Chapter 19

The Following Morning
Around Ten A.M.


“Hello, Front Desk, Claudia speaking.”
I sat in the front foyer of the large suite, twirling the cord of the clear and gold phone setting on a small table.
“Yes, I’d like to have a car pick me up and drive me over to Fifth Avenue. I, uh, I have some shopping I want to do.” I said quietly looking up at a painting of a dog with a dead duck clasped in it’s jaws.
I still felt weird about going off shopping. But I had no one to talk to. Michael had left at about six to get to the Upper East side of Manhattan for his meeting and Rusty and the Jackson trio had left about an hour later, destined for Brooklyn with the bodyguards.
“Name please?” Claudia had a heavy Brooklyn-ese accent.
“Brynn McAllister.” I replied.
“Oh you’re a guest of Mr. Jackson. He called a few hours ago and already arranged a car for you Miss McAllister. It’ll be around to pick you up in about forty-five minutes.” Claudia informed me.
“Michael already got me a car?” I was surprised, Michael had left no stone unturned.
“Yes, Miss McAllister. It’ll pick you up in the front of the building. You’ll be traveling in a red Land Rover. Just be down in the front lobby.”
“Thank you.” I said absently.
“You’re quite welcome Miss McAllister. Would you require anything else before you departure?” Claudia questioned.
“No, that’s all, thanks.” I hung up.
Standing I made my way over to a large mirror on the opposite side of the room.
I gave myself a once over. The weather New York was at unnatural highs for the fall--the temperatures were in the high seventies.
I wore white silk eyelet dress that buttoned up the front and white leather high-heeled sandals. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail exposing my made up face and silver hoop earrings. Silver bangles jangled on my right wrist.
I wondered if I gave off a sort of Charlotte from Sex and the City vibe.
Sweet and lady like.
I hoped I looked like the type of person who just naturally rode in Land Rovers around New York with a limitless credit card.
At the thought of the credit card, I pulled it out of the pocket hidden in my dress and stared it.
Anybody with a brain in their head knew that it was Michael’s unspoken attempt to keep up with Prince’s giving me a car. I didn’t know what to do with the car. I never even got to sit in it. I was certain that while we were in New York, the car was probably being chopped and sold for scrap.
Michael wasn’t going to buy another car--we had a driver at all times--but he was going to buy up most of the northern United States.
I hated that it seemed Michael felt like he was in competition with Prince.
There was no competition. Prince had been a fling--though it was flattering he considered my love making Ferrari worthy--but I was with Michael.
For the long haul.
Patting my hair, I gave myself one last look and made my way out of the room and into a main elevator to get to the lobby.
(If I tried to take a freight elevator, I’d never find the lobby!)
The elevator went down without stopping.
The lobby was totally different from the sixteenth floor. Instead of having an eighteenth century décor, the floor was totally modern and minimalist and in shades of black, white and red.
The lobby was pretty much empty except for a few front desk attendants.
A man sat in one of the square chairs that were scattered around the lobby. Behind him was a framed poster of Jimi Hendrix, in the middle of a wicked guitar solo. His face contorted to music long played.
Since it seemed he was the only form of life in the room, I went over to him.
Might as well make conversation.
“Hi, mind if I sit here? I’m just waiting on my ride.” I smiled.
The man looked up. He couldn’t have been any older than about twenty-five. He didn’t really look like a jetsetter.
He was dressed in a baggy yellow t-shirt with a black monogram of Bob Marley on it and baggy black shorts. Black flip flops covered his feet.
Thick, almost waist length dreadlocks tumbled around his caramel colored face.
“Yeah sure. I’m just killing time here too. Warren.” The man extended his hand to me.
“Brynn.” I shook his hand.
“So what are you doing a place like this? You look like a model.” Warren grinned, his grey eyes twinkling.
He unwittingly laid the ground work for a lie.
“Actually I am a model. I’m signed with Wilhelmina. I’m just crashing here until I got out on a job.” I nodded. All those months of watching America’s Next Top Model had paid off.
“Oh really? What are you shooting for?” Warren wondered and brushed a dreadlock out of his eyes. I noticed with an inner sigh of relief that he was wearing a gold wedding band on his left ring finger.
He was married.
The last thing I needed was some hound dog trying to hit on me.
“Oh, just a little Ralph Lauren thing. Nothing major.” I smiled.
“Oh cool. My wife wears a lot of Polo stuff.” Warren nodded.
He picked at his dreads again, trying to tuck them behind his right ear and an earring glinted at me.
My chest tightened when I noticed what the earring was.
A tiny gold version of Prince’s symbol.
“Uh, Warren…mind if I ask you a personal question?” I asked staring at the bauble.
“Shoot, I’m an open book!” Warren chuckled, crossing his legs.
“Are you a Prince fan?’ I sputtered.
Warren touched his ear. “Oh you saw this thing? Nah, that brother’s a little too out there for me. My wife, Ronesha, is nuts for the midget. That’s why I’m here now. Dragged me all the way from Yonkers here. She’s up trying to get onto the Penthouse floor. Word on the street is that he’s staying here.” Warren nodded and smiled warmly.
My heart quivered.
Prince was staying at the Windbush?
Of all the hotels in the state of New York, Michael had to pick the very same one Prince was in? And Prince was occupying the penthouse suite that Michael had wanted.
I looked at Warren with wide eyes. Maybe Warren was wrong.
Maybe his information was wrong. Maybe Prince was staying at the Ritz, or the Four Seasons, or not even in New York at all. Fans sometimes got information wrong and sometimes celebrities just liked goofing on their followers.
Maybe I was being Punk’d.
I looked around for Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me.
He never did.
I stared down as my hands started trembling so hard, my bracelets jingled.
“Are you okay?” Warren noticed I was shaking.
“Yeah, gosh, it’s really cold down in this lobby isn’t it?” I willed the muscles of my face to make a smile form on my face.
I wasn’t about to tell a total stranger that I was within an inch of soiling myself over the thought that the only thing separating Michael Jackson and Prince Nelson were a mere five floors.
The Penthouse occupied the twenty-fist floor of the Windbush Hotel.
I just hoped that one wouldn’t find out about the other staying in the next hotel.
I could just imagine the headlines:
King of Entertainment Slaughters His Royal Badness over Teen Lover.
I had to make sure that Prince never knew Michael and I were at the Windbush and that Michael never knew Prince was there.
I’d have to keep my nose clean and keep a low profile.
I had to make sure no one from Prince’s camp recognized me…
“Brynn?” A feminine voice asked and cool hand touched my bare arm.
I sighed. The driver of my Land Rover had arrived about twenty minutes early.
Now to get out of the hotel, onto Buyer’s Row and forget about the Purple Pimple.
(Or was it Purple Pimp?)
I grinned up to greet the driver.
It crumbled and fell off my face.
Standing over me, with a huge smile on her face was Mindy!
“M-Mindy?” I was breathless.
No! God No! It couldn’t be.
But it was her.
If Mindy was there…
Prince was there.
It was true.
“Yes!” Her smile was one of relief.
Leaning and embracing me, she said,
“I’ve been looking for you for the longest!”
I was speechless as she tugged me to my feet.
I could only look at her.
She was immaculately dressed in a deep yellow minidress covered with huge white polka dots.
Her hair hung in ringlets around her heavily made up face.
Chunky white bracelets covered her lower arms and a matching beaded necklace hung at her throat.
“Wow today must be my lucky day!” Warren exclaimed from behind me. “I get to see two models!”
“What?” Mindy was clearly confused and her pencil thin, light brown eyebrows furrowed as she tried to understand him.
“Yes, Warren, this is Mindy, she’s also shooting the Ralph Lauren ad with me.” I shot Mindy a stern look hoping that I could rope her into going in with the falsehood.
“Oh…” Mindy nodded, finally getting me. “Brynn, um, Mr. Nelson has been looking for you--” Mindy grinned a little too wide at Warren.
Prince was looking for me? He knew I was at the Windbush! How did he know?
I couldn’t go to pieces in front of Warren because he’d probably want to follow us to Prince and drag Ronesha, wherever she was, with us.
I had to keep up with my character.
“Our agent.” I explained. “It was nice talking to you Warren.” I said quickly grabbing onto Mindy’s hand and tugging her out of earshot as Warren bid us adieu.
Pulling her near the elevators I whispered.
“Mindy, please tell me that Prince is not here! Not in this hotel! Please?” I begged tugging her hand.
Mindy glanced around making sure no one was paying attention to us.
Seeing that no one was paying us any mind, she started to speak.
At that moment, the elevator doors behind us swung open.
“Put me down you big headed freak!” A woman screamed as a large White man who resembled Hulk Hogan, lifted her up over his shoulder and walked, with her kicking and flailing into the lobby.
The woman was very thin and light skinned. She couldn’t have been much older than me. Her outfit was unmistakable. She wore a black shirt with Prince’s symbol on the back of it in white. Long wavy auburn hair fell across her tear-stained face.
A symbol necklace swung from her neck as she continued raising hell.
“I know Prince is up there! Put me down you fat bastard! Ahhh! I saw him! I saw his shoe! Ahhh! Don‘t nobody else wear shoes like that!” She accused.
Across the room, Warren jumped out his chair and ran to the woman just as several hotel security men besieged her and took her from the large man.
The security men lifted who I presumed to be Ronesha up and quickly proceeded out the front doors with her.
Mindy and I stood and watched as they crudely dumped her onto the sidewalk in front of God and everybody.
I put my hands to my face. Prince really was there!
A fan had just gotten kicked out over him.
What was I going to do?
“Come with me.” Mindy grabbed at my hand. “Mr. Prince, is looking for you.” She repeated and led me into the still open elevator.
I didn’t know why I was going with her. I could have broken and run away.
Maybe I was afraid that if I didn’t go with her, Prince himself would come for me.
Then all Hell would have broken wild and loose.
She pressed a button marked ‘Penthouse’ and the doors closed around us.
After the doors had closed, I launched into her.
“Mindy, what the hell is Prince doing here? Why is he here at the Windbush? Michael Jackson is here!” I exclaimed leaning against one of the mirrored walls of the elevator.
A shiny, reflective coffin.
I slapped the ‘Stop’ button and we hung between the tenth and eleventh floors.
Mindy bit her bottom lip nervously.
“How did he know I was here?” I demanded.
I had only seen Prince two days ago when he had turned Neverland upside down and almost got beaten to a pulp by Michael and his brothers. There was no way I could think of that Prince could have found out that Michael was at the Windbush.
Liberty had said the day before that the hotel had a strict customer confidentiality policy.
“I don’t know.” Mindy shrugged. “He just did. When he got back to Minneapolis from Los Angeles, he said, ‘Pack up Mindy, we’re going to New York City.'” She explained.
The elevator spun under me.
How did he know so quickly that Michael was booked at this hotel?
Something didn’t add up.
“I can’t see him.” I looked down at my hands.
It wasn’t fair to Michael. In no way shape or form could I see myself going to see Prince at the Windbush. It just wasn’t right.
I was supposed to be on my way to go shopping.
This was a nightmare.
Mindy panicked.
“Oh Brynn! Please!” She exclaimed shrilly. “You have to! I’ve been walking around the hotel since five a.m. looking for you. And I spent all last night walking and looking. Mr. Prince says he’ll fire me if I can’t get you to him today!” Mindy sobbed, her mascara smearing, sending charcoal tears down her cheeks. “Brynn, I can’t get fired! I don’t want to have to move back to Staten Island and live with my mommy!” She pleaded.
I stared down at Mindy in shock.
I couldn’t believe Prince had put Mindy’s job on the line.
“Are you serious?” I just couldn’t form the idea in my head that Prince had threatened Mindy’s employment.
“Yes. Oh Brynn! Please go see him! I don’t want to move back to Staten Island! You’re supposed to be my friend! Please!” Mindy actually dropped to her knees and hugged my waist.
My mind was flying too fast. I couldn’t see Prince, but I didn’t want Mindy to be a casualty.
Prince knew exactly what his little ass was doing.
He knew I liked Mindy as a friend and wouldn’t want to jeopardize her in any way.
Damn, I was in a tight spot.
“All…all right.” I sighed heavily, feeling despair. “I’ll go see him.”
The weight of the world was on my shoulders.
Mindy looked up at me, her face glowing. “You’ll go? You will? Oh thank you!” Mindy dropped into a seated position and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.
I stared ay my reflection.
What the hell was I doing?
Just what was I doing?
She quickly flipped it open and dialed a number.
“Mr. Prince?” She said quietly.
“Yes…yes sir, I found her! I’m bringing her up now. Yes sir, we’ll be there in a minute!” Mindy punched the ‘Penthouse’ button again, setting the elevator back into motion.
“Thank God! Mr. Prince is happy!” Mindy said closing the phone and climbing to her feet.
“He would be.” I thought bitterly.
“Brynn, are you really seeing Michael Jackson too?” Mindy asked after a silent moment.
I glanced at her. “Yeah.” I nodded grimly.
“Gee…” Mindy giggled. “I kind of figured that. The way he was pissed at Mr. Prince at Paisley Park.”
Yeah, that was good, bring that disaster in the time/space continuum back up.
“Mindy,” I glanced at her. “I know about your preferences, but would you do what I’m doing, seeing two men?” I questioned.
“I dunno. Maybe. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Prince are nice looking. They are pretty enough to be women.” Mindy blushed.
Yeah, that helped a lot.
We reached the all exclusive Penthouse suite and Mindy punched in a code on a small keypad that made the doors swing open.
Mindy led the way into the suite which yielded immediately to sitting area.
The room had a 1960s, futuristic feel to it.
The room was bathed in shades of blue, white and yellow.
Several egg shaped chairs hung from the ceiling, suspended by clear beaded ropes.
The room led off to a long hallway and end of the hall was a set of large blue double doors, funky star shaped figures protruding from them.
Mindy looked around.
“Mr. Prince? Mr. Prince--we’re here!’ She called out timidly.
A light rock instrumental played from somewhere.
Other than that, silence.
And just like Prince’s home and studio, the place was heavily scented with vanilla.
“Mr. Prince?” Mindy questioned again looking around.
“I guess he’s not here.” I said edging back towards the elevator.
At that moment, one of the egg chairs spun around.
Prince sat Indian-style in the chair.
I swallowed hard.
“Oh, Mr. Prince! I found Brynn!” Mindy exclaimed happily and threw her arm around my shoulders.
Prince dropped his feet from the chair and walked over slowly.
His head was lowered and I could see him licking at his lips.
He looked funkier than I had ever seen him.
He wore a long red lame trench coat that just brushed the tops of the black boots covering his feet. It kind of resembled the coat he had worn in his Purple Rain movie. A placket of pyramid shaped studs covered the right shoulder of the coat.
A black handkerchief was tied around his throat.
And his hair…oh Lord…his hair.
It was parted down the middle and appeared to have been crimped and fluffed a bit too much, yielding to a somewhat frizzed look.
His make up was fairly natural except for thick black liner rimming his eyelids and mascara crusting his lashes.
His light eyes glowed at the sight of me.
He glanced at Mindy. Her face was still streaked with black.
“Fix your make up, Mindy. You look terrible.” He commented snidely and picked at his hair.
“Hmmm…you brought my pretty little Brynn to me.” Prince smiled, getting a bit too close to me. His cologne was engulfing me.
What had he done, put it on with a plant sprayer?
“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, Pray for us Sinners…”
“Yes sir. She was in the lobby.” Mindy bragged as if I was a moose she had shot and strapped to the hood of her car.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to go shopping. There’s a car downstairs waiting to take me to Fifth Avenue.” I explained, once again inching towards to the elevators.
“Oh shopping. Mindy can do that for you.”
Prince indicated Mindy with a flick of his head.
“No, I have to go shopping.” I pulled my credit card out of my pocket and showed it to Prince. I hoped that he saw my name and realized only I could use the card.
Not a smart thing to do.
Prince quickly snatched it from me.
“Huh…Jacko gave you a credit card. That’s cute.”
He tapped the card with a manicured nail. “I’ve seen these before. They have no limit.” Prince chuckled. “Aw, Mindy, isn’t that cute, he’s trying to keep up with the car I gave her.”
Mindy head down, wiping at her cheeks, hummed in agreement.
I snatched the card back. “The name is Jackson, not Jacko. And he could care less about competing with you. He’s in his own league.” I replied coldly. It plucked my nerves that Prince was once again making fun of Michael.
“Yeah, it’s called ‘Extraterrestrial’!” Prince doubled over laughing and grabbed the card again.
Throwing it at Mindy, he instructed coolly, “Take this and go buy some things for Brynn. Bring them back here later. Get some shit that Michael would like. You know, like a nun’s habit.” Prince chuckled.
“Um…yes, sir.” Mindy started towards the elevator.
“Wait a minute!” I spun and grabbed Mindy’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go. I’ll go!” I insisted. I knew why Prince wanted me there.
You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to guess.
He was probably in the buff under that coat.
Prince’s lips brushed my earlobe as he whispered,
“You don’t let Mindy go, and I’ll give Michael a little call and let him know just where you are.”
I shook off the slight chill I got.
“You don’t know where Michael is.” I glanced back at him and tossed my ponytail arrogantly.
My heart rate plummeted when Prince replied.
“Oh, but I do. Trust me, I do. His ass is over in Manhattan now. In a meeting with some music execs.” Prince chortled and ran his hand down my back, causing me to jump.
Was Prince psychic? How did he know so much?
“Looks like you’re in a tight spot.” Prince giggled.
I wanted to pull every kinky strand of hair out his head.
To Mindy he instructed, “Go ahead on down to that car. Brynn’s not going anywhere. This Pretty Baby is staying with me today.”
“Yes, sir.” Mindy pressed the button opening the door to the elevator and got on.
I watched helplessly as she waved feebly and the doors closed.
She actually had the nerve to mouth the words “I’m sorry.”
I was once again alone with Prince.
I stared at the closed doors.
Prince stepped around me and stood in front of the doors making it clear that I wasn’t going to get away from him.
“Why are you here? How did you know Michael was here?” I questioned, feeling as though I was going to ralph up everything I had ever eaten in my life all over the aqua tile floor.
Prince ignored my inquiry.
“You look nice today Brynn. That dress suits you.” He remarked placing his hand under my chin and causing me to look up at him.
I regarded him icily.
“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Prince teased in a singsong voice.
“I’m happy to see you.” He leaned and his lips sought out mine.
I forgot how Prince’s mouth was. How rough and rouge it was. How it seemed to perpetually taste of mints.
Prince raised his arm and put it around my neck pulling me in closer against his slim body.
The kisses he showered on me came even harder. My lips felt sore and raw.
My heart pounded as Prince wrapped his other around me.
Suddenly Prince pulled back and smooched the tip of my nose.
Gave me a sly smile. I was quite sure he had something obscene in mind.
“How did you know Michael was here?” I whispered, trying to catch my breath. I couldn’t let Prince seduce me again. I just couldn’t. I had to be stronger for Michael. I just had to.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I wanna show you something Ba-aby.” Prince murmured the last word and kissed my cheek again.
He started to tug at my arm.
“Show me what?” I cautioned. I could only imagine what Prince wanted to do. And for how long.
“Something special.” Prince winked at me. “Follow me.”
He dropped my arm and started swaggering towards the double doors at the end of the hall, hands shoved in the pickets of the coat.
I remained rooted to the spot.
A little nagging voice in the back of my head was telling me not to go after this man. It was too peculiar.
Midway down the hall, Prince realized he was the only one walking.
He spun and motioned at me with his finger.
“You don’t really want me to go in there and call the Missoni Grill. That is where your dear Michael is making his negotiations today. I’ll bet he’s right in the middle of the salad course now.”
Every hair on my head stood on end.
How in the hell did he know that Michael was at the Missoni Grill Restaurant?
And was this man really trying to blackmail me?
“You know Michael is at the Missoni Grill?” Not really thinking about it, I stalked over to Prince, worries consuming me.
“I know lots of things.” Prince giggled. Why was everything a riddle with him?
“Now I got something to show you.” He placed his hand on my back.
It slid down and patted my butt.
“Prince!” I cried and stepped back from him.
“What?” Prince squinted at me and placed his hands on his hips.
His jacket glittered.
“I…I can’t do this…” I stared at him.
Prince stared back plainly. All readable emotion disappeared from his face.
“I…can’t have sex with you. I can’t keep doing this to Michael. I owe Michael so much, Prince. And I love Michael.” I shook my head feeling a wave of tears starting to make their way up from their ducts to my eyes.
Prince’s face hardened and he reached out and grasped my shoulders firmly.
“Brynn…” His voice was like ice in the air.
His eyes widened as he looked me up and down.
“This might come as a shock to your system…but I’m not gonna fuck you.” He said solemnly.
I gazed at him in wonder. He wasn’t going to try anything nasty with me?
Who was he and what had he done with Prince?
“You’re…you’re not?” I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I mean, I was talking to Prince.
“Yes Brynn. I love you. Sex isn’t everything to me, you know.” Prince rolled his eyes. “What I feel for you, it goes deeper than the flesh. And besides I like a challenge.” His eyes danced with a wildness I hadn’t before seen.
“A challenge?” What was this man talking about? Had he had a few too many of those rum spiked apple ciders he’d fed me in Minneapolis?
“Yes. You’re scared to even really touch me. I can tell.”
Prince ran a hand under his nose, curving up and pushed it through his hair.
“The way Michael Jackson was holding onto you when I gave you the car. If he had you around the throat any tighter, he’d have choked you to death.” Prince chuckled.
‘But I’m not even gonna touch you--maybe--but trust me, when I get done, I might have to knock you off with a crowbar.” A mousy grin.
I felt my eyebrows going up.
So many unanswered questions.
“Come on Sugar.” Prince interlocked his fingers with mine and led me to the double doors.
I tottered along behind him.
He pushed the doors open with toe of his boot.
I gazed into the master suite of the Penthouse.
I felt like I had stepped into an Austin Powers movie.
The room was papered in a deep tone of blue, highlighted by white lacquered furniture. The focal point of the room was a large round bed, swathed with spangled white and yellow gold sheets. There was even a lava lamp on the bedside table. The windows on either side of the bed were opened and I could see a part of Central Park through them. The view was almost nicer than the one in Michael’s room.
The guitar music seemed to be louder and I noticed as Prince led through the doors that a large stereo occupied an entertainment cabinet.
A white chair was setting just in front of the bed and at the base of it off to the side was a blue pitcher of iced water and a matching blue tumbler.
“Take a seat Brynn. The show is about to start.” Prince said deeply, pushing me towards the chair.
“Show? What show?” I wondered.
Prince puckered his lips at me slyly for a moment and then made his way around the room, shutting the curtains.
The only light came from the recessed fixtures half hidden in the ceiling.
He then closed the double doors.
I brought my hand to my mouth and began nibbling my nails.
If Prince wasn’t going to “do” me, just what was up the sleeves of that gaudy coat he wore?
His back to me, Prince fiddled with the knobs on the stereo.
Another funky-fused upbeat instrumental, composed mostly of a bass guitar screeching and drums playing.
“This is a special piece I created for you.” Prince announced walking over.
He stopped several feet in front of me.
Placing one hand on his tiny hip and the other behind his head, Prince began rolling his hips about in a circle to the music.
“Oooh yeah! Oooh yeah! I’m gonna bust that body! Oooh yeah! I’m gonna bust that body right!” Prince sang in a chant. Every three beats he alternated his arms.
This is what Prince wanted to do? Dance?
Was he kidding? Even though I had never really seen Prince dance before, I knew Michael could out dance him any day of the week. (Because, he was Michael Jackson!)
Prince jumped into the air and turned his back to me, shaking his bottom back and forth in beat.
His head dipped down and I could hear him fumbling with the buttons on the coat.
He jumped back around, a smirk on his face.
He held the coat closed tightly.
“I got a gift for you…all the way from Minneapolis! Ooh--ooh! Uptown!” He wailed and snatched the coat open.
And let it drift to the marble floor.
A startled gasp escaped my mouth.
Under the coat, he wore a long red t-shirt that had been cut along the bottom and sleeves and tied off with black and silver beads into a makeshift fringe. A silver chain belt cinched the waist of shirt. Under the shirt he wore a skimpy pair of black bikini underwear.
(Who knew he actually possessed a pair of underwear?)
A familiar bulge swung with his every movement.
His legs were covered up to the thighs with black stockings.
A black lace arm sock covered his right arm from the wrist to the elbow.
His gender-bending attire intrigued me. I was trying my hardest to not be sucked in.
He looked like he should have been somewhere on a street corner in Soho with a price tag attached to him.
Kicking the coat aside, Prince kicked his leg out and dropped to the floor in a split, bouncing several times before hopping back to his feet.
The beat of the music changed. Slowed a bit and a piano laced tune faded in.
Accommodating his movements to the new sounds, Prince turned his back to me again and rocked his hips again.
He brought his hands up rubbed his ripe, plump booty.
It seemed larger and firmer than I had remembered.
“Pardon me--my ass has a mind of it’s own!” Prince chuckled.
He spread his legs and bent down a little, hands on his knees, swirling his bottom.
I clasped my hands so tightly together, I heard the bones pop and I think a nail pierced my skin.
All of sudden I wanted to reach out and grab his butt.
The feeling was overwhelming.
Oh why did I find his best feature to be his butt?
Prince straightened back up and I noticed that a bit of fabric had wedged into the crevice of his bottom.
Taking his index fingers, Prince ran them underneath the fabric pulling the material out.
Not that it really helped. The bottoms of his cheeks were exposed and wiggling with every movement.
Prince dropped into a split and somehow threw himself in the air and he was facing me again.
“Hoo! Shit, this music is getting to me! How about you Baby?” Prince wore a wicked expression all over his face.
His eyes were mesmerizing. There was something so lower-level, sexual, and nasty about them. He hadn’t given me a look like that since I had “kissed” him in Minneapolis.
I could only nod. I had lost my ability to speak.
Prince pulled himself into a squatted position.
Moaning, he thrust his hips. His ‘junk’ jangled.
I covered my face, oceans of heat washing over me.
Prince continued making rude noises.
I dared another peek.
He was spread out like a crab on the floor, legs opened to me.
He was thrusting his hips even harder, making his ‘scepter’ bounce up and down.
Still pumping, Prince managed to hold himself with one hand and with the other was fanning his hand over his groin.
“Ugh! Oh shit.” He murmured.
The underwear was sliding off to the side a little and part of his “jewels” were peeping out. A thatch of hair gleamed at me.
I bit down on my finger to keep from screaming.
This dance! Why?
He flipped over onto his stomach and supporting himself with his arms, began pumping at the floor.
“Oh!” Another lusty wheeze evaded me. “God!”
I shut my eyes, trying to erase the obscene vision from my brain.
“I love you Baby…” Prince’s voice was soft as cotton.
I slowly opened my eyes.
Prince was lying at my feet, eyes huge and watching me.
With a self righteous grin, Prince brought a finger up to his mouth.
Extending his tongue, he swabbed his finger, his tongue flopping around like a rosy fish out of water.
He stroked my knee with the dampened fingertip.
His touch was pure fire.
I munched on my lip and twisted to the side, just out of his reach.
“You look hot Brynn…you want a drink of water?” Prince smoothly slid back onto his feet.
His heels clicked as he walked to the water pitcher beside me and poured a frosty glass of water. He stared me down, taking in my soul. My very fiber of being.
“Here.” He held the glass out to me.
I was afraid to grab at it.
“It’s just water, take it.” Prince shook the glass and the ice cubes tinkled.
I reached.
At the last second, Prince pulled the glass against him and turned it upside down, splashing his chest with cold water.
He squeaked. “Shoo…”
“Oh look at that.” He looked down and shook his head. “I’m all wet.”
A smile creased his face. “Are you wet, Brynn?” He snickered. He dropped the glass. It must have been plastic, because it merely bounced on the floor rather than breaking.
“No,” I said stubbornly. I wasn’t, but if this man kept this flash dance up…
“Aww, I’m not working hard enough.” Prince sighed, hands behind his back, looking up at the ceiling. He was oozing perversion.
Prince loosened the chain belt and brought it up, clenching the metal in his pearly little teeth. He growled at me and winked.
Then he tossed it across the room. It landed with a solid clank.
Gripping the shirt with his hands, Prince ripped as easily as if it were a sheet of paper, exposing his damp and sparkling chest.
Droplets in his chest hair twinkled.
He whipped the shirt over his head several times like a stripper before slamming it to the floor.
I put my hands to my mouth, captivated.
He yanked the handkerchief from his throat and tossed it in my lap.
“Put that where you want to Baby.” Prince snickered.
The music segued again. Now a drum was solidly tapping.
“Aw!” Prince screeched arm over head, and dramatically fell to the floor, rolling in the puddle of water he created when he dumped the glass.
A new expression of depravity washed over his face, making his eyes glow green. On other people, the green eyes may have been envy, on Prince, it was horny.
I put my hands on top of my head. I couldn’t believe that I was getting turned on by the display of filth.
But I was.
My heart was pounding, chest heaving…
Prince rose to his knees looking up at me innocently.
His eyes shone so fair.
Poking his tongue out again, licked his fingertips and ran then through his hair.
His light eyes flicked up and down, taking me in.
He was acting as though it was normal for him to be behaving this way.
Pretending to be a Chippendales dancer.
Perhaps it was normal for him.
He pursed his lips and rimmed them with his index finger several times.
Ran his hands down his slick, tight, little body down to his crotch.
Puffed and I could clearly see all of his ribs.
Prince reached out and placed his hand on my knee again, and with the other, rubbed at the fuzz on his chest.
“I know I’m nasty…are you nasty?” He questioned his voice otherworldly.
I gulped.
He was too fine. He was powder fine.
He fell back to the floor, and began pumping against it again, this time accenting ever pump with a scream.
“Ah! Ow! Ah! Ow!”
The music faded out.
Prince stared at me, moving his tongue around his mouth, making weird, semi circles.
His glare was deadly. Was he going to kill me?
“Stand up.” He ordered. His eyes were wide and demanding.
Something deep inside made me obey him.
How my legs supported me, I’ll never know.
Smirking, he turned away, his round booty about a foot away from me.
He was steadying himself on widely spread legs.
Slickly, Prince dropped at the waist.
Swirled his ass again.
I almost went through the roof when his hand shot out from between his legs and up my skirt.
“No!” I exclaimed as his fingers wiggled against my underwear. So close to my personal space. Too close.
“Damn, you’re wearing panties!” Prince stood.
He looked back and rubbed his nose.
“Of course I am! Did you think I was gonna walk around New York without them?” I gasped angrily still feeling his touch.
Prince ground his teeth into his bottom lip, eyeing me hungrily over his shoulder.
He backed up until his sinewy posterior collided against me.
“Oh yeah!” Prince put his arms over his head and bumped his booty against me. “I’m busting that body right!” He yelped.
And then I snapped. I don’t know what happened.
A wave of fire consumed me and I lost it.
I lost it.
“Prince!” I whined and wrapped my arms around his midsection which was starting to perspire. I tugged him against me.
Prince continued rolling and wiggling his hips.
I found myself kissing at the back of his moist neck and at his ears.
Fondling his chest. Even tweaking his little nipples.
Prince dropped his arms, and grabbed my hands, placing them over his “scepter and jewels”.
Holding my hands, he rubbed himself against my palms, through the wafer-thin black fabric. His voice slowed and a loud blare of unorganized notes spilled from the stereo.
He was completely aroused. And certain parts of him felt as if they had been stricken with rigor mortis they were so stiff.
“Ooh…yeah! Ooh!” Prince panted, pushing my hands up and down. “Bust that body…Baby.”
His genitals we so very hot.
Instead of trying to pull from him, I clutched at him, my own groans becoming louder.
Absently, I lifted one leg and rested it on his hip.
Round and round…up and down.
“UGH!” A loud moan escaped Prince and he squeezed down on my hands and wrists so hard, they momentarily numbed.
He threw his head back and smacked me in the face.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed as my forehead throbbed.
He grunted loudly for a few spare seconds, body quivering.
The gyrations came to a stop.
“Ew!” Prince sighed almost in disgust. “Brynn…you got me…even wetter.”
He panted.
For the first time I noticed a warmness on my hands.
I sprang away from Prince.
A light dampness was on my palms and fingertips.
Head drooped, Prince slowly twisted to me and looked up through his long lashes.
“Thank you.” He whispered and kissed my mouth. “I love you.”
I squinched my face up at him. What the hell?
Had I just masturbated Prince?
I studied my hands again.
He had…climaxed on me!
I glanced down and stifled a squeal of surprise.
A line of liquid--that wasn’t water!--was rolling down the inside of his left leg.
Prince chuckled in a low tone. “Hmm, hmm, hmmm…You might wanna wash your hands. I don’t think Jacko wants to know what my juice smells like.”
With that Prince spun away from me and walked over to the open door of the bathroom, hands on hips, booty swaying.
He disappeared inside, pushing the door partially closed.
As water started running inside, I looked down at my hands.
Mortified. Horrified.
He had done it again. Prince had seduced me again!
The sneaky bastard. I couldn’t believe it.
Was I that weak? It was pathetic.
I knew I should have been remorseful, even frightened, but I wasn’t.
I was…in love.
Really in love with Prince.
I was warm with my own sensation of being turned on.
That he had really gone through all the trouble to make up a little dance for me.
It was flattering. Almost as flattering as the Ferrari.
But it was all so wrong!
I slowly wandered over to the bathroom door.
And slipped inside.
I discovered Prince’s boots, stockings, soiled underwear and arm sock on the floor. On the other side of the room, hidden behind blue frosted glass, I could make out his figure, taking a shower. Steam rose from the top of it and billowed across the ceiling.
I looked down at my hands again. My fingers were starting to stick together.
Disgusting.
I found the washbasin and turned on the hot water.
In the shower, Prince screamed.
“Now wait a minute Baby! I ain’t into all that. I don’t need a cold shower now!”
The remark made me laugh.
The first time I had laughed all day. It felt so good.
I picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing at my hands.
“Brynn, Lover, why don’t you go out there and order up some room service?” Prince suggested. “I’ll be out in a few.”
I suddenly felt so calm. I didn’t know why.
“All right!” I called back.
For the moment, I did feel “all right”
Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.


A Short While Later

“Here…put it in your mouth.” Prince urged quietly.
“I can’t. It’s too hot!” I remarked leaning away from him.
“Then let me blow on it for you.”
Prince brought the fork up to his mouth, a cube of bread covered with hot melted cheese poised on the end of it.
I watched, a smile on my face, as he pursed his pretty pink lips and puffed on the food.
On a table in front of us, two different fondues bubbled. A cheese one surrounded by cubes of French bread and deli meats and a white chocolate one surrounded by assorted small fruits.
“Here.” He held the fork out to me.
I ate the food and beamed at him.
He looked nice. After the shower to get the dirty boy clean, Prince had changed into a low cut black tunic trimmed with green piping and matching black trousers. A black scarf was tied around his hair which he had combed back.
“Let’s try the chocolate.” I offered, dipping a ball of honeydew melon into the white chocolate and holding it out to him.
Prince licked it up off my hand. “I’m glad you washed that hand” He chuckled.
“Prince?” I said dipping another melon ball.
I wanted to know something. Needed to know.
“How did you know that Michael was staying here? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you and he are at the same place. Especially only two days after you last saw each other.” I looked up at him weakly.
Prince leaned back and crossed his legs staring at me. He was working his tongue around his mouth again.
“You really want to know?” Prince folded his arms over his chest. He seemed annoyed I was even asking.
I didn’t care.
“Yes.” I nodded and my ponytail bounced.
“I’m a star, Baby.” Prince glanced over my head. “I have contacts all over the place and I can keep tabs on anyone I want with a simple phone call.”
He continued. “And I’m watching Michael like a hawk because he has the one thing I want--you.” Prince dunked a banana slice in the chocolate and ate it.
He really wanted me. Gosh.
“I don’t know why you want to stay with him, Brynn. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if you dumped his weird ass and moved to Minneapolis.” Prince shook his head brow furrowed.
I started to object, but Prince shot his hand up, silencing me.
“And he’s got all that baggage. Three children. None of them are yours. You shouldn’t have to play surrogate mama to them--”
I cut Prince off. “Hold it Slick. I love Michael’s children. They love me. Those are the sweetest children I’ve ever met and they accepted me right off the bat. And I can’t leave Michael. Because I don’t just love one person. I love four--Michael, Prince-Michael, Paris and Blanket. And you of course.” I shook my head.
Prince grunted and got up.
“You’re too young to be bothered with children. You’re barely past being jailbait yourself.”
“This coming from the man who just ejaculated on me.” I retorted hotly without thinking.
Prince sucked in his lips and his eyes bulged.
I thought he was going to start yelling at me.
Why did I suddenly envision him knocking the taste out of my mouth like he had done to Apollonia?
Instead, he tossed his head back and laughed wildly.
“You’re good Brynn. Real good.” He staggered over and dropped into my lap.
He nestled his face against my neck.
He smelled so sweet.
“What is that cologne you wear?” I asked, inhaling his trademark scent.
Prince chuckled into my throat. “It’s a perfume, Women’s Armani. I’ve been wearing it for years.”
Hmmm….Prince wore women’s perfume.
At that point, nothing much he said could shock me. Even if he sprouted a second head, turned green and proclaimed he was a spaceman from Jupiter.
“Why don’t you come back to Minneapolis? For real?” Prince tapped a finger around my face. His eyes dipped at the corners; he looked gloomy.
“Prince…” I searched his eyes. “I can’t hurt Michael. I promised him I wouldn’t. And I will not hurt those kids.” I explained quietly.
“Prince, you don’t understand. Michael is very different from you. He’s been hurt so many time by different lovers. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Don’t you think it bothers me when you leave me and go back to him? I want to keep you with me. Treat you like a real woman. Not a child. He almost shit when I gave you that car. Kinda funny that you’re almost twenty and didn’t have a car. And that says what? ” Prince cracked his knuckles. “That says you’re being babied.”
“We have a driver, Prince.” I pointed out.
“I wonder what Michael would think of his driver bringing you to see me.
I bet you haven’t even driven that car yet--have you?”
Prince eyed me, the color of them darkening from hazel to almost brown.
I couldn’t answer him. I hadn’t touched the car.
He took my silence as an response.
“I knew it.” Prince scoffed and shook his head, appalled.
“Do you go out at all? Do you have any friends that aren’t Jacksons or work for a Jackson?” He questioned.
I looked away from him, simmering. “I’m happy with how I am. The way things are.”
“Sounds pretty fucking lonely to me. In Uptown you had friends. Me, Mindy, even Morris. And you don’t have to sit and baby-sit any of us or play Barbies with us, because we’re all goddamned adults. Think about your life, Brynn. You spend your time with three children, a man who acts like a child with a house that has it’s own amusement park. You’re Wendy to Michael's fucking Peter Pan. God help us if y’all learn to fly. End up somewhere over the rainbow.” He poked his hand into my chest.
“I know Michael doesn’t like me. I don’t give a flaming flying fuck. He knows that I treat you like a woman and not a kid. That’s why he was so quick to get you out of Paisley Park. Because I had you looking like a woman. And you were acting like one. He’s threatened.” Prince ran his hand under my chin.
I slapped it away. Why did Prince always have to go from being so nice and sweet to being an absolute puke bag at the wrong time?
“Michael’s got nothing to be threatened by. A man, who, if he jumped off a street curb will have committed suicide?” I snapped.
“Ha…ha…you’re funny.” Prince laughed mockingly. “And I’m not that fucking short. I’m big where it counts.” He indicated his crotch.
“Please.” I turned from him.
I liked the way my life with Michael was. The closeness, the quietness. I didn’t need a billion people around me like Prince.
And to be honest, the only other person I had seen him with in New York was Mindy. I hated that Prince was always trying to shoot me down.
I wasn’t going to let him.
Behind him the doors to the elevator opened up and Mindy, laden with about thirty different shopping bags entered the room.
She looked a bit frazzled.
“Ah, I see our handy, dandy shopper is back.” Giving me a haughty flip of the head, Prince swung off my lap and helped me up.
“Yes, sir.” Mindy smiled dropping the bags to the floor. She returned my credit card to me.
“What all did you get?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t spent too much money.
“I got lots of things. Shirts, pants, dresses, shoes, lingerie…” Mindy fluffed her hair.
“Lingerie? Ow!” Prince picked up a pink bag with “XXX” printed on the front.
Digging around, he picked out a lilac lace bra and matching panties.
“I think I’ll keep this here. Wear this for me Brynn. Jacko can have the rest of that. ” He grinned devilishly at me. Flipping the bra over, he glanced at the tag on the bra.
“Damn! I didn’t know your tits were that big.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Shut up Prince! And, it’s Jackson, okay?”
I gave a few bags a cursory glance; Mindy had done a pretty good job. Most of the garments were in the line of what Michael would buy.
Hip, but classy.
“What time is it?” I questioned, looking at a blouse with Marilyn Monroe on the front in blue glitter.
Mindy picked up her phone and opened it. (There were never any clocks around Prince, because I had heard he didn’t believe in time.)
“It’s a quarter to six.” She said.
“A quarter to six?” I dropped the shirt. “Michael’s gonna be back to the room by six! I have to be there. Oh my God!” I scrambled to pick up the bags. I knew I’d have to ride the elevator down to the lobby and back up to make it look as though I had entered from down there.
Instead of leaving the Penthouse.
I gave Mindy a jumbled hug. “Thanks for shopping for me.”
“No problem.” She grinned. “Anytime. You saved my job!”
I started for the elevator.
Prince tugged me lightly by my hair.
“When will I see you again?” He wondered deeply , eyes searching my face.
“I don’t know.” I looked up at him, feeling sad. I didn’t know if I was sad to leave him or to have to face Michael.
“You bring the phone I gave you?” Prince twirled my hair.
“Yeah--it’s in my make-up case. But I can’t talk on it. Michael will hear me.” I fretted.
“I’ll text you then. Just text to me what happens. I wanna see you again and soon.” He yanked my head back and kissed me passionately.
We were both gasping for air when he let me go.
I bumped his nose with mine. “Bye, Sexy Dancer.”
He giggled.
I stepped into the elevator.
“Bye Sweet Baby.” Prince blew a kiss as the doors closed around me.
As I rode down to the lobby, I stared at myself in the mirrors.
It was odd, I had two faces, but looked as normal as the next woman…

* * *

“Yay! It’s Brynn!” Paris screamed as I entered the master suite.
She actually jumped into my arms knocking the bags I was holding out my hands and onto the floor.
“Hi!” I hugged her back.
“She’s been bouncing off the walls all day. Rusty bought her an iced latte from Starbucks.” Prince smiled from where he sat in the middle of the floor playing Old Maid with Blanket.
“You had coffee?” I stared down at Paris. She gazed up at me a huge grin plastered on her face. Yup, she was loaded with caffeine--the pupils of her eyes were dilated.
“Yes!” She exclaimed.
“How big a coffee did she have?” I questioned. No seven year old needed coffee. Not even coffee flavored ice cream.
“The biggest one they had.” Prince shuffled cards. “I didn’t have any. Me and Blanket had a smoothie.”
“Rusty!” I called trying to walk with Paris still hanging onto me.
The skunk came walking calmly from down the hall, tapping away on his Blackberry.
“Oh you’re back. Did some damage shopping huh?” He smiled at me.
“You let this little girl have an iced coffee?” I motioned to Paris who was clinging to me.
“The lady who made it said it was decaf. Chill out Brynn.” Rusty shook his head.
“Does it look like she’s had decaf? I’m wearing her like a belt! Where is Michael? Does he know she had coffee?” I argued.
“Who had coffee?” A voice behind questioned.
Michael, in a black three piece suit, was entering the room with his two hired guards.
“Daddy!” Paris shrieked and leapt from me into Michael’s arms.
“Take a wild guess.” I crossed my arms and glared at Rusty.
He almost dropped Paris.
“You let Paris have a coffee? I didn’t even have coffee this morning and I’m a grown man!” Michael’s eyes swelled as he looked at his daughter.
Rusty sputtered.
“This is Paris Jackson! Not Paris Hilton! Next thing I know you’ll be telling me she was dancing on a table somewhere!” Michael picked Paris up and cuddled her close to him.
“Uh, Dad…” Prince waved his hand to get Michael’s attention.
“She did dance at the zoo, but they played a Britney Spears song.” Prince put in. “We were on the sidewalk though. I danced too.” He grinned at Michael openly.
Michael stared harshly at Rusty.
“Right Michael, it won’t happen again.” Rusty made a speedy exit.
Michael walked over and pecked my cheek.
It was amazing he couldn’t smell Prince on me. I was sure some of his perfume had rubbed off on me.
“How was your day Honey? Had fun shopping? I see a lot of bags.”
“Good. How was your meeting?” I tried to change the subject.
The less we chatted about me, the better.
“Alright. I think I gained ten pounds I ate so much. We’ll meet later this week to discuss packaging and a release date for the song.” Michael nodded excitement in his eyes.
“That’s great.” I patted his back as Michael tried to loosen Paris’ arms from him.
He finally managed to get Paris off of him and she ran to join the Old Maid game.
“Did you eat something with cheese?” Michael questioned and I tensed up immediately.
Oh, God in Heaven! He knew! Who told him?
Had Prince really called the Missoni Grill and told on me?
No, Michael was far too calm. Most people blew their stack before murdering a lover.
If he knew I had gotten a semi lap dance from one of the people he detested most in the known universe…
“Cheese?” I repeated breathlessly, lungs deflating.
“Yeah. See?” Michael pointed to my chest.
A blob of yellow cheese stained my dress.
It must have plopped on me while Prince and I were sharing fondue.
“Oh…I uh, had a chili cheese dog at Nathan’s.” I put on a smile, my heart darkening from lying to Michael.
“Cool.” Michael grinned, whipping his jacket off and giving me a warm hug. “Bet that was yummy.”
“The best…” I mumbled quietly.
How long could I keep my cool?
* * *
　

Chapter 18

The Next Afternoon

“I have an announcement to make.”
I looked up from the blob of ketchup I was squirting onto Prince’s French fries.
We were all outside at the barbecue area, eating a lunch of grilled cheeseburgers and French fries.
(Well, Michael was eating a grilled veggie dog.)
Michael rose from where he sat next to me at the picnic style table and stretching long legs over the bench walked to the head of the table.
The Jackson trio and I all looked at Michael earnestly.
He wore a sheepish look on his pretty face as if he were about to let us in on a big secret.
“I’ve been doing some thinking…” Michael looked at us each in turn.
“Neverland is a nice place, but I think that we should get out, and move around. You know, stretch our legs.”
“What do you have in mind?” I asked as Prince grabbed my hands making me squirt more ketchup on his place. He couldn’t eat his fries unless he couldn’t see them!
Michael grinned broadly.
“A trip to New York City!” He exclaimed and a stream of ketchup hit Prince in the face.
“Hey!” He cried surprise.
“Sorry!” I started mopping his face with a napkin.
Blanket and Paris laughed and pointed.
“Mike, we’re really going to New York City?” I questioned, amazed.
I had never been to the “Big Apple”.
Michael nodded. “Yes! We’re going to go shopping and have fun! We leave tomorrow morning!”
“Daddy can we go to F. A .O. Schwartz?” Paris jumped up and ran over to her father, blue eyes wide with excitement.
“We can go wherever you want baby!” Michael scooped her up in a hug.
“Brynn!” Prince tugged at my hair gently. “You’re gonna love F. A .O. Schwartz, they have all the coolest toys!” He grinned at me. Next to him, Blanket was nodding in agreement.
“Who wants to start packing?” Michael questioned.
With a jubilant screech the kids abandoned their food and blazed off towards the main house.
Michael walked over slowly and put his arm around me.
“Are you excited Honey?” He questioned as we moved towards the house.
“Hell yes! I’ve never been to New York! It’s amazing…” I trailed off when I thought of the ‘talk’ Michael had had with his brothers about getting me away from Prince.
“Mike, does this have anything to do with what happened yesterday?” I questioned as we neared the house.
Michael stooped and plucked a small pink flower from a bed growing alongside the walk.
“Well…kind of. But before that weirdo showed up, I had been working up some meetings with distributors to get Not Over around. The little cricket was talking about an exclusive online release, well I’m releasing online and in stores too. Well, if everything goes right.” Michael twirled the flower in his fingers.
I kept my mouth shut about Prince.
“I’m sure everything will be peachy. Is that why Rusty was wearing that Blackberry out the other day?” I asked as we went into the house.
“Yup.” Michael giggled.
“Now let’s pack.”


Two Hours Later

Michael and I stood in my room, about seven huge Louis Vuitton suitcases spread on the bed and floor.
He was going through my closet selecting things for me to wear while in New York.
(Kind of reminded me of someone selecting my outfits.)
“The weather in New York should be nice. A little cool. If it gets colder, you can just buy a jacket or a fur or something.” Michael said quietly.
A new thought sprang up on me.
“Michael…how are we supposed to go around New York and even get there. I mean won’t your fans know you’re there and the paparazzi?” I questioned, folding a blouse and putting it in a suitcase.
“I don’t think so. Everything we’re doing is private. I mean a private plane and stuff. I reserved an entire floor at an exclusive hotel called the Windbush. It’s super nice. I tried for the penthouse suite, but someone had already rented it out.” Michael flipped his hair over his shoulder.
“How long are we going to be in New York?” I folded another shirt.
“A few weeks at least. But don’t worry. We can go shopping and maybe see plays or something.” Michael pecked my cheek as he dropped a pair of jeans in a bag.
“What are we gonna do…about us? I mean if people see us together, they might start speculating.” I wrung my hands worried that our relationship might come to light. I was as worried about that as I was Michael finding out about me and Prince.
“I got that figured out. You wanna wear a mask like my kids do?” Michael grinned. He was extremely protective of his kids’ identity and every time they went out in public he hid their faces with masks or scarves.
“Yeah…that’ll be fun.” I smiled. I liked the idea of a mask. It was cute.
“But what do we say if anyone asks who I am?” I questioned.
I knew Michael wasn’t going to say,
“Oh, this is Brynn, my teenaged girlfriend!”
“I fixed that too. I phoned one of my nephews, Taryll. He’s about twenty- eight or twenty-nine years old, and we’ll just say you’re his girlfriend.
And since people always check around I thought I’d fill him in.” Michael giggled.
“Whose son is Taryll?” I questioned.
So many of Michael’s siblings had so many kids it was hard to keep track of who belonged to whom.
“Taryll is Tito’s middle son. He has two other brothers--Taj and TJ.” Michael beamed.
I remembered the way Tito and Jermaine had looked at me after ‘meeting’ Prince. I was sure that if Tito had told his sons anything, Taryll probably already disliked me.
“They sing right?” I wondered, loading my make-up case into a bag. I vaguely remembered some second generation Jacksons song group in the nineties when I was a kid.
“Yeah, 3T. But, they don’t sing anymore. They’re doing their own things. It was hard finding someone to fib on.” Michael chuckled. “All my nephews are else too young for you or involved with someone. Ha-ha. But I don’t mind telling a fib, to stop the tabloids from lying first. I wanna give them the run-around.” Michael hugged me.
“We’re gonna have so much fun!” I snickered wrapping my arms around his neck.


The Next Day
The Windbush Hotel
New York City, New York

“Hello Mr. Jackson! Welcome to the Windbush Hotel!” A tall thin, Hispanic man greeted Michael as he we all unfolded out of a large white Range Rover. He appeared to be in his early thirties. “I’m Liberty Corona, your personal guide, sir.”
I was extremely happy to get out in the private parking garage underneath the Windbush.
For over four hours, Michael, his children, Rusty and two hired bodyguards had been crammed into a private plane flying from LAX to La Guardia Airport.
Then it had been another hour-long drive from La Guardia to the Windbush located just south of Central Park.
I could tell that the Windbush was going to be a totally ritzy upscale appearance, just by looking at Liberty.
Liberty was dressed down in a formal deep burgundy jacket that was trimmed around the lapels with gold. A gold braided roped looped itself around his left shoulder and through an epaulet.
Under the jacket he wore a crisp white shirt and black tie, all tucked neatly into a pair of slim black trousers. White gloves covered his hands.
“Hello…Liberty. Thanks for meeting with us.” Michael smiled, adjusting his dark glasses on the bridge of his nose.
They shook hands.
Paris and Blanket clutched at my hands while Prince stood along side his father, looking sleepily up at Liberty.
All the children wore masks. Michael didn’t feel it was necessary I wear one in the hotel since we were alone.
“Mr. Jackson, your belongings are being put away in your suite right now sir. We here at the Windbush understand your need for privacy and we are doing everything we can to ensure it. You will have your own private elevator and we have arranged for cars to carry you, your lovely children and your companions wherever they need to go in the city.” Liberty spoke quickly. I liked the way he spoke, he had a campy, sort of lisp-y voice.
“Which floor will we be staying on?” Michael questioned, as Liberty, walking briskly led us over to what looked like a freight elevator.
“The sixteenth floor sir. The entire floor is cleared for you and your family.” Liberty pressed the up button. A moment later the doors opened and we all crowded into the small cube of an elevator.
“I tried to reserve the penthouse suite, but I was told that the floor was already occupied by someone else.” Michael blew a lock of hair out his eyes.
“Yes sir. We are sorry sir, but that floor has been rented out since last year by the same person. There is no way that we could have them leave. Again, I’m sorry.” Liberty ran a hand over his thick black hair which was moussed and slicked back wetly.
“Who rented out the penthouse?” Michael tilted his glasses and winked at me.
I blushed. I wondered what it would be like to “get wild” in the elevator with him.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that, sir. Hotel policy. But I assure you, the sixteenth floor with suffice.” Liberty grinned nervously. I was sure his employment rode solely on the grounds that Michael remained happy.
A bell dinged, signifying that we had reached our floor.
As we stepped out, excited ooh’s and ahh’s escaped us.
The sixteenth floor was decadent with a capital “D”.
All around us, everything was gilded. It looked at though we were in a French chateau.
Versailles even.
Painting of landscapes and various animals hung on walls, edged with thick gold frames. The walls were papered in a rich blue fleur-de-lis pattern.
Every so often we’d pass a Louis XIV or Louis XV (whoever got beheaded with Marie Antoinette) table.
Plush carpet cushioned our every step and caught Blanket when he tripped on his untied shoelace.
Liberty led us to a set of double doors.
“This is the master suite and includes three bedrooms for your children. Your companions can pick their own rooms. There’s fifteen other ones ont his floor.” Liberty smiled.
Pushing the doors opened, we gasped.
Through the doors lay…a veritable Versailles.
Everywhere the eyes could look I saw marble, silk, carpeting, rich woods.
All of us filed in. Michael was taking all of the opulence in stride, while I was turning into a glassy eyed hillbilly.
I held my tongue, but I was screaming on the inside from excitement.
“There is a refrigerator of incidentals and alcohol in the master bedroom and if there is anything at all you require, sir, please feel free to call me at the front office. Thank you once again for choosing the Windbush” Liberty started towards the door.
“Thank--” Michael started.
Liberty turned back. His bugged dark eyes were pleading.
“Mr. Jackson, if it’s not too much trouble, could I bother you for an autograph? My mother loves you and your music. Please sir?” Liberty reached into his jacket producing a small notepad and pen.
“Hey, cool it with that kid,” Rusty put his hands up, “Michael is here for a semi-vacation. He doesn’t need to be bothered with that.”
“Rusty.” Michael shot him an angry glance.
He shrank back.
“You were so nice to all of us, I’ll give you an autograph.” Michael took the pad and pen.
Liberty appeared shocked that he was going to receive an autograph from the King of Entertainment.
“My mother’s name is Louisa--L-O-U-I-S-A.” Liberty hummed gleefully as Michael started scribbling on the paper:

To Louisa,
All my Love,
Michael Jackson

Michael returned the pad to an excited Liberty.
“Thank you Mr. Jackson! Nobody in Spanish Harlem is going to believe my mother has this!” Liberty shook Michael’s hand hard and made a run for the door.
“That was very nice Michael.” I smiled patting him on the back.
“Thanks…” Michael ran his hand over the back of my head. He was always shy about the good deeds he did.
Doing a dance step spin, Michael questioned,
“Who wants to go shopping?!?”
“We do!”
That Night

“Oooh! My dogs are barking!” Michael giggled sitting on the edge of the our bed in the master bedroom.
It was so ostentatious it was insane. The room coordinated with the rest of the French inspired décor in that it was blue and gold.
The bed had to be double the size of Michael’s at Neverland and covered with a velvet comforter and silk sheets and it even had a padded, upholstered headboard.
Michael was kicking off his loafers and wiggling his socked feet in the air. I knew his feet had to be on fire. He had been up and standing for over six hours. He, his children, and I had toured several boutiques that had closed especially for him and he had been on his feet selecting everything from a jacket embroidered with Spiderman on it for Prince and Blanket, to a pair of shoes encrusted with red glitter for Paris and several dresses for me.
Michael didn’t go unattended.
He had purchased several oil paintings and a statues for his home. (Most of his clothes were custom made, so he didn’t usually buy them.)
“Do your feet hurt, Babe?” I asked taking a seat next to him.
I just wanted to be sweet to him. It wasn’t hard at all.
I loved him.
“A little.” Michael touched his nose softly.
“Here, let me massage them for you.” I giggled pulling his feet into my lap.
“Oh Brynn!” Michael covered his face with his long hands and chuckled.
“Shhh!” I pulled the socks off exposing his tootsies.
As I started rubbing on the bottoms of them, Michael moaned happily.
“You, my little darling, have the hands of a miracle worker.”
“Michael…where are the kids?” I asked quietly, pinching at his toes.
“Asleep. Why?” Michael had a devilish grin to his face.
His ears shone red, he was getting…there.
“Just curious.” I said innocently. “You know I like this place--this room. All this French stuff makes me want something.” I blew a lock of hair out of my eyes.
“Yeah? What?” Michael chuckled. “French Fries? French Toast?”
I pushed Michael’s feet away gently and leaned against him.
“Oh… I dunno…how about a French…kiss?” I looked up at him.
If Michael’s smile were any wider, he’d have swallowed his ears.
“A French kiss…I think I can manage that.” Michael reached out and grabbed onto my face, bringing me in and pressing his tender lips against mine.
Our lips bounced against each other for several moments.
And then I felt the dampness of Michael’s thin pink tongue trying to gain admittance to a taboo show.
I pulled from him. “No…don’t put it in mine.” I waved my finger at him.
Michael bit his bottom lip and nodded earnestly.
“Brynn, this is a side I’ve never seen.” He confided, twirling his thumbs.
“Do you like it?” I wondered, looking down.
Michael cupped my chin in his soft hand.
“I like everything you do. I love you, Baby.” He divulged.
Our lips mashed again.
Working up the nerve, I found my tongue in his sweet mouth, gently flicking around.
His mouth tasted of warm cinnamon.
(I knew it would, the last store we went to was Dylan’s Candy Bar--owned by clothing designer Ralph Lauren’s daughter Dylan Lauren--and he ate what had to be over a dozen cinnamon fireballs.)
Somehow the taste was just right.
Sweet and hot. If Michael were a flavor, he’d be a hundred and twenty pounds of pure cinnamon.
Michael mumbled through our kiss and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer and on top of his body.
“I…I want you…Honey.” Michael whispered hotly into my ear. And I could feel him undoing the zipper on the back of the pink sheath dress I wore.
“And I…you.” I replied, slipping the dress from my upper body, exposing my matching pink bra.
“You’re so cute. And you’re mine. All mine!” Michael exclaimed and started to unhook the back of my bra.
Michael was a natural when it came to the task of undressing the female form. His hands moved swiftly, but gingerly, his fingers brushing my bare back. I gasped every time his fingers touched me.
“Oh…” Michael moaned, slipping the bra from over my breasts, exposing them.
“I love your boobies…hee-hee.” Michael grinned bawling up the scrap of fabric and dropping it to the floor.
“Oh you do?” I loved ‘teasing’ Michael. I put my hands up in my hair and shook my shoulders, making my ‘fun pillows’ wiggle.
I was ready and willing for him.
“Gosh!” Michael put out his hands, poised to fondle me.
It thrilled me whenever he said ‘gosh’ like that. Sounded like all the wind was coming out of him with one word.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
“No!” Michael whispered angrily. “Not now!”
“Who is it?” He growled springing up from the bed.
“It’s Rusty.” Came the reply.
“What does that bitch want?” I sneered, angry that Rusty would dare interrupt what was bound to be an earth-shattering experience.
“Don’t swear Sweetie.” Michael cautioned.
“He is a bitch!” I argued back.
As I shuffled to cover my body, Michael went to the door.
He opened it just a crack.
“What is it Rusty? I’m busy.” Michael’s voice took on the pallor that it had when he addressed, ‘That Damn Man’.
“I got that thing you wanted Michael.” Rusty handed Michael a small, shiny red object.
“Oh, thanks.” Michael took the object and closed the door on him.
“I got something for you.” He gave me a boyish smile and sat back on the bed.
“What? A subpoena?” I fluffed my hair as Michael stopped and stood over me.
He extended his hand, the little red thing balanced on his palm.
I was stunned to see that it was a credit card, with my name emblazoned on it in silver lettering.
“This is for me? Why?” I stared up at Michael in shock.
“Yes Brynn. It’s yours. You know tomorrow I’m going to be tied up in meetings all day and Rusty is taking the kids to take the kids to The Brooklyn Zoo. I want you to take that card and go do some shopping.” Michael grinned and pressed the card into my lap.
“Michael we already shopped today. You know you don’t have to get me things. I told you that all day.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to keep buying me things. I love you.”
I still felt weird when Michael bought anything for me. Even if it was a dirty water hot dog at a vendor in Central Park.
He had been so nice to me already, I felt odd taking money from him.
“I love you too. I want you to have a little bit of time to yourself. You’ve been working so hard and helping with my children and being bothered with that little Purple Idiot. You’ve earned it.” Michael kissed the top of my head.
“Buy to heart’s content. The card has no limit. I just ask a few things of you.” Michael cautioned.
Strings.
“Please wear make-up and try not to mention me. I’ve learned from experience that if somebody tells someone else they’re with me, you’ll have a few hundred new ‘friends’ following you home. That one guy, Liberty was alright, but I don’t want you in any danger.” Michael looked down at his bare feet.
“If anything happened to you…” Michael trailed off. “You just get a private car to carry you over to Fifth Avenue and don’t walk anywhere. Okay?” Michael looked down at me, his doe eyes filled with seriousness.
“Yes, Michael of course. What do you want me to buy? We bought a lot of stuff today.” I spun the card in my fingers. I never in my life had owned a credit card.
“Buy something pretty to show me…only me.” Michael tossed his head and winked at me. “And some other things. I know I won‘t be back until at least six or seven at night. Maybe later.”
“Okay, but there’s something I want to do before I go shopping tomorrow.” I grabbed the front of Michael’s shirt, tugging him off into bed with me.
Snapping out the light I whispered,
“Let’s start back where we were before Rust Bucket came in…”

The Main Players...

Hey Y'all!

To help you visualize Michael and Prince's appearance in my story so far, here's some pics. Their appearances will change a bit during the story--Prince's more than Michael's because. well, I just had a ball playing with his looks. But here they are so far!

Michael Jackson:



This is really how I envision Michael. Very slim, with the long, slightly curled hair. He's serious, just out of the trial and looking for love.

Prince:



Prince is hot and sexy, coming off a divorce from his second wife and looking for a woman to cuddle. Unfortunately the one he chooses ALREADY belongs to Michael.

Just for visuals! LOL!

Chapter 17

That Night


“…alright, now tell me again, what on earth possessed you to start a food fight?” I asked working up a lather in Paris’ hair.
The poor child was covered from head to toe in what had to be the entire contents of the pantry at Neverland.
Chocolate and flour smudges covered her tiny face and hands, and everything from Jell-o cubes to marshmallow fluff was tangled into her waist length mane. The last three inches of her hair were packed together with peanut butter.
I still wasn’t sure how the food fight had occurred. The night started out innocently enough. Michael and I had been lounging in Michael’s bed, reading a book when Prince had pranced in, flanked by Paris and Blanket. Prince mildly asked if he could make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for himself and his siblings.
Michael had waved them on out the room, his only advice being:
“Use a butter knife, not a sharp one.”
Ten minutes later, the sounds of screams and containers hitting various surfaces drew Michael and me out and running downstairs.
The kitchen and pantry were an ultimate nightmare and the three children were still in the middle of it all, fighting.
Well sort of. While Paris was chasing Prince around the island, throwing handfuls of grapes, Blanket sat calmly at the counter, head tilted back, a bottle of green sprinkles to his mouth. The only damage to him was an orange Blow-Pop stuck to the back of Batman pajamas. Three empty Jelly Belly Jellybeans bags were next to him, suggesting he had spent the entire fight eating.
Food littered the floor and was lying in a puddle of Kool-Aid, the pitcher overturned on it’s side in the dining room, just inches shy of the expensive Persian rug under the large pine dining table. Several types of cereal were mashed into the floor and on the counters. Somehow a stream of Hershey’s chocolate sauce had been squirted all over the refrigerator and most of the cabinets.
While I tried to pick the candy off of Blanket’s clothes, Michael tried to stop Paris and Prince from running.
Not such an easy task.
He had made a grab for Prince, who was wholly covered with so much chocolate sauce that his blonde hair was brown. And somehow a Maraschino cherry had gotten stuck to the top of his head. He was a walking sundae.
Prince whipped past Michael so quickly that he spun and landed on his tummy in the center of the Kool-Aid, which was blue and which also turned his grey striped pajamas a weird navy color.
That didn’t stop Miss Paris. Oh no! While Michael was down and slipping, struggling to get up, Paris decked him along the back with another handful of grapes.
It took us a half hour to get them to stop running. But not before they had tracked food all over the first floor and outside and halfway to movie theatre. (After Prince and Blanket had both named Paris as the culprit for starting the fight, she had tried to make a break for it. Well as far as a seven-year-old could break for it anyway.)
I was surprised that Michael wasn’t upset at all. The lower level of his mansion looked as though Willy Wonka’s factory had exploded in it.
Instead, Michael giggled happily and said he had hated missing out on the food fight himself, a gesture that warmed my heart until it almost burst. Michael really was the nicest man in the world.
And there I was on my knees along side of my bathtub, picking enough food out of Paris’ head to feed a Sally Struthers’ country.
“Look at this!” I opened my hand showing her a headless green gummy bear that I had freed from her curls.
Paris stared at it and giggled uproariously.
“Did we make a big mess?” She wondered and splashed around.
“Kind of. Nothing that a little sandblasting and maybe a wrecking ball won’t fix.” I snorted and started rinsing her hair.
“Come on kiddo, I think you’re clean.” I smiled draining the tub and holding up her pink robe that had her name and a little Eiffel Tower embroidered on the back in black thread.
As Paris slipped on the robe and started tying it closed I became acutely aware of the sound of music lightly playing.
I looked around and after a moment, my eyes landed on the large, closed make up case sitting on top of my washbasin counter.
The noise was coming from it.
There was only one thing in my case that wasn’t cosmetics:
The purple phone Prince had given me.
I has stashed the phone in there because I so seldom wore make up that I knew it would be one of the last places Michael would look.
My heart momentarily stopped as a realization burned through me.
Prince was calling me!
I glanced back over at Paris. She was haphazardly tying a white towel around her damp hair.
I wondered if she noticed the music playing.
She struggled with the towel.
Nah, she was too busy trying to get all her hair into the towel.
I had to get her out of the room before she heard the phone ringing.
“Paris…” I said gently, placing my hands on her small shoulders.
“Yes Brynn?” She looked up at me, a small smile lighting her face.
“Why don’t you go off to your room, put on your sleep clothes and I’ll come later and read you a bedtime story?” I offered, chewing nervously on my bottom lip.
“Oh God please let this child cooperate with me!”

I prayed silently.
“Can I pick the book?” Paris questioned tugging at the sleeve of my pajamas.
“Sure!” I forced a smile and tapped her head.
“Alright! Thanks Brynn!” Paris wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me a zealous hug. “You’re the coolest grown-up in the world--you know, besides Daddy!” Paris exclaimed and jogged out of the room.
With Paris out the bathroom, I quickly ran and closed and locked the door to my bedroom.
Then I walked, hesitantly back to the bathroom.
It was like walking The Green Mile.
I stood over my make up case, hands a tremble, as the music continued to play.
Prince was actually calling me!
I wondered if I should actually answer it.
The phone kept singing.
I knew that as persistent as Prince could be, he might have let the phone ring all night or until I answered it. Whichever was quicker.
And it continued to ring.
With every ring, my heart pounded even harder.
I knew that the stress was going to be the end of me.
Yeah, Michael would find me in the fetal position, blue, with a little purple phone in my hand, probably still ringing.
Drawing a deep and shaky breath, I opened my case and from under a pile of multicolored eyeliner pencils, I produced the phone.
I was stunned when I realized the song playing as the ring tone.
“Secret Lovers…Secret Lovers…that’s what we are…”
Of all the songs in the goddamned universe he had to choose Atlantic Star’s Secret Lovers!
Why didn’t he just hire a bloody skywriter to stencil it in purple letters over Neverland of my infidelity to Michael?
Irking up the nerve, I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear.
Well in theory the phone was near my ear, but bobbing from my tremoring.
“Hello?” I just barely managed to squeak the words out.
I could make out the sound of someone lightly breathing on the other end.
Just breaths, no response, no anything.
Maybe he had gone to sleep on the other end?
No--I knew that on occasion, Prince would lightly snore. Not a full buzz saw effect, but it was enough to make you sit up and take notice.
Soft breaths in my ear.
My heart was thudding in the other ear.
After a few tense moments, I managed to make myself say,
“Prince?”
A cough.
Silence.
I gazed around my bathroom wondering if I was even speaking to him.
I almost leapt out of my skin when his voice, deep and lurid, simply said,
“Yes.”
I found that I couldn’t make myself speak to him. I actually couldn’t make words come out my mouth.
Prince spoke first.
“How are you Pretty Baby?” Prince’s voice was softer and sexier than ever.
“I’m….I’m fine.” I made myself say. I was far from it.
“I was thinking about you. How cold my bed is without your hot little body in it. Been thinking about you a lot. About us. ”
His words hung in my brain. I was speechless.
Prince actually missed me. I wasn’t just another notch on his belt--if he ever wore one.
“So…did you get the little package I sent to Never, Neverland?”
His voice remained low and steady.
“Yes, I got your package…” I twirled a lock of my hair nervously, thinking of Michael throwing the necklace. “…This is the first time I’ve heard from you since I left.”
“Seems longer than just three days.” Prince chuckled and I heard a note of sadness in his voice. “Been a long, lonely three days, Baby.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off, still half in disbelief that I was taking a call from Prince when I was supposed to be forgetting him.

“And was the One Gloved Wonder happy this damn time? He clowned his ass off at Paisley Park. Everyone is still talking about it.” Prince laughed outright and my heart ached.
It hurt me when anyone made fun of Michael and to have Prince’s entire clique getting enjoyment from Michael’s dismay, was needling me like a red hot poker.
Maintaining my composure and holding my tongue, I forced out,
“Michael is pleased with the photograph.”
“Oh…whatever.” I could actually image Prince rolling those hazel eyes of his.
“And did you get your necklace? I noticed that you left it when Michael swept you out of my house, you know during that little nervous breakdown he was having.”
I nibbled on my lip again. How could I possibly tell him that probably at that moment, Rusty was in East Los Angeles at a seedy pawn shop cashing in my trinket?
“Well?” Prince pushed further.
He was breathing so heavily into the receiver I wondered if he was doing something obscene on his end.
“I don’t have it.” I whispered so quietly and shakily that I hoped Prince didn’t hear me.
“What?” Prince sounded shocked. “You don’t have it? Why the hell don’t you have it?”
“Um…” My mind raced until I could hear blood rushing in my ears trying to mock up a lie in a hurry.
“Tell me!” Prince hissed and fright took me.
“Michael…he…um…he gave it away.” I blurted and braced for the roof to come down on me.
Prince was dumbstruck and for a few moments only sputtered on incoherently in a mash of syllables.
I sank to the floor as Prince screamed erratically.
“He gave the fucking necklace I gave to you away? Why? Who the fuck did he give it to? That bitch! That was a seventy-eight hundred dollar custom made necklace!”
I slipped to the floor in my own wrap of shock. I had been wearing a seventy-eight hundred dollar necklace? And it was in Rusty’s hands?
“Who the hell has the necklace now?” Prince demanded, his voice sliding up and down in shrillness. “Tell me now or I’ll come through this phone and ask Michael my damn self!”
“Rusty has it!” Fear made me tell.
Prince was livid and I heard some sort of glass over the phone shatter.
“He gave it to Rusty?” My eardrum popped Prince shouted so loud.
I frantically tried to explain how Michael felt in regards to the symbol.
Prince cut me off mid-sentence.
“Fuck him. Little high water pants wearing ass! I’m going to see to it that I give you something he can’t possibly give away! Got some goddamned nerve! Shit, you’re my woman! I can give you jewelry when I want! Fu-uck him!”
With that, the line went dead.
“Prince?” I called into the receiver.
“Prince?”
Nothing.
Nauseated, I dropped the phone to the floor and proceeded to the commode to vomit.
I could only ponder what Prince could give me that couldn’t be given away.
I just hoped it wasn’t anything contagious.
I spent the days after my turbulent conversation with Prince trying to contact him again. I punched ‘Pound 31’ under my fingertips were bruised and even bled. I even went as far as to dial up Paisley Park directly from the phone in Michael’s office. (Paisley Park was listed in his Roll-A-Deck, under ‘That Damn Man‘. I didn’t think he’d notice one call to Minneapolis.)
The only person I got a hold of was Mindy and the only information that she’d relay was that “Mr. Prince loves you and is planning something big.”
Only God knew what Prince was planning and how big it was going to be.
And that it wouldn’t cause Michael to go off into the stratosphere.
It didn’t take too long to find out.
* * *
A Few Days Later


“I’m gonna whoop your head!”
“Nah-uh! I’m gonna whoop your head!”
Prince and Paris jeered at each other as Michael led his children and me over to the east side of Neverland that featured a go-cart track and several carts. Rusty trailed behind us several yards, typing wildly into a Blackberry.
I supposed he was making little appointments for Michael. (And I was sure that the Blackberry had been purchased with money made from my pawned necklace.)
As we neared the track I saw that two cars, one red and the other blue were waiting for what was going to be the Battle Royale of the Jacksons. Or at least until the older of the Jackson children found something else to squabble about.
But really life was good.
Well, except for one nagging, almost obsessive thought:
What was Prince (Nelson) up to?
Out of sight, out of mind, that’s what I kept preaching to myself.
As Michael strapped his son and daughter into their carts, I stood, holding onto Blanket’s hand to keep him from wandering out into the track. At only four years old, he was a little too young to drive a go-cart by himself.
In my other hand, I held onto a large red umbrella for Michael to shield his delicate skin from the sun with.
“Alright!” Michael giggled digging into his pocket and producing a white tissue.
“When I give the cue you start your engines! Three laps around the track. And none of that Ben-Hur stuff--Prince!” Michael winked at his son who laughed loudly. In a recent race, Prince had actually bumped Michael’s car several times to get ahead of him.
“Winner gets a big bag of Dum-Dum Pops all to themselves!”
Paris and Prince screamed gleefully.
(I knew that either way the contest fell that both Prince and Paris and even little Blanket were going to get bags of suckers.)
“And be sure your don’t hit me! Took weeks for that bruise on my shin to go away from last time!” Michael chuckled.
“Count it off Brynn!” Michael grinned at me.
“One…” I smiled.
Paris and Prince leaned over their steering wheels, hands tightening in grip, competitor mindsets taking hold.
“Ready for a head whooping Big Bro?” Paris laughed.
“Are you ready for yours?” Prince stuck out his tongue.
“Two…” Michael raised his hanky in the air.
“THREE!”
He dropped his arm and had to pounce off the track as Paris and Prince roared into gear.
“Are you okay?” I cautioned as Michael stepped onto the grass next to me and his youngest child.
“Yes. It’s gonna be a nightmare when they have to get driver’s licenses, I think my kids think the only speed in the world is “Fast”.” Michael guffawed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
“Isn’t that the only way to get around?” I winked at him.
He winked back.
Michael looked extremely casual, even for him.
He wore an oversized white t-shirt with a black and white photograph of my favorite comedy duo, Laurel and Hardy emblazoned the front. Laurel was even in the middle of one of his ridiculous crying spells in the picture.
Michael had paired the shirt with a simple pair of black denim pants, white socks and comfy loafers.
A black fedora was perched on his head, the first time I had seen him in one since I had met him.
He was gorgeous.
Michael took the umbrella from me and started opening it.
As Paris and Prince whizzed by, Michael yelled,
“Go kids! Go!”
“Go Prince! Go Paris!” Blanket echoed, jumping up and down enthusiastically, making my arm jangle in the process.
Michael leaned over, lips poised to peck my cheek.
“Woo! Who’s that making all that noise?” A voice cried, causing Michael,
and me to jump.
Blanket was so engrossed in the race, he didn’t even notice.
We whirled around to see two men, making their way over to us.
They were both waving wildly.
Both men were roughly six feet tall and both of the same brown sugar complexion and appeared to be in their early fifties.
One was thin, not thin as Michael though. He had chiseled facial features and a warm light danced in his dark eyes. His hair, black and frosted with steely grey was piled high and gelled firmly in place into a waved flat top.
The other man was a bit heavier with a rotund body and happy round face. Thick black brows hung over his laughing eyes.
He wore a natural flat top.
Both men wore colorful polo shirts and cargo shorts.
“Hey!” Michael laughed waving back as the men joined us next to the track.
“Michael, my man, what’s going on?” The round man smiled slapping Michael on the back.
“Nothing much!” Michael grinned.
“Man, we couldn’t find a golf cart, had to walk all the way over here.” The thin man chuckled.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Michael looked down at his feet.
“Rusty!” He said sharply.
“Yes Michael?” Rusty trotted over.
“Go bring a golf cart over here, please?” Michael instructed.
“Yes!” Rusty, in another three piece suit--in the California heat--ran off to find a cart.
As Rusty made his retreat, Michael reached out and gently grabbed onto my arm.
“Come here Sweetie, I have some people I want you to meet.” Michael said softly puling me over to the men. I dragged a still screaming Blanket over to me.
“Brynn,” Michael’s eyes glowed. “I’d like you to meet my brothers--”
He motioned to the thin man,
“Jermaine…”
And the rotund man,
“…and Tito.”
“Hi, nice to meet you both.” I grinned, shaking their hands with my free one.
“Michael…” Jermaine looked me up and down. “This is Brynn?” He questioned, gob smacked.
Michael chewed on his bottom lip and nodded sheepishly. I saw that his ears were pink.
“Mike, you old dog you! Go on!’ Tito playfully punched Michael in the stomach. His voice was a little deeper than I expected.
“She’s cuter than Marlon described her .” Jermaine smiled, and I noticed that his voice was as soft as Michael’s.
“Oh Marlon told you?” Michael put his hand to his forehead.
“Word spreads like wildfire in this family, doesn’t it.” I giggled.
The Jacksons moved a story faster than a tabloid. (At least the story being moved was true though.)
Michael, Tito and Jermaine laughed uproariously.
“Got you a little feisty one! I like her!” Tito cackled.

Vibrant shouting drew our attention back to the race track.
Paris and Prince had finished their race and exited their cars and were now arguing about whose head had been whooped.
“Sibling rivalry at it’s finest.” Michael shook his head as we walked over to the children.
“Dad, I whooped her head! I won!” Prince exclaimed tossing his arms up.
“Daddy, I would have won, but he cut me off!” Paris poked out her bottom lip.
“You’re just mad cause I whooped your head!” Prince stuck his tongue out at his sister.
“That’s nice.” Michael ruffled the kids’ hair. “Say ‘hi’ to your uncles.”
As Prince, Paris, and now an alert Blanket hugged Tito and Jermaine, Rusty rode up on a Neverland golf cart.
“Where to?” Rusty smiled as all of us piled onto the cart.
“Uh, over to the barbecue area, and have the cook bring us some sodas.” Michael smiled tucking his arm around me as Rusty put the cart in gear and we shot off across the lawn.
If only I knew that in the bright and happy day, a little purple rain was about to fall.

An Hour Later

“…now I had already told the lady I’d give her an autograph once I got done eating. I take two bites out of my sandwich and she’s in my face with a pen and notepad. Since when is two bites eating an entire meal?” Tito laughed loudly.
Us adults had convened around the pool while Michael’s children we running here and yonder having free run of the ranch.
We were sitting with our bare feet dangling in the cool water.
Behind us, Rusty sat in a deck chair, still fiddling with the Blackberry.
“Did you give her the autograph?” Michael chuckled, his arm around my waist. He hadn’t stop holding me since we had sat down.
His other hand balanced the red umbrella over us.
“I ate my entire sandwich, ate a bag of chips and drank my iced tea before I moved.” Tito snorted.
I was really enjoying Tito and Jermaine’s company. They were characters, cool and funny.
We were talking like we had known each other for years.
“So Brynn, word around the family is that you got to go to Minneapolis to work with Prince?” Jermaine wondered.
Oh why did he have to bring the man up, right when he was almost out my mind?
“Um, yeah. We did a song together, called Game.” I looked down as Michael’s grip on my hip tightened.
I knew he truly disapproved of hearing Prince’s name mentioned.
Jermaine and Tito nodded solemnly.
“Oh, cool.” Jermaine said quietly, eyes fixed on Michael.
“Prince, that’s one crazy little dude. Is his house all purple and junk?” Tito leaned around Jermaine and smiled at me.
At least someone maintained a decent sense of humor.
“Nah, it’s white, but parts are purple.” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around Michael and leaning my head on his chest.
“I’d never send my woman near him. You’re cooler than me Michael.” Jermaine nodded. “Way cooler.”
Grind…grind…grind.

Even though he looked placid, it sounded as though Michael were grinding his teeth into a fine powder.
“Michael, are you gonna let that little dude put his song out before yours?” Tito wondered, kicking his feet back and forth.
“Working on it. Gotta get everything fine tuned. I’m not worried about Prince or anybody.” Michael nodded seriously, hair bouncing against my forehead.
“That’s the spirit! Fear no one.” Jermaine slapped Michael’s knee in agreement.
Oh, how I was about to worry and be fear-stricken.
“Dad! Hey Dad!”
We looked up to see Prince, toting Blanket on piggy back, followed by Paris, rushing over to us.
“What is it?” Michael asked, twirling the umbrella.
Prince stooped and allowed Blanket to drop to his feet.
“Dad, there’s a man in the front of the house…” Prince shook his head until his fair hair swayed.
“A man?” Michael went into Protective Father mode. I was sure he assumed a paparazzi was in the midst.
He quickly jumped to his feet, along with his brothers.
“Yeah Daddy, he’s got a gift for Brynn!” Paris threw her slender arms up in the air.
“A gift? For me?” I stood up next to Michael.
“You got me something?” I grinned up at him, patting his bottom.
My heart slowed when Michael looked down at me, eyes wide and somber, and replied,
“No.”
“Come on!” Paris was tugging at our hands.
“I wonder what this is.” Michael mumbled under his breath as all of us jogged around to the front of the house.
As we made it to the driveway that sprawled in front of the main house, I stopped on a dime.
Michael and everyone else banged into each other.
And we all stared open mouthed and slack jawed.
“Speak of the damn devil.” I heard Jermaine whisper behind me.
My heart started splitting instantly.
There, leaning casually against a dark plum sports car, was Prince.
Jimmy stood a few feet behind his boss, quietly taking up a massive space.
I stared at Prince in a mix of horror and a bit of sheer adulation.
He had truly danced off into the sugary, and glittery world of androgyny.
His small body was covered in black and electric blue paisley print body suit and jacket.
The jacket was cropped very short, just below where his nipples should have been.
The bodysuit clung to him like a second or third skin, the top made like a tank top and inching down his tight body to the bottoms.
And if a tighter than what God would allow fit weren’t enough, two cut outs on the trousers exposed the yellow flesh of Prince’s toned little hips.
A gold chain glittered from under the clothing and around his waist.
His hair sparkled with blue glitter and was blown straight and heightened at the crown.
Dark Versace sunglasses hid his eyes, but his facial make up was noticeable.
His cheeks and lips glowed an unnatural shade of light pink.
How he had even gotten into Neverland was a feat in and of itself.
Neverland had tighter security than the White House and Fort Knox--combined.
Houdini couldn’t have gotten in if he tried.
It was a quiet tense moment.
My heart pounded and my mouth was cottony.
The only sounds came from far off, Michael’s animals grunting and making noises creatures make.
Nobody dared move.
I could feel everyone sizing each other up.
Jacksons sizing Prince, Prince sizing the Jacksons.
My hands shook.
Cracking a sly smile, and sauntering over like Neverland was his piece of real estate, Prince exclaimed,
“Ah, hi Michael!” And flicked his fingers, acknowledging Michael’s presence. If you could call it that.
“I don’t believe this.” Tito murmured.

I looked up at Michael.
He was so duly shocked that Prince was in his presence, little paisley boots touching his landscape.
“Hello.” Michael’s voice was spiky.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this, but I was in Los Angeles on business and swung down by here.” Prince continued to give his mousy look and extended his hand to Michael.
Michael gripped it loosely.
“Michael, aren’t you gonna introduce us to your guest?” Jermaine patted Michael on the shoulder.
Why did I hear knuckles cracking?
Michael quickly and solemnly began rattling off names to Prince.
I knew he wanted to show Prince to the front gate and toss him on his ear in the process.
Prince nodded warmly at Tito and Jermaine and grinned at the Jackson children.
He was charming almost to the point where it was sickening.
A cold sweat trickled down my back, past where Michael had his hand placed firmly on it.
His hand was frighteningly cold.
“I brought something for both of you.” Prince smiled and turning motioned Jimmy over.
Out of his coat pocket, Jimmy produced a CD in a plain case.
“Here is the finished version of Game. Wanted to spring it on you because I’m very close to releasing it.”
Someone sucked on their teeth behind me.
Michael took the CD from Prince and handed it off to Tito. I was sure I’d probably never hear the song.
“And I have something for--”Prince started but stopped when he realized Blanket was tugging at his pant leg.
“Hey Mister…” Blanket smiled.
“Yes?” Prince seemed annoyed and that made me upset.
If he was mean to Blanket, I was going to wear his ass out myself.
In a loud whisper Blanket confided, “You got two big holes in your pants.”
“Blanket!” Michael reprimanded him quickly and scooted the boy behind him with his older brother and sister.
“Cute kid.” Prince chuckled half-heartedly.
“Like I was saying, I brought something special for Miss Brynn.” Prince reached out slowly pulled me from Michael’s grasp.
I felt Michael clutch vainly at the back of the little sundress I wore and his nails picked the skin of my back as I was led closer to Prince.
I glanced back at Michael. He and his brothers looked on grimly.
Tito was shaking his, disapproval all over his face.
At least Michael’s children didn’t really understand the magnitude of the situation and were watching innocently.
“Tell me…” Prince removed his glasses and hung them from chain suspending a small gold symbol near his waist. Blue liquid liner rimmed his light eyes. He fluttered what had to be false eyelashes at me.
“Do you like that car?”
“It’s…it’s nice.” I nodded leadenly.
“That’s an exclusive little car there. It’s a Ferrari with an all custom paint job. They don’t make them purple at the factory. Brand spanking new” Prince laughed.
“Got those hot twenty-two inch chrome wheels. Hot car right?”
Why the hell was Prince going on and showing off his new car?
“Yes…it’s hot.” I glanced up at him, my nose finding his floral cologne.
“Set me back a pretty little penny. But it was all worth it. You really like it?”
Prince’s grin turned from mousy to almost malicious.
I could only bob my head, silently. What was he going at?
“Jimmy.” Prince called and Jimmy handed Prince a set of car keys attached to a silver symbol covered with Swarovski crystals.
He jangled the keys near my face.
“Here, take the keys, it’s yours.” He whispered.
“Say what?” I stared at him, electricity of a shock I had never felt.
Prince was giving me the car!
“You’re…giving me that car? You’re giving me a freaking Ferrari? Shut up! Oh God! No way!” I exclaimed.
Excited, Michael’s children started cheering.
Forgetting where I was, and who I was with, I snatched the keys from him and threw my arms around his slim body. He smelled wonderful and his arms seemed stronger than I remembered.
It was then I noticed that Michael and his brothers were stomping towards us.
Michael grabbed my hand and whirled me away from Prince so quickly that I was several feet away before I stopped spinning.
“Why are you giving her a car? That’s a pretty expensive gift.” Michael pointed out tossing his umbrella down and placing his hands on his hips.
“Well Michael…” Prince rubbed his hands together, arrogance permeating from him. “When you lent me Brynn to sing on Game, we never discussed how she would be paid. She could be paid with money, she could be paid with potatoes, gumdrops…we never said--”
“It was an exchange. She sang for you, you write the songs for me. That was the entire deal.” From where I stood, Michael was getting scarlet and boiling like a kettle.
The keys rattled in my shaking hands. I was praying to high heaven that the Jacksons didn’t jump on and start whipping Prince.
Prince threw up his hands. “Now that ain’t fair. I got something and you got something, but it seems Brynn got gypped in the deal. She didn’t get anything. I just wanted to give her a token of appreciation for the work she did on the song.” He explained calmly.
“Might have bought her a house if she had done two songs.” Jermaine remarked under his breath.
Michael glared at Jermaine then back at Prince.
“I can’t let her accept that. It’s far too extravagant. A Ferrari? That’s like an eighty thousand dollar car.” Michael laughed and waved his hand, indicating I give Prince the keys back.
Remorsefully and nauseated, I walked over and held the keys out to Prince.
Raising an eyebrow, Prince corrected Michael,
“Try a hundred and ten thousand, not including the repaint and customizing. And forget about having it moved here from Minneapolis!”
A hundred and ten thousand dollars? That was a freaking house!
I felt my jaw hanging. He spent that much? On me?
“See that’s way too much. Give him the keys Brynn.” Michael poked his bottom lip out angrily.
“I can’t take the car. I already have three. A Hummer, a Beemer and a little red corvette. Oh and my limo. And besides I couldn’t take the car even if I wanted it.”
At the mention of the corvette, Tito momentarily chuckled.
“Why the hell can’t you take the car?” Michael demanded and I heard his children gasp.
It was probably the first time they’d heard Michael swear.
Michael seemed to have forgotten they were there.
“Because everything is in Brynn’s name. The car, the titles, everything. Look in the car, her name is embroidered on the seats.
“This I gotta see.” Jermaine announced leaving us and walking over to the car.
He opened the door and his eyes bulged.
“Her name really is embroidered on the seats!” The notion sent everyone scrambling to see the car’s interior.
The car had a black on black interior and as noted, on the seats, my name was embroidered in purple thread.
A silver symbol swung from the review mirror.
“Gonna be hard to unload a purple Ferrari with ‘Brynn’ stitched all over the seats. I mean ‘Brynn’ isn’t the most common name in the world. I don’t know another Brynn. Nope.” Prince shook his head and giggled.
He really had Michael up over a barrel of boiling oil.
For a moment I thought Michael was going to throw up. He looked so miserable and unhappy.
And so was I.
It really seemed as though Michael couldn’t give the car away like he had given the charm away.
And Prince knew it.
I guessed Rusty wouldn’t be sporting new wheels anytime soon.
Looking down at his boots, Prince said,
“I hate to be brief, but I just came to drop off the car. I’m back on my way to Uptown. Thanks for having me.” Prince extended his hand.
I was sure he knew his welcome had worn out before it had even worn in.
Michael rolled his eyes, sighed and shook Prince’s hand once more.
I just knew he wanted to pull Prince in and pummel his face.
He was making Michael look bad in front of his brothers and his children.
And most of the Neverland employees who had gathered in the front door of the home to watch the scene.
And me.
“You…” Prince pointed at me. “Enjoy the car.”
He reached at me to hug me.
Michael actually caught me in a half-nelson and pulled me against him.
The hostility hung like a shroud over us.
His teeth ground louder than ever.
Prince pecked his fingertips with his lips and brushed my cheek with it.
Michael growled lowly.
“Nice meeting all of you!” Prince waved and took off with Jimmy.
He was truly acting as if everyone was his best friend at the moment.
They were making their way over to Prince’s yellow BMW which was parked outside of the gate.
As they left, Jermaine grabbed Michael’s shoulders.
“Me and Tito wanna talk to you now.” He said coldly.
Michael loosened his grip on me.
“Michael!” I called as his brothers started ushering him towards his house.
He looked back at me sadly, then disappeared inside the door as his employees scattered out of the way.
Rusty ran to keep up with them.
I kicked at a the pavement.
I didn’t know who I was more upset at, Prince or myself.
Oh why did Prince have to show up? Not only show up but give me a car?
And in front of Michael’s family. It was sure to make Jackson Family News before the sun even went down.
“Brynn…” Paris was tugging at my hand.
“What?” I looked down at her fighting off tears.
“I like your car.” She grinned at me.
It didn’t make me feel any better, because the only person I wanted to like the car was Michael.
“Thanks Honey.” I patted her head.
As Paris and her brothers trotted back over to the amusement part of Neverland, I went into the house to find Michael.
I had to talk to him.
Try to straighten this mess out.
Or maybe the damage done was already irreversible.
The sound of arguing voices led me upstairs to just outside of Michael’s bedroom.
“…and what the hell was that man wearing? Looked like a mini-drag queen with all that make up and shit on his face!” I heard Tito exclaim.
Pushing the door open to just a crack I peered in.
Michael sat at the foot of his bed, Tito and Jermaine pacing in front of him.
Rusty stood off to the side watching.
Michael, sullen , stared down at his hands.
“And you let him come up in here, on your damn property and give your woman a car? A fucking Ferrari? I’ve been dating my girl Selena for four years and I haven’t bought her a Ferrari! I don’t have a Ferrari!” Jermaine shook his head.
“Just what exactly happened in Minneapolis man? What the hell did she do to get a car? I can sing, nobody gave me a car!” Tito pointed out.
“You’ve never heard Brynn sing. She’s got a really good voice. She can make a song a hit.” Michael said quietly.
My chest heaved. Even though Tito and Jermaine were already on to me, a frightening thought, Michael remained vigilant. He believed with his heart that I hadn’t hurt him.
A tear slid out of my eye and under my cheek.
“You make a hit. You do. People know the name Michael Jackson! Nobody knows the name Brynn!” Jermaine stamped his foot.
“Not yet! But I don’t care. I love her! And she loves me, Jermaine.” Michael hopped to his feet and got into Jermaine’s face.
“That may be the case.” Jermaine nodded with understanding, “But Prince is obviously trying to move in on her. Did you see how his ass was looking at her? If she was on a buffet, he’d be getting seconds right now!”
“Yeah Mike man. That’s a cute girl you got, but Prince is one nasty little motherfucker man. Watch him man.” Tito gripped Michael’s shoulders.
“Nobody gives away cars Mike man.”
“You gotta make it so Prince can’t get at her.” Jermaine waved his hands.
“Yeah? How do I do that?” Michael asked calmly. I could tell he was drowning in thoughts.
Jermaine and Tito were quiet a long moment.
“It’ll come to you.” Tito finally said. “But if that cricket tried to give my wife a car, I’d have squished his ass.”
As silence filled the room, Tito and Jermaine made their way to the door. I quickly ducked off into the first room available to me--Blanket’s-- and hid.
“Mike we gotta go now, but you try to figure out what to do. We’ll call you later. Bye.”
The brothers filed out of the room.
They stopped in the hall.
Tito grabbed Jermaine’s shoulder.
“You don’t think that girl did something with Prince? Do you?” He asked quietly, trying to make sure Michael didn’t hear them.
Jermaine shook his head and patted his rock hard hair.
“I don’t know. I hope not. Michael likes that girl a lot. I just hope she didn’t fuck around with that little bean headed man. He’s an STD on legs. Come on man, all this mess has made me hungry…”
As they went downstairs I made my way off into Michael’s room.
A strong glare sent Rusty out the room; thank God he had the common sense to leave us alone.
Michael stood on the opposite side of his room, at a large open window, looking out over Neverland.
A warm breeze blew on him, making his long hair sway.
I quietly walked over and stood beside him.
Michael glanced at me but remained silent.
Below us, Prince and Blanket were playfully wrestling in the grass and Paris dancing off by herself to her own little tune.
I looked up at Michael.
His expression was docile, but I could see he was deep in thought.
“Are you mad at me?” I wondered quietly.
My heart was aching and I desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but I knew if I did, Hell would bust open on me.
“No, Prince keeps bringing his funny looking little self over here with gifts and stuff. My brothers think that Prince likes you and is trying to flirt with you.” Michael shook his head and adjusted his hat.
“Really?” I tried to sound surprised. I sounded fake to myself.
“I don’t blame him, you are really cute. But you’re mine and I’ll strangle him if he tries that crap again.” Michael said so calmly it scared me.
Maybe he and Prince had been seconds from clocking each other on the driveway.
“I’m sure you won’t.” I said absently and held his hand.
“Did he try to flirt with you in Minneapolis?” Michael looked down at me.
For some reason I lied.
“No…I think he has a thing going with his hairstylist. Or maybe that photographer.”
I might have named Wendy and Lisa also I was so busy trying to save myself.
“I figured he’d have a thing for that stylist. What’s her name? Cindy? She looked really loose when I met her.” Michael pulled me close to him.
“And you’re not loose. And I love you.” Michael kissed at the top of my head.
Grief took me and started sobbing.
Surprised, Michael wrapped his arms around me and cradled me as I cried.
He’d have thrown me out the window if he knew why I was crying.
He truly was the kindest man I had ever known.
And I was probably the most disgusting woman he had ever met.
Michael picked me up and carried me to his bed, tucking me and tending to me until I fell asleep in the soft enclosure of his arms.
The kindest man…
* * *