Prince, a pang of anger sticking me.
“Prince, it’s not about whether I’m playing or not. I’m doing a good deed. Helping two disadvantaged kids, to have a good time.” I rose to my feet.
“This might shock you, but one of the little boys got two broken legs from his father running over him with his car. On purpose. So you can send my condolences to Spike and Jack for not being able to share a bottle of Cristal with them. I think this is a little more important.”
Prince pouted up at me, and patted at his hair.
“Are you serious? No bullshit? Some guy ran over his kid?” He asked after a hot moment. There was a note of doubt in his voice.
“You think I’d lie about something like that?” I threw my hands up.
Prince looked me up and down.
“Damn it, Brynn, I wanted to see you and spend some time with you.” He mumbled standing up and shaking his jacket off.
He draped it on the back of his chair.
“Princey…” I reached out and grabbed his hand.
“I really wish I could go, but I’m tied up with this and it’s tied into the deal with the Heal the World Foundation.”
(Not to mention that even if it wasn’t tied into that, Michael Jackson wanted me to tell him no!)
“Michael’s got you captive in this place. You’re my woman, too. I deserve some time with you.” Prince brought my hand to his mouth and moist lips pecked it.
“Prince…” I averted my gaze.
It was proving extremely hard to make him understand that I couldn’t just up and leave Michael to be with him.
Even if I could leave, it would be in Michael’s private car and of course the driver would fill Michael in on everywhere I’d go.
And I knew that Michael would tear California and most of the western seaboard apart if he knew I was using his vehicles to participate in trysts with His Royal Nastiness.
“ I just can’t. Please believe me. If I could go, I would…but I can’t.”
I whimpered, ready to cry.
Prince was strangely quiet.
Peering at him, I saw that Prince had his head down a bit, eyes studying the floor.
“Tell me something Brynn Baby.” His voice was so deep I barely made out his words, patting my hand in his own.
“What?” I questioned, slowly taking my hand from his. His sheer touch was almost too much to take.
“As I drove up in my Beemer, I noticed that your little plum Ferrari was still sitting where I had parked it. Has it been driven yet?” He toed a tile on the floor with the tip of his boot.
Leaning against the desk, I merely shook my head.
Since I had been given the sports car I hadn’t even had the pleasure of sitting in it. Every time I went near it to even gaze at it, Michael would call me away.
Michael couldn’t sell the car because it was in my name, and though he had spoken of torching the car, he was afraid the gasoline tank would ignite and leave most of Neverland as a crater.
So it sat, untouched, its Firestone tires probably rotting on their rims.
“You haven’t driven the car since I gave it to you?” Prince repeated, and made a loud popping noise with his mouth.
“No…” I made myself reply, nauseous.
Prince was within an inch of getting vomit all over his pretty orange shoes.
“How’d you like to take a spin in that car, see what it can do?” He chuckled tapping his heel.
“Prince! I can’t! And besides I don’t have the keys!” I responded mortified at the idea of leaving with him.
Michael taken them from me moments after I had been given the car and I had no idea where he had placed them, or if he’d simply thrown them away.
Prince tossed his head back and laughed maniacally.
“Hold it.” He reached into his pocket and dug around for a moment.
I watched as Prince, wearing a smug smile of his own, brought a curled fist out of the pocket.
Holding it under my nose, he opened his hand.
Balanced on his palm were two small keys.
“What are those?” I asked weakly, fully supporting myself against Michael’s desk.
“Keys to your car.” Prince chortled. “Do you honestly think I’d give you a car and not have copies of the keys for myself? Please.”
Prince’s ego had rebounded and his arrogance was once again at an all time high.
He reached out and grasped my arm so tightly, a bruise immediately formed.
Prince leaned forward and blew a wisp of minty breath into my face.
“We’re going for a drive.”
I stumbled as he dragged me towards the doors.
“Prince! Are you crazy? You can’t take me from here! You want Michael to kick your ass?” I gasped as Prince shoved the doors open and proceeded to pull me out into the empty hallway.
“I’d love to see him try. He’ll get some black added to the white face of his when I dot his eyes.” Prince snickered as he roughly led me down the hallway.
I glimpsed around the hall for any sign of life.
Where on Earth had Michael gone to receive his call from Rene Francois?
All the way to France?
I gawked at Prince.
His look was almost frantic.
Hair bouncing across his forehead, eyes bulging and wild, lips gnarled open and bearing his teeth in a sneer.
“You can’t do this! Please let go of me!” I tried to loosen his grip on my arm, but Prince’s hand seemed meshed to my bicep.
“I can do whatever the hell I want. This is a free country. Unless I missed the report that Neverland had become its own country. It could happen--Michael is the King of Strange.”
We passed off into the kitchen where finally, finally, there was a sign of life.
The Jackson Trio were huddled around the island in the center of the room, wrestling over a pink ice cream scooper.
I saw that a few bowls had been arranged on the island in the middle and were surrounded by several different containers of ice cream, a jar of chocolate syrup, a bottle of whipped cream and another jar of Maraschino cherries.
Prince-Michael noticed me first.
“Hi Brynn! Hi Mr. Prince! We’re making sundaes. Do you want one?” He called, calmly yanking the scooper out of Blanket’s hands.
He seemed oblivious to the fact that I was practically being kidnapped from under his little upturned nose.
“Hi Mr. Prince! Cute shoes!” Paris giggled giving Prince a thumbs up.
Blanket waved.
“Not right now kid.” Prince sniffed and stared at me.
His eyes were so haunting.
“Brynn and I are a little busy.”
I could have easily screamed at the children to run and find Michael, but something in Prince’s glare kept me quiet.
I just knew if I tried to shout for Michael, he’d probably yank my vocal cords out and strangle me with them!
“Before you go, will ya get the sprinkles off the top cabinet, Brynn? We can’t reach it. Please?” Prince-Michael questioned innocently, turning and pointing at the long cabinet that ran alongside the refrigerator.
Prince answered for me curtly,
“Little Susie Homemaker is coming with me. Why don’t you go down the street and see if Wally or the Beaver can do it for you?”
Prince-Michael wore his confusion all over his face.
Eyes opened, mouth agape.
“Who?” He snapped staring at his siblings.
“I don’t know!” Paris threw her tiny hands up.
As Prince tugged me through the living room and into the foyer towards the front doors, I grabbed onto the only surface available to me, a large painting of Michael, that showed him sitting under a tree, reading from a large book to a group of children.
I clung to the portrait’s thick gold frame for dear life.
“Prince stop this! Please! I begged, my voice shaking.
Prince’s mouth bumped my ear.
“You’ve really gotten yourself fucked up and out of touch in this place. You think this place is real fun. No, this is a child’s playground. I’m gonna take you where adults have fun.” He vowed and ripped my hands from the frame, bringing the picture off its peg and crashing to the floor.
I was tugged to the front doors where Prince had yanked them open and was shoving me out onto the front walk.
“Come on Pretty Baby.” Prince grabbed my arm and was leading me towards the parking lot on side of the house.
As we approached the lot, I saw that Prince’s yellow BMW had been parked along side my purple Ferrari.
Big Jimmy was leaning casually against the BMW.
“Jimmy…” Prince called as we got to the vehicles.
“Yes Sir?” Jimmy snapped to attention at the sight of his boss.
“Brynn and I are going for a drive in the Ferrari, if Jacko comes looking, tell him, she took the car.” Prince chuckled tossing me against the car and opening the driver’s side door.
I glowered at Prince weakly.
I had to be dreaming.
This couldn’t be real.
Not only was Prince yanking me from right under Michael, but telling Jimmy to blame it on me at the same time!
“Get in.” Prince commanded, reaching for me.
“Prince…no.” I gasped, running a hand through my hair nervously, looking over his head, scanning the windows for any sign of Michael.
Hell, I would have settled for Rusty, just anyone to stop Prince from taking me away.
I was truly frightened of him at that moment.
Prince’s eyes seemed to dwarf the rest of his features they swelled so large.
“Brynn, get in the goddamned car!”
His shriek of anguish was nearly unintelligible, but scared me so much, that I remained rooted to the spot.
Unfortunately, Prince took my fear for defiance and grabbing both my shoulders, literally threw me into the black leather interior of the Ferrari.
Taking note of my surroundings, I quickly began fumbling for the tab I could pull that would allow me to open the passenger side door and flee.
I didn’t have a chance to find it, because the moment I landed as ’shotgun’, Prince slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door.
“Ready to go cruising?” He asked in a cocky tone, as he slid the key into the ignition and the car purred to life.
Somewhere the locks clicked.
I was trapped.
“Prince, please, let me go. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t take me from here, please.” I fretted, not only afraid of Prince, but on the verge of a mental breakdown at my terror of how Michael would act to my leaving and being with Prince.
I knew he hated That Damn Man with a passion and this would just pour a bucket of lighter fluid on the fire.
Hands gripping my black and purple steering wheel, Prince turned and stared at me, arched eyebrow raised.
“I might take you up on that ‘anything’ offer, Baby. And trust me, I’m one creative Brother.” His pink lips formed a roguish leer.
I lurched forward as Prince put the car into a swift and roaring ‘Reverse’ and then, tires squealing, spun the car around and gunned it for the open gates of the Neverland Valley Ranch.
If it wasn’t terrible enough that Prince was wholly abducting me, the one person who could have stopped him cold in his tracks, the security guard who usually manned the from gate, was nowhere to be found.
And it was pretty hard to miss him since he resembled a skyscraper on legs.
As we passed through the gates, I turned in my seat to take one last look at “home”.
Who knew when I’d see it again?
If I ever would see it again.

* * *

Nearly An Hour Later

I had no idea as to where I was.
Fifteen minutes earlier, Prince had been driving along Highway 69, somewhere in the direction of Los Angeles, but before we actually got into the city, he had taken an exit and for the last few minutes, we had been careening down a wooded road that appeared to be the true Middle of Nowhere.
I could only imagine what kind of storm was brewing at Neverland.
I half expected to see a police chopper following us.
I knew that Michael had to be freaking out.
And he was probably firing every bodyguard in a five hundred mile radius for letting Prince slip away with me so easily.
At the thought of Prince, I looked over at him.
He was silently looking ahead at the seemingly endless road stretching on before us, steering the car.
“Where…where are you taking me?” I wondered hoarsely, taking in the dire surroundings.
Nothing but trees and foliage as far as the eye could see.
Still looking ahead, Prince replied deeply,
“Someplace special. You’ll like it. You’ll see.”
Someplace special.
Who knew what that meant where Prince was concerned.
It could have been a whorehouse.
A cage lined in silk.
Any guess could have sufficed.
We drove on a while longer and I saw that the road gave way to a grassy clearing that sat a few feet from a substantial babbling brook.
Prince brought the car to the water’s edge and put it in ‘Park‘.
And shut off the engine.
Quiet surrounded us.
The only sounds around were of the brook bubbling and Prince’s fingers tapping the steering wheel.
“You know, I like this place a lot.” Prince announced suddenly. “I like to come out here and just sit and think when in in Cali. Contemplate life. Contemplate love.”
I stared down in my lap.
I could feel his eyes on me.
I flinched when his wet lips pecked my cheek.
“I love you, you know that.” He whispered luridly.
“And I know you love me.”
I looked up at Prince, my bottom lip quaking. I was doing my best to fight off a wave of tears that were ready to wash my eyeballs away.
He wore a sexy pout on his face.
Mouth puckered, cheeks caved…
I hadn’t seen that expression on his face since the first time we…
My heart was truly aching.
I really did love that man.
That Damn Man.
“Say you love me Brynn…say it.” Prince urged, picking at the curls clinging to his chest.
“I…I do love you…”
I whimpered and dropped my head down so far it touched my knees.
What was I doing?
“It makes my heart glow to hear you say you love me.” Prince confided and another kiss was planted on my cheek.
“I’m sorry for throwing you around like a bastard stepchild earlier. It’s just, I wanted to be alone with you, and I couldn’t do it Camp Jackson.” He apologized and patted my arm softly.
“You really have to stop that.” I cautioned. “I’m not Apollonia and this isn’t Purple Rain.”
Even though I hated it when Prince roughed me up, at least he was man enough to take time to apologize to me.
Prince chuckled. “You’re one-of-a-kind Brynn.” He reached and twirled a lock of my hair. “I like that.”
A small bell dinged as he opened the driver’s door.
I watched, a small smile on my face as Prince slid out and made his way around the back and to my door.
He always seemed to know what to say to keep me from knocking his teeth crooked and adore him.
He opened it for me.
“Come on Pretty Brynn, let’s stretch our legs.”
He suggested, taking my hand and helping me out.
“Um, okay…” I said reluctantly, standing alongside him.
“Aren’t you worried?” I questioned, after a moment.
“About what?” Prince gave me a bemused giggle.
“Walking around alone without a bodyguard. I mean you are Prince.” I shrugged. I knew that big stars like him just couldn’t wander around the woods like a glittery boy scout.
“Honey, this stretch of land is pretty much abandoned. And if you see a drifter, just walk away. It ain’t that hard.” Prince replied coolly, placing an arm around my waist and leading me to where the water met the land.
“Now this is perfection to me. A perfect landscape and a perfect woman.” He chuckled, and smooched at my neck.
“Oh Princey…” I chuckled, suddenly bashful at him calling me perfect.
“This is anything but perfect. You had to seize me to get me away from Michael. That’s not perfect Baby.” I tapped his little straight nose.
How was it that just seconds before I had wanted to run from Prince, and now I was totally at home with his arm about me, damp rose petal lips kissing at me.
Just what kind of power did this man have over me?
“Brynn, you can’t possibly be happy with Michael. He keeps you stowed away in Neverland. It’s just not healthy.” Prince took his arm from around me and stepped a few paces away.
“Prince, you don’t understand. It’s just fine. It’s a lot of fun. All the games and rides and everything…” I trailed off when Prince raised his hand to silence me.
He stood staring out across the surface of the water.
“You think it’s great because you don’t know any better Brynn. That’s not real life. You think when I get up in the morning and step out the front door of my house, I bump into a lighted Ferris Wheel? Hell no. That’s the little Land of Pretend that Michael has created for himself and he’s sucked you off into it. Who else do you know that puts masks on their children to take them out?” Prince glanced over his shoulder.
I walked up behind him.
“Michael does that to protect their privacy. You know that.” I patted his shoulders.
“And I don’t like you spending so much time with Michael’s children. They’ll start calling you ‘Mommy’. You aren’t those kid’s mama. The oldest two are for that whale looking chick and wasn’t that youngest one grown in a test tube or something?” He quipped with a half-hearted chuckle.
I gave Prince a shove so hard he almost toppled into the water.
“Don’t talk about Blanket like that. He wasn’t ‘grown in a test tube’!” I said through gritted teeth, infuriated that he would even insinuate such a thing.
“That sweet little boy has a mother!”
“Oh yeah?” Prince whipped around, light eyes blazing.
“Who’s his mother? What’s her name? What’s she look like?”
“I don’t know.” I admitted angrily. “All I know is that Michael hired a surrogate. I don’t know anything about her.”
Prince sucked on his teeth.
“Figures, and it burns the hell outta me that you defend those kids like they’re your own flesh and blood. None of them are yours. You didn’t squeeze any of them out. I know--you’re way too tight where it counts.”
He explained, indicating my nether regions with a flick of his wrist.
“I love those kids Prince. I mean I live at Neverland and those kids are always there. Of course I formed some kind of a bond with them. You think I’d just walk around and ignore them? I’m not that kind of person.” I shook my head.
“I never said you were Brynn.” Prince put in, his voice spiking.
“And besides if there were a little Baby Nelson, I’d be nice to him or her too. I’d treat them just as nicely as I do the Baby Jacksons.” I vowed reaching out and grasping Prince’s hand.
“Hmm…a Baby Nelson…” Prince said more to himself than to me.
I noticed for moment that the arrogant glint in his eye dulled at the mention of an infant to carry on his name and his Purple Empire.
Prince stooped and picked up a hand full of smooth stones, tossing them each one by one into the pond, disrupting its tranquil, almost mirror like surface.
“Princey, if you had a child, wouldn’t you want me to be nice to them, and spend time with them, just like I do Michael’s kids?” I inquired, surprised to see that he was actually mulling over the notion.
Another stone plopped into the water.
“I suppose so Brynn, but I don’t have any children, so I don’t really know.” His voice dropped an octave on every other word.
Another stone plopped.
“Well, I’m sorry you don’t. I’m sure you’d make a pretty cool father.” I rested my chin on his shoulder.
Prince giggled a moment and intertwined his fingers with mine.
“You think so? Really Brynn?” He questioned swinging my arm back and forth.
“Sure. You’re a little quirky, but I think you have a good heart. And besides, while all the other babies are wearing booties, your kid will be wearing heels.” I sniggled and kissed the nape of Prince’s soft neck.
Prince pulled me against him.
“Brynn…” Pretty hazel eyes searched my face. They appeared…hopeful.
“You’re wonderful.”
His lips mashed mine with a new, fresh passion.
I hung against him limply as his tongue picked around inside my mouth.
After a while, with my lips pounding, raw and sore, Prince leaned back and announced,
“I’m so hot, I’m going for a dip in the lake.”
Giving me a wicked look he added,
“If I don’t, I’ll probably turn that cute dress of yours into confetti.”
I watched as Prince kicked his leg up, unzipping the side of one of his orange boots and pulling it off, revealing a black sock.
Off went the other boot, both dropped along the waterside.
Smiling, Prince removed the socks.
For a moment, I stared at his feet.
I had never seen them before.
And I was kind of surprised his feet weren’t bent in a curve from wearing heels all the time. They were actually sort of pretty.
And Prince was no stranger to a pedicure; his toenails gleamed with clear polish.
He unbuttoned and wiggled out of his shirt, his pale, bronzy skin shimmering in the sunlight.
He was beautiful.
As his hands went to the waist band of his trousers, I blurted,
“You’re not really about to go skinny-dipping in that pond, are you?”
I knew he was an “undies optional” person.
A smirk.
“No…” Prince dropped trou, revealing a small pair of black and white zebra print bikini underwear just barely containing him. Pubic curls peeked out on both sides of the drawers, fanning on his toned thighs.
“I thought you didn’t wear underwear.” I pointed out as Prince stepped out of the pants.
Prince waded out into the pond until the water wafted near his fuzzy abdomen.
“I like to shake things up!” He called back with a splash. “Come on in Brynn! The water’s fine! Not as fine as you though!”
“I‘m not getting in that water! I don‘t know what kinds of creatures are in it!” I laughed waving at him.
“Oh come on! The only thing that’ll nibble on you will be me!” Prince cackled, and splashed again.
I don’t know what came over me, but before I knew it I had stripped out of my jacket and dress, down to my skivvies--and bra!--and was waddling out towards Prince.
The water was just right, nice and warm.
A sheer shade of blue-green.
We floated in a small circle.
“Brynn, Baby, you look so cute in that blue lingerie. I like how you always have your underwear match your outfits.” Prince pulled one of my bra straps down and kissed on my shoulder.
God he smelled so awesome.
I nestled my face against his neck, taking in the scent greedily, like a fat person at the smell of fried foods.
Hugging me tightly against him, Prince pulled my hands around him and made my hands grasp his plump bottom under the water.
“I know you like my ass.” He murmured hotly and made his excessive bottom jiggle against my palms.
I nodded numbly as his own hands slid down and cupped my butt.
“Your ass is so tight. I love it.” He mashed down on my bottom fiercely and I gasped.
“I can’t help myself around you.” Prince confessed, resting his head on my shoulder. “You make me so horny I can’t see straight. I just want to be with you. Near you. Touching you, looking at you. You wanna know something funny…?” He trailed off and sighed contentedly.
“Hmm?” I nibbled on my bottom lip, Prince rarely opened himself up like this.
Maybe there was something strange in the water that made him show a softer side.
“Some nights, when I’m alone in my bed in Minneapolis, I dream of you.” A shy grin touched his mouth.
“You do?” I ran my hands over his bottom, a bit stunned.
Prince was dreaming of me?
Just how far over the moon was he?
“Yeah.” Prince tugged my yet closer, his ‘package’ gently bumped my legs.
“It’s the same thing all the time. You in some pretty red lace…dancing around me…kissing at me…teasing me. I always wake up drenched.”
He was having wet dreams about me?
Moving back from me, Prince dipped under the surface.
He reemerged, brushing soggy curls back.
“I dozed off during the flight to California. Almost messed myself on the plane.” He laughed.
He said seriously.
“I can’t stand the thought of you with Michael Jackson. It’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs--its unnatural. You really should be in Uptown with me. I keep thinking about it when I’m walking around my house. We had some nice times while you were there.” Prince started for land.
I reflected on the times. Some were indeed nice.
“You know I can’t just up and jet away to Minneapolis.” I whined, shaking out my hair. The ends were damp.
“I have no reason to go there and Michael would freak the hell out if you pulled ‘Brynn Heist’ like you did today.”
“You should jet to Uptown, and if I could smuggle you over state lines without the L.A.P.D. screwing with me I would. I’m surprised the National Guard isn’t combing the state for you right now” Prince shook his head, sending droplets flying. “Michael’s little fruity ass better worry.”
“I’m gonna get you back to Minneapolis. I am. I haven’t figured it out just yet, but I’ll get you back there.” His face was grim as he cracked his knuckles.
I stared down at the soft waves crashing into me.
The question was of how to get to Minneapolis to be with Prince. I knew he was a crafty little man and that soon a plum light bulb would light above his head in due time.
The question was if I did go to Minneapolis, would I have a place to come back to in Santa Ynez?
(And would Prince’s legs still be attached to his body?)

* * *

Sometime Later

“I really hate that I have to take you back to Neverland.” Prince commented in a deep tone as he drove my car back up the highway.
I knew it was late. The sun had long disappeared over the horizon and moon was starting to rear its sleepy head.
I gazed out of the window at the landscaped speeding by.
I was dreading setting foot back on Neverland because I knew Michael was probably in a blue rage.
And incredibly, nothing sexual had occurred between me and Prince.
After splashing around the pond and doing a considerable amount of smooching and necking, we had actually fallen asleep, curled on the hood of the Ferrari.
I don’t know why we went to sleep, maybe the circumstances surrounding our impromptu trip were just wearing on us.
I knew that it was certainly beating on me then.
Prince seemed so frighteningly calm.
Surely he knew he was speeding back into a firestorm at Michael Jackson’s mansion, but he was cruising along like we were on a trip to Disneyland.
I knew Michael wanted to pound Prince’s skull into his shins.
I just knew it. Michael didn’t want me to even talk to Prince and I had been away most of the day alone with him.
I had frolicked so freely with him. As if I were really in Minneapolis. As if I weren’t with Michael Jackson and a part of his world.
It was so stressing.
I enjoyed both sides of the double life I seemed to be living.
The sanctity and quietness of dwelling in Neverland. Not really lifting a finger, except to watch the Jackson Trio. The most work I had done was maybe twelve hours of background work on Not Over. Michael was taking care of me. I was his woman.
On the other end of the spectrum, Prince had also taken care of me in ‘Uptown’. But in the area of work, Prince was constantly jotting lyrics, some that included me, and he was not only treating me as a girlfriend but as a fellow artist, outfitting me with star-quality clothing and cosmetics.
My mind drifted to the first conversation Prince and I had had in Minneapolis where Prince had asked if Michael had signed me to his label--Neverland Records.
Though Michael had been zealous with the release of his single, he hadn’t once mentioned signing me to his label.
And I knew Prince was itching until he had a rash to sign me to Paisley Park/NPG Records.
I had life made with either man. Michael was wonderful man and Prince was too.
I just wondered how long I could go before the true situation came to light and I would have to choose.
If I would be able to choose.
And who I would choose? On either end there would be a broken heart and infuriated man.
The load was heavy.
Almost too heavy for a nineteen year old to bear.
Neverland loomed in the distance.
In the darkness I could see the grounds fully lit, all the rides and attractions in motion.
It seemed so queer to see the place lit up like the Las Vegas Strip.
I was looking for a SWAT team and cops and armed forces.
Neverland appeared to be calm.
Too calm.
As my purple car neared the Ranch and the front wooden gate came into view, my stomach very suddenly dropped to my toes.
A person stood in front of the gates.
Not an excited fan.
Not a bothersome photographer.
Planted in front of the open gates, arms scrunched over their chest and face in a scowl was Michael Jackson.
“Well look who waited up for you Brynn! Michael Jackson actually stayed up past his bedtime.” Prince snickered, slowing the car.
At the sight of the car, I saw that Michael was frantically searching the car’s tinted window, trying to figure out if I were driving or not.
Prince brought the car to halt about five feet from Michael.
He instantly stomped over to the driver’s side.
He wore a wild look in his eyes I had never seen.
Maniacal.
Lethal.
Deadly.
He was pounding on the window so hard it actually rattled.
“Get a load of this! I told you Michael was shitting himself with you gone!” Prince cackled slapping the steering wheel.
I stared ahead, too horrified to speak.
I heard the mechanism whir as Prince let the driver’s side window down.
“Hey Michael.” His voice was syrupy sweet as he addressed the Torrent Jackson.
I peeked at Michael.
He was looking past Prince and fixated on me.
His eyes…Lord, his eyes.
“Brynn…” An icy shock came out his mouth as he spoke over Prince to me.
“Where the hell have you been for the last five hours?” He demanded leaning into the car.
I could only stammer incoherently. My brain had stopped functioning.
Terror was controlling me.
Prince spoke up for me.
“Mikey, calm down. Little Miss Brynn and I have been test driving her Ferrari. We went up to LA and into Malibu. Lost track of time. I don’t wear a watch, so the sun set on us before we got back.”
How the man was so smooth was beyond me.
Michael gave Prince a stony glare.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” His voice dropped a dozen octaves. “I was talking to Brynn.”
Prince regarded Michael with a sour sulk.
“That big behemoth Jimmy said that you drove away with This Damn Man in the Ferrari.” Michael blinked, still not believing that I had left with Prince.
“’This Damn Man‘? Now wait a motherfucking minute--” Prince, ears blazing purple, started, punching the steering wheel.
It was his first time hearing Michael’s ‘pet name’ for him.
Michael completely ignored Prince’s getting hot under the collar.
“Get out of that car right now Brynn Sue McAllister. NOW!”
Michael growled so gruffly that I was at his side so quickly, I nearly bumped into him.
Prince gave me a sad gaze.
He didn’t want me with Michael.
The downtrodden appearance in his eyes was swiftly washed away by pure arrogance.
“Michael Jackson, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were Brynn’s boyfriend. Shouldn’t Taryll be the one yelling at her?” He squawked in a high voice.
Michael stiffened.
Michael was in full “I’m her man” mode and acting like a truly jilted lover.
“Speaking of Taryll, where is he? Does he know his girlfriend drove around Southern California with me?” Prince pretended to look around. “Or is he so mad, he’s got to be kept away from me because he’ll try to do me bodily harm?” He giggled, opening the driver’s door and getting out.
“The latter. The latter.” Michael replied through gritted teeth.
“Oh, well keep him away from me long enough to get my Beemer. Not really in the mood to get into it tonight, you know?” Prince grinned up at Michael.
Michael’s complexion was milky with rage.
I knew it was taking all the willpower in the world for him not to annihilate Prince.
“Jimmy can bring you your car. Come on Brynn.” Michael gripped my hand.
Prince reached at me for his usual final embrace.
“No.” Michael sneered, whirling around and pulling me out of the way.
I looked back at Prince as Michael dragged me up the lane.
Prince stood, hands shoved in his pockets, watching.
Sullenly.
I glanced up at Michael.
His face was whiter than ever as he made his way up to the front door of his house and pushed it open.
As he slammed it with a loud BANG, three figures skidded into the hall.
The Jackson Trio.
“Daddy! You found Brynn! Yay!” Prince-Michael exclaimed and the children cheered.
Michael’s demeanor remained frigid.
“Go to bed.” He ordered, pulling me along into the living room and plopping me down on the couch.
“But Daddy…” Paris started to protest. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“NOW!” Michael shouted and the children scattered.
Michael turned his back to me and placed his hands on his hips.
“Brynn, why in God’s name would you leave with that little bastard in that eyesore of a car?” Michael asked, shaking his head until his curls bounced.
Tears of shame were meeting underneath my chin. I had never seen Michael so riled up.
“Michael, I didn’t leave! Prince made me go. He just wanted to drive the car around. He…he thought he was doing something special.” I blubbered and sniffled loudly.
Michael sighed.
“I know that son of a bitch made you go.” He spun around to face me, doe eyes brimming with trouble.
I stared up at Michael in curious wonder, but remained silent.
How did he know?
“The kids found me upstairs and told me that they had seen Prince pull you out of the house and throw you into a car. And that you were gone.”
Michael dropped to his knees at my side.
“Then that fat guy, Jimmy claimed that you took the car and invited Prince along. How stupid does that man think I am? You know I hate him, and that you don’t care for him. You don’t want much of anything to do with Prince, much less drive around for half a day.” Michael rubbed my knee.
“Baby, I was so worried. He didn’t try to hurt you or anything, did he?”
His eyes roamed my face.
A face I was sure that wore guilt all over it.
“No…no Michael. We just drove around and talked. Stopped by the water in Malibu. That’s all. He didn’t try anything.”
At least that was a sort of half-truth. We had been by some water.
“I’m glad he didn’t, or I’d walk to Minneapolis and beat him bloody. He’s taking this entirely too far Brynn. I could understand him having a crush on you. You’re a very pretty and sweet girl, but damn it, you’re taken. And if he slinks he short, ugly ass around this place again…” Michael stopped, fists clenched and waving at his sides.
“Michael. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I should have screamed or something. I was too scared, it all happened so fast. Please forgive me!” I cried, apologizing more for the entire situation rather than my brief vacation from Neverland.
I doubled over sobbing.
I felt Michael gently running his fingers through my hair.
Even through all of the worry, and fear and arguing and near ass kicking, the man still cared.
He still cared.