Detox

Chapter 06: Deja

When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel my love

Tokyo, Japan
December, 1988

“I bought the ranch!”

Four simple words that would change the course of their lives forever.

It didn’t help he had come bursting into her office with the announcement; looking for all the world like a kid in a candy store who had finally gotten that ultra super special dessert that he just had to have.

“The ranch?”

“Yeah. Remember that place I took you to a couple of months ago...near Los Olivos...?”

He plants himself on the chair across her desk and throws a lean jean-clad leg over the arm rest; hands clasped behind his head and that shit-eating grin still fixed firmly on his slightly flushed features. His eyes are alight with excitement and something else she can’t quite define. She’d later come to recognize that as an inner contentment; a realization that perhaps one of his many childhood dreams was finally coming to life.

“Ooh, that place,” she finally agrees with a nod of her head. “Looks...barren...”

Barren was putting it mildly. Besides the main house, which was beautiful in itself, the land surrounding it seemed fit for movie directors seeking locations that resembled the American West of old. In fact, Michael told her that they had used that particular piece of land for the shooting of the music video ‘Say Say Say’ with Paul McCartney. Apparently, he fell in love with the place way back then.

“For now,” he cuts in with a wave of dismissal. “I already have plans to renovate the place ASAP.” He tips the fedora back into place (it had almost fallen off with the shake of his head) and then sticks a finger into his mouth to begin gnawing on a fingernail in thought. It’s a habit she’s tried to get him to stop, but it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes and she’s long given up on making him change his ways (at least some of his ways).

“...rides...train station...maybe an amusement park...” he mumbles to himself. “At least the animals at Encino will have plenty of room to breathe now. I think they’re beginning to get restless and the neighbors don’t really like having Gypsy around.” He pouts as if hurt.

Who would, her inner voice sneers. Not exactly fun having to wake up at three in the morning with an elephant braying outside your window, is it?

“I’m sure the animals will appreciate it,” she says aloud.

He ignores her muttered remark, but stops long enough to stop chewing his fingernail and pins a fevered gaze on her. “Know what I’m going to call it?”

“Michael Jackson’s Magic Kingdom?” she teases.

His lips quirk upwards in an indulgent smile; as if pitying her pathetic attempt at naming his new abode. He shakes his head and wags a finger to admonish her playfully. “No way, honey. It’s going to be called...Neverland. Like in the book.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence in which he waits for her approval; a childish anticipation etched all over his features.

“Neverland?” she finally asks with a raised brow. “Why?”

“Why not?” comes the incredulous question that has her groaning. Whenever Michael didn’t quite understand why others couldn’t see things the way he did (and boy! Did he have a way of seeing a lot of things), those were the first two words to spill from his lips.

When others ask ‘why’, always ask ‘why not’? Wasn’t it something John F. Kennedy had said...or was it from a movie?

“Well...” She struggles to find a concrete and legitimate reason why he shouldn’t name that place ‘Neverland’ but-

“Elvis Presley called his place ‘Graceland’, and no one questioned him about it,” Michael argues; leaning back in the chair with a light frown of consternation. “What’s wrong with calling my home Neverland? It’s going to be designed and reconstructed to the way I’ve always wanted it to be; the way I’ve always envisioned it in my dreams. Pity I won’t be around much for it. Got this damn tour to finish up.”

“Michael...”

But he’s decided that the conversation is over, because he rises to his feet – in that now familiar fluid motion that never ceases to amaze her – and claps his hands together.

“We’re leaving for Atlanta tonight,” he says. “Sure you don’t wanna come?”

She shakes her head. “Got all this paperwork to finish up...sorry.”

“Heh, you’re just sick of seeing familiar U.S. cities,” he says with a smirk. “When it’s time to hit the international scene again, you come running.”

She laughs and sticks out her tongue. “You know it. Can’t wait to see Rome. I’ve always wanted to visit the Vatican and maybe hit on some priests.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles before spinning on his heels to leave the room. “You’re going straight to hell for that, Deja. The good Lord doan like people hittin’ on His chosen ones.”

“Well, God is just going to have to deal with it,” Deja quips as Michael bursts into hearty laughter; a sound that remains long after he’s left the room.

And today as she sits in the corner of the massive tea room watching Michael interact with the beautiful geishas (who despite their white-painted faces still manage to blush prettily each time he addresses them directly), Deja allows her thoughts to drift to the past – well almost a year now – since the beginning of the tour and the subsequent purchase of his new home.

The tour itself...whew. What words in the English dictionary were adequate enough to describe all she had seen and done since its ‘humble’ beginnings in (ironically enough) Tokyo way back in September of last year? She had thought she had been a part of one or two tours – and those were small fries compared to the magnitude of this one – but nothing in the world could have prepared her for this. Absolutely nothing.

From the rehearsals to the countless meetings with every Tom, Dick, and Harry involved with the making of the event, Deja found herself working around the clock, sometimes getting little to no sleep as she struggled to keep up with the chaotic time table. It was dizzying how fast everything moved; of how they could be in Paris, France one night and then the next night they were in Camden, England. She got a first-hand view of Michael’s attention to detail (read as perfectionism) during the rehearsals; of how much he wanted to be involved with everything from the fixing of a screw on the stage to the lighting and what angles he wanted to be shown on the video recordings etc. etc.

At times, especially when he was frustrated with something, he’d reveal a much darker side that she wasn’t always sure she could handle. Though he kept up the polite façade in front of many, she had stumbled upon him cursing up a storm whenever he thought he was alone, or when just in the presence of Frank. Michael disliked things not going according to plan, and though he could accommodate some changes (after all there were some things he just couldn’t control no matter how much he tried), Deja realized she had to develop a tough skin to put up with his attitude problems. If he was teaching her a few things about handling celebrities of his stature (and just how many of those were there in the world anyway?) she was definitely learning from the best.

In a way she was glad for the insane workload because it made the pain of the ‘rejection’ so much easier to swallow. The awkwardness between them after that night had lasted for about a couple of weeks. However, thanks to the tour preparation kicking into high gear, personal feelings had to be shoved aside.

Pity that didn’t last very long.

Watching him rehearse without going all out was one thing, but actually seeing him on stage...live...and in that outfit he decided was going to be his signature look for the tour...

Pure evil.

And he knew it, which was what sucked even more.

“What do you think?” he had asked with a playful wink as he stepped out of his trailer while Michael Bush and his cohorts swarmed him with last minute adjustments (a tuck here, a nip there). The silver spandex body suit, with the accessorized black leather straps and ‘special’ badges, molded his upper body like a glove (at least it gave that illusion), though he wore a white tee shirt beneath (in case it got too hot or something). As if that wasn’t bad enough, the black pants with even more leather straps and buckles (of a leather-ish material, but according to Bush was lightweight enough to move and dance in without chaffing his skin), allowed one to appreciate the lean but toned thighs; a reminder that he was a whole lot more powerful than his wiry frame suggested. The ensemble was finished with his trademark white socks and black loafers, which she was sure would wear out by the end of the night alone.

“Deja?”

“What?” she had almost snapped; irritated at herself for getting flustered again and for allowing those feelings she had thought buried, to rise back to the surface.

With his hair now longer...curlier...and his features maturing...

(no...his whole persona is maturing...let’s face it)

...the Michael before her; the Michael about to face the chanting sea of frenzied fans looked and felt different. He was powerful. He was in control. He could beckon her with a lone finger, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and she’d be all his in a second.

“Well geez,” came the pout from her boss. “You don’t have to sound all excited about it.”

“We are on in five, Michael!” Someone bellowed from the stage area.

He nodded and began to walk away (though he spared a pained look in her direction), and realizing she was being petty – after all this was his first night performing and she should be more supportive...

“Michael?”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder with a raised brow, and planting a genuine smile of encouragement on her features, she waved lightly to him.

“Have a great show tonight.”

He looked indecisive for a moment, as if wondering if she was jerking him around, but he seemed to come a conclusion that she was being ‘real’, and his features broke into a smile so warm and pleased, that her heart must have skipped several beats in response.

He gave her a thumbs up sign before allowing himself to be swallowed in the shadows.

The next two hours plus would be just a preview of many more nights of unforgettable memories.

Michael Jackson, the entertainer, took his job damn seriously and was determined to always leave the fans wanting more. Deja had never seen so many people faint or collapse (either from the crush of others or the heat or just Michael’s presence). She had never seen such pandemonium from him just lifting a hand to wave. She had never witnessed such an intense energy emanate from the stage whenever he sang from his heart or danced like his feet were on air. Adrenaline from a performance gave him the added boost to continue long after the show was over, and though she was sure there were aches and pains the next day, he hardly ever complained. So what if he had danced for three hours, lost about two or three pounds by sweating buckets, or that his voice was almost hoarse? Big deal. A professional like him had to suck it up, roll with the punches, and show up the next night for another stellar performance.

It gave her a headache just thinking about it.

Despite the hard work, Michael did try to find time to have fun (well as much fun as he could manage without the press and fans hounding him 24/7). In the cities they’ve stopped in, he tried to visit some famous places; having to sometimes rely on Deja to notify the powers that be ahead of time so the place would be ready for his arrival. It was all pomp and circumstance and very tiring, and though those moments were risky, there were times when Michael would ‘sneak’ out incognito (dragging Deja along with him) and they would sight see without the fanfare.

In those moments, she hated the fact that he did not make things easier for her... emotionally at least. In those ‘incognito’ moments, when he could relax and be himself again; whether it was a walk along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, or sitting beneath the lights of an outdoor café sipping an original Chianti while they botched the Italian language together between fits of giggles, she was over and over reminded again of what they possibly couldn’t have together.

As she sat before her dresser in her hotel room, brushing out her hair while the soothing sounds of a traditional Japanese folk song filled the air, she was jarred out of her thoughts at the barely audible knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Are you decent?” came the tentative question that brought a light smirk to her lips.

“No. I’m naked, Michael. You can come in if you like.”

She could literally hear him blush, and his low whine of ‘stop messing around, Deja’ had her rolling her eyes and tightening the sash of her bathrobe around her waist. “I’m un-naked, Michael. You can come in.”

The door cracked open a little and he stuck his head in; as if afraid actually seeing Deja in the nude would send him up in smoke. When he noticed her sitting at the dresser in the thick white hotel-provided attire, he seemed to release his breath in relief before stepping in.

“I hate when you tease me,” he complained as he flopped on her bed gracelessly, thankfully with no shoes (as he had done in the past and she had lectured him on that). He swung his sock-clad feet back and forth and reached for the remote control to flip through channels absently.

There was a familiar look of satisfaction on his features, which she’d be dumb not to recognize as the look of a man who had clearly enjoyed the company of his female companion for the night. After their stop at the tea house, Michael had ‘excused’ himself to have dinner with a ‘friend’ of his, and as part of her job, it was not her business to pry into his casual flings with these so-called ‘friends’. Still...it didn’t stop the hurt and (slight) bitterness. What did those hussies have that she didn’t?

“Did you have fun?” she asked before she could stop herself. She sat gingerly at the other end of the bed and eyed his relaxed frame. The black varsity jacket, with the large yellow ‘S’, was open to reveal the red dress shirt he had beneath. His black pants had the button undone (not on purpose she hoped as she’s noticed he had the habit of sometimes forgetting to zip or button up).

“Yes, I did,” came the drawled reply. He was usually advised by his voice coach not to speak much on the days before his shows, and considering the next one wasn’t until Christmas Eve, he figured he could risk engaging in conversation longer than half-an-hour.

“And you?” he raised a brow at her, though he was still flipping channels.

“It was great,” she lied. She had actually wandered around the shopping district getting some last minute gifts for some friends back home. “I got to taste okonomiyaki for the first time.”

Michael nodded and pursed his lips. “That’s good.”

His mind was clearly not here. Probably still thinking about his hussy for the night. Deja hoped she drowned in her bathtub or something more disastrous. With a sigh, she lay beside him to stare morosely at the ceiling.

“Do you miss home?” he asked.

“No...yes...maybe.”

“We’ve only been here for a month,” he said with a light shrug. “We’ll be back in the States in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s good...I don’t want to miss the Super Bowl.”

He raised a brow and chuckled. “God, you love that football, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Nothing better than watching those me...eh...the scores.”

Michael smirked. “Riiiight. You only watch it for the scores, eh?”

“That’s right.” She nudged his ribs, earning an ‘ouch’ from him though he couldn’t help giggling.

“I can read you like a book, Deja,” he said and sat up to grin at her. “Honestly, what’s so great about watching men hit each other like that? It looks...painful.”

“You’ve never watched a football game live, have you?”

“Yes, I have,” he replied with a firm nod. “Didn’t understand half of what was going on, but it was...” He scrunches up his features as if trying to find the right words. “...not something I’d want to spend my Sunday afternoon doing.”

“Well, I would,” she said with a soft laugh. “My goal is to someday go to the Super Bowl and watch it in person. Tickets are pretty hard to come by.”

“You’ve never seen the Super Bowl live? A football nut like you?” he asked incredulously.

She tried to hide her blush of embarrassment. “I might not have seen it live, but I never miss it on T.V., so there.” She folded her arms across her chest and tried to look upset at his mockery, but when he said nothing for a long time, she dared to steal a glance in his direction. For one thing, he wasn’t looking at her anymore; his gaze was distant, his fingers absently caressing the remote in a way that made her cheeks flush with color -

(wonder if the ‘friend’ enjoyed those fingers dancing all over...ah stop it!)

“Frank knows someone who works for the NFL,” Michael finally mumbled more to himself than to her.

“...so?”

He seemed to shake himself from his trance at the sound of her voice and flashed her a bright smile. “Nothing.”

“Not...?”

In that quick motion, he sat up and prepared to leave, and it irked her because she could detect he was about to do something ‘mysterious’ that would no doubt have her scratching her head and wondering what he could possibly be up to.

“Michael?” she warned in a low voice. “What are planning?”

“Nothing!” he cried out, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. He began to back out of the room, hands up as if surrendering. “I’m tired and want to go to bed. Can’t a man get some sleep around here?”

“Michael Joseph Jackson, if you do anything...!”

But she was talking to thin air as he had slipped out with a laugh that did nothing to ease her ‘concerns’.

For the next few days – even after their return to the United States to kick off the final leg of the tour in Los Angeles, Michael seemed to have conveniently forgotten that conversation. He never brought it up, and thanks to her schedule, she had no time to really worry over his enigmatic comments.

At least that was until she walked into her office on January 14th to see a plain white envelope with her name printed neatly on it, sitting patiently on her chaotically organized desk.

At first assuming it was just another notice from Michael’s lawyers or concert promoters/organizers or something, she dropped her suitcase with a sigh and reached for it absently. She was already mentally preparing herself for a long day of meetings, and the two colorful narrow rectangular pieces of (thick) paper didn’t quite register until the blaring XXIII in silver against the backdrop of the famous Lombardi trophy, had her giving a breathless squeak of disbelief.

It...it...it can’t be...it just can’t be!

There was a folded piece of paper in the envelope she nearly missed, and opening it with trembling hands, she read with her eyes welling with tears she didn’t even bother hiding.

Look who’s going to the Super Bowl in sunny Miami, Florida!
Tookie managed to wrangle up a couple of tickets for you, and you get special V.I.P treatment. I think he said you’d be sitting in the suite, but I’m not sure. You might want to speak to him for details.
You’ll also be staying at a friend’s house down there, so no need to pay for hotel room. Everything is ready for you. Again, talk to Tookie for information.
Anyway, have fun in the sun. You deserve the break for all your hard work these past two years on the tour. I will miss you, but I expect to hear lots of fun stories about your experiences.
Love you always,
Captain Michael

Michael...Michael...Michael you big...big...big...idiot! What am I going to do with you?

She wanted to pick up the phone to yell at him. She wanted to get into her car and drive to Encino to confront him, and yet all she could do was slump into her chair sobbing with a gratitude that mere words could not convey. Michael had given her gifts in the past; each more stupendous than the last, but nothing would beat getting these exclusive Super Bowl tickets at the last minute. She knew it wasn’t just ‘Frank’s doing’, but Michael pulling the strings and making sure he got what he wanted...

No...getting her what she had always wanted.

He really was the most amazing...

Knock. Knock. “Miss. Deja?”

Oh shit.

Gathering herself quickly, she dried her eyes with the sleeves of her blouse and tried to look a little more presentable.

“Ye...yes?” she called out, tucking the tickets and letter into her handbag and looking up to see the uniformed chauffeur tipping his hat in greeting.

“Are you ready, ma’am? I was told to pick you up. We have to leave for the airport.”

She blinked and tried not to gawk in surprise. “Wh...what? I don’t -”

“Mr. Jackson’s orders, ma’am,” the man replied with a smile. “And I quote, if she’s working, tell her she has to leave right now. No wasting of time.” He chuckled softly. “I can take you back to your apartment to pick up a few things if you want.”

“I would think so,” she gasped, unsure of what to do with herself with this sudden announcement. She, who always liked her life organized and in order, suddenly found herself in a position where Michael was turning everything inside out. She had to think...had to gather herself and yet...

“Are you ready ma’am? Can I help you get anything?”

“Just...just give me about ten minutes to get some things organized here, okay? I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He nodded in agreement and with a bow, excused himself. Glad for the moment to breathe again, she closed her eyes, counted inwardly to ten, opened them, and reached for the phone.

“Helloooo?” came the playful voice on the phone.

“Mi...” she began automatically before realizing who it actually was. “Where’s Michael, Miko?”

“In a meeting with the landscape folks. I can take a message if you want.”

She expelled a rush of air. “No...it’s okay. I’ll...I’ll call him from Miami.”

“Ooh, Miami? What’s happening in Miami?”

She tried not to gloat. “I’m going to the Super Bowl.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah! Can you believe it?” She finally squeaked out in girlish delight. Short of dancing around her office in giddy delight she settled for drumming her feet in joy. “I have to catch a flight. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“All right. Don’t forget, we’re moving base to Neverland from here on out.”

“Right, right. Neverland.” It was the furthest thing from her mind right now as all she was thinking about was watching the greatest football game ever in a stadium with about 50,000 other fanatics.

Pure bliss!

She knew she was going to miss the first two or three days of Michael’s L.A. performances, but if he wanted her to leave now, who was she to complain? So with a few other phone calls to some co-workers and friends to let them know she wasn’t vanishing from the face of the earth, Deja prepared herself for a weekend that would become the first step in a new direction for the rest of her life.

__

When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel my love

Miami, Florida
January 22nd, 1989

In her next life, she probably thinks she’d marry someone like Joe Montana.

Though she’s a die-hard San Diego Charger fan, there was no denying the pure magnetism and charisma Mr. Montana had on the football field. It helped that he wasn’t exactly on the ugly side either.

She was now on her feet, cheering in excitement, along with some hall-of-famers from the Miami Dolphins – Nick Buoniconti, Bob Griese and Harry Little – now wearing an authentic 49ers shirt over her jeans and a Super Bowl XXIII hat for an accessory (not counting the large foam #1 hand lying on her chair). The V.I.P suite was everything she had ever imagined it to be. Not only did they have a great view of the field, there was enough exquisite food to feed both football teams with leftovers.

She took another sip of her champagne, laughing at something Harry was saying to her about Jerry Rice and his playing style, when the door opened again to usher in another set of important-looking guests. She wouldn’t have given them a second glance, since it was just after half-time and the suite had been bustling with people all day, however, she nearly found herself choking on her drink at the sight of the tall, imposing, and handsome (as fuck) player from her beloved San Diego team strolling in with a few other NFL players. Dressed in an expensive gray Armani suit that hugged his body as if specifically tailored for him, Deja tried to blame the slight buzz she was experiencing on the alcohol she had been sipping all evening.

Christian Elmore Latrell.

She couldn’t believe it!

He was a new acquisition from the St. Louis Rams, and he was going to be playing the position of line backer come the fall season. With his build and skills, it was no wonder the team was excited about the upcoming year. None more so than she (and she was the biggest geek at keeping track of the players).

She was unaware she was staring, until he finally gave a half-turn (he was in the midst of conversation with the other men) to flash a slow, sexy smile that officially made her weak-kneed. Her face flared hotter than she had ever felt before, and she tried to still the sudden thudding of her heartbeat as she forced herself to turn away and focus on the game again.

He wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t looking at me. He was just smiling at probably Harry Little. That’s all. Don’t flatter yourself that THE Chris Latrell would be remotely interested in a person like...

“So you’re a big 49er fan, huh?” came the low husky drawl that had her stomach filling with a million and one butterflies.

Why the hell wasn’t she sitting down?! Her knees were shaking so much. Maybe it was just because of his celebrity status and...

(and what about Michael?! Weren’t you all gung-ho about him and now just because this tall...big...broad shouldered man who’s currently eating you with his eyes is...)

“Sor...sorry?” she asked breathlessly; embarrassed to find she had completely forgotten the question he asked.

He chuckled and smiled a little wider to reveal perfect white teeth that seemed to gleam against his bronzed skin. “The name’s Chris Latrell.”

“I know,” she blurted out, before blushing and shaking her head quickly as if hoping to backtrack. “I mean...I’m from San Diego originally...and I live in L.A. now and...and...I’m just a big fan of the team, that’s all. So I know your name...is what I’m trying to say.”

She was blubbering, and she wanted to shut up, but it just didn’t seem as the words would stop. She was sure he was going to walk away and maybe laugh about her stupid antics to his friends later on, but she was pleasantly surprised when he seemed to be the one blushing at the recognition.

“Well damn,” he mumbled and rubbed his chin as if in thought. “Guess I really have to play well this season considering I’m going to have the most beautiful woman cheering for me all the time.”

If she were chocolate, she would probably be a puddle on the floor right now. God, he was smooth. Too smooth, and though a part of her wanted to shut down this instant attraction as just that...plain attraction and that he was probably already dating some super model, she figured she could just play along.

(just for tonight)

She would be back in L.A. tomorrow and this opportunity would never come again. Michael had told her to enjoy her stay in Miami and she was determined to do so. She deserved to have some fun, didn’t she?

“Deja,” she said as she held out her hand to accept his handshake, though he went one step further and actually placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Talk about pleasurable chills racing down your spine. She had to bite her lower lip hard to control the heat that surged through her.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Chris acknowledged softly, refusing to release her hand. “You wouldn’t mind if I watched the rest of the game with you, would you?”

“No...not at all,” she replied as she found herself staring into deep set black eyes that spoke so much.

“I don’t mind at all.”

__

I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in my mind
Where you belong

Los Angeles, California
April 1989

“....why are you smiling to yourself?”

“Hmm?”

Michael, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor of the still empty section (soon to be his library) of his new manor, rolled the colorful rubber ball to Bubbles, before eyeing his clearly distracted assistant. “You’ve had that glazed expression on your face all day. In fact, you’ve had that look since you came back from the Super Bowl! What gives?”

“Nothing, Michael,” she replied with a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes. “Geez. Anyway...” She flips open her giant notebook. “Did you still want to visit that antique furniture store on Melrose?”

He pouted at her, only to stick his fingers in his ears as the sound of drilling from the outside nearly made them tone deaf. There was so much work going on the grounds, it was becoming a little hard to keep up with what the hell was happening most of the time. He did know that the zoo area would be completed in time to start moving the animals over here as soon as possible. He would have to hire more people to work around here...not just for the zoo...but the amusement rides, the train station, hell the house itself!

“How are those interviews coming along?” he asked as he rose to his feet, watching Bubbles juggle the ball a bit before kicking it aside in boredom.

“Great. Great,” Deja replied as she trotted after him. “We’ve already got two cooks lined up and then we are looking at a couple of gardeners-”

“Tookie’s handling that,” he muttered as they stepped out into the sunshine, promptly earning a soft hiss from him. He fiddled with the fedora on his head and rubbed his enclosed arms; which reminded her again of one of the many ‘changes’ Michael seemed to be going through with his unfortunate skin condition.

Though he was yet to fully discuss the issue with her, she had learned the basics from Karen, and Deja had to confess that it was heart breaking to know what he was going through. It hurt even more with the way the media was beginning to portray him. The attacks, which had once been positive and glowing with praises at the successful tour, were now becoming sour with the purchase of his new home (he was becoming a recluse!), and the changing of his skin color (he hates being black!). She couldn’t imagine how much those accusations must hurt, and yet he gritted his teeth and moved on as best he could.

“You’re not telling me the whole truth,” he suddenly blurted out as they made the turn toward the section of the estate where a large clock tower / train station was still in construction.

Stunned at the sudden accusation, she almost tripped over her own feet. “What are you talking about?”

“You skimmed over the events during the Super Bowl...seems like you missed out a lot.”

She couldn’t help the flood of color to fill her cheeks, because Michael was right about that part. She did keep her promise and regale Michael with the nearly two-week vacation to the beautiful city of Miami. She mentioned the shopping she did, the visits to the clubs, the shopping, the snorkeling, the shopping, and of course the game itself and getting to see all the famous football players. Hell, she even managed to get signatures from Joe Montana and Jerry Rice (and pictures too!). What more could a gal ask for?

How about the part where you broke your number one rule of dating a man by spending the night with him on your first date? Huh? Why didn’t you mention that part, Deja?

“Ah ha! You’re turning red again!” Michael cried out as he leaned closer to his assistant to smirk in victory. “So you are hiding something. What happen....?” He paused, seemed to finally put two and two together and then...

“YOU MET A MAN!”

“MICHAEL!” she cried out in embarrassment and tried to reach out to slap a hand over his mouth to silence him. His outburst had earned them a few curious looks from some of the workers.

“I meet men all the time,” she hissed as he giggled and skipped out of reach. “You don’t have to make it seem like it’s the apocalypse or something.”

“But it is,” Michael insisted with a grin. “Ever since...you know...you never seemed to want to hang out with anyone. All the guys that came on to you, you turned them away.”

And you want to know why? Her mind screamed. It’s because I was always too close to you, and whenever I’m too close to you, everyone else seems to pale in comparison, but the vacation was a godsend, Michael. You gave me time to breathe and in those few days, I seemed to realize that I could still have emotions...could still feel something for members of the opposite sex that was not work-related.

“Whatever,” she mumbled and tried to pretend as if she was reading her notes.

There was a long pause, in which she assumed Michael might have walked off somewhere to wreck more havoc, but his sudden quiet question had her looking up again.

“Is he a nice guy?”

“I-”

“He must be,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this...peaceful in a while.”

Peaceful? Was that it? Was it the reason she could smile at random moments for no darn good reason? Why things that used to irritate her no longer seemed that much of a big deal? Was it why she could even put up with some of Michael’s tantrums without wanting to go back home and punch a pillow as usual?

Peaceful, huh?

The night with Chris was an innocent mistake...of sorts. After the game, they had had so much fun together (and she hadn’t even recognized she had pounced on him after the 49ers won in such thrilling fashion until she realized he was holding on to her in a rather awkward embrace), he insisted she join him for a late night dinner...which led to a couple of drinks and then...

Man, she had really missed having a (naked) man in her arms.

All it had taken was Chris’s undivided attention for one night to remind her of what it felt like to be a woman all over again. For a guy so big and strong, he was surprisingly tender yet in control when in the bedroom. She lost count of how many times he managed to make her scream with orgasmic bliss, and goodness knows she hadn’t wanted it to end.

It was incredibly hard to say goodbye to him, considering the guy had actually woken up early to prepare breakfast for her. Breakfast in bed! When was the last time a guy did that for her? Never!

“I hope you didn’t mind me borrowing your kitchen,” he had said as he shuffled into the room in only his pants and a tray of toast, sausage, eggs and a glass of orange juice in hand. “I tend to wake up early and just couldn’t resist.”

Feeling like a teenage girl on her first date, she had bunched the sheets to her chin shyly as he pampered her with the delicious meal before taking her again to heights she couldn’t even fathom.

“I’m going to miss you,” she had confessed as they lay in satiated bliss; sure she was going to be forgotten as soon as he left the house. “But I’ll watch your game every Sunday, and I’ll cheer you on.”

“We don’t have to end it,” he whispered against her lips, sending her eyes widening in surprise.

He blushed and reached out to brush away the strands of hair falling into her eyes. “I would really like to see you again, Deja.”

“Rea...really?” she had asked; her heart leaping with hope that perhaps...maybe...just maybe this big guy with such a big heart could possibly want to see her as more than a one-night stand.

“Yeah,” came the bashful reply. “If you want to see me again that is. People usually say I’m awkward with women, so-”

“Not with the way you were last night,” she giggled and snuggled against him in happiness. “When are you coming back to Los Angeles?”

“In about a week or so. Although for the season I have to move to San Diego-”

“That’s fine. It doesn’t matter to me,” she insisted with a firm nod. “We’ll exchange numbers and then-”

“...and then...” He grinned and moved closer still until nothing but a feather of breath separated them. They stared into each other’s eyes and perhaps it was in that moment that they knew their relationship was going to be a whole lot more than just a casual fling.

“...never felt that way about another man before,” she muttered, unaware she had been talking all this time. “Well maybe for you at first, but...”

She blushed and looked up at Michael, who was watching her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Was he upset? He didn’t look it. Was he happy for her? She couldn’t tell either. Maybe she should just shut up altogether.

“Anyway,” she said louder with a clearing of her throat. “The stuff you ordered from London should be arriving on Thursday and -”

“Chris Latrell from the San Diego Chargers, hmm?” Michael interrupted, though he was now walking away from her slowly with hands in the pockets of his pants. “He sounds interesting. Did you tell him you were working for me?”

“...not yet. I mean we’ve only met like about five times since then. He’s been busy.”

Michael spared her a glance over his shoulder; that same unreadable expression on his visage. “When do you plan on letting him know? I mean if this relationship is getting serious-”

“We’re not that serious,” she insisted firmly. “We’re just...friends, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s all it is, Michael.”

Why the hell was she explaining her relationship to him anyhow? And why was he making it seem as if she was...she was...cheating on him or something? His monosyllabic answers were beginning to upset her.

“Is there something you want to say, Michael?” she asked, now striding after him; determined to get him to talk instead of acting like such a spoiled brat. “If you’ve got something to say-”

“What do you think I want to say?” He raises a brow as if incredulous at her insinuation. “I’m happy that you’ve found a guy you like.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic....now.”

“Deja.” He comes to a stop and finally turns fully to face her. He places his hands on her shoulders and forces her to watch him carefully. “I made a promise to you; that I would find someone who would treat you with respect and give you the love you deserve, right?”

“Yes, but -”

“And I intend to keep my promise. I want to meet this guy.”

Her eyes widened. “Hey now, wait a minute! You’re not my father! You don’t have to -”

“So? I have to make sure he’s okay. I’m not allowing some idiot to make you unhappy again. I won’t stand for it.”

She would laugh at how serious he looked when saying something like that, but she realized that he really wasn’t kidding. There was a determination on his features that stirred her heart and made her suddenly want to burst into tears. He was acting like an older brother who desperately needed his little sibling to be happy, and it made her wonder if he wasn’t projecting some of his concerns for his baby sister Janet onto her. Either way, it was endearing to see, and before she could stop herself, she reached out to give him a brief but heartfelt hug of appreciation.

“All right,” she said softly against the abrasive sensation of his five o’clock shadow. “See him...evaluate him...whatever you want, and then let me know if he makes the grade, okay?”

Michael’s smile could be felt in the strands of her hair before his lips placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, you bet I will, Deja. I definitely will.”

__

The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
Though winds of change
Are throwing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like me yet

Hudson River Valley, New York
July 1994

“And that, oh curious one, is how it all officially began!”

She sits back on the lounge chair and grins at her rapt audience with pleasure.

“That’s it?” comes the stunned question. “But you stopped at the best part.”

Deja giggles and reaches for her giant glass of some margarita concoction she had conjured up earlier. Taking a sip of the drink (she tries to control her wince at the first shock of bitterness that fills her tongue before the sweeter flavor takes over), sighs and stares into a sky so blue it’s breathtaking. It’s a beautiful summer day, and with the kids spending time with her husband’s family, it’s just the break she needs after a very long week.

She stretches out her legs, glad the swimsuit she’s wearing flatters a figure Chris has been telling her looks just fine despite her worries. She knows he wants to have another baby, but she just isn’t sure she’s ready to go through all that again...as exciting as it had been. Her companion, however...

(lucky gal)

...looks great in her simple black two-piece suit with those legs that seem to go on for miles. And has she lost weight? She doesn’t need to, considering she’s already slender enough, but...

“Deja?”

“What?”

“What happened next? How did Michael make sure Chris turned out all right for you?”

“Oh, right...that story.”

She arranges the large floppy sun hat on her head and reaches for the bottle of sunscreen, which had been lying on the ground, to pour a generous amount on her arms. “Well, Michael invited Chris to his Encino home believe it or not. Never told me he was going to do that, and you should have heard the phone call from him later that night. He was shocked that Michael even knew who the fuck he was because he had always been a fan from back in the day when they were in the Jackson 5 and the Jacksons and so on and so forth. But yeah, Michael invited him for the dinner and they seemed to hit it off. I got his official blessing a couple of weeks later.”

She laughs at the memory of Michael going the extra mile by renting out an entire restaurant just for she and Chris, even showing up long enough to share appetizers before leaving them to their devices for the rest of the night.

“Oddly enough, he proposed to me in that same restaurant a few months later,” she muses with a wistful smile. “Got down on one knee...looked into my eyes and even before he uttered a single word, I was already nodding like a fish and saying ‘yes! Marry me already!”

The women giggle at the image this conjures up before falling into companionable silence.

“I guess in the end it all worked out, didn’t it?” comes the quiet question.

Deja nods in agreement. “Yes...if Michael hadn’t bought me those tickets, I might have never met Chris, so at the end of the day...he’s the reason for all this now.”

“When and where did you two get married?”

“August 11th, 1990 and where else?” Deja replies with a laugh. “Neverland was in the finishing touches of completion, but we were able to still have the wedding there. It was so much fun...”

(You look beautiful, Deja)

It was a simple Grecian white gown – nothing too extravagant – mostly because she always felt she would trip over a train if she had one, and it would suck to have to walk so slow wearing something that heavy and cumbersome anyhow.

(You look so beautiful...)

She blushes at the memory of Michael having his dance with her on the now green lawns of his paradise. She will never forget how handsome he had looked in his tuxedo (with a twist – after all Michael was not content to go with the norm and had embellished it with a silver buckle that looked damn expensive), and how she had flushed like the bride she was as he held her in his arms and they swayed to the music.

(Thank you...)
(I’m so jealous, I could die.)
(Shut up. You’re just saying that.)
(I’m dead serious. I wish I was the one saying ‘I do’.)
(You had your chance, mister.)
He laughs (Yeah...I know.)
(Who knows? Maybe someday...I’ll be the one eyeing you with jealousy as you dance with your bride.)
(That day might never come.)
(So why did you build this place, Michael? Just to live in it alone for the rest of your life?)
A long and thoughtful pause.
(Well? Michael? Maybe you’ll find your Wendy or Tinkerbell someday to share Neverland with.)
(No...not Wendy...Wendy grows up and leaves, remember?)
(Oh...right.)
(I want a Tinkerbell that will remain with me until I decide to grow up...if that ever happens)
(But didn’t Peter Pan forget about Tinkerbell at the end?)
He gives a small smile. (My story’s going to be a little different, Deja. I could never forget Tinkerbell. Never ever.)
She laughs and kisses his cheek before resting her face against his chest (She’s out there, Michael. I know she is. Probably just waiting for you to find her...)

Although goodness knows she hadn’t expected it to happen the way it did.

“Hmm?” Wide hazel eyes look at her with innocence as the sunglasses are raised a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...” Deja replies with a warm smile. “...Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell?” comes the bemused query. “Why...?”

Deja laughs. “You mean he hasn’t called you that yet?”

“Because he’s Peter Pan?” She laughs and tips her head back to look at the heavens. “Hmm...let’s just say he has other names he calls me...that I like.”

“Oooh. Saucy!” This earns an embarrassed laugh from the younger female and another companionable silence falls before the soft question is asked.

“When you first met me...what did you think of me?”

Deja purses her lips in thought, trying to backtrack to the moment when the high school girl had shown up in Neverland for the first time. To be honest, the only reason Stephanie had stood out was because the Sisters had introduced her as the president of the school or club or whatever it was she was in charge of, otherwise she would have blended in with the other long-legged beauties from the private Catholic establishment.

Oh and there was the fact that Michael had been unable to keep his eyes off her the entire day. It was astonishing to witness actually. It wasn’t the first time Michael had seen beautiful women before, but she just hadn’t been able to understand what the attraction was.

“You were only a high school student,” she finally says aloud as if more to herself than to the other woman. “If you had told me you’d end up being his wife in less than a year, I would have laughed you right out of Neverland.”

“In other words, you had zero appreciation for me,” comes the wry commentary.

“Well, if you want blunt honesty, yes, although, it all changed the next day...a little bit. I just thought you were...a little spunky. You didn’t have that star struck look about you, and you acted like you were at least thirty...as if you already had the world on your shoulders and just needed something or someone to unload it.”

There’s a long pause in which nothing is heard but the soft trickling of water in the pool and the distant hum of a lawn mower going off in a neighbor’s yard.

Finally, the other replies. “Couldn’t help it. I had to act that way. Remember I was supposed to be cleaning monkey cages for godssakes, and then there was that outfit you picked for me.”

Deja laughs at the memory. “Hehe, well, you gotta admit it made you stand out -”

“Like a fucking rainbow.”

“Amen to that! We should all be colorful.”

“Speaking of which, thanks for the package you sent to David. He can’t get over his new polka-dotted socks.”

“I knew he’d like it!” Deja applauds in delight. “He’s already got a fetish for socks like his father?”

Stephanie chuckles and nods. “I swear between him and Michael, I might just have to build an extra closet just to keep socks alone.” She sighs and stretches out her legs. “I hope he has fun with Christina at your in-laws today.”

“Oh dear, you’ll be begging them to return. Christina loves being there because they’ve got ponies, but not to worry, David’s in good hands with his big sister.”

Stephanie smiles softly and closes her eyes. It’s a much deserved break from the rigors of college, and with Michael coming down to New Haven next weekend, she just can’t wait to be in his arms again.

“Deja?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“...for giving me a chance with Michael.”

She has no idea why those soft-spoken words would hit so hard, but they do and she is extremely grateful for the sunglasses that shield her eyes so Stephanie cannot see the tears. She suddenly feels like confessing about the days when her bouts of jealousy at Michael’s devotion to the new woman in his life had nearly eaten her whole; that despite her happy marriage, there were still those little moments when she had asked “Why? Why couldn’t it be me?”

But she knew she wasn’t being fair to them; not to Michael, not to Stephanie, and most definitely not to the man she loves and has vowed the rest of her life to. Michael was in the past, and he was now happy with this woman she had slowly come to respect and admire over the years.

“No...I should be the one thanking you,” she finally whispers though she doubts her words were heard.

You were able to achieve something I could never do. You gave him the courage I would never have been able to provide. I think I would have been content to remain in his shadow, but you stepped out of that shadow...brought him to the light and made him an even better man than he could possibly be. I might have loved him...but not with the passion you do, Stephanie. I envy that. I really do.

She opens her mouth to say something aloud, but the light snore tells her that Stephanie has already dozed off with weariness. Perfectly understandable considering the woman’s hectic schedule. Her suggestion for Stephanie to spend the weekend with them while the kids went away was something she desperately needed. Goodness knows being a Yale student was a burden alone in itself.

“She misses you,” she will report when Michael calls up later in the evening. “But she’s fast asleep right now. Can’t let you speak to her.”

“Meanie.”

She chuckles and stirs the pot of spaghetti sauce for dinner. “Everything okay back there?”

“It’s lonely.”

“Of course it is. You should spend more time in New Haven with them instead of remaining stuck over there.”

“You know I’m still working-”

“Right, right, right. Work. Work. Work. While your wife sees younger men who-”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding.” She sticks out her tongue though he can’t see her.

“Yeah well...just take care of my woman, all right? I’m counting on you, Deja.”

“Yes, Bambi. I’ll take good care of her. Wouldn’t want Tinkerbell’s wings to be clipped off now, would we?”

There’s a long pause...a heavy silence that she recognizes and that brings a wistful smile to her face. And after what seems like an eternity...

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” he finally replies softly; perhaps speaking more to himself than to the woman on the other line. “And Deja?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“Let her know that her Peter Pan is coming home soon.”