Author's Note: Here's a brand-new story! Sorry, but I haven't introduced the female lead here. I want to keep her mysterious and this is still a fresh idea. What do you think will happen next? Otherwise, enjoy and please leave feedback as always. Happy reading! - Lavender.
==
1982 – California
MICHAEL
(Paul McCartney)
You never, ever worry.
And you never shed a tear.
(Michael Jackson)
You're say that my love ain't real.
Just look at my face. These tears ain't drying...
We'd listened to playback for the millionth time at this point. Although time neared lunch, I focused on the now colorful mixing board. Not too far away, needles inched back and forth in time with the music. I nodded my head occasionally. Paul sat beside the engineer to rest for a moment. I anticipate the guitar and harmonica breakdown again with a smile.
Paul then looked down at his watch and stood up from the mixing board. I didn't know what to think as he picked up his jacket from a coatrack. Watchful bodyguards trailed behind his every step. I understood in the name of his own safety, but lunch catered down the hallway anyway. Employees had known of my occupancy for months now and aided immediately.
I'd release a brand-new album by the end of this month, but Paul and I worked on a different song for his upcoming album. Meanwhile, I'd even recorded a storybook for the popular and spectacular film "E.T." I didn't even care while sleeping in this very room on the floor. Groggy collaborators, including the great Quincy Jones, joined in as well. Yet, I wouldn't change this determination for the world.
As of late, "Off The Wall" only received one Grammy Award. Alternative ceremonies offered several more than I expected. Yet, in some odd way, I still felt cheated. This time, everything would change. I'd give the best album on Earth. The biggest selling record of all time.
While humbled for the most part, I saw myself as one of the legends in one way or another. For whatever reason, a surging amount of confidence increased within me. I felt obligated to release nothing short of brilliance. Even throughout this recording session, I noticed potential inside myself.
Finally requiring a break, I bid farewell to the room. Bill and his expansive security mumbled a path out of here. I awkwardly laughed to myself before noticing that the engineer already walked out too. I now stood alongside Paul, who slipped on Aviators. Regardless of the indoor hallway, he never took these off. At least not yet.
We chuckled together and turned a corner. My eyes barely adjusted to florescent lighting that beamed overhead in this widened break room. Paul rubbed his hands together at the sight of varying food choices. I headed straight for a salad platter and refused to indulge with treats for once. Paul shook his head with a grin when I looked over one shoulder for a moment.
I decided to sit alone in the otherwise crowded room. Quincy noticed, but I declined his offer to eat with me. I usually kept myself away these bigger crowds, but locking myself in the studio seemed out of the question. I needed some sort of pause or whatever. Voices mingled all over the place before long.
I didn't know what to think discussed their weekend plans of "painting the town" in one way or another. I'd spent the next three days hiding at home and ultimately "recruiting" members in the name of Jehovah on Sunday. I never even smoke before. No need to search for tangible highs when I found peace and energy onstage. Call me a killjoy in some way, but I don't care to be honest.
Not to spill further entertainment secrets, but I wasn't even wild like musical rival Prince at all. We knew of one another for obvious reason, but I don't remember officially meeting. These days, I gagged at the idea of that man spurring headlines with raunchy lyrics and confusing attire. "Androgynous" couldn't even begin to describe his fashion sense.
Despite the flamboyance, women still grouped toward my rival. Yet, the press labeled me as gay, asexual, and flat-out weird. This entire oxymoron left puzzled regardless. I just wanted to make music and kept my romances private. Unusual considering Prince and the rest of Hollywood.
I wanted to respect ladies before anything else. I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt someone during a relationship. On the other hand, men like Prince and other "rockstars" sleep around without remorse, especially my brothers. I was probably the only Jackson man who didn't break up anything due to foolishness. Still, I wasn't perfect, but damn. Joseph, my father, couldn't even pledge loyalty to Mother. It had been this way since I began leading the Jackson Five as a child.
I'd never follow the Jackson male example. Or at least try not to.
__
Paul left out for good after lunch and would return in the morning. Quincy and the rest of us collaborators piled right back into this room. I rubbed down my face just before sitting down at the mix-board with engineer Bruce Swedien. We'd collaborated for the first time on my last album. The perfect word "genius" described this man as well. To be honest, I'd never create such magic without a brilliant team like this.
While cliché, there was only a matter of time before the world noticed my determination again.
