Santa Monica, CA, September 8th, 1997
7:55pm
Michael had managed to calm Afia down considerably since he'd arrived at the cottage, and now, they were in the bedroom, sat side by side on the edge of the bed.
Just like they had the first night they ever spent together.
Their shoulders were bumping, and their thighs touching, as they sat quietly for awhile, staring out of the Palladian window.
The sun was setting, and the tears on their faces had dried up, making their skin feel tight.
Michael watched the birds skim past the window, back to wherever their nests were.
Their homes.
City lights started to blink on, as the night life of Santa Monica rolled around, and the reflection of the beautiful square pool in the front, made the windows glimmer in the street lights.
Afia was still sniffing, and she could feel how heavy her body felt.
Every bone, the weight of a tonne.
Michael could've hit her with a freight train and it would've hurt a lot less.
"Who has Chi and Ro?" Afia croaked, staring with dead eyes out into the distance.
Her voice was breaking, and croaking, because she'd strained every vocal chord God had given her.
Now her precious throat, and money maker, was sore.
Michael's Adam's apple rolled up inside of his neck as he swallowed, shrugging, making his puffer rustle a little bit in the otherwise quiet, "Mindy, I think.." He grumbled softly.
Michael straightened his mouth into a line, feeling stupid that he didn't know for sure.
Whether their friend and nanny, Mindy, had their children, or whether they were with another member of staff at the Ranch.
Afia scoffed to herself, blinking away the urge to roll her eyes.
"I don't like staff looking after my girls," She whispered tiredly, her voice dark and haunting, "They don't need anybody else but us.."
Michael let her words sit for a moment inside of his head.
He shook away her concerns.
"Well, if we didn't have staff where would they be now?" Michael asked softly, turning to look at the side of Afia's face.
The room was dark, and the shadows in the room casted most of her facial expressions into secrecy, except for the light coming through the windows, that lit up the front of her.
Her teeth glistened, as she turned to him with puffy eyes, "You right.." She chuckled with a small flicker of her brow, and they both snickered together briefly in the silence.
The flatness of the moment.
The calm after the storm.
Usually, they could fix it with kisses, and fucking.
They both knew that wasn't going to work this time.
More silence.
Dead noise.
"I've always envied you.." Michael rasped, gulping after awhile.
He looked back toward the window.
They both didn't turn to each other as he said this.
Michael sensed the vulnerability in the moment, realising this was an opportunity to have honest talk.
Afia sniffed, shaking her head slowly.
"Why? You're Michael Jackson.." She breathed back, her lungs tightening at the thought of him once more, inside of June fucking Chandler.
Michael looked down at his hands, rubbing them together.
He looked up again, and breathed hard through his nose, trying to focus on a light or a building in the distance.
Something to distract him whilst he spilled out his heart.
"You've always been so self assured, Afia.." He coughed, raising a closed fist to his lips, "You've always known better. You've always been able to call a spade a spade.. I envied it.."
Afia nibbled her bottom lip.
It was true in some ways, yes.
With people, she was a natural.
She didn't have fake friends.
She didn't let them in, to start with.
But with other things, like her temper, and her fury, Michael was the victor.
"You're the head, and I'm the shoulders," He continued shyly, "It's always felt like that.."
Afia's brows rose in surprise, because her experience was the opposite.
Michael was the business savvy megastar that pulled her through the industry.
She'd always felt her knowledge of that entire world was minuscule compared to his.
Not to mention his wisdom.
His insightfulness.
Sometimes, she'd go as far to say he made her feel stupid.
Not intentionally, or in cruel way of course.
She merely felt mortal in the realm of intellect, or even talent compared to her husband.
Afia had always thought of him as her natural guide for their time on earth.
He'd always marketed himself to her and to everyone that way.
In her eyes, he led their lives with an iron fist.
A gentle, but firm iron fist.
"I've always just wished, that I could have even the smallest bit of your charisma. Your wit. Your foresight.." He breathed, as his eyes twinkled in the lights of the city.
They both paused.
Michael found this all too hard to admit.
But in the case of his pride and his wife, he would simply have to choose his wife.
Afia considered the feelings that came with realising there had been low level envy boiling inside of Michael for awhile.
She thought, maybe at first it would provide some kind of smug satisfaction.
Instead it made her insides curl uncomfortably.
It occurred to her in that moment, she didn't want him to envy her.
She wanted him to cheer for her like she cheered for him.
She wanted him, to be as proud of her redeemable qualities as she was of his.
Wasn't that her asset as his wife?
Her charm?
"So, you think you aren't charismatic?" Afia sighed, feeling exhaustion start up again in the front of her head.
Michael was too hard to unwind.
There were so many layers of pain and trauma that made him a constant rubix cube.
He hung his head low, and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm not. Not like you.." He mumbled sadly.
Afia shook her head slowly again, "Do you know what charisma is, Michael?" She chuckled tiredly, blinking at the pool outside.
He giggled softly back, "Kinda.. I know who has it and who doesn't.."
"Don't you think you're as adored as you are, because of your charisma?" She hissed with a laugh, "You don't have to be loud, or extroverted to have charisma.."
Michael nodded slowly.
She was right.
Michael could light up rooms.
Just the sight of him, made some people lose their balance.
He had a permanent ring of light around him.
A presence.
He seemed so profound.
A truly deep soul, that captivated rooms with very little lip service.
Afia may have envied that at one point.
But in a playful, cheeky way.
Not a spiteful or sour way.
Her envy was always overridden with her absolute adoration for him.
Every. Single. Time.
As much as Afia wanted to entertain Michael, and stroke his ego, she fell silent once more, twisting her heels into the wooden floor of the bedroom.
She didn't have the energy.
It's not like he even deserved it, anyway.
"I know, Affie.." He leaned forward propping up his elbows on his knees, and sorrowfully plopping his head into both of his hands, "I just have a lot of issues.."
"Issues with me?"
"Naw," Michael grumbled lowly, closing his eyes and squeezing his face hard, "They're my issues. They were there before you came along.."
"So," Afia huffed, folding her arms, continuing to focus her eyes outside, "You envied certain parts of my personality, and that's why you tried to hurt me.."
Michael frowned because it wasn't entirely true.
There were a few more steps in between.
"No, that's not true, either.." He sat up, circling his knees with his palms, "What kind of man would that make me?"
"You tell me," Afia turned to look at him, but he didn't turn his head toward her eyes, "You tell me.." She repeated softly.
"I'm your biggest fan," He cleared his throat, "I love everything about you, that's the truth.."
"So why?" Afia sounded wounded again.
Michael winced at the pain in her voice.
"There's a lot of reasons. None of them have anything to do with you.." He whispered tearfully, as that familiar sting came back to his eyes.
Michael's jaw trembled, and his face crumpled.
He half expected Afia to enclose her little hand around his face, and rub the dimple in his chin.
Telling him not to cry.
But she didn't.
She remained still beside him, staring away at the side of his face.
"You realise how hard that is for me to accept?" She hissed back.
Michael nodded, "I know. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot, for doing you that way. I've only made a mess out of a beautiful thing.. I've always done it, and I always do it.."
"I thought for me, you would always try. I thought, at least, you would come to me, before going to somebody else.." Afia rasped.
Michael shook away his tears.
"I didn't plan it.."
"Michael, you walked into her house. When nobody else but her was home. You had so many chances to turn around. To push her away. To put me first.." Afia whimpered the last words as her sore eyes produced more moisture.
"I wish I could redo all of it.."
"But you can't. You've always told me, and everybody, that the past is a fixed constant. It just is. You had one shot to protect our marriage, and you blew it.."
"So there's no way back? We just become strangers, because of something I did seven years ago?" Michael gasped, covering his face with his hand, "I could never see you, and walk straight passed. It would kill me.."
Afia bit her bottom lip hard and hugged her arms tighter around herself.
It was a little cold now.
"I don't know how to get over it.." She admitted in a low croak.
Michael spluttered a cry, patting his palm softly against his face to hide his balled up expression.
"So, where do we go from here? I wanna do what Kleff says. I want to try.." He managed through strained, gritty gurgles.
"You think a fucking chart can fix that?" Afia gasped incredulously, splaying out her hands, "I thought we had something that it turns out we don't have.. I feel like you shot me.." She grumbled.
"No, Afia we have it. I just gambled it. Now I'm paying for it," He trembled, "God, the girls are gonna hate me!"
"I don't think there's much point telling them about it.." She sighed, deciding that when they get older, it would benefit them not to know how much their parents marriage had been through it.
If Chi could forget some of the muffled shouting, she and her baby sister Ro'Lee would always think their childhood was a fairytale.
This was the only way she wanted them to remember it in the future.
It was the only way she would allow them to remember it.
Michael nodded, sniffing.
"I don't deserve that.." He breathed.
"No, you don't.." She glared at him, with hot eyes in the darkness.
"I think we should do the chart," Michael spoke after a long excruciating minute of silence, "We have to do it.."
Afia sighed hard, and let her head fall so she could pinch her nose, her other arm under her breasts.
"We've got that, uhh.." She mumbled, trailing off, her brow furrowing as Michael's ears pricked up.
"-The thing in Atlanta?" He interjected.
It was a weekend trip, for a Children's fundraising event.
Atlanta's Children's Shelter.
Afia had brought the charity to Michael's attention some weeks ago, pointing out a news article to him about how the shelter was in need of donations to avoid foreclosure.
The charity had struggled to collect from the wider community, and so were asking for people to lend a hand to the children who faced homelessness and violence at home.
Michael and Afia had sat that morning, talking about how unfair the world was.
How people had money for fast cars, and jets.
Big oil companies, that could gross billions yearly, and yet a small community charity was facing a shutdown from close to no funding.
So, they both decided to plan a weekend, full of celebrity names and personalities, to attend a weekend in Atlanta.
For the children.
For the betterment of their futures.
How easy it was for Michael to orchestrate plans of action for those in need.
Everybody in need except his wife.
Even through fighting, they could agree on where and how the event would be held.
Just a small ball, where donations were necessary for entry.
Already, they'd grossed nearly two point five million dollars from some of the socialites of Atlanta and other celebrities.
Even with that, Michael wasn't happy.
'How far do you think that goes? Once you pay all the staff, and all the contractors for upgrading it? How much is left for them?' He grumbled to her moodily over a book by the lake.
The one thing for sure, that would invoke passion in him.
Maybe, she could admit, she envied that too.
"Yeah, we have to go.. We just have to get through it.." Afia sighed, at the thought of being trussed up in a dress next to a man she was at war with.
Having to smile like a doll, and hold his hand, and nod graciously.
Give speeches.
The thought almost made her want to cry.
Even though she'd done nothing but sob for at least five hours straight now.
She still had some left.
Michael breathed out, as he considered this an opportunity.
The sound of Afia's complete resignation, at the thought of having to share a hotel room with him for the weekend made him feel small.
"It could be a good thing. We can make a trip out of it.." He offered, hopefully.
Afia chose once more to say nothing.
If he wanted to make their trip into a sweet, loving getaway, he should just go ahead and do it.
She no longer felt the need to fight.
She didn't feel the need to come up with all the answers any more.
She'd done enough of that already.
For a man that still stepped out on her, anyway.
It was his turn to prove that he was good enough for her.
Silence.
A hard fist jolted them both up, as it rippled through the house.
Somebody was at the fucking door.
First of all, who?
Second, why were they knocking like niggas needed to evacuate?
Afia stood, frowning, as she creeped up to the window, Michael holding his breath behind her with a worried grimace.
"What the fuck?" Afia hissed, listening to the banging as it continued.
What a fist!
Michael stood behind her, immediately his hand came to her hip, hoping to pull her out of visibility to whoever was down there.
"Be careful, don't let them see you.." He whispered softly in her ear nervously, as they both stepped to the side together into the shadows of the walls.
Afia pressed a hand onto the wall, leaning on her tip toes to glance at the front of the house.
It was hard to see, as the door was covered by an elaborate threshold.
The pool water was still now, as night started to descend.
The banging stopped, momentarily, but started again as whoever was at the front, assured themselves someone was home.
After all, the pool lights were glowing a pretty white colour, illuminating the house.
"Where the fuck is Guervo?" Michael growled a whisper.
Guervo was the security guard he'd assigned to Afia during her stay at the cottage.
He was clearly, nowhere in sight.
He tugged his wife back against his chest, as she continued to try and see who was there.
Michael pressed his mouth to her cheek, "Afia, it could be someone with a gun, or a robber, don't let them fucking see you!" He hissed frustratedly at her curiosity.
She almost pushed him away, but he was right.
They'd had so many death threats, and strange stalkers who ended up on even some of their most hidden properties.
Afia let his big hand lay flat against her tummy, and she felt his heart racing hard against her back.
She turned, glancing up at him.
One side of his face was a shadow, a huge black eye staring intently at her, as the banging continued on and on.
She watched him.
She loved him.
So fucking much.
Even when her blood pressure was rising at the thought of somebody trying to break in and hurt them, she managed to get lost looking at how smooth his skin was.
One cheek, twitching, as he tried to figure out what was going on.
He looked nervous.
That somebody might hurt him, or worse still, his Afia.
"Well, if they kill us, it was nice knowing you.." Afia breathed, as Michael's face fell hard into her neck.
"Don't say that.." He grumbled into her as she looked back toward the window.
Silence.
Again.
Heels clicked, as a figure emerged from off of the door step.
A woman.
"Kandi?!" Afia almost fell through the window at the sight of her sister, stood with her hands on her hips, trying to stare through the windows of the house.
Michael's heart stopped beating so fast, as he sighed, relieved that they weren't about to become an episode of dateline.
Then a new feeling came over him.
Kandi was nice enough.
When she was with Afia though, much less.
She was always saying something.
Gossipy.
Always cursing in front of her nieces.
Always calling to ask for bail, or money to start some terrible no-good-mans back door crab food business.
She'd arrived at Neverland's gates in 1994, leaving the engine of her black Chevy Impala running, as she tearfully demanded the main gate be opened.
Only to run through the house, screaming about a warrant out for her arrest.
Tax fraud.
Courtesy of her genius boyfriend, whom she'd gone into business with.
Turns out, even Seafood could be a lucrative opportunity to not declare your true income to the fucking IRS for.
Kandi's Krabs at first, made Michael laugh.
The name was not only terrible in design, but business suicide.
Krabs?
Kandi's Krabs?
He told Afia it sounded like an STD infomercial, and his wife tried not to laugh.
Kandi's boyfriend, Dale, had managed to rope her name, and her Social Security number into his schemes.
So of course, Kandi arrived at her sisters door for help when the IRS flagged them up for tax evasion.
She cried, loudly, sprawled on the sofa, like a woeful widow.
'They lyin' on me!' She'd wailed, as some of the cooks hid by the door to witness the spectacle.
Michael and Afia had sat and comforted her warmly, until the IRS turned up at Neverland's Gates, where Kandi had kindly listed the residence as her address.
Kandi stood now, looking more troublesome than ever, her black leather coat tied around her hourglass frame with a large silver buckle.
She looked like a secret service, spy.
Clearly, she'd taken a note out of Mary J Blige's book at the hair shop, because she had a fresh set of honey blond curls bouncing around her head.
Like always.
It suited her, at least.
A Cuban link around her neck, and black big sunglasses on, you could probably mistake her for a celebrity, too.
Which in a way, she was.
By proximity, perhaps.
Growing up, Afia had looked up to Kandi for everything.
Her style.
Her hair.
Her personality, too.
Thick as thieves, the two managed to crawl around Bed-Stuy until their feet hurt in their teen years.
When Afia turned to music, Kandi was right there in the studio with her.
Warding off creeps and ill intentioned people.
Now though, Afia spent her time returning the favour to her older sister.
Now, Afia protected Kandi.
It was the trade off they made as sisters.
Even when Afia met Michael, and didn't really need protecting anymore, Kandi maintained her big sister role, growing suspicious of Michael's reluctance to have his family at the wedding.
This subsided though, and for the most part, Michael and Kandi could have funny and light hearted conversations.
Usually.
Until Michael said something that sounded just a little too pretentious.
Kandi was Afia, only five years older.
The two talked similarly, in their own weird little language of squealing and eye rolls.
They both kept a manicure, and some jewellery.
In fact, when Michael first met Kandi, he blushed.
The two were very beautiful.
Excruciatingly similar.
From their bodies, to their faces.
Together, they felt like a strange nightmare.
Michael always allowed Afia to help her sister, and even insisted on paying her court fees and bail.
But he also stressed how he'd become a slave to his own families whims, and that he didn't want his wife to let her kindness be taken advantage of.
Not that Afia listened.
Blood was blood.
"How she find you?" Michael asked softly, trying not to sound too disappointed that Kandi had paid them a visit.
Maybe a robber would've been more fun.
"Mom.." Afia drawled.
Damaris, obviously disturbed by Afia's phone calls about her daughters marriage, asked Kandi to visit her sister.
And so, she did.
"FIFI!" Kandi cupped her hands around her mouth, throwing her head back, hair flipping as she yelled her sisters name.
If Kandi didn't smoke so much skunk she might of had a much more feminine tone to her voice, like Afia, Michael always thought.
Kandi liked to smoke down to the roach.
And then smoke the roach.
The smell of Bulgari Allegra perfume, (Rock'n'Rome to be precise) and weed, was a dizzying haze for Michael's fragile senses whenever Kandi entered a room.
"Go get her before someone realises we're here.." Michael whispered nervously, watching as Guervo came around the corner to investigate the shouting.
Finally.
Afia slipped out of Michael's grip, and once again clicked and clacked her way out of the room and down the now dark hallway and staircase.
Opening the door, she stepped outside, into the cool fresh air, where Guervo was asking Kandi to keep her voice down.
Kandi looked up, pushing her glasses up off of her face, and onto the top of her head.
Dramatic as ever.
A hand on her hip, she flipped her long red acrylics at the security guard.
"Oh, don't worry. See, she's right there.." Kandi drawled, stepping forward, heeled boots knocking the ground.
Afia watched, arms folded, as her sister rolled her hips, like a young Naomi Campbell.
She'd taught Afia how to strut just like that.
It's how Afia still strutted across stages and film sets alike.
Guervo watched Kandi, eyes wide at the tornado of a woman in her leather.
Unintentionally, Afia was glaring.
Only slightly.
She'd made her and Michael think they were being robbed.
"Fifi.. My God.. You do not change!" She giggled, standing face to face with her sister at the door now, "Braids? Oh my God, he's got you in your African queen bag.." She cackled, flipping her waves as she adjusted her shades into her hair.
"Kandi, what is all this?" Afia smirked, looking across at her sister who had the eyes of a woman with nothing but mischievous things to say.
About everything.
Kandi stepped back faux offended.
Pressing a hand to her chest, she opened her mouth to gasp.
"I can't pop up, and say hi?" She laughed, tilting her head, and flapping her arm to her side.
The leather of her coat and PVC boots rustled and crinkled.
Afia could smell that perfume.
And that other natural scent.
The herbs.
It made Afia feel like she was back in New York again.
It always did.
Kandi's voice was loud.
Deciding that being inside was better, she ushered the girl into the cottage, slamming the door shut, and flicking on the hall light.
Clearly Michael was hiding upstairs.
He still hadn't emerged from the bannister to reunite with his sister in law.
"Did you park that Chevy outside my mansion?" Afia asked, a smirk sliding up her face, as her sister pulled her into a warm embrace.
A hug from Kandi, was as good as a hug from her mother.
Afia didn't realise how much she needed it, until her sister pulled away to hold her at arms length again.
"Af if I still have the Chevy.." She threw her head back to giggle once more, exposing a full head of white, straight, teeth.
She was so pretty.
Her lips were caked in brown liner and caramel coloured lipgloss.
Thin dark brown brows frowned at Afia, falling down to blinking long black lashes.
Afia always envied those lashes.
"I have a Mercedes, now.." She stuck out her tongue to lick her lips, but retracted it, remembering she was wearing gloss.
Afia sighed, "Michael's here... I hope you're gonna tell me good news.. no warrants, or anything.." Afia cocked a brow.
Kandi folded her arms and smiled quickly, glancing up the staircase with an incredulous frown.
The lights upstairs weren't on.
"Doesn't look like he's here.." She rocked side to side, as at her loud words, Michael's loafers began to scuff across the landing.
He couldn't hide anymore.
Kandi knew he was here.
In the dark, with her sister.
Michael took a deep breath, as he slowly, clasped his hands together, descending down the dark steps and into the light.
Michael squinted as he reached the bottom of the stairs, since he'd spent so long crying in the shadows with Afia.
Afia shot Kandi a glare, as the bubbly sister straightened her back, scaling Michael up and down.
All the way from his penny loafers, up to the fedora pressed firmly on his head.
"Hi, Michael.." She smiled warmly, as he smiled at her, lifting a shaky hand, and nodding.
"It's nice to see you.." Michael giggled softly, "It's been awhile.."
Kandi cackled at this, and Michael didn't let her laugh make him jump like he usually did.
Afia hid a tired laugh in her hand, at her husband and sister, as they dawdled nervously before each other.
"So..?" Kandi flopped over, slapping her thighs, glaring at Michael, and standing up again to open her arms for a hug.
Michael recoiled inwardly at his awkwardness, and chuckled, stepping forward to take her into his embrace.
He brought his arms around her shoulders, hugging her in that warm, Jackson way.
Kandi smiled, rubbing his back roughly, and allowing him to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.
Afia couldn't help but beam at them.
Michael was such a gentlemen.
Gracious to everyone.
Even those he couldn't stand.
He didn't mind Kandi.
Not really.
But now wasn't the best time.
"Y'all been good?" Kandi asked, turning to her sister, glaring obviously at the tense atmosphere.
Kandi made her long nails dance in the air as she gestured a twirl in the air, "Not that life could be that hard, living like this.." She cocked her brow swinging her head back to look at Michael.
Now as she looked at him, at them both, they looked exhausted.
Sad.
Drained.
Kandi could see now, that Afia had been crying.
Michael pressed his lips together and looked down, rocking onto his tip toes, as Afia sighed.
"Well, all that glitters, you know.." Kandi scoffed sarcastically, as this only exacerbated the mood.
Rolling her eyes nervously, Kandi considered that her mother was right when she said she talked too much.
She swallowed, and clapped hard.
"Anyway! I have something to tell you guys.." She began grinning again, as Michael cocked his head with a small smile to listen.
Afia pinched the bridge of her nose, massaging up and down until the pending tension headache felt like it could wait.
Maybe wait five minutes.
"You're pregnant?"
"Afia, get real!" Kandi giggled. The woman had one fifteen year old son, and she was sure she didn't need to do it ever again, "I'm moving to California!" She announced, doing a little dance.
She expected cheers.
Or at least, some kind of excitement.
Michael frowned at her, and Afia began to grumble.
"Why?" Michael asked, his brow shooting up, as he wondered what Kandi was up to.
Kandi fought back a hurt whimper at the flat reaction.
"Mom said you need help, with Ro.." She turned to her brother in law glaring, "-and I have a guy willing to fund my stay!" She giggled, biting her bottom lip with a wink at Afia.
"When you say move," Afia huffed, trying to find the right tone that wouldn't convey her annoyance, "How long?"
Kandi folded her arms again, disappointed that Afia hadn't done a fucking cartwheel.
Michael had slumped onto the last step on the stair case, frowning up at the two women.
He frowned a lot when he was thinking.
"Uh, until Christmas?" Kandi was dryer now with her tone, and her obvious hurt that she wasn't getting the red carpet rollout made Michael chuckle a little.
Afia turned to her husband, who had planted his cheek in his palm, his other hand under his chest and elbow.
She looked toward him, sharing that glance.
Michael let out a low chuckle again, watching as Afia tapped her nails against her forehead.
Now this, was amusing.
Michael loved watching Afia interact with her sister.
Sometimes it was funny.
The things he knew she wanted to say, but didn't.
Just out of respect for their age difference.
Michael realised this, was Afia's weak spot.
Amongst her endless softness toward him, she showed her sister the same tenderness.
She did it with everybody she'd ever loved.
In many ways, Michael and Afia were both pushovers.
Whether for others or each other.
Now Kandi was moving to California, on strict orders from her mother, to watch and observe.
Make sure he wasn't hitting her.
Make sure he wasn't controlling her.
Damaris, Afia and Kandi's mother, was dramatic.
Her daughters were her heart.
She'd protected them from all manners of shenanigans growing up, and still tried.
Damaris had her suspicions about Michael.
She'd of course, told Afia, as she got her wedding dress fitted, that it seemed rushed.
Because she was pregnant.
Because he was so smitten.
Michael loved Afia in such an unbelievable way, it seemed like nothing more than a romantic movie script.
For the most part, people just found it hard to believe that two people could be so helplessly connected to each other like Afia and Michael were.
Now, as Kandi stood, trying not to make any snide comments, she realised that some of her mothers early suspicions might've been true.
"Alright," Afia breathed, "-and who is the guy funding your stay? You could've just asked me to let you stay.." Afia pulled her braids in front of her body, feeling a little hurt that her sister didn't turn to her first.
Or at least consult her.
Kandi nodded slowly, giving Afia a concerned stare now, "Fifi, I'm staying in Calabasas. Not the sticks, where you live.." She shook her head, as if this fact should be obvious.
Michael threw his head back now, swallowing laughter that puffed through his nose as Afia glared.
"Calabasas? So you're fucking for rent, huh?" Afia sucked her teeth as the two women looked each other up and down playfully.
Michael's eyes darted between them both.
Maybe, this was a good idea.
Maybe, a mediator for them both, could be Kandi.
Afia seemed to have abandoned the look of sadness that she'd had before her sister arrived, Michael noticed.
She was being playful again, even looking over at him as Kandi went on and on, about this new Calabasas residency, with a smirk.
"Kandi, don't stay in Calabasas. Stay with us.." Michael spoke finally, making the girls break away from their little banterous chatter to look at him.
He'd lifted his hand to wave in the air, in that commanding way, that always made everybody say yes to him, "Why waste money in Calabasas, when you can have your space in one of the Guesthouses on the Ranch.." Michael furrowed his brow, as Afia glanced at her sister nervously.
Kandi nodded, considering this.
Turning to her sister, she shrugged, "I like Calabasas better.." She finally answered, noticing that Afia was less enthusiastic for her sister to camp out in her home.
Michael shrugged and looked over at Afia.
He swung his legs open and closed, licking his lips at his wife.
Afia knew that Michael thought Kandi would buy them some more alone time.
Some company for her.
Rest bite from Californian mothers and their brats.
"Well, I guess that's that then.." Afia shrugged, as Kandi clapped happily, her acrylics knocking loudly.
"Oh, we're gonna have so much fun, familia!" She gushed, as Michael stood.
"Did you pack for ATL?" He turned to Afia, who dawdled nervously as he neared.
He could play the good husband so effortlessly, and it still made her feel weak.
The way he'd stand there.
Tall and strong.
Waiting for her to give him an answer.
Michael's eyes were scorching into her in that way that made her wriggle around, and play with her fingers.
He was licking his lips, head tilted, frowning with concern at Afia's sudden nervousness in front of her sister.
It was overwhelming sometimes.
The way he maintained such a protective shield over her, in front of others.
She'd always love that in him.
"ATL?" Kandi piped up, as Michael and Afia broke their stare to look at Kandi, who was grinning expectantly, waiting for her invite.
"No," Afia scoffed, "You stay here.."
Michael placed his hand against the crook of Afia's back, making her stumble under his armpit.
"Naw, don't be rude, Affie.." Michael chuckled, pointing to Kandi who nodded with Michael in agreement, "Kandi can come with us.." He soothed wearily.
His voice was tired, but firm.
Hopeful.
Optimistic that Kandi could give them a real chance to get a break.
He rubbed Afia's back again, and she quickly pushed herself off of him and nodded.
She would allow this.
It wasn't worth Kandi seeing just how strained things really were.
Her sister could come along, she guessed.
Michael twisted away, embarrassed at her obvious discomfort toward his touch.
It was a minuscule interaction.
But Kandi caught it.
Something was seriously up.
"Speaking of, where thee fuck, are my nieces?" Kandi asked with a frown, glancing around the otherwise empty home.
Silence again.
***