The Magazine (18+) ✯ Michael Jackson

4: Exhibitionism

At Michael's fashion show for his new bridal collection, Salima and I were sitting in the front row. It was a breathtaking collection, as all his collections were. Salima nudged me in the arm. I looked over and admired her outfit. She was dressed with the such elegance—a red hijab and red long sleeve with layered ruffles blending into her black trousers, and stilettos. I was severely out dressed, wearing a black plunge bodycon blazer dress embellished with golden chains and lace up high heels.

She looked at me with a face of disapproval, raising her phone to show me my latest column. "Sex with the dark lord again, I see."

I immediately felt guilty. "This wasn't premeditated, you know. He subtly initiates sex. I am oblivious to it until I am under his gaze. Once I'm under his gaze, shit happens, Salima. He's a sex demon."

"Blame him, why don't you?" She laughed. "This can't be what keeps your career afloat, Essena."

"Don't you think I know that, Salima?" I snapped, irritated. "If I can't find advice on my own, a resignation is going to be the only choice I have."

"Some things have to come to an end, Essena. Maybe this is a sign it's time to move on and pursue fashion designing. You and I both know you're meant to be a designer, not a columnist."

And even though she was right, I still was resistant to the idea and did not want to talk about it. I never did when the topic came about.

Everyone was taken back when a beautiful dark-skinned model with a short black afro walked down the catwalk, her gold shimmering skin sparking under the lights. I was in awe as I scooted to the edge of my seat to get a closer look the dress she was wearing: a rose gold sweetheart necklace princess silhouette tulle gown decorated with rhinestone and pearl embellishments. This was my dress. I couldn't believe Michael took the recommendations for the mediocre design he had. For the first time in almost two years, I felt the spark that fashion used to give me.

Shortly after the fashion show, I attended Michael's after-party alone. When everyone at my table left the table for the buffet, I had a chance to wind down from them chewing my ear off. I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands. But that didn't last too long.

"Why so glum, Sugar Plum?"

Hell. I was in hell.

I looked over and there Michael was dressed to the nine. He took a seat next to me and gave me a flirtatious smile.

"No." I said as I pointed my finger at him. "Stay away."

"Oh, but that's not what you said a few nights ago." He quipped before he leaned in slightly to whisper. "This is my event, Essena. I can do whatever I want. Even you."

I looked at him, appalled. "Not a chance in hell."

"Alright." Michael replied, unconvinced. "What did you think of the rose gold piece?"

Just the mere thought of the dress made me perk up. "It's arguably one of the best dresses you've designed, Michael. I cannot believe you took my suggestions."

"Of course I would. Everyone knows about your fashion blog. I've seen your designs and they are excellent. That's how I knew your dress would've been beautiful. I wanted the world to see that, too."

"Thank you so much for this, Michael. I am so appreciative you displayed my talent. I don't know if I would've ever showed the world my art like you did."

"So, you rather remain stuck behind a desk rather than designing pieces?"

"Writing for Vogue is as exclusive as sketching designs like a 12 year old."