Darling Mikey || Michael Jackson & Prince Fanfiction

two

"Yes," I chuckled, "So what's the name of the song? What is it about?"

"It's called BAD," He started, sounding  serious as hell but also excited because I agreed.

I quickly covered my mouth, shutting my eyes very tight. I tried my hardest not to laugh at him. Out of all people, how is Michael going to call a song 'BAD'?

That's something that I would be able to pull off, but not him. He is the least baddest person on the planet, he wears glitter socks for God's sake. Please, spare me the bullshit.

I took a deep breath, successfully getting rid of my laughter, "That's interesting, can you explain the song to me a little bit?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," He chuckles, "Which brings me to my next question, I know that you live in Minnesota and I'm actually going to be down there for some small business meetings next week. I was wondering, during my short visit, if I can stop by and play the song for you? I'll bring a tape."

I thought about it for a bit, then smirked to myself, bringing up a smart thing to say.

"I don't know, you're not gonna get glitter all over my floors will you?"

Michael stayed silent, then started to laugh in a very fake way, "Ha ha, very funny. No I won't."

I smiled proudly, knowing that I sort of got under his skin a little, "That's great then, I won't mind you stopping by at all."

He sighed in relief, happy that I agreed "Thank you, Prince. I promise, you will love this song."

"Sure I will," I said, with my evil smile showing.

"Okay, um," Michael said, ending the conversation, "I'll call again this week about my visit. Talk to you later?"

"Of course," I leaned against the wall, "Goodbye, Michael"

"Wait! I totally forgot."

I sighed, sadly bringing the phone back to my ear, "Yes?"

"What's your address?" He said politely.

I couldn't believe that I was doing this. I rarely gave out my address to anyone. Currently my new house that is being worked on, called "Paisley Park" wasn't going to be ready until sometime next year so I have been living in a small little house on Galpin boulevard.

Michael was going to be one of those very few people that has came to my home. I started to think to myself, since I knew that Michael himself lived in a pretty big house, was he going to judge me?

Then I pushed that idea to the side, shrugging to myself. Eh, to be fair I've made fun of him plenty of times. If he's going to judge me for that then so be it. I'm doing this.

"7141 Galpin Boulevard, Chanhassen." I spoke into the phone, waiting for this conversation to be over already. Michael slowly repeated after me, sounding like he was writing the information down on a piece of paper, "Okay, thank you. Well, that's all really. I'll most likely be there on Saturday. How about 7?"

I laughed, shaking my head, "Why so late?"

Michael paused for a second, "7 o'clock is late?"

California boys, what a shame. I soon realized why he was confused, "We have different time zones, sweetheart."

"Oh.." Michael zoned out, sounding weirded out by me calling him sweetheart, "Right, sorry. I forgot."

"Don't flatter yourself," I reassured, twirling the phone cord between my fingers. "I call everybody sweetheart."