Detox

Chapter 14: Unspoken

14: Unspoken

Kabuchiko
Shinjuku, Japan
Fall 2002

Beneath hooded lashes, Sheila observed the new crop of customers straggling in at this hour (it was almost three in the morning). Clearly intoxicated - either on drugs or alcohol - the quartet of two young Japanese men and their girlfriends stumbled into a booth; their voices high-pitched and disjointed in the restaurant that had once settled into a comfortable lull. She squinted at the sight of the jackets and t-shirts two were wearing. They each had the logo of her band – The Black Dahlias – consisting of a bleeding rose surrounded by thorns etched on them.

Hn. Fans. They must have attended her show last night.

(she pulled the baseball hat over her eyes and slouched a little lower in her seat so she wouldn’t be recognized)

It was a nice logo; one her bassist – Kenny – had drawn up on a paper napkin at a Denny’s one muggy afternoon when the band was still in its infancy. She liked it on sight and had agreed to it being used; though she was still reluctant to tell them the real reason she had chosen that name in the first place.

The Black Dahlia.

Sure the original story of the woman’s brutal murder was gruesome and all; but how could Sheila tell them that the reason she chose it was as a reminder of the girl...no... woman now slumped face down on the table across her? How could she explain the gamut of emotions Stephanie almost always managed to wring out of her whenever they were in close proximity? Where could she begin to recount their history together; that she had literally watched this woman grow before her eyes, almost been killed by said woman, and that despite the simmering feelings of loathing and distrust, there was still an undeniable yet reluctant wave of admiration (love?) and respect for what Stephanie had managed to achieve so far.

In place of the aloof, sometimes snobbish, yet painfully quiet teenager she had known back in their days as part of Brandon’s Crew, the person before her now had changed considerably. And though many had thought her mature then; the unenviable task of being the wife to the most famous entertainer in the world had forced her to become a veteran in the grand scheme of things.

She dared anyone to step into Stephanie’s shoes. Hell, even she knew she wouldn’t have lasted a day in them.

Probably kicked them to the side and said fuck it, she thought with a wry grin.

Unfortunately the phrase 'fuck it' was not really a part of Stephanie's repertoire (though it depended on the situation). So instead of giving up, the stubborn mule had plodded on despite what the rest of the world (and even her husband) threw at her, and boy had the mud balls struck hard and deep. A small part of Sheila considered it poetic justice; that Stephanie somehow deserved all the ridicule and bitterness that came her way. Stephanie had been no saint in her younger days, so maybe karma was finally catching up to her. Yeah, that had to be it. Sure it seemed like the charmed life to be the wife of such a ‘rock star’, but was it really worth the aggravation and grief that came along with it? Did she really deserve all the prejudice and unfair attention that came her way? Even karma had to take a break every now and then, right?

Skimming through magazines or watching television, it was no longer a surprise that almost every other day brought some new or hurtful untrue statement about Stephanie. It was enough to get one's hackles rising with disgust. Wasn’t there some sort of media police that could arrest all these people and lock them up forever? Did they really think that readers or viewers were that dumb enough to believe everything? Even the most ridiculous of headlines?

Besides the debacle with Doctor Dreamboat, there were other stories that made Sheila scratch her head in disbelief. Take for instance the bogus tales of Stephanie’s boys not actually hers and that she had received the eggs as gifts from some of Michael’s closest friends, or that she was actually barren and Michael had considered divorcing her just because of that, or that she was a gold digger and had several affairs with different people (and some of these men - and some women who claimed she was really a lesbian - had even gone to T.V. shows and sleazy magazines to sell their fake stories).

There were the atrocious fables of how she was a head case who always treated her employees badly and no one wanted to deal with her, and that she had threatened several past employees (many who had, of course, wanted to make money off having worked for the Jacksons), or that she was the mother of several bastard kids and had them hidden or aborted, or that she had allegedly gone back to taking drugs and her children were being investigated by Child Welfare for physical and emotional abuse. As if that wasn't bad enough there were some very overzealous fans (mostly of the female persuasion), who set up blogs and forums just to bash the woman because she was Michael Jackson’s wife and the mother of his children. To them, Stephanie could do absolutely nothing right for their Saint Michael. She was never good enough for him. She was too bitchy, too fake, too two-faced, did not care for him, did not really love him, and she sure as hell did not deserve to be with their idol. Michael could have done so much better (this highlighted with images of Stephanie being X’d out or with mustaches and horns drawn on her head).

Just awful shit that one person does not deserve to deal with, Sheila thought with a shake of her head. Goodness knows she would have walked out of the relationship years ago! How she could grit her teeth and bear with all of that was beyond Sheila’s comprehension.

Girl has got the skin of a fucking crocodile...kinda like her husband, I guess.

It wasn’t all bad though. There were the good parts that the media didn’t quite seem to want to focus too much attention on. Say for instance the opening of the hospital here. Besides the Japanese media – who had a love affair of near sickening intensity with Stephanie – there weren’t a lot of international (read as American press) hopping around in excitement at the ‘boring’ prospect of opening a beneficial children’s hospital. Instead, they were more than happy to focus on the fact that she came on the trip alone, fueling even more rumors about the possible divorce of the power couple. Then there were the other ‘quiet’ trips to her favorite charities including Tender Life back in L.A., where she’d spend a couple of days catching up with the gals and taking care of their babies, scrubbing floors, washing dishes, or doing laundry. Hardly the kind of things one would expect from a woman of her status and caliber, eh? She would sometimes take her sons to homeless shelters or small hospitals, just so they could get to appreciate how good they had it.

“Michael and I agreed we wouldn’t let them take their life for granted. They realize they are better off compared to others, and they are doing their best to make a difference in whatever little way they can. David even organized a can food drive in his school some months ago. It was a big success too.”

Sheila hid a small smile behind her cupped hand as she stared at the lowered head (was Stephanie snoring?) recalling how the other woman had bragged about her boys’ accomplishments earlier in their conversation. It was clear she loved those boys more than life itself, and even worse...

“...you still love that big dolt,” Sheila murmured, while reaching out to brush aside some strands of the blond wig that threatened to enter the slightly opened mouth. However, her light touch was enough to have Stephanie sitting up quickly; though she had to blink several times and wipe her mouth in embarrassment (she had drooled a little) in an attempt to reorient herself to her surroundings.

“Did...did I doze off?” God, her voice sounded like she had a bad cold.

“Yup,” came the amused reply. “You just started slurring your words and next thing you know...” Sheila mimicked Stephanie’s head falling to the table and chuckled at the blush this elicited. “Can you imagine the headlines for that one? ‘Mrs. Stephanie Jackson found face down in her own drool from getting drunk in a local Japanese bar. Whatever will she do next?’”

“Shut up. I’m not drunk,” came the low reply, though it was tinged with amusement. “You would sell me out, wouldn’t you?”

“To the highest bidder, my darling,” Sheila replied with a smirk. “You alone are worth millions.”

“Well, glad I could be your cash cow.” She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, before glancing at her watch (an elegant 22K gold Van Cleef piece) in disbelief. “Shit. That late...eh...early in the morning? Miura must be going nuts by now.” She clumsily began to search for her handbag, wondering if she was indeed a little drunk as the light buzz refused to fade away.

Probably ‘cause I just woke up, she reasoned, while trying to stifle another yawn.

“So, when are you leaving us?” Sheila asked; watching as Stephanie finally found the Kate Spade handbag she had chugged along to dig into it for her sunglasses.

“I have a couple more appearances later on today,” came the absent reply. “And I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“I hear you might even get to meet the emperor,” Sheila gushed sarcastically.

Stephanie rolled her bleary eyes and slid on the shades to hide them from view. “Maybe. I don’t care really. It’s supposed to be some gala fundraising thing.”

Suddenly feeling the need to test her theory, Sheila smirked and drawled out slowly. “It would have been fun to have him with you though...right?”

It was a blink-and-you-just-might-miss-it-moment, but the stiffening of Stephanie’s shoulders and slight tremble of the hand that had reached out to pick up a napkin, gave away just how much Sheila’s words had hit home.

Just as I thought.

“I don’t care,” came the flippant reply, which was followed by a light shrug. “He’s got his own problems, and I’ve-”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Sheila spat with an impatience that was surprising. “Just quit it already. I bet you still cry in your pillow at night, boohooing over him not understanding where you’re coming from and how he’s not treating you right-”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Stephanie said tightly. “Telling you everything was a big mistake.”

“Oh yeah? Because I’m telling you the truth?”

They glared at each other for a long minute, before Stephanie lowered her gaze first...only to reach into her bag to pull out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Sheila expelled a gush of air in exasperation. “Put that thing away. I don’t need your money. I have enough of my own now, thank you very much. Your husband saw to it.”

A raised brow accompanied this revelation. “Oh? I thought he was nothing more than a dog? Why praise him now?”

“Look, I know what he’s done for me and still does for me, all right?” came the reluctant murmur. “Even though he’s behind the scenes, he still checks in on me every once in a while, and we...you know...talk.”

“Michael talks to you?”

“Believe it or not, yes,” Sheila replied with a sneer, before deflating as if suddenly exhausted of having this constant mental and verbal spar with the other woman. “Look...what I said about him being a dog...I meant about the infidelity side of things. A majority of men...they go through shit like that, Stephanie. If Michael didn’t ever feel attracted to other women, I’d think he was a monk or a freakin’ alien. It’s a natural thing for those bastards; the key is keeping your relationship exciting enough to make him not want to leave your side...ever.”

There was an incredulous expression on Stephanie’s face; as if struggling to come to terms that she was actually getting relationship advice from Sheila of all people. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, and so settled for shaking her head and managing to keep the amusement in check, though a part of her did scream that Sheila might have a point.

Keep it exciting...how...?

“Marriage is not easy, and who I am to talk considering I never got married...probably never will at this rate,” Sheila continued with a self-derisive snort. “But I grew up in a loveless household. I saw what marriage did to my mom and dad, and it was not pretty I tell you. Look at your family. I mean...I’m sure your parents went through shit too, but they’re still together, right? At least talk to your mom and find out what she did to keep her marriage together.”

My dead brother keeps them together, Stephanie wanted to say, but she bit hard on her lower lip and kept silent. Sheila wouldn’t understand anyway.

“It takes two people to make it work, right? Ain’t that what all the experts and books say?” Sheila tried to give a reassuring smile. “Look, I know it looks bad now, but geez, you’re still nuts about him, aren’t you? Even when you get pissed off at him for whatever thing he did...you still care about him, and that showed because you didn’t leave, remember?”

Yes...

...yes she remembered...

__

New Haven, Connecticut
Summer 2002

She remembered standing like a zombie in her walk-in closet, staring at the pile of luggage, knowing that all she had to do was pick one, stuff it with some necessities, go to the kids’ room, do the same thing and be on the next flight to New York to take them straight to Kentucky. She would have managed to achieve it too, if that stupid emotion hadn’t crept in to slap her in the face. She couldn’t remember bursting into tears, but she knew she had broken down in her misery, while recalling their heated conversation interspersed with the damning images interspersed with the little things that only did more to remind her of why she just couldn’t give up on the relationship after ten years of heaven and hell with him.

Only God knew how difficult it had been for her to look so ‘calm’ when Michael had literally flown into the bedroom looking frenzied and out of sorts. Only God knew the self control it had taken on her part not to jump into his arms and to apologize right off the bat for what she had done, and perhaps she would have done so, if he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak.

Don’t speak
I know what you’re thinking
And I don’t need your reasons
Don’t tell me ‘cause it hurts

She smiled bitterly as the lyrics of that popular song, by the band No Doubt, floated into her mind. She sighed and forced herself back to the present. It had been a little over two months since that confrontation and every day since then had seemed like a constant trial of patience and tolerance. To her chagrin, every Tom, Dick, and Harry suddenly had some kind of advice to impart. Elizabeth Taylor wanted to fly down to New Haven to ‘see’ her. Katherine wanted her to come down to Encino with the boys to spend a weekend, Rebbie had spent over an hour on the phone giving her advice, LaToya had tried to lecture her on being a good wife (pfft), and Janet had been the only one willing to listen instead of force-feeding her with advice. Let’s not forget the constant phone calls from Regina and Harold; both of whom had the doors to the Biltmore wide open if she ever needed to get away from it all.

Getting away from it all, huh?

She had been tempted on more than one occasion to accept the invitation, but there was work to consider and no matter what, she had to finish her residency. That was one of her daily motivations to keep hanging on. If nothing else, she owed herself (and Michael and her boys) that much as they had all sacrificed in some way to see her get this far.

Patience and tolerance. Patience and tolerance.

He had stayed in New Haven until the boys returned from the Latrells. However, during that long week - with the house to themselves - they rarely saw each other. She was either cooped in the hospital for ungodly hours, or he would lock himself away in his den or studio for the better part of the day. At night, he would either fall asleep in the den or the guestroom, only popping into the master bedroom to take a shower or get a change of clothes. Conversation – if any – was reduced to polite queries about how their day went, and it had all come to a head one morning when both had assumed the other had gone to their respective ‘hiding places’.

You could literally 'hear' their inner curses of “oh shit” at the same time.

Michael, realizing it was too late to hightail it back to the studio, had rubbed his stubble in embarrassment when he noticed his wife - looking just as stunned at seeing him - helping herself to toast and orange juice in the kitchen still in her pjs. He gritted his teeth to control his natural reaction to how utterly adorable she looked without the power suits or white lab coats or pinned up hairstyle she now seemed to favor (just like her mother). She always managed to appear eighteen all over again without the makeup and her hair looking messed up, and to top it all off, she was wearing those cute little Mickey Mouse socks (a souvenir from a trip to Disney World) to match the pink pajamas ensemble.

In her case, she could only fight back an inner groan at how dishelved he looked with the early morning barely-there beard growth and that mussed hair and that his t-shirt was rumpled and his sweatpants were low on his hips and he was wearing mismatched socks (again!) and he looked like a bum in some cute, adorable, yet sexy-

“Good morning,” she finally managed to greet with a weak smile, though her heart wouldn’t stop beating like a conga drummer on acid.

(this heart beats only for you) – hadn’t he whispered that to her one time?

“I ...I uh...made coffee...if you want some.”

“Ah...okay...” came the slightly breathless and barely above a whisper response. It almost seemed as if he was surprised she had actually spoken to him, and he could feel his cheeks burning as hot as his head seemed to pulsate with a dull ache.

Ah... okay? That’s all you can say, Michael Joseph Jackson? Give yourself a pat on the back for most eloquent speech in the morning.

He felt a little better after the mental kick but figured he’d do better actually sitting down; more to hide his embarrassing response to the sight of the smooth curve of her ass when she bent to pick up something she dropped as well as controlling the slight tremble of his knees. He admired the quaint kitchen which was a stark contrast to the one in Neverland. While their West Coast kitchen was predominately dark and polished woods, this kitchen was any female’s dream filled with whites, pastels and lace. It made it airy and cheerful; warm and inviting, and he honestly preferred eating here than in the much stuffier formal dinning room.

He drummed his fingers restlessly on the table...then smoothed out the cream lace-lined table cloth and traced its elegant designs...then reached for the crystal salt and pepper shakers next to the large beautiful vase of yellow flowers...fiddled with them a bit...clumsily dropped one to the floor...began to apologize for being such a klutz and nearly bumped his head against the table in his attempt to straighten up again. Jesus fucking Christ! He was all fingers and thumbs, and even worse he felt like a teenage kid meeting his gal on a first date.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath...

I want to talk to you
To make you listen to me
I want to listen to your heart
Make you fall in love with me all over again

...before lifting his lashes as the hot, spicy smell of his favorite morning beverage was placed before him. How long had it been since he had been served by his woman? In place of the usual maids or himself...there was something decidedly sexy and intimate about being given a cup of coffee, toast with butter, and garnished with well-sliced cucumbers, from a woman who smelled like baby powder and sweetness. Goodness knows he would trade all his lonely hours in the studio to share more moments like this with her.

“I thought you were going to work today,” he murmured as he took a sip and resisted the urge to sigh in pleasure as the hot rich taste flowed down his throat like fine wine. With lowered lashes, he watched her sit across him, marveled at the way the morning's rays of sunshine seemed to create a halo around the thick mass of hair which in turn made her look ethereal and not of this earth, and had to hide a smile at a ritual she seemed unaware she did all the time. Maybe it was an OCD thing (as he was sure he had many of those), but she always had to have her cup or glass on the left side. Even when they went to dinner parties, if the waiter placed the glass on the right, the first thing she’d do was move it to the left. Once Michael had switched it during one such party, and she had turned to reach for it automatically, only to nearly have a panic attack at the change. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a panic attack, but the almost comical look of surprise and mild agitation at the switch was amusing to say the least. She must have thought she was losing her mind.

Just one of the many things I love about you...

“...days off.”

“Hmm?” he asked around the toast in his mouth; hoping she wouldn’t get upset that he had been so lost in his thoughts.

“I said, I have the next two days off,” she replied with a light shrug. “But we all know how that goes. I could still get a call at anytime.” She added even more strawberry jam to her already loaded piece of toast.

“That’s nice...” Say something witty...something cool...something-

“You need the break...right?”

Shit. So much for something cool. He sighed inwardly.

“We all need a break,” she muttered, and he winced at how much those five words had hurt.

A break from me, isn’t that what you’re trying to say, Stephanie? You’re getting tired of me, aren’t you?

He bit his lower lip and struggled not to let that thought bother him too much. She wasn’t looking at him...hadn’t been looking at him all this time actually. He took another bite of his toast and tried again.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“The hospital should be ready for launch in about two months.”

She gasped in surprise; finally looking up to meet his excited gaze. She didn’t want to smile, but there was something so... pure about Michael’s happiness at this news that she couldn’t help it anyway. She knew how hard he had worked over the past two years to see this project off the ground; of how many doors had shut in his face when he first conjured up the plan; of how much he had invested into the project; all the countless phone calls, meetings, trips, schmooze-fests, and obligations he had fulfilled to get to this point, and now that it was finally done-

“Congratulations,” she said with a firm nod of sincerity. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Us,” he insisted with a small (almost sad) smile. Why did she want him to take all the credit? Was she really determined to continue putting the distance between them? “We did it together, Stephanie.”

She turned crimson and shook her head; lowering her gaze to toy with the knife beside her plate. “I didn’t do much -”

“You did most of the research to get the best equipment and medical staff out there,” he interrupted with a shake of his head. “You were by my side when I felt no one else wanted to give me a chance with the project, and I seem to remember someone giving a certain contractor a piece of their mind over the phone when he started acting like a bastard to me.”

“Well, he had it coming,” she grumbled at the memory of the stuck-up asshole who thought he could gyp them out of their investment; even though her attention was now focused on trying to slice up an apple. “He had no right to do what he did.”

Her righteous huff of indignation at the memory made his heart ache at the sight of the woman sitting before him now. Gone was the robotic female who had given him cursory glances and stilted words the past few days. In these few precious moments, she was back to her old self and he could almost...almost forgive her (and himself) for their stupidity.

“I love you...” he whispered.

“Hmm?” She looked up with an adorable bemused expression her visage. “Did you say something?”

“I...” He was going to repeat the words, but for some reason, he found himself shaking his head and muttering a weak, “Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

Was that disappointment in her expression? If it was, she was quick to mask it with a weak smile of her own before focusing on her fruit, and just like that – their moment of normalcy had been reduced to that thin layer of ice again.

God, he hated it.

The rest of breakfast was eaten in a silence so tension-filled until he finally had enough and stood with a mumbled excuse of having to make some phone calls. It wasn’t a complete lie, but they both knew he was ‘escaping’ again, and it wasn’t until he was in the safety of his den, did he slump onto the couch and throw an arm over his eyes in mental and emotional exhaustion.

How much longer could this go on? Would they ever be able to have a decent conversation without sounding like they were reading from a scripted movie? And would that little tiny voice in his mind stop worrying so much about how much time she seemed to spend in the hospital with that 'doctor' and betting that they spent more time together than she with him back home?

Oh God.

He removed his arm to eye the mess around him. If Stephanie was to walk in now, she’d throw a fit of epic proportions while picking up as she lectured him on his cleanliness or lack there of. In a way, he hoped she would come in here, lecture him, scream at him...anything but this bland indifference that was eating at him inside. So yes, he had blatantly stated he would have problems trusting her again, but who was he kidding? If there was anyone in the world he could trust with his life, it was the very woman he had vowed to be with until his dying day. He knew he was lucky to have a woman who had been so loyal to him all these years, so why did he have to end up doing some really stupid things to ruin such a good thing?

With a weary sigh, he slid off the couch to try to clean up as best his could; slightly embarrassed at some of the lyrics he had written on numerous pieces of paper to vent out his frustrations. Some he tore to pieces as they had been less than flattering, others he smoothed out carefully and re-read them; biting his lower lip hard though the tears still managed to come anyway:

You once told me I was like the sun
I blazed so bright, I could scorch you with my love
Now I wonder do you still feel the same?
Do you still love the sun?
Or are you willing to remain hiden in the shade?

Should 'hidden' be spelled with two ds or one d? If Stephanie read this she would make sure it was all right. She'd giggle and tease me as she looked over my typos, and she'd call me a doofus and say she'd give me a spelling test while kissing me and saying how much she...lo...lov...

(my silly little doofus)

He cursed and sniffled as his tears stained the sheet and wiping them quickly but carefully so the paper wouldn’t be soaked through, a part of him wondered why he was behaving like such a weak idiot. Perhaps Joseph would have said something like “she’s yo woman, Mike. You go in there and you tell her what’s what. You ain’t got to sit here like a goddamn crybaby. Grow up, son. Go take what’s yours. You hear me?”

Yeah, I hear you, Joseph. It’s just... I’d rather eat hot coals than listen to any marriage or relationship advice from you.

“Michael?”

He stiffened at the muffled sound of his name, which was accompanied by a light knock on the door.

Stephanie...

“Michael? Are you in here?”

“Ye...yes...hold on!” He wiped his face quickly with the bottom part of his shirt, hoping his eyes weren’t too red and dimming the lights of the already dimmed den; he took a deep breath and composed himself enough to answer again.

“You can come in if you want.”

“I just wanted to tell you that Steve’s here...with Frank.”

“Oh...”

She wasn’t coming in. Not that it was unexpected. Still...it hurt that she wouldn’t want to tell him the news face-to-face.

“Tell them I’ll see them in about -”

“They know,” she interrupted. “The next hour should be enough waiting time with your toilette schedule.”

“Hey!” He blushed at the insinuation, and he could sense that she was at least teasing him with that...and maybe even smiling, which was a good thing. A very good thing.

Your smile makes the rain clouds go away
Your smile makes my heart sing a song
Your smile says all the words I could never say...

“Words like...I love you, Michael,” he whispered to himself. He wondered if she’d ever say that phrase to him again, but right about now...he would settle for anything.

Anything at all.

__


With the boys' return, things seemed a little more bearable.

The children were a welcome distraction and prevented the adults from having any more awkward moments and pregnant silences. It did help that the boys would hardly let their father go, and their excitement became tenfold when they realized they’d be going back to Neverland to spend the rest of their summer vacation.

Partly due to an unavoidable conflict that arose.

“He called me personally because it's a big deal to him,” Michael had said that morning over the phone to Stephanie while she was at work. “Dick has been such a good friend to me...and my brothers over the years, and I didn’t have the heart to turn him down.”

“So, what are you going to do? The hospital ceremony is happening that same week, ba-” She caught herself quickly at the automatic term of endearment, while mentally cursing at the mistake she had made on her patient’s chart. Maybe she ought to stop writing and focus on the man at the other end of the line. Michael’s voice was always a (pleasant) distraction.

“I know, I know,” he groaned. His groan was also a (very pleasant) distraction especially since he sounded the same way when he was just about to com-

Focus, Stephanie! Good grief!

“I might have to ask them to push back the launch date,” Michael mused out loud, having no clue about his wife's sinful thoughts.

She could hear Prince singing off key in the background and assumed they were in his studio. Recalling the joy on her boys' faces when they had seen their father - after their return from the Latrells - had left a deep ache in her heart. How could she have even considered taking them away from him in the first place? The unbridled love the trio had for each other almost made her seem like an outsider looking in; that there was some secret the three shared that she could never be a part of. Of course, all the doubts were immediately wiped away when the two bundles of energy pounced on her next and tried to talk over each other about all the fun and cool things they did.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said aloud as she eyed her calendar. Several dates had been X’d out, and if she could speak to Steven about getting a few extra days off...

“Don’t do what?” Michael asked in bemusement, only for his voice to fade a little as he went “Don't touch that, honey. It's Daddy's important equipment, okay?”

The muffled yet chirpy “Okay, Daddy” brought a smile to her face.

“Everyone wants to see this hospital open, Michael. The kids who desperately need them won’t and can’t wait a second longer, so ... I don’t mind going in your place. Luckily, I have that entire week off, and if I can get a few extra days, I should be covered. You have to get ready for the show.”

There was a long, near-deafening silence at the other end of the line and just when she wondered if the line had been cut off or Michael had fallen asleep (because Prince was still singing his precious little heart out), he returned a little hoarsely. “You...you’d do that for me?”

She was ready to blurt out an “Of course I would! I’m your wife, aren’t I?” but with the way things had been going lately, she could only give a little shrug. “I don’t mind at all. It would be nice to see Tokyo anyway. It’s... been a while.”

“Yeah,” came the quiet reply. “The last time we...”

The last time was magical, he wanted to say as he recalled how very much in love they had been, and of how everything had looked so much better, fresher, and new with Stephanie by his side. He wanted to speak of those moments aloud, but the sound of voices and laughter behind him was a cruel reminder of what he was currently working on. R. Kelly along with Rodney Jerkins had flown down early this morning to help in the digital re-mastering of some of his greatest hits; all a part of the process for the release of Number Ones sometime next year.

And I have to think up what performance to put on for Dick anyway in less than a month. It just never ends, does it?

“Michael?”

Her voice jerked him out of his thoughts and he shook himself a little. “I'm still here...”

(I'll always be here)

“...just have to deal with Kells and Rodney.”

“Oh? R. Kelly is there?”

“You don't have to sound that excited,” he grumbled as her voice had gotten a little higher in surprise. “Want to say hello to him?”

“Sure you wanna do that, Mike?” the R&B crooner teased as Michael handed him the phone with a gesture that would have made his woman blush, only this made the men in the room laugh out loud in mirth. “Might steal her from you,” R. Kelley added with a playful wink.

“Talk dirty to her and you die,” Michael replied with a giggle while motioning for Prince to sit on his lap. Though he played with his son, his attention was still focused on the conversation the other man was having with his wife. It turned out to be nothing more than harmless banter, and Michael kicked himself for even considering anything else could go on between them. For goodness sake, it wasn't the first time Stephanie had spoken to those he worked with. Jesus, was he beginning to get too paranoid?

“Ba...Stephanie?” he asked once the phone was given back to him. “I guess Frank will talk to you about everything when you get back home, and I'll get in touch with Mr. Suzuki and...”

As he rattled off instructions, she did her best to jot them down so she wouldn't forget anything. She knew her schedule was going to be crazy from now on, and in way she was glad for it. It would be a welcome reprieve from the widening gulf between them, for despite how much she tried to tell herself that things might change, her doubts and fears almost always seemed to get in the way.

__

Kabuchiko
Shinjuku, Japan

“Aaaaah,” came the loud sigh of pleasure which was proceeded by an exaggerated stretch of her arms once they stepped outside. “Smell that fresh Shinjuku air, Stephanie.”

She could smell wet asphalt and fried noodles, but was too tired to argue with her companion. She longed for the soft sheets of her bedroom at the hotel and wanted nothing more than some precious hours of sleep. Miura – who had spent the past few hours dozing off on a bench next to the restaurant looked just about ready to call it quits himself.

Poor guy, Stephanie thought with an inner smile. She made a mental note to give him a little extra in his pay check for being such a good sport.

“So?” came the sudden impatient question that jarred her thought processes.

“Huh?” she eyed Sheila with a raised brow. “So what?”

“Did you think about what I said? Keeping your marriage exciting and all that?”

Stephanie sighed. “I don't know...I'm too tired right now to think of anything. Maybe I should just sleep on it.”

Sheila looked like she was going to protest, but decided it wasn't going to be worth it. “Well...just keep that in mind. Do something spontaneous, ya know? Something that will knock his socks off and remind him of just why he fell for you in the first place. Shit.” She stuck a wad of chewing gum into her mouth, now looking slightly aggravated. “Don't know why I even give a damn. If your marriage dissolves, it's none of my business.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes and before she could change her mind or think twice about what she was doing, she reached out to wrap an arm around Sheila in a hug. She smiled softly at the audible gasp of shock this elicited.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For listening and trying to give me advice, Doctor S.”

“Fuck you,” came the gruff reply that was followed by a slight push on Stephanie's chest. Sheila hated people seeing her get emotional, and the last thing she wanted to do was reveal just how much the hug had affected and meant her. “Get out of here already. Go find him and talk to the bastard.”

“I'll try,” came the quiet response. “And I mean it, Sheila...thank you.”

“Whatever. Bye,” she said quickly and spun on her heels to walk away...only to stop and look over her shoulder. “Just...I hate seeing you look so down. So, like...don't give up or anything like that, all right? The old Stephanie wouldn't.”

And with those last pieces of wisdom, Stephanie watched as Sheila buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket and blended in quickly with the rest of the night crawlers.

It would be the last time she ever spoke to the girl with the dragon tattoo.

__

Pasadena Civic Auditorium
Pasadena, California

In his mind, he had – hands down – the coolest Dad ever.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the way his father performed on stage (okay so maybe that was a part of the mystique of the man), but all that actually paled in comparison to the Dad he knew off stage. That Dad knew the coolest video games and didn’t mind playing with him for hours (as long as his homework and chores had been done). That Dad didn’t get upset when he wanted to hang around his office or in the studio to watch him work. That Dad was just like a big kid sometimes especially whenever they went to parks and movies in disguise. That Dad could make them laugh for days. That Dad liked junk food every now and then, and would climb trees, or have water fights, or mess around with their animals, and teach him so much cool stuff, it made his head spin. And even though his dad sometimes got mad at him for doing something bad, he was old enough to know that being scolded or grounded was all done because he was loved. All those sides of his father were considered special and more personal than all the other 'relationships' he was forced to share with when they were 'out here'.

'Out here' meant public appearances where his father seemed to 'change' to fit into the occasion of whoever he was meeting at the time. Perhaps no one else had noticed it, but David could. Like whenever they were with Aunt Deja and Uncle Chris, his dad was almost like the way he was at home – relaxed and able to act like himself. He could goof off and be as funny as he wanted. And then there was the change when he was talking to Uncle Frank and Uncle Steve (and sometimes with Uncle Jermaine and all his other uncles); where he would still be relaxed, but it was a different kind of relaxation. It was the kind that seemed to be tinged with a slight edge as if he wasn't all too sure he could be himself around them though David had known those adults since he was a baby. There was the third kind of change, and this was when he was in front of his fans and he would treat them nicely and politely. David had never really understood why some people burst into tears whenever his father hugged them or why some even fainted when he simply said ‘hello’, and curiosity finally getting the better of him, he asked over breakfast one day,

“Why do they do it, Dad? Why do you make people cry and faint? That's so weird.”

His father had chuckled and reached out to cup his cheek gently. “I don't know either, Speedy. I guess some people just...get too emotional when they see someone they really, really, really, really like.”

“Mom doesn't faint when she sees you. Aunt Deja and Uncle Chris don't faint when they see you.”

Michael seemed to think over this for a moment. “Well, no...they don't. Because they know me very well and there's nothing that great about me to faint about...right?”

“Right,” David agreed with a big grin. “You're boooooring.”

“Ouch,” Michael winced playfully, though David's observation had amused him greatly.

And now sitting among the seemingly thousands of seats in the semi-empty auditorium while his father rehearsed on stage with his back-up dancers to the song 'Dangerous', David hummed along with the beat and tapped his foot absently. If his mother could see him slouched like this, she'd not be too happy since she kept going on and on about maintaining a good posture, but it was one of the perks of not having her around. When Mom wasn't around, the boys misbehaved...so to speak.

Having followed his father for his concerts and some performances, he was already familiar with the routine. His father never went all out during rehearsals, choosing instead of focus on the dancers and musicians to make sure that they were in sync with the music. And though there were times when his father would goof off or make mistakes, David was smart enough to know it was still a serious occasion and had to sit in the audience to observe with the others; only coming up on stage whenever he was needed. Sometimes he helped backstage as best he could, while learning what some of the equipment the camera men, photographers, and stage hands used to make things flow effortlessly during a show. He might be only nine (going on ten soon! He'd broadcast to anyone who cared to listen), but he was a quick learner, so much so his mom had called him a 'walking sponge', which he thought was pretty cool.

His 'walking sponge' status got him good enough grades in school, and for his efforts (keeping up his As and Bs), he was rewarded duly by his parents. He knew how famous they were – his father especially – so he was already more than aware of the privileged life he had been born into. Yet, he didn't really feel...rich...if that made any sense. He wasn't overly spoiled with gifts as he got older; only getting them on his birthdays, Christmas, or when he did something particularly exceptional. He even got a weekly allowance, which he was saving up to buy something really cool when he turned eighteen. In fact, just hanging out with his parents and brother on a trip to Disney World, Universal Studios, or Phantasialand was more than enough for him. Even better were the times when all four of them could be together either in their house in New Haven or back in Neverland.

Gosh, he loved Neverland.

There was so much to do, there just didn’t seem enough hours in the day to finish it all. The coolest thing would be when Mom and Dad would take them out camping in the backyard (and geez, they had a massive one) and they'd pitch tents – though Dad would botch it several times until Uncle Miko, or Javier, or Kevin (the bodyguards) would show up to help. Then they'd make a campfire and roast marshmallows, make s'mores, and sing corny songs until Prince would fall asleep on Dad's lap, while his head would lay on his mother's lap. He loved the way she'd stroke his hair gently, and he knew that his parents would talk quietly to each other (and maybe share a kiss or two) when they thought the boys were completely fast asleep.

Those were nice moments, especially having to watch his father and mother act so gushy towards one another. Though he thought it 'gross' and sometimes felt embarrassed at seeing them hug or share passionate kisses in front of everyone, David knew it was only because they really loved each other. It was fun to watch their mother blushing whenever Daddy would sing to her, or show up with a bunch of roses whenever he came back to New Haven, or plan a surprise visit at the hospital with a picnic basket of food, which they'd share on the rooftop of the hospital. He thought his mom looked prettiest when she was really happy. It was the way her eyes would sparkle whenever Daddy was around, how she’d literally glow, and how there seemed to be a light spring in her step. It was the same way with his father. He had a definite 'change' whenever he was around her, and it was a change that reflected what his father really was; something that was reserved for only his mother and what the rest of the world would never get to see.

However, things were a little different now.

The light was...gone.

Not completely, but it was enough to let him know that a new sort of 'change' had taken place between his parents, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Even Prince had noticed the 'quiet' around the house and had tiptoed into his bedroom, one night, to ask him about it.

“Do you think Mom and Dad are fighting?” came the trembling whisper.

David, who had been trying to get to sleep, lowered his Spider Man comic book to eye his brother. “I don't know. Did you hear them fighting?”

Prince shook his head vehemently. “No...but...they don't do all those things they used to do.”

All those things they used to do which equaled the private giggles, the stolen kisses, the hugs and teasing. Yes, those things were gone now. It almost seemed like their parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room together for longer than ten minutes. With a heavy sigh, David made some room for his baby brother, who was all too happy to slip into bed with him.

“Maybe,” David began slowly; hoping he would find the right words to say so Prince wouldn't be too worried. “Maybe they are just tired, you know? Sometimes big people get tired of all the work they do, and need to rest.”

Prince didn't look like he bought that excuse as a bemused frown came on visage. “They need to rest from hugging and kissing each other?”

“Maybe they do it in their bedroom, I don't know,” David replied with a sigh of exasperation.

Prince fell silent for a long time; his features tightened with thought and unease. “I wish...” He paused and took a deep breath, feeling a little frustrated at not being able to articulate what he really wanted to say. “I want them to do those things again. It doesn't feel right. Daddy and Mommy...they look so...so...”

If he was old enough to understand what ‘miserable’ meant, perhaps that would have been his choice of words.

“I know,” David had mumbled in agreement. “I know...”

And yes, he did know because there were some kids in his school who said that their parents no longer lived with each other because they had gotten ‘deevorsed’ or something. David figured that deevorse was pretty bad if the parents didn't love each other anymore, and as he knelt by his bed later that night, he closed his eyes and prayed hard for that word not to happen to their family. It was already bad enough having to see his father ever so often. He didn't think he could stand it if he never got to see either of his parents ever again. Some of the kids in school said that was the case. They only got to see either their fathers or mothers only one weekend for a whole month! Geez.

“Please don't make them get deevorse, God,” he had prayed. “I'll make sure I get all As, if you make them stay together forever and ever and ever. Amen.”

He sighed and scratched absently at a drying scab on his knee (a result of having a nasty fall during soccer practice). On stage, his father was now talking to some people wearing wires and headsets (the producers, he assumed), and was trying to describe how the stage ought to be set for the performance. His peripheral vision caught some new activity, and David turned a little to his left to notice the group of people walking down the aisle. Even before the newcomer lifted a hand to wave at him, David could feel his lips tightening in response. It was Benjamin Storm, and right behind him, his older sister Danielle Riley.

What were they doing here?

They had been to Neverland a few times to play with them, but David had established a love-hate relationship with Ben (who was older than him by only a year) over time. Ben seemed to think he could boss David around whenever the adults weren’t in the vicinity. However, that came to an end when David had socked him for taunting Prince and calling his baby brother names. Though he had tried to explain to his upset father why he had to do it, he was still grounded, but David would sulk all the way to his bedroom still feeling pleased at getting back at the annoying older kid.

“Hey, Dave,” Danielle greeted with a light kiss on his forehead. “Where’s Prince?”

“He’s with Nana Grace at the hotel,” he replied, while resisting the urge to wipe off the kiss. He wasn’t a baby for God’s sakes.

“Nana Nana Nana Grace,” came the mocking retort as Benjamin flopped into an empty seat across the aisle, raised his legs, and crossed his ankles on the headrest of the seat before him. David knew if he did something like that, his father would not be too happy. He wanted to snap at Ben, but figured he wouldn’t waste his breath.

“Move for me,” Danielle was saying; motioning for David to change seats, but he didn’t want to change seats. He liked where he was sitting just fine, and besides, there were plenty of other places she could sit.

“Sit someplace else,” he pouted and pointed to a seat in front of him. “Where’s your mom?”

“She went to see your dad backstage,” Danielle replied with a loud smack of her gum and a look of exasperation on her features.

Huh?

A quick glance at the stage again revealed that indeed his father was no longer there. It was just the stage hands switching things around for the next performer’s rehearsal.

Wondering why his father hadn’t bothered calling him, David bound to his feet and began to make his way over there, when the sudden chime of his cell phone had him digging into the pocket of his shorts to find it. It was a basic Samsung Mom had gotten so he could call her whenever he got home from school or was in some sort of emergency during his after-school programs. Most of the kids in his class had phones too, so it was no big deal.

He smiled as he noticed the name on the Caller ID.

“Hi, Mom!” he gushed as he weaved his way through the seats and ignored the curious glances that came his way from the crew and other wandering celebrities. He was sort of getting used to such things now anyway.

“Hey, honey. How’s it going?”

“Great! Dad just finished rehearsing, so I’m going backstage to meet him. How’re you doing?”

“I miss you so much, honey.”

He blushed and tried to swallow the sudden lump that rose to his throat. “I miss you too, Mom. When are you coming back home?”

“Shsssh. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Oh?” He grinned and ducked beneath what looked like glass sliding being carried backstage by two burly men. There was chaos back here, but it wasn’t hard to spot his father amongst the throng of people seeking his attention. However, David was quick to notice that despite everyone seeming to want a piece of him, his father’s undivided attention seemed to be fixed on the beautiful laughing woman standing a bit too close to him.

It was the mother of Danielle and Benjamin.

“...for vacation.”

“What’s that, Mom?”

“I said maybe someday we can all come down to Tokyo for a vacation. What do you think?”

Why is she touching Dad like that? I don’t think Mom would like it.

“That sounds really great, Mom.” He wanted so desperately to tell his mother what he was witnessing, but he was afraid that it would do more to create that ‘coldness’ he was beginning to notice at home.
“Dad’s coming too, right?” he asked aloud.

There was a brief painful silence at the other end before she replied softly. “Yes...if he wants. Is...eh...how did the rehearsal go? Is he doing all right?”

Why don’t you call him and find out? A very adult part of him asked impatiently, but instead, he tried to keep his voice light while waving at his father to let him know he was here.

“The rehearsals went well, Mom. The taping is going to be tomorrow night. I wish you’d be here to see it.”

“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.”

David could recognize the mischief in that tone, and he could feel his excitement getting to a fever pitch at what the ‘surprise’ could be. “Okay, Mom.” His father was approaching; having excused himself from his ‘fans’ at last. “I’ve gotta go. Dad’s calling me.”

“All right, sweetheart. You take care of everyone for me, okay? Especially...” she paused for a moment and returned with a slightly choked. “Your daddy...okay, honey?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

“I love you, David.”

“I love you too, Mom. Bye.”

He hung up just as he felt the familiar strong hand placed on his head before his hair was ruffled gently in greeting. He blushed at the gesture and looked up and into the amused yet flushed visage of his father.

“Hey, Dad,” he muttered shyly.

“Hey, Speedy,” Michael replied as he gave his boy a brief but warm hug. “Who were you talking to?”

“Mom.”

“Oh...”

He watched his father’s expression carefully; experiencing a sharp pang when those large dark eyes seemed to filled with an emotion that he couldn’t quite define. Was it sadness? Loneliness? Longing? His young mind couldn’t completely comprehend it.

“Is she...eh...all right?” Michael asked quietly as he led them both toward a room that had been reserved for him. Luckily, Danielle’s mother was no longer around and David felt he could breathe a little easier. It wasn’t as if he hated her, and she was nice, but still...

I don’t like the way she looks at you, Dad.

“She misses u...you,” he lied quickly.

“She does?” Michael’s cheeks seemed to suffuse with color, and he actually looked pleased. David felt this was going to be a set of lies he wouldn’t mind telling if only to make his father happy.

“Yeah, and she said she can’t wait to come back home. Oh...and she said to tell you that she loves you very much.”

Michael, who had turned away to digest the last good news, nearly choked in surprise at the new information. Stephanie had actually-

“Are...are you sure she said that?” he asked in a trembling whisper though he watched his son carefully. He could always tell when David was fibbing as his ears seemed to turn red before he could get through the concocted tale.

David nodded firmly. She didn’t say it out loud, he wanted to really say, but I could feel it, Dad. Honest. “She said so. You can call her and ask her if you want.”

“No...no, it’s okay...” came the strangled reply before he found himself engulfed tightly in his father’s arms. He had been hugged a million times before, but somehow David knew that this particular hug meant so much more to him, for he was sure his father was no longer seeing him, but rather his mother in this very moment.

“You okay, Dad?” he asked quietly as he rubbed Michael’s shoulders just as he had seen his mother do sometimes.

“I’m okay now, honey,” his father replied with a light sniffle. “I’m going to be okay now.”

And for young David Michael Jackson, hearing those words gave him a flicker of hope that things could and would get better from now on.

__

Pasadena, California
Fall 2002

Do something spontaneous.

“Oh... my... God...” Stephanie gasped as she ran her hands down her sides slowly and turned to eye her reflection in the full-length mirror in disbelief.

“I take it you approve,” Cassie replied with a grin and nod of appreciation.

“Do I?” Stephanie remarked; still unable to tear her gaze from the mirror. “This just screams “fuck-me”, Cassie. Goodness.”

The older woman laughed and shook her head. “And I don’t see you taking it off. Thank Janet for sending it over at the last minute.”

“Oh, I’ll be more than thanking her for this,” Stephanie agreed with a chuckle. Her sister-in-law’s wardrobe must be a traveling Victoria Secret collection in itself. Not surprising considering what she had the tendency of wearing in her music videos or on stage.

Do something spontaneous.

And boy, had she taken that phrase to heart. Spontaneity had involved a last-minute decision to leave Tokyo earlier than expected. Spontaneity had involved calling her sister-in-law for some much-needed assistance. Spontaneity had involved landing in Pasadena and renting a hotel room close to the auditorium, with barely time to spare as the show was bound to be over in about an hour. Spontaneity was the crazy idea to surprise Michael by waiting for him backstage once his performance was over, and as she stood before the mirror admiring the sleek, form-fitting D&G lace dress complete with a super sexy open back, Stephanie was sure this would have Michael’s jaw (or pants) dropping.

No way he can’t forgive me if he sees this, she thought with a dark blush as she imagined his expression when he walked into the green room to see her draped over the couch with come-hither eyes. She squirmed at the uncontrollable rush of heat that seemed to start somewhere in the pit of her stomach to the hidden V between her legs.

Oh God! I’m acting as if I’m meeting him for the first time. Get a grip, Stephanie Jackson.

“Here’s your coat and shoes,” Cassie was now saying frantically. “We’ve got less than a half-hour or we’ll miss him!”

“All right, all right already,” Stephanie replied hastily while shrugging into the black minx coat and matching Manolo Blahnik stilettos. Her make-up was quickly reapplied and hair fluffed out into voluminous waves to fall over her shoulders and back. She dabbed her wrists, back of her ears...in fact all the places she knew Michael loved to kiss (and oh, how she missed those!) with one of his favorite scents on her – oddly enough it was one of Elizabeth’s fragrances – Black Pearls.

Her heart was a loud drum in her chest as she settled into the back of the limousine. Cassie – ever efficient – had managed to talk some of the backstage staff and crew into letting her in without all the rigmarole of getting passes and avoiding eager or curious paparazzi. However, all of that felt insignificant to the way she felt right now.

Nervous. Scared. Uncertain.

Would he really be happy to see her again? Would he react in the way she hoped he would? Would he be willing to join her for a planned ‘date’ where they could at least talk things out? Her week in Tokyo had been revealing in more ways than one, and after that talk with Sheila, she knew this would be her last chance to make and set things right between them. She wanted this marriage to work. She needed this marriage to last for her sanity’s sake. So tonight was going to be the make or break of their relationship. If she couldn’t go through with it, or if he rejected her...then...then...

There’s nothing left to fight for.

“Ooh, just got word that he’s on stage now,” Cassie relayed with her cell phone stuck to her ear and the thumbs up sign. “Steve says he’s killing it.”

She smiled with pride. Of course, he’d put on a fantastic performance. Nothing less than perfection was expected after all. She wished she could get to be there live, but watching it on T.V. would suffice when the time came.

As the towering building finally came into view, her heartbeat had become a wild staccato, and she tried to control her breathing at the risk of passing out. She slid on her Dior sunglasses, closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten; barely registering the loud voices of Cassie and the bodyguards organizing her quick entrance into the building from the back alley. So used to this routine of being ‘pushed’ around and maneuvered into secret back rooms and streets, she allowed herself to be led into the auditorium without much of a fuss.

“I can take it from here,” she insisted once she noticed the corridor (packed with entourages of different celebrities, staff, and crew) that housed the rooms for the performers (Goodness! Even Cher performed?). It was a tight crush here, and just as she began to regret the idea of coming altogether, she could finally make out Javier shoving his way through the crowd with an apologetic smile on his features.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jackson,” he greeted as he held onto her elbow gently. “Mr. Jackson just got off the stage a few minutes ago, so it’s a bit crazy.”

“He’s already in the room?” Ah shit. One part of the plan foiled already.

“Yes,” Javier explained. “But you might have to wait a little bit. He has some visitors-”

“Wait?” she asked with a raised brow. “I’m not waiting out here with all these people. They might soon recognize me, and that’s the last thing I want.”

Damn it. This was not the way it was supposed to go, but at least if she showed up, it would still be a surprise and that was all that mattered. And so, with a deep breath and a quick prayer to God for strength, she took a step toward the door, only for it to suddenly open from within. It was Frank, who was still laughing at something that must have been said in the room, until he finally turned to look before him.

She would have laughed at the way his cigar comically fell to the floor as his jaw dropped in shock. She would have also laughed at the sight of familiar faces in the small room including the great Little Richard, but unfortunately all of that paled in comparison at the sight of the slender woman leaning against the dresser with a very familiar fedora angled jauntily on her head.

A woman who was smiling and leaning close to her husband to whisper something in his ear, which earned her a giggle in response.

A woman who had sultry eyes just like her long dead father, and who – tonight of all nights – had decided to wear the very same outfit Stephanie had chosen to woo her husband with all over again.

I don’t believe it...

The irony of it all was so bitter, she could literally taste it.

Lisa Marie Presley must have felt the sudden change in atmosphere for she eventually looked up with a raised brow, managed to affect a mild look of surprise on her features, before straightening up and tapping Michael’s forearm gently.

I don’t...fucking believe it...

Michael, who had looked up at first to see what Lisa wanted of him, finally realized that something was a bit ‘off’.

Even the sudden hail of ‘Helloooo, Lady Stephanie” from Little Richard felt like it was coming from a million miles away for it did not register...could not register with his senses.

She can’t be here!

However, like in the movies – when everything seemed to crawl in slow motion – he turned his head just a little too late, for all he managed to see was the disappearing flash of a black mink coat and the lingering smell of one of his favorite perfumes – Black Pearls.