Streets of Gold - A Michael Jackson Story

Chapter 14 - Happy Birthday, Jackson

Yonela

Thursday August 28th, 1986 – Encino, Los Angeles

"I missed that much?!" Janet almost yells as she flops onto the couch. I calmly take a seat next to her, exhaling after our long catch-up session. She's just arrived back from San Francisco, and it's no surprise that she wants to know everything that happened between me and Michael while we were home alone.

"It's not that much, Janet," I semi-squeak in my still half-present voice. "I literally just caught the flu – and my voice is still gone."

"According to my brother, you had hot fever," she corrects me. "This is the first I've heard of anything like that."

"He just nicknamed my cold, okay?"

"Exactly," she squeals. "Michael even gave your cold a special name. That's how much he cares about you."

"Come on, Jan," I sigh. "All Michael did is nurse me back to health. He took my temperature, made tea for me, we watched a movie..."

"And what does that tell you?"

"That no one else was home and I needed a caretaker...?"

She sighs.

"Yonela, do you realise that Michael would do anything to keep you happy?" I give a small nod before she continues. "And do you know that my brother only does that with girls he really cares about?"

"I don't," I shake my head.

"Well he does," she says while sitting up. "And it's obvious that Michael really cares about you - wait, scratch that - he loves you."

"How can you tell?"

"He's never looked at any other girl the way he looks at you."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow before she nods.

"And that's not all - you are all the dude can talk about. The only thing we hear from him is 'Yonela', and the way he lights up when you're the topic of conversation... I'm telling you, girl. Even a blind person could see how much he loves you."

Butterflies fill my stomach, and it takes everything in me not to giggle and blush.

God, he really does love me...

"I don't know, Jan," I stupefy myself. "What would someone like your brother see in me that could possibly make him... love me?"

"Yonela, what wouldn't he love about you? Look at yourself."

"What about myself?"

"You're kind and you're sweet, extremely gifted and absolutely gorgeous..."

"You're just being nice."

"I'm actually being serious," she says in a more stern tone.

"Does he even notice me?"

"He noticed you when I gave you that little makeover," she smirks. "Did you see his reaction?"

"Janet, he couldn't even look at me."

"My point exactly – he couldn't believe his eyes."

"And I don't believe you."

Both at a loss of energy, I lean back and Janet sighs before suddenly smiling again. "I have an idea."

"Janet..."

"Please, Yonela?" she whines. "Just hear me out."

I stay silent for a moment. Her expression begs for me to agree, so I do after some hesitation.