Love from Another (A Michael Jackson FanFic)

Chapter 6: Needles and Sycamore Valley Ranch (Michael POV)

FOUR DAYS AGO

The nurse said it was going to hurt. But not this much. I absolutely hate needles.

In and out. In and out.

    I sat as still as I could on the hospital bed, my black pants exposing my white socks, but the needle being injected in and out of my side caused me to wince. I bit my lip and scowled, "we almost done here, Dr. Klein?" I asked through gritted teeth.

    I felt like a piece of fabric under the needle of a sewing machine. Mother had a sewing machine that she used to make us clothes when we lived in Gary. I swear, Rebbie, LaToya and Janet got their love for fashion from that $10 sewing machine.

In and out. In and out.

    Dr. Klein's nurse walked in stumbling over her feet, her eyes glued to the floor. She smoothed her skirt as she regained her balance. She was so endearing and genuinely shy. It was a rare trait that I find in my world. Genuine people, that is.

    I continued to hold my rolled shirt up exposing my left rib as Dr. Klein wrapped up his biopsy. "Sorry about that, Mike. This skin biopsy will allow us to run the tests we need to figure out what's up." He placed the skin sample in a sealed bio-hazard bag that the nurse held open for him.

    She never look at me directly. She focused on gently sealing the bag. "Alright. I'll run these to the lab and expedite testing. Debbie here will get you all patched up," he said patting her on the shoulder. "Same time next week, Michael?" he asked.

    I smiled weakly nodding in response. I only agreed to these tests because Mother is such a worrier. Ever since the Pepsi incident, my skin has been completely out of whack. Katherine Jackson is absolute perfection, I tell ya. I would do anything to keep her happy. So, once a week for three months now, I've been seeing the famed Dr. Klein in Utah for diagnosis and treatment. Dr. Klein and his shy Nurse. Debbie Rowe.

    I lowered my hand to the hospital bed as Nurse Rowe began cleaning the injection site. I took advantage of her averted eyes and assessed her face. She was a different kind of beautiful. The demure, gentle kind of beautiful. She braved a quick look at me from under her long lashes flashing her bright blue eyes before quickly looking back down.

This was our routine.

    She would dress my wound in silence and I would thank her then leave. Only this particular time, I was very anxious to get out of Dr. Klein's office. You see, Karen was back in L.A. running interviews for the new team assistant and I wanted to be there. Luckily, Frank offered to record all of the interviews for review.

    "That's it, Mr. Jackson," she almost whispered ducking out of the room. Before I could even thank her, she was gone. I unrolled my shirt and got off the table. Grabbing my fedora from the hospital bed beside me, I opened the door to the hospital room to three of my security guards. Black suits. Blackout shades. The whole nine.

*sigh*

"Alright guys. Lets go home."

TWO DAYS AGO

    I was so happy to be back. Riding the private jet from Dr. Klein's office back home to California was painful. My side was throbbing from the skin biopsy that was taken. Klein gave me some pain killers, but I wasn't really keen on taking narcotics. I've heard horror stories of people in the industry getting hooked on them.

    The sun was just rising as the moving vans waited in a long line outside the gates. I recently purchased an absolutely breath-taking property called Sycamore Valley Ranch in Santa Barbara County, CA. I had every intention on making this place my home and paradise.