1984
Lynette "Billie" Ford
Michael crossed both arms and flabbergasted by the time I ended my story. I almost spit out my water.
"Wait, let me get this straight. You sued the record store manager and didn't tell me?" His brown eyes narrowed without hesitation. I nearly chuckled out loud, but still pulled myself together when Jackson wouldn't halt the squinting expression.
"It's not like I could tell you anything about what happened. The press was already rampant about me. Linking us together would've driven outlets even more crazy." I offered Michael turned and he tossed up both hands.
"Fair enough. Me showing up would've triggered madness, but I could've helped you out. How did you parents handle this?" Mike asked me this time around.
"We won my defamation case. I used the money to save up after being fired and bought a house out here." I smiled once more, hoping that Michael would settle down his own nerves at this point.
"Have you started recording music again?" Michael failed to wink in my direction. It took everything in me not to laugh out loud with the public nearby. Jackson even arched his eyebrow towards me, tickling the chuckle in my throat again. He flirted jokingly now.
"Yes. I just finished producing and mixing some records. Don't let the pretty face fool you, Jackson. I'm not just a singer, all right?" I teased Michael right back.
"Who taught you how to do that? I haven't even heard of many women working behind the scenes this way." Michael crossed his arms once more and still wouldn't touch his salad again. We spent so much time chatting that I hypnotized with my life or something.
"My father produced music years ago. Let's just say that I'm well-versed with different trades this point." I smiled again, but there was a hesitant look on Michael's face. I just couldn't understand why he kept staring with near dread.
"That's impressive, but why aren't you signed to a major label yet?" Michael squinted once more.
"Now that I've truly thought about it, there's a possibility of signing, but I'd have too many limits, even now." I sipped my water again.
"What do you mean, Lynette? Most people would run to the labels immediately." Michael interrogated me this time. I hadn't heard Jackson say my real name in quite a while since we met back at the record store.
"For someone like me, limits mean roadblocks. I can't fit into one category of music. You should understand that idea." I said.
"Yes, but not everyone can make it independently, girl. You should be smart enough to know that, too." Michael snipped back towards me.
"I know, but it's better than nothing. I'm not selling out for a record deal, Michael." I stood up for myself.
"Damn." Michael cursed.
"What?" I wouldn't break eye contact.
"You sound like Prince." Mike chuckled.
"Thanks for the compliment." I winked this time.
"Have you met him before?" Michael seemed to cringe. I didn't know what to think at first.
"My father said that he walked into his studio once, but no. I never actually met Prince in person." I frowned, saddened that I'd still yet to meet His Royal Badness these days.
"I'm glad that your father knows about this man, but just please don't associate with him, girl." Mike warned out of nowhere
"Why not? He's a genius." I set down my Pasta fork.
"I've never seen him respect women. At least not in public." Michael lowered his voice this time.
"You're wrong. One of his sound engineers is a woman and two members of the Revolution are women." I stood up for different members of Prince's musical circle after remembering research in one way or another.
"Good point, but I'm actually talking about his proteges. Women strutting around in lingerie onstage shouldn't count as entertainment, Lynette. That's what some people would call a peep show." Michael acted as if he was disgusted. I'd found his conservative side again.
"You're talking about Vanity 6." I corrected him.
"It doesn't matter what the group name is. In my opinion, that trio was gross. Really." Michael grimaced at this point.
"I loved them! It was wild, but such a nice change from what you'd typically see from so-called girl groups." I admitted the guilty pleasure, but wouldn't tell Michael that I secretly wanted to trade places with Vanity just two years ago. Almost every woman around plotted to look like her or Susan, even Vanessa.
"Let's agree to disagree, then. We both have different opinions clearly." Michael changed our subject.
"Fine. What else would you like to know?" I wiped my lips after a second.
"Anything." Michael grinned, almost starting to blush.
"So, why did you pay for my meal with friends the other day?" I asked, trying to figure out why Mike helped me out.
"Let's just say that someone hasn't seen me in concert yet." Michael couldn't hold back his laughter this time.
"Do you need attention for once?" I asked.
"Yes." Michael paid our check, slipped his Aviators back on, and stood up from this table to leave the restaurant.
I sat alone with my eyes bugging out.
