No More Games

3

Sasha's Point Of View

I stood there in agony, not knowing if I should run after Michael or finish beating Jermaine's ass for him.

Did he really say this shit about his own brother? Would Jermaine really stoop that low?

My questions were answered when I turned around and saw on the TV, which Rebbie opened, all the news reports saying all these mean things about Michael.

I ripped my eyes off the TV screen as Joe and Katherine walked into the house, shocked at the scene of Jermaine bloodied and bruised on the couch.

Jermaine still had not said a word.

I ran upstairs to find Michael despite his brothers and sisters yelling for me not to; that I should give him his space. I know he's in his old room because the door was locked when I went to open it.

I knocked lightly. "Michael, baby?"

I heard nothing as I placed my ear near the door. I knocked again but louder.

"Baby, it's me. Can you please open up? I know you're upset right now but can you let me in? It's just me."

I heard nothing.

I sighed and turned around to leave until I heard the door unlock. I slowly opened the door.

"Babe?" I said softly as I spotted him on his bed laying on his back with his arm covering his face. I walked in, closed the door and sat next to him. "I'll just sit here and—"

I'm interrupted when he unexpectedly got up and embraced me and began to cry on my shoulder.

This breaks my heart.

I hugged him tightly and caressed his head to try to comfort him. "I know baby, I know." I softly said.

After a good minute of letting it out, he finally pulled away and sat next to me but didn't say a word. I laid my head on his shoulder and just sat there with him, waiting for when he was ready to talk.

This was his career and knowing the way Michael is, his image and reputation mean everything.

"Let's leave for Europe tomorrow." He said, still with his head down and I looked at him. "I know the tour is next week but I rather leave early and get away from here."

"Shouldn't you try to resolve this first, baby?" I frowned. "At least go in front of the media and let the truth be known."

Michael flailed his arms and stood up abruptly, catching me by surprise. "See, that's what I hate! I hate that I "have" to be the one to hold up press conferences to prove that I'm not the shit the tabloids say about me. And even when I do, they still call me weird, Wacko Jacko, gay and all the other shit they love to call me."

My heart pained for him because what he was saying is true.

"It's actually been a good couple years though," he continued as he stared out his window. "where the press has laid off me a little. Now, I won't be able to breathe with all the paparazzi and press breathing down my neck like mosquitos."

I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair. "Let's do it together." He looked at me. "Let's just disprove Jermaine and that British piece of shit that you're not what they say you are." He rolled his eyes in frustration. "I mean, I'm involved in this too. They need to know that you paying me to be with you is complete and utter bullshit."

Michael furrowed his brow and shook his head in anger. "Jermaine needs to "disprove" Jermaine. Not you and definitely not me. He needs to do it his damn self cause he knows the truth."