[MJFAs 2019 Winner - Best Short Story]
The fourth day of the week.
The day before Friday.
Just any other day.
But to Valerie, it's everything. It's the one day that she belongs to Michael Jackson.
Sex, drugs, and alcohol are his life. He doesn't d...
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~A FEW DAYS LATER~
It was all over the news before he even had a chance to explain what happened.
Mystery murder at Michael's home.
The pair were never caught.
And they were never suspected.
At Valerie's suggestion, they staged a brutal break-at in the apartment. That's not to say that it was easy. It was the most gruelling task; they had to smash some windows from the outside in, tamper with some locks and hide some things which were 'stolen' by the supposed intruder. Valerie bound Michael's hands and feet, shut him in his closet. She even duct-taped his mouth and tore his shirt to give the entire facade more credibility. And that's how she 'found' him before she called the cops. As for Roxanne, she was reported about as an unnamed friend who accidentally got shot and killed while trying to escape—the only truth in it all.
Once the scene was cleared of police and ambulance, Michael and Valerie stayed up until dawn, talking, reflecting on the prior situation. And from their conversation, he came to realise that there were only two reasons why she did what she did: the first being that she was hurt, and the second being that she was under the influence. Most of all, she expressed deep regret for her actions, especially that initial moment when she didn't care about a thing and threatened them both with the weapon.
So, they both decided to move on from the ordeal and take the first step in their healing journey by focusing on other things. Michael was preoccupied with rehearsals for the final 5 shows of his tour, while Valerie was on the hunt for another job.
About 2 days after the homicide, she called him, saying that she needed to see him.
"I can't," he bluntly told her. "I'm neck-deep in rehearsals."
"But it's important," she pleaded, "there's some things that I wanna talk about."
"If you mean about us, then—"
"Not even...!" she objected.
"Somehow, I find that hard to believe."
"Michael, please, try to squeeze me into your schedule; it's really important."
He paused to consider. "Okay. Just...you know where to find me. Come—"
"No. I won't go back there," she swallowed, "to the apartment. I-I can't."
