Girls in High Places

Chapter Three

The trip down to the garage involved them walking down a flight of stairs…many stairs to be exact. By the time they got to the fifth floor, Stacy wished she had never talked Michael into this as her feet were beginning to ache like hell. She nearly stumbled in her attempt to keep up with her companion, who wasn’t even breathing that hard. Good grief! Michael was definitely much fitter than he looked. Not that it ought to be a surprise. The way he moved all over the stage, Stacy was sure he had plenty of energy to spare.

Despite the pain though, she had to admit that it felt good to have Michael holding her like this. He had big hands – hands that seemed strong and sure – and yet not as smooth as she would have thought. She could feel the slight callous in his palm; evidence of all the microphones he’s held over the years. She wondered how those rough hands would feel roaming all over her bod…

“You okay?” Michael asked, breaking through her rapidly naughty thoughts as he finally noticed that she was limping a little.

“Fi…fine,” she panted, trying to look cool and not as flushed and flustered as she felt inside. “Let’s…go…”

“I can carry you if you want.”

Stacy gaped at him. “Stop joking around,” she finally stuttered. “Let’s just…what are you doing?”

“Get on.” He was on his haunches and clearly motioning for her to climb on his back – piggy-back style. “We’re almost there, and we have to hurry.”

“I can walk…”

“Stacy,” came the low warning, even though his eyes were filled with amusement. “Come on, girl. I won’t bite. I’ve carried my sister, Janet, many times before.”

“I’m not your sister,” Stacy muttered in embarrassment. She eyed her dress. It was too short and climbing his back would make it ride up even higher, possibly revealing her upper thighs and underwear. The knowledge that she would be that ‘close’ to him…

“Let’s just walk,” she said quickly, brushing past him and making her way downstairs, hoping he wouldn’t notice her flustered countenance.

“You sure?” Michael asked, catching up to her.

“Positive.”

They finally got to the ground floor, where another bodyguard was waiting. Bill must have apparently told his crew that Michael was on the move. With only a curt nod, the burly white guy motioned for the teens to wait as he peered out the door which led into the underground garage. He seemed to be looking for someone, and after another long agonizing minute, Big Bill appeared to lead the way.

It was then that Stacy finally noticed it…how she could have missed it all this time was beyond her anyway.

“You have no shoes on, Michael.”

“No way! I was beginning to wonder why I was able to walk so fast,” came the light tease as Big Bill opened the back door of the limo to usher them in. “No worries though. There should be an extra pair in here somewhere.” He began to search for them while Stacy sat primly in the comfortable car, almost jumping as the door slammed beside her. She had heard of other limos having alcohol and what not in them, but it didn’t seem like this one had anything of the sort. Instead, there were different chilled bottles of soda pops and bags of candy – sweet things that little children could enjoy.

“Found it!” Michael cried out as he returned back to sit beside Stacy, holding a pair of scruffy looking black shoes that had seen better days.

“Which bum did you steal that from?” Stacy asked with a giggle. “Those look horrible.”

Michael laughed and slipped into them. “They’re comfortable though. I keep them here just in case. Oh yeah…” He bounded to the front again and tapped on the partition to get Bill’s attention. “Where’re we going, Bill?”

“Wherever you wanna go, Mike,” came the reply. “I’m at your service.”

“I don’t live in New York and don’t know that many places,” Michael replied with a groan, before turning back to face Stacy. “Where should we go, Stacy?”

Stacy, who wasn’t exactly sure of where they could go so early in the morning, thought quickly. “Uuumm…well…the…the Village Voice.”

“What’s that?”

“Aaah, the Voice,” Bill agreed with a nod. “I’ve heard of the place. Nice music. Good food.”

“It’s a restaurant?” Michael asked, trying not to make a face.

“Not just any restaurant,” Stacy reassured him quickly. “You get to hear some really great live music too. I heard that Smokey Robinson, Gladys Knight, Otis Redding, Little Richard, and so many more used to play there.”

Michael’s curiosity was piqued. He settled back beside Stacy. “Really? Let’s give it a try then.” He paused and then asked. “It’s not too busy or crowded, is it?”

“At this hour? I don’t think so,” Stacy said, silently hoping she was right. The bar/restaurant was quite popular amongst Harlem patrons, where she was born and raised. She was sure no one would bother them as everyone was almost always too busy either being drunk or listening to the blues from the stage. To be honest, she had only been to the club once and that was at Anita’s insistence. Besides, she couldn’t confess to Michael that she was actually older than him by two years. Good thing she still looked like she could pass for a sixteen-year old.

“Want some pop?” Michael offered as he eyed the stash of goodies, while helping himself to a chocolate bar. “Or candy?”

“No, thanks,” Stacy replied. “I’m not hungry.”

“Your accent,” Michael said, taking off the sunglasses to peer at her with blatant curiosity. “You have a slight accent…can’t quite place my finger on it.”

“I was born in Harlem…but my mom’s from Jamaica,” Stacy replied.

“Jamaica, huh? Nice. I’ve never been to Jamaica,” Michael confessed. “I’d like to go there someday. I hear it’s really nice.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’ve been there?”

Stacy nodded as memories of the three years spent there came flooding back to mind. “Yeah. I was around seven at the time. We stayed there with my grandmother for a while…maybe that’s where I picked up the accent and it just never went away.”

“Say something to me in Jamaican,” Michael cajoled with a grin.

Stacy blushed and shook her head. “What do you want me to say? I can’t really remember all that much. My mom does still speak like that though…”

“Then you must know how to speak it a little,” the boy urged. “Say something, please?”

“Something like what?”

“I don’t know…um…Michael you’re the most handsome boy in the world and I love you.”

Stacy laughed and playfully slapped his arm, feeling hot at what he was making her say. “I can’t say that.”

“Okay, then say something else.”

“Hmm…” Stacy stole a shy glance at the eager boy beside her, and then took a deep breath. “Don’t laugh now, but my mom always says this when I make her mad.”

“What’s that?”

“Laad a masi! Si ya, pitni, no luk pahn mi wid daade tuon a vais.”

Michael’s eyes widened at the flow of the language from her lips, amazed at how effortless it seemed. She had said it quite fast too, and for a girl who claimed she didn’t know much about Jamaican patois, it was…

“…beautiful,” he said quietly. “Language is beautiful and your patois is wonderful.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll think that when you discover what it actually means,” Stacy replied with a soft laugh, even though it pleased her that he seemed to like it.

“She’s cursing you out, huh?” Michael laughed – a light and somewhat high-pitched sound that had Stacy’s stomach fluttering with pleasure. She longed to make him do that all the time, but was more than aware that it was going to be nothing more than a fantasy.

“Not really,” she said. “She’s basically saying Lord have mercy and not to raise my voice at her or she’ll kick my ass.”

They laughed together, Stacy cracking up even louder as Michael began to regale her with stories while imitating one of his aunts. Complete with the snapping of his fingers, hands on his hips, the rotating of his neck, and speaking in a feminine voice, Michael’s impersonations were hilarious and Stacy couldn’t believe he could be this funny at the drop of a hat.

“Looks like we’re here,” Stacy finally gasped as she leaned over Michael to peer out his window. It was something she had done unconsciously, not really trying to get him to take any extra notice of her or anything. Their conversation had loosened her up considerably and she felt a whole lot bolder and less apprehensive.

However, Michael was still all man and would have been blind not to notice how high the short dress rode up Stacy’s thighs and the brief (all too brief) but tantalizing view of white cotton panties to his gaze. Her perfume wasn’t as strong as it had been in the hotel room, and he closed his eyes to inhale her sweet scent, only to open them again quickly as she settled back into her seat with a wide smile on her features.

“You’ve been to Harlem, right?” she asked, reaching into her handbag to freshen up a bit.

“Yea…yeah.” He cleared his throat, wincing at how thick it had sounded, while trying to will down his groin’s natural reaction to her proximity. His brothers had teased him about being a ‘saint’ when it came to women. Little did they know how much self-restraint he practiced and suffered through when push came to shove. “We played at the Apollo back in the day,” he continued, glad to find his voice was back to normal.

“You guys going to come back again?” Stacy asked, smacking her lips as she applied another coat of lipstick to it. “We’d love to have you guys perform for us folks down ‘ere.”

“I dunno,” Michael mumbled. “Maybe…someday….”

“We’re here, young ‘uns,” Bill called out as the limo came to a stop. He peered over his shoulder and winked. “You kids have fun, eh? I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Michael called out as he stepped out of the car, holding out his hand to help Stacy out.

“Uumm…maybe we shouldn’t have come with the limo,” Stacy whispered as she sidled up to Michael, smiling wanly at the curious looks that came their way from the adults lounging around the street corners or by the buildings.

Michael swallowed tightly and held Stacy’s hand in reassurance, feeling an unfamiliar surge of worry at how ‘naked’ he felt without the protection of his entourage. Having been in the business for so long, being out alone was a rare experience and he felt a heavy weight of fear settling in the pit of his stomach. A small part of him wanted to run back into the limo and tell Bill to get him out of here, but remembering his determination to have fun tonight and to make Stacy happy, he sucked up his concerns and gave the girl a warm smile.

“It’s cool, girl. We’ll be fine. Just lead the way and I’ll follow.”

Stacy watched his swagger with undeniable admiration, while hoping that she wouldn’t recognize any of her friends tonight. The last thing she needed was for them to notice her and ruin the evening for them. They finally reached the doors of The Voice and true enough, there were no lines leading into the cozy bar with its neon lights of red and green which flashed dully, making it even more intimate and secluded.

However, it was quite full inside and a brief glance around showed that most of the good tables and seats were taken. Women, of all shapes and sizes, dressed in skimpy outfits were draped over their men, who looked dapper in their Saturday night best. The hot smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol filled the room buzzing with conversation and loud laughter, while on the dance floor, couples clung to each other to the sensual tunes of the saxophone and piano players on the stage. The heat from the stuffy room coated their ebony skins with layers of sweat, but no one seemed to mind as they gave themselves up to that raw and almost primitive expression of freedom, the only way they knew how.

“Wow…” Michael whispered in awe, briefly reminded of the earlier days as the Jackson 5, and being made to perform in such places while struggling to make ends meet. Of course, back then he was still eight years old and couldn’t really appreciate the beauty of afro centric music – especially the sounds that now struck a chord deep within his being.

This. THIS was real music. Amazing.

Before he could control himself, he felt his feet moving to the rhythm, his hand reaching for Stacy’s to pull her against him. He smiled at her look of surprise, unaware of the dark and sensuous look that now filled his youthful countenance.

Stacy, for her part, wouldn’t have resisted anyway. The Michael before her was no longer the shy teen who had begged for understanding at the hotel. The music and atmosphere had literally changed him, and in her arms was a man – a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it.

She gasped as she was pressed even tighter against him, his strong arms wrapping around her waist as his hips moved, forcing her to match his rhythm. His warm breath tickled her neck as he leaned into her, sending goose pimples of pleasure all over her skin. Neither was aware they had moved to the center of the dance floor and were now crushed amongst the others, all straining and writhing in time to the beats, as if hoping to outdo the other in such pagan worship.

For how long they danced, neither knew, but Stacy could feel the back of her dress now wet with sweat as she wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck, laughing as he whispered something funny into her ear while sliding his hand down her back and slowly edging beneath her dress to cop a feel. Realizing what he was about to do, Stacy tried to playfully push his wandering hands away, giggling as he protested weakly. However, her smile froze as she noticed the person glaring at her from across the room. She felt her heartbeat quicken – no longer with excitement, but with fear and worry as she stiffened in response and tried to pull away.

“Mic…Michael…”

Michael was too far gone in his quest to at least reach first base, and was nudged back to reality when Stacy completely pulled away.

“What’s wrong, girl?” he asked breathlessly. “Why did you…?”

“We have to go…now,” she whispered desperately. “At least you have to go.”

“Why?” He looked confused. “I haven’t been recognized, have I?”

She shook her head, trying not to yell in frustration. The man was now shoving his way through the crowd to get to them, and she tugged on his hand to lead him towards the door.

“Stacy? What’s going on?” Michael asked, looking over his shoulder as they finally stepped outside and into the welcome cool breeze. “Was it something I did? I’m sorry if…”

“It’s not you,” Stacy said quickly. “It’s my…my…my boy…”

“Stacy!” came the loud bellow and she flinched, before reaching out to tug Michael towards Bill and the waiting limo.

“Go, Michael! Please!”

“Who is he?” came the puzzled question as Michael tried to look over her shoulder and towards the big guy heading towards them. “Who is…?”

“He’s my boyfriend, okay? Just go, please!”

Michael felt like he had been doused with a bucket of ice water. He couldn’t believe it. Had she actually said…boyfriend?! But then again…why should he really be surprised? It wasn’t as if these girls were ever single. All they wanted was to have bragging rights as groupies, so he ought be used to it…right?

So why the hell did it still hurt all the same? It wasn’t as if he had known her for that long and yet…

“Come on, Mike,” Bill was saying as he forced the boy to turn away from the now crying girl. “Let’s go back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stacy was whispering, unable to look him in the eyes. “I’m so…so…sorry….”

Michael, still feeling numb from it all, could only reply back in a pained whisper. “Yeah…me too.”