tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

March 1ˢᵗ ─ 2:00 ᵖᵐ

Hera, the nanny, made sure Rue got the care she needed while Michael rode back out to the Ranch.

The Garth Nixon Boarding House was a great distance from the Neverland Ranch, so it took him a while to get there. Michael parked his silver station wagon in the garage and stepped out, brushing his wet hair out of his face, it had began to drizzle when he started on his journey back home, now it was showering.

He tried to shield his head as he rushed through the gate, used his key to get inside his house. One inside, he shut the door behind him and sighed in relief. "That was some hard rain." He said softly to himself.

He kicked off his boots, and his socks underneath were soaked. His clothes were sticking to his skin everywhere and he was so uncomfortable.

Looking up, he stepped back with a gasp. Because his father, Charles Jackson was standing there with his arms folded.

"Father." He said, by way of greeting, clearing his throat and looking down at his feet.

Charles shook his head at Michael, not returning a word to him before stepping back into the living room. Michael tried to slow his beating heart as he joined the family in the living room.

Janet was smirking, she was seated beside Katherine and Jermaine, his father took a seat with the three and Michael sat on the opposite sofa by himself. It saddened him, feeling as though his family were on another side.

"I went into your bedroom." When Charles spoke Michael flinched, since his father's voice was like a gun going off. "I didn't see the Rowan Masterpiece. Where is it, Michael?"

Michael broke eye contact with Janet. "It was stolen."

There was sadness in Charles's eyes now, but there was more anger in them. "Do you know who stole it?"

Yes. James Bartholomew.

"No."

Charles threw up his arms, standing. "Well did you suspect anyone, that Shannon girl, for instance?"

Michael shook his head again.

"What about that Diana girl?"

He was surprised, that his dad knew about her. "What do you mean?"

"Don't think I know everything that goes on here in Brooklyn? I read all the tabloids, I watch the news, Mikey." Charles said.

"Tabloids lie." Michael muttered softly.

"What did you say?" Charles asked, taking a step closer to him.

Michael shook his head. Again. "Nothing."

"Where were you? Before Janet called you here?"

Think of a lie, Michael, think of a lie.

Think of one, think of one, what would Diana say?

"Out suspecting." He mocked Charles sarcastically.

Something flashed in Charles eyes before he booked forward and grabbed Michael by his collar, lifting him up. "You better hope for your sake that the Rowan Masterpiece is found. We all know it was your fault."

He let Michael go and walked out.

Michael was plopped back down on the couch, this time he was full of fear, he was scared. His hands were trembling. Before he could pretend it wasn't happening, a tear slipped from his clouded eyes.

"Michael..." He recognized the sympathetic voice instantly, he looked up and saw Janet, there was sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She sat beside him on the couch.

Michael shook his head, sniffling so no more tears came out. "It's-it's fine. I need to shower, anyway." He stood and went to the stairs.