Pernicious

|Chapter 22|

April 9, 1988

Houston, Texas

12:00 pm

Naya's Perspective:

Rain.

The drops, carried by the wind, pounded onto the window of the hotel room. It seemed that with every drop my head would pang with more pain.

Damn...My head...

I reach over to the side of the bed to search for a bag, hoping one of them would contain painkillers. Surely I had brought some along on this trip.

With Michael gone and the kids with a tutor, there was practically almost nothing to do except wait for them to get back. Of course, I could go out, but unfortunately, that had led to some problems recently. Word had spread around to which hotels Michael Jackson would be at and that led to the vast curiosity of the fans to come check it out. They would come sit outside (Regardless of what the weather was.) and hope for even the slightest glimpse of their superstar. Even when he wasn't here, I could still listen to the constant chanting of the fans from down below.

We want Michael! We want Michael! We want Michael!

When do we want him?

Now!

They would chant in unison.

Well, he isn't here at the moment...

Trust me, I want him too...

These fans recognize me too. Now, whenever I want to go out, they try to swarm around me like bees do to a resting flower. Always asking me for the most recent update on their pop sensation.

What's he doing right now?

Why aren't you with him?

Where are the kids? I bet they're so cute!

Are you pregnant?

These seemed to be the most common questions I would get on the street.

And no, I am not pregnant! Can that rumor die already?

Who do I look like? The Michael Jackson News Daily?

The fans are truly amazing and mean so much to Michael, so I always respond politely and the best way I can.

Carefully, I search through black bag after black bag, looking for the pills to relieve the pain in my head. About mid-search, I found not pills, but two thick, black books.

Were these the same books I found by accident a long time ago?

Upon scooping the delicate books in my hands, I sit myself up and lean back against the headboard of the bed. I immediately choose a book to start with and open it to the first page.

This book belongs to Michael Jackson: Years 1978-1984

My collections of thoughts, drawings, and song ideas.

Something inside me told me not to intrude on Michael's personal thoughts and ideas, but I let my curiosity get the best of me and I decided to read through. It wasn't like I had anything better to do anyway.

The first few pages contained random scribbles and his earlier song ideas. Some of these ideas became songs, but most didn't. I yearned to dive deeper into this journal to reveal thoughts he would have had about me. After licking a finger, I began to flip past many pages until I reached the day after the date we met.