1986 - California
KIM
Michael ditched the party. I found him sitting on the edge of some curb in the parking lot.
My heels clicked along gravel pavement with step foward. I couldn't even tease Michael by holding a drink right now.
Prince and Brenda probably wouldn't even notice that we disappeared from the crowd. In such a large venue, I wouldn't be surprised, either.
Given the stance of my dress, I couldn't exactly sit alongside Michael outside. Red velvet fabric blew gently in this evening wind as I looked down at him, baffled.
Jackson stared down towards his knees in one handsome suit and those classic Aviators. I didn't know what to believe.
Awkward silence filled the space between us despite soft winds. But it wasn't long before this man finally spoke up.
Rage seeped from his voice. I could've easily dropped my jaw by now. Still, arrogance returned to my mind. I never held back my opinions. Especially now.
"I'm tired of being rejected. Why doesn't anyone see that? Especially you, girl?" Michael confessed while yanking off the sunglasses. Bass and happiness still rumbled inside that vibrant nightclub.
"Don't pin that loneliness bullshit on me! You ruined everything by loving someone else." When his ranting headed towards me, I immediately wanted to defend myself. Michael had been the reason why we broke up.
"Maybe I wouldn't go for another woman if you actually cared about me! You hopped on the first plane to see Prince and forgot I even existed. Matter of fact, we were only together because Prince broke up with you. If anything, I'm the rebound. Don't deny it, Kim." Michael clutched his heart. My eyes widened in that moment.
I slapped him right across the face. Winds of the night also stumbled him backwards. I could've cared less.
"Am I lying, though? I'm not the only heartbreaker in this situation, girl!" Michael yelled at me as if nothing happened when this man finally stood up straight. Jackson lost his mind. Again.
"Get the hell out of my face, Motherfucker! You didn't complain about Brenda while we fucked." I spat back in defense.
"I never should've slept with you. You're just another groupie. Stop hiding behind that piano and go back to screwing your manager at the wannabe nightclub. That's why you even had a waitress job in the first place, Kim." Michael lowered his voice. But the following words shook me up before long.
"It was a rumor. I thought you were better than that, Michael." I shook my head, insisting that he was absolutely wrong.
"Then why did I have to call Brenda when you wouldn't show up for the Thriller rehearsals?" Michael walked around as if this was an interrogation. But I
wouldn't flinch. He was wrong.
"I was working that night. I couldn't just stop everything for you." Fed up, I rushed in my purse to find a Newport box. Michael had the nerve to slam it out my hand.
"Talk to me! Don't light up when things get difficult." Michael had turned red by now. Tears formed in my eyes from the gusting but warm wind around us.
"Fuck you!" I screamed while picking up the box from pavement. My dress slipped upwards at one point, but again, I didn't care.
Once the lighter sparked away from wind, I found temporary peace. My ears blocked out Michael still yelling.
"You're terrible. All you know is pain and want to make everybody else around you miserable. Stop playin' if you really care about me." Michael snipped one last time before finally walking back into the club. I could only imagine what his security team thought right now.
__
I was done. I didn't even want to see Michael again. The argument last night left me drained at most. Needing distractions, I buried myself in the career.
My very first late night show performance would arrive days from now and I rushed towards an undisclosed stage for rehearsals.
A last-minute sound check would take place in New York. Hours before the show itself. As long as I listened to music, Jackson couldn't bother me again.
When that performance evening finally arrived, I couldn't help glaring at that amazing set up. My favorite keyboard centred the stage.
Blue and purple spotlights beamed overhead. My mind instantly remembered Prince showing off his Purple Rain setup. I could bask in those vibrant colors forever.
Other musicians tuned up out of habit around me and I waved these talented individuals. Even late night host offered thumbs up. Still, it was never the same as my Revolution family.
"All right, let's do this one more time. Make it good, y'all!" I encouraged people around using the attached microphone propped within a stand on my keyboard.
With all my heart I love you, Baby.
Stay with me and you will see.
My arms will hold you, Baby.
Never leave, 'cause I believe.
I'm in love.
Sweet love...
During that final run-through, Michael boldly stepped in front of my keyboard. My eyes fixated on him without even messing up this record.
My heart has called me closer to you.
I will be all that you need...
Mike just grooved with snapping fingers and winked at me. I couldn't help smiling despite our previous circumstances.
When my band finally ended the song, Michael applauded without hesitation.
But I still couldn't forgive him.
