Offstage || MJ

Offstage || Chapter 4

Author's Note: What should Michael do now? Sorry for this short chapter, but please get the tissues everybody.

==

1986 – "Bad" Short Film Shoot (New York)

MICHAEL

"Frank, convince me to fire Jeffery before I change my mind. This is bullshit!" Dileo trailed behind without that poisonous cigar bobbing from his mouth. After running through another take of my dance routine, I became fed up and wanted to leave for the day. Jeffery fumed in the nearest corner without speaking as soon as cameras stopped rolling. Meanwhile, my personal photographer Sam Emerson hurried toward me with an immaculate camera.

I waved him off while almost parading with this entourage. Bill lurked with his assembled security team once more. Assistants close to me glare down at their notebooks and didn't concentrate on Sam. Even though we'd collaborated for two years now, this was probably the first time I'd ever overlooked such a talented man. To me, art like photography involved capturing magic. If circumstances encouraged delight or substance, I'd immediately flock toward the lens, if possible.

Between shooting this project throughout the week and confronting drama today, I'd almost completely forgotten about scoring an official album cover image. "Bad" wouldn't release until late next year, but there was harm in promoting now. At the same time, I nearly gave up at this point. Exhaustion, jealousy, and scorching rage flowed through my entire body.

I shook my head one last time and headed toward Sam with a faked grin. We both recognized that previous situation and noticed each other, acknowledging known tension. On the other hand, Frank had miraculously convinced me to take these damn pictures. Three rolls and twelve shots later, my eyes couldn't take another flash from Sam. I'd stood in this buckled apparel for far too long.

My mind quickly wandered back to lunch this afternoon. Charlene probably sulked in a hotel room right now. My heart sank when Jeffery and I noticed each other again. We both boiled emotionally for the exact same reason: a woman. The same woman at that. When we headed out into that northern winter, I shamelessly flipped the bird to Jeffery after all these years.

__

Back at the hotel, hell broke loose. Bill offered the silent treatment. I understood. Frank wouldn't let me hear the end of his own ranting. I'd locked him out of my room, but his voice thundered without hesitation. I could've cared less and paced in this bedroom now. Martin Scorsese looked reasonably disappointed, even though I'd apologized profusely in the limo.

Yet, I still wouldn't reinstate Jeffery as a choreographer. This longtime colleague crossed a line I'd never expected. I didn't care if people around me knew about my arrogance. If strangers realized my conceit without warning, moments like this occurred. Jeffery had no right to air dirty laundry like that, no matter how egotistical I seemed.

I'd kept quiet about Charlene for a reason and didn't even gain the opportunity to express those feelings on my own. Jeffery Daniel ruined everything. There was no other conclusion. Charlene probably wouldn't look at me the same way again. At most, she'd only rave about me as an entertainer now. I understood why if that was the case, but my heart still shattered.

On the other side of that hotel room door, Frank finally stopped yelling. I could honestly stare up at the ceiling in peace while insomnia hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't even turn on the television to distract myself with mindless programs. Moonlight shined onto my face as I turned to face the nightstand. The telephone rested on that lifeless furniture. My edgy fingers pondered whether to grab the receiver. Still, there was no one to call. I'd leave this freezing melting pot tomorrow without a friend. Without someone to love.

I should've asked for her phone number years back. If I remained confident, Charlene would've noticed my interest. She was gorgeous, respectful, determined and independent. No better combination in my eyes. To be honest, I needed someone like myself in one way or another. That woman understood the complications of show business and adjusted without question. In short, no complaints. Others I knew vanished given my fame or whatever else possible.

Especially Diane. (Diana Ross)

Earlier this year, I nearly skipped the "American Music Awards" because of her. Not too long ago, she married someone I'd never even met. This Norwegian mogul. Unfortunate hardly described my feelings then. Fearful of standing alone that night, I personally asked actress Elizabeth Taylor to attend. As friends, she joined me for the red carpet. Shouting paparazzi grouped. During that long ceremony, I almost never smiled for cameras. Unless prompted, of course.

When I finally reached to Charlene now, my soul partly healed from that earlier pain. I'd hoped for so much with Charlene until Jeffery came along. Did this woman immediately leave New York in a huff? Did she distract herself with work on set? I didn't know what to think for the millionth time. Salvaging anything felt pointless.

I'd wasted my emotions. Again.