Welcome to Michael Jackson Imagines Vol. 3!
This is a book full of erotica and different AUs of Michael Jackson.
I hope you brought your holy beverage or food, you're probably gonna need A LOT.
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"Guys, that's the cue," Kenny's voice cut through the silence, crackling through the mic with an edge that hinted at his growing confusion. "I'm sorry, are we misunderstanding something here?"
The stage lights dimmed, casting an ethereal glow over the expansive arena. Anticipation crackled in the air like electricity as Michael prepared for the final rehearsal of the night for his This Is It tour. I was perched on a foldable chair positioned between Michael's spot and the director, Kenny Ortega. From my vantage point, I could see both their faces—Kenny's tight with confusion and Michael's intense with focus.
Bearden, the music composer, studied and explained, "No, we're not misunderstanding," he said, his tone laced with understanding. "We're—"
Michael interrupted, his voice steady, unwavering. "We're sizzling."
Bearden nodded, picking up with what Michael was saying. "He's sizzling."
The word sizzle brought a grin to my lips, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. It reminded me of the first time I met Michael during his Bad Tour, when he'd described the energy of the performance as sizzling, a term that seemed uniquely his. It was one of the things that made him Michael Jackson—his ability to translate the intangible magic of music and performance into a single, evocative word.
Michael pointed at Bearden, his expression determined, his eyes alight with that creative fire I had seen countless times before. "He's waiting for my point; it's coming."
Kenny stared at his tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to piece together what Michael was saying. "Oh, I thought...," Kenny's voice trailed off as he glanced up, puzzled. "Michael, I was telling them to start when you turn toward the audience. Do you want to...?"
Michael shook his head vigorously, his hands slicing through the air as if to cut through any lingering doubt. "No, no. I want to turn first, face the audience with nothing. And—"
Kenny's face was a portrait of bewilderment, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to understand. "Okay, but..."
Michael's voice sharpened, his finger pointing decisively at Bearden. "And when he gets my cue, then we go."
There was a brief pause as Kenny nodded, though the uncertainty in his eyes was unmistakable. He was trying to reconcile Michael's vision with the technical demands of the show, but the two seemed to be at odds. "The only thing is, how will you see the video change from the marquee to the city?"
Michael paused, the intensity in his eyes softening as he considered the question. He took a deep breath, as if drawing in the energy of the space around him. "I gotta feel that," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with conviction. He pointed behind him, "I'll feel it... the screen behind me."
