Living With The Enemy

Chapter Eleven

Nothing but the heavy breathing of both men were heard. Prince's heartbeat was going crazy, like he had just finished a whole thirty-minute workout. He swallowed his saliva again while looking at Michael with full-fledged fear; the feeling of veritable consternation was pumping viciously into his adrenaline. It was the cause of the adrenaline. His back was still pressed into the door, and he was starting to feel some sweat form on his back, pushing through the shirt he was wearing.

      Prince wanted to cry, but he refused to do it in front of the biggest man-child, himself. This was a side of Michael he'd never seen before, and it shocked him a lot. He always tried to push Michael to the limit, over the edge, but as Michael said, he actually regretted it. Another thing he refused to do was, take his eyes away from Michael. If he did, who knew what would happen? Maybe he'd slap him so hard that they came from their sockets. Prince's throat was dry, no matter how many times he continuously swallowed to keep from croaking.

    
      He had finally gained some courage to try and talk. He opened his mouth, and was tempted to close it once he saw Michael - still clenching his teeth - narrow his eyes to slits. He inhaled quietly, his tongue almost unable to remove itself from the roof of his mouth. With a shaking exhale, he said, "Michael...think...think a--about what you're doing, fi--first." What happened next was expected: he shook his head in disapproval, chuckling darkly. Tears were evident in his eyes.

      "Look who finally learned to be scared," he mocked. He pushed Prince harder into the door, causing him to whimper greatly, then sigh as he brought his chin up with his mouth going into an uneven opened fashion. He shook his head again and closed his eyes to try and clear his hazy vision, "I warned you, Prince Rogers Nelson, but you kept going, anyway. Not a care in the world." Prince's left hand grabbed at the doorknob, but found it somehow locked when he tried to sly and twist it.  "Especially not a care to my feelings," he added.

      "Look, Mike, I'm so--"

 
       "Oh, it's too late for 'sorries,' Prince. Now, you've gone and pissed me off, highly. I told you time after time, but you just didn't want to take heed of me, did you?" He opened his mouth again, but his face turned from angry to a mixture of confusion and flustered. He looked down to the right side of the floor and furrowed his eyebrows, then backed off of Prince. Prince stayed to the door, unsure of what to do. "What the hell am I doing?" he said under his breath. He looked back up at Prince with anger still inside of him, but instead, he stepped back more and placed a hand up when he heard Prince trying to speak. "Just...just get out. Get the fuck out of my sight before I get second thoughts and seriously hurt you."

        Prince quickly removed his back from the door and turned to unlock it. Once opened, Prince ran out like Speedy Gonzalez and didn't stop until he reached his room. He slammed the door shut and slid down it in thought. Once his bottom hit the floor, he placed his head in both hands and took deep breaths to try and calm down. His thoughts were beaming and beating through his head as he tried to make sense of everything that had just transpired. First, Michael wants to beats his brains out. Next, he gets into talk about disrespect and warnings. Finally, he just lets it all go? Like it never happened at all?

      It didn't make sense to him; one minute, he's about to pounded to a pulp by someone he assumed was just a wimp; and the next, he's free? Maybe Michael was playing a game with him: a mind game that confirmed his recent theories of mind-over-matter and vice versa. As he was still thinking of many educated guesses that would explain to him why he got left ofd with just a slap on the wrist, a knock hit the door three times as an old-timey tune. He jolted forward, and caught himself before he could hit the ground.

      Whomever was behind the door, was a threat to Prince, he felt. Princey turned and faced the door, but didn't want to answer it. It could've been Michael, or some gangsters he paid to "take care" of Prince while Michael, himself, could still make the perfect alibi. Standing slowly, he bit his lip and slowly walked the two feet it took to get to the door. When his hand touched the cool doorknob, he quivered with fear. He clamped his whole hand around it and turned it, wondering if he still had a chance to let it go and go back to cowering.

      Still, he turned it all the way and was surprised to see Amir in his suit and tie. His face displayed confusion as he looked around the room (from what he could see) suspiciously. "Err...everything okay?" Prince studied his face as fear was still stuck on his own. "Um...Mr. Nelson?" he said cautiously. He didn't know if he wanted to stay and figure out what was happening, or run. Prince walked up close to him and grabbed his forearms roughly. 

      "Sit down, shut up, and listen to everything I say, Amir." He let go of Amir walked around him to close the door he had left opened. When he turned back around, he saw that Amir had followed directions and sat on the bed, not saying a word. Though his eyebrows knitted together, he still crossed his ankles and paid attention. "Listen," he began walking back to Amir with slow steps in front of the other, "I don't like you at all, but I feel like I should tell someone while I can," he explained when he got in front of Amir. Amir was nodding his head in a way of showing he understood. "Good. Least I know you're listening." He made his hands into a tilted steeple in front of his abdomen. "I, uh, did something I wasn't supposed to, and to say the least, I'm proud of it...but at the same time, I'm not. Just in case I'm supposed to feel one over the other, I make sure t--"

      "Prince," Amir interrupted. Prince stopped his rambling and perked his eyebrows up as his lips went into a pout. "Let's just get to the point. Tell me, what did you do that had you running around like a madman?" he asked out of curiosity. "And don't lie, either," he added.

      Prince bit his lip in debate. On one hand, he could tell him what happened and try and find a solution to the problem, and on another, he could half-lie and try and find some solutions to that. While he thought over everything once more, his mind went back to Michael and what he was doing at they very moment in time.

~~~

February 17, 1990

10:27 p.m.

      Lord, this boy does something to me. Bad things. Evil things. I almost hurt this certain someone in acrimony. I need an antidote to this angst, this sense of worry beyond worry. The bona fide bravado always throws shit into someone's face like a pie on April Fool's. He invents cacophony that he has the nerve to call 'music,' his caustic words belong in a laboratory, for they could kill a field of thirty mice and counting. Though I can't deny that his charisma is cloying, I feel a sense of deja vu when he is around and close.

      A weird feeling, yes, but it undoubtedly goes unnoticed.

      His actions alone are an epitome for anyone who gets high honor in arrogance. He gets into people's inner circles to get close to the woman of them and write songs for the people to finagle some poor woman's dignity. I'm very gregarious, myself, but he does it for all the wrong reasons around. Whenever he comes to me, even when I don't know it, I get a radar sense inside. Ths someone is a harbinger for bad things to happen and bad luck - his presence means to move and get the hell out of the way. This man is a true hedonist, for sure.

  
      He couldn't stay committed to one person if his life depended on it. He talk is like heresy - it can't break loose of religious lies and  crap. When I look and think of him, I get sick to my stomach, horribly. Dear Lord, I almost hurr him, but something made me stop. Something. I know he was scared, and I kind of scared myself back there. Thank you for stopping me in my actions, but it was something else along with you. So, as I finish writing this letter that no one will ever lay eyes on, I want to confess my true feelings in life as I get closer and closer to the true destiny that is life.

      Goodbye,

      Michael Joseph Jackson.