Streets of Gold - A Michael Jackson Story

Chapter 61 - Love's Last Chance, Pt. 3

--- WARNING!!! This chapter contains segments with sexually explicit references and content. Proceed with caution. ---

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Yonela

Tuesday April 7th, 1988 - Los Olivos, Santa Barbara

"Thank you for breakfast," I say to Michael with a smile as I start to stir my bowl of Cheerios.

"Anytime," he smiles back. "I know we have a shitload to talk about, but can I just say something before we start?"

"Of course," I nod. "As long as it's not any more bullshit."

"I wouldn't dare."

"What's on your mind?"

He smiles. "It's really good to see you again."

I pause for a moment. "Likewise."

"You look wonderful."

"Thank you."

Smiling still, he shifts in his seat. "You wanna go first, or should I?"

"You can begin," I say before putting my spoon down and looking up at him.

"I'm really sorry, Miya."

"For?"

"For being unfaithful to you."

"Why did you do it?"

"I guess I just couldn't control myself."

"How so?"

"It's like I was under a spell," he exhales. "She would just... rock up at my door wearing almost nothing, start talking different, moving different..."

"So, she seduced you?" I ask before he nods. "And you fell for it?"

"It happened too fast. One moment she's standing at the door, and the next we were naked in my bed."

"How many times?"

"Pardon?"

"How many times did you fuck her?" 

He exhales a deep breath before responding. "Three."

"Three times... in three different places?" I ask. He nods. "Where?"

"Osaka, Brisbane, Culver City."

"I might've forgiven you for Osaka and Brisbane if you had told me the truth after you slipped up about Culver City."

"It was a stupid mistake, Miya."

"A stupid mistake that you made three times?" I scoff. "Michael, if it was a mistake in Japan then you should've fired her in Australia. Instead, you both end up at the rehearsal studio around the corner from our home. That is disgusting and downright disrespectful."

He stays silent and looks down shamefully while I gather the dirty dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

"You didn't fuck her in New York?" I go on.

"No," he says, looking up at me.

"So what happened on that stage?"

"She's the one who kissed me."

"Did you finally decide to fire her?"

"On the spot. Frank put her on the first flight back here."

"So, you fired her because of her public sexual misconduct?"

"We couldn't risk the bad publicity."

"Oh, but you could risk your marriage," I say, returning to my seat.