May 15th, 1998
Mariah was in New York working on songs for a new album. Ever since Tommy came to the studio a few weeks prior, she was on edge. She ended up writing a gamut of new songs, most of which ended up being thrown away.
Ring.
Ring.
Mariah glanced over at the phone, tempted to ignore it and keep working.
Ring.
She sighed and picked up her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey baby sister.”
Mariah managed a smirk. “What's up Alison?”
“Um, have you heard from mom? It's been over a month since I’ve heard from her.”
“So?” Mariah shrugged flippantly.
Alison sighed. “Come on Mariah. I know you're mad, but-”
“Alison, I don't think you understand what I'm going through because of the shit she's doing.”
“Woah, I know you better calm that tone down.” Alison shot back.
Mariah took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. I'm just under a lot of stress right now: Tommy and work, Michael at home, and then Morgan...I'm just tired. I'm not worried about mom's ass.”
“Mariah-”
Mariah continued. “Not after everything she's pulled. I'm over her, as far as I'm concerned that's not my mom.”
“Well damn. I guess I'll talk to you later then.”
Mariah sighed. “Mhm.”
May 15th, 1998
Pat had been in hiding since her hotel room was broken into. She was constantly on the move, even taking up an alias when signing into hotels. At this point, she was staying in a grimy motel room in New Jersey.
Sitting in the middle of the floor, Pat carefully pulled out a silver case.
She went for a large, heavy, canvas bag on top of the dresser. She emptied the contents of the bag next to the silver case. Two Swiss Knives, several containers of pepper spray, a box of medium-sized rubber gloves, a small box of plastic food storage bags, hand sanitizer, a two pound iron weight, and a police-grade taser splayed out across the floor. She pulled on a pair of gloves and picked out each weapon that would fit into the food storage bag and placed them into the bag. She threw that bag on the bed. She unboxed the taser and sat it next to the silver case. Opening both ends of the case, she was met with the glisten of a silver, Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol. Next to the pistol was a large compartment for her taser. She inserted the taser into the box and quickly closed it.
Pat had never used a gun before and the very sight of it freaked her out. Though, she felt like she’d need it since she was on the run from a very prominent real estate tycoon with dangerous ties.
She sat back and took a deep sigh, thoughts racing through her head. She figured she’d turn on the TV to help relax her mind.
“The thirty eight year old model skipped out on his arraignment, delaying any progress on a Grand Jury hearing.”
The news station showed a picture of Morgan’s face in conjunction with Pat’s now crispy home, as they continued to report on his unknown whereabouts.
What the hell? Not Morgan.
Pat wiped the sweat off her face. She couldn’t believe that her very own son could’ve been behind it all.
May 18th, 1998
“Alright baby, almost done.” Michael said, trying to soothe his little one. Noelle had been kicking and screaming seemingly everyday since her teeth started coming in, and Michael finally got a prescription for a pain reliever for her gums. He rubbed the gel on her gums with his right hand and made sure she didn’t bite down on his hand with his left.
Noelle looked at him with those ‘daddy please let me bite something’ eyes.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m done now.” He wiped his hands before picking her up and giving her a squeeze-hug.
He looked up and met the eyes of his impatient mother, shaking her head.
“What?”
“This didn’t have to take you fifteen minutes.” Katherine said.
Michael gave a shy smile. “I had to make sure she wouldn’t bite me.”
“Even if she did, she barely got teeth. How would it hurt you?” Katherine asked, sardonically.
Michael giggled. “Her teeth are pretty sharp, Mother.”
“Okay Michael…”
Michael put Noelle in her swing.
“Do you think you’d be able to watch the girls for a few days?” Michael asked, interrupting the brief silence.
“A few days?”
“Yeah, maybe a week. I wanna go surprise Mariah.” Michael continued.
Katherine looked up at him under her glasses. “I don’t know. They’re teething and I’m an old woman-”
“I’ll have Vicki stay to help you.”
Katherine sighed, but nodded her head.
Michael lit up. He gave his mother one of his signature head-hugs and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“So why are you really going to surprise her?”
Michael’s eyes downcast as he squat down to fidget with Noelle’s hair bow.
“I just want to see her.”
Katherine frowned at him. “Michael don’t lie to me, boy.”
“What? I do want to see her.”
Katherine placed her hand on her hip. “Michael…”
“Okay...I- I think she’s not just working.” He said.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, she’s there, you know, but with someone else.” He elaborated.
“You think she’s cheating?”
Michael stood up. He lowered his voice into a whisper. “I don’t know.”
Exasperated, Katherine’s eyebrow shot up.
“Well she’s probably not.”
Why are you suddenly taking her side? You don’t even like her.
“Mother, she’s been gone for almost two weeks. She doesn’t call, she’s been going in and out of her feelings for me since she had the girls, she’s constantly in New York-”
“But that doesn’t mean she’s cheating.” Katherine interrupted.
“She won’t even have sex with me. She literally said to me, ‘Michael, I don’t want to fuck you.’ Excuse my language, but that’s what she said.”
Katherine took a deep breath.
“She just had two babies, Michael.”
“Having babies doesn’t stop someone from having sex. I mean you had nine-”
“Okay but there were definitely times where I didn’t want to be intimate with your father. Y’all are very much spaced apart, Michael.” Katherine explained.
“Okay but having kids didn’t make you get Joseph’s hopes up and then stop.”
“What are you talking about? There were plenty of times where I got his hopes up and didn’t go through for whatever reason. I do that now. And I’m sure she has her reasons.” Katherine went on.
“I really didn’t need to know that.” Michael replied, slightly disgusted.
“Well, you asked. I mean, I don’t think she’s bold enough to step out on you. I do think her momma is crazy and her brother burned that house down-”
“Well we don’t know yet. He’s not even indicted.” Michael explained.
“He’s on the run, Michael. He probably somewhere in Cuba by now tryna escape the government.”
Good point.
“Okay but there’s no way to be sure right now is all I’m saying. Let’s give him a chance to explain himself first.” He suggested.
Katherine gave her son the ‘you’re so innocently dumb’ smile.
“Okay baby. That still doesn’t take away from the fact that her mother is absentee. I mean, where has she even been? How do you just up and leave your child on her birthday without any sort of explanation or call back or anything? That woman is suspect, I don’t care how much you think they’re reformed.”
Michael took a deep breath. It’s not like he disagreed with her. He hadn’t seen or heard from Pat in months at this point, and though he wasn’t too worried about her, he did find it odd that she basically disappeared and no one had anything to say for it.
“Well, I’m going to book my flight. And make sure Vicki gets here by tomorrow.”
“Okay baby. But remember what I said about going to see that girl. Don’t go accusing her of nothing.” Katherine warned.
MIchael turned to walk out of the room.
“Alright, Mother.” He responded, sarcastically.
“Michael I’m serious.” Katherine shouted, watching him walk away.
“I know!”
May 21st, 1998
Michael arrived in New York early that morning and was just getting to the condo. Wearing a white t-shirt, black leather jacket, mirrored aviators, black skinny jeans, and black boots, he approached the door, keys in hand.
He opened the door, his eyes sweeping the room. Immediately noticing balled up pieces of paper everywhere, he bent down and picked one up. On the piece of crumpled paper, there was only one verse to a song titled Crybaby. There were several lines scratched out, written over, or whited out. Michael shook his head and continued towards the back of the condo.
“Mimi?”
Michael peeked into the bedroom and saw Mariah sitting on the floor, her back to the door. He gently knocked on the door as he stepped inside.
“Mariah.”
She jumped up and faced him, eyes bucking out of her head. “What are you doing here?”
He took a step back. “Baby, I just wanted to-”
“Get out!” She screamed, backing into the corner with glazed eyes.
He tilted his head to side. “Mariah, calm down it's just me.”
She picked up her set of keys and hurled them at him. “Oh so you think that because it’s you, you can just come in here and interrupt me while I’m working? You know I have to get this done!”
“Girl, what are you talking about?” He yelled at her.
She was shaking, her back against the wall. She picked up the radio on the nightstand.
He started to shake his head. “Don't you-”
He ducked, hearing the radio hit the wall behind him. He looked over his shoulder and there was now a large hole in the wall. “Mariah, what the hell?”
He glared at his wife. “What is your fucking problem?”
“You!” She shot back. “Go home.”
“No. I come in here to surprise you and this is how you treat me?” He yelled as he approached her. Soon, he was an arm’s length away from her.
She reached up and repeatedly pushed him back.
He caught her arms and pinned her against the wall--holding her wrists over her head.
“Stop it Mariah.” He demanded.
She struggled under him, trying to get out. “Get off of me Michael! I have to work!”
“You should’ve thought about that before you threw a fucking radio at me.”
“Michael, if I don’t get this shit done I won’t have a job, do you hear me?” She screamed.
“What are you talking about Mariah? Your last album went platinum.”
“Michael, he wants another album, there’s nothing I can do!”
He?
Michael let go of her. “He wants another album?”
“That’s what I said. Then your ass has to come up in here distracting me knowing I had to work!”
“Okay first of all, I didn’t know shit. You don’t tell me these things, remember?” He explained.
He sat down on the bed, letting silence fill the air.
“So that’s why you’re here?”
“Do I really have to say it again? I don’t know how I can make this clearer to you Mike-”
“It was a rhetorical question dumb ass.”
Mariah, glaring at him, opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it.
Michael shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “So you’re recording?”
“Clearly.”
“Mariah get rid of the fucking attitude.” Michael demanded.
She rolled her eyes.
“When is your release date?” He asked, despondently.
“November.” She replied, making sure to keep her irritation under wraps.
“November? How many tracks?”
She looked up in thought. “15-20?”
That’s impossible.
Michael shot up. “Twenty? Do they think you’re a superhero or something? There’s no fucking way that’s happening.”
“Exactly. Hence why I’m trying to work while you stand here asking me dumb questions.”
Michael glared at her, though his mind was somewhere else. His voice smoothed into an eerie calm. “Mariah, stop with the insults. You’ve already put a hole in the damn wall that I have to pay for with my-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah with your money. Just stop talking about it. You act like I’m not making my own money.”
Michael’s eyes widened and eyebrows flashed.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, I make good money too.” She responded.
Michael’s expression intensified, him laughing on the inside.
“Michael!” She yelled.
“What? I didn’t say anything. Keep making your ‘good’ money.” He shrugged. “When was the last time you saw him though?”
Mariah looked down at her bare feet. “A few days ago.”
“And?”
“And what?” She retorted.
“Attitude. And what happened?” He responded.
“Nothing. He just said we’re not putting out some of the tracks I’ve done so far.”
Michael sat straight up--his interest peaked.
“What else, Mariah?”
“Nothing else. That’s all that happened.” She said, disinterestedly.
“You’re lying. What did he say to you?”
“He didn’t say anything.” She replied. “Michael, I’m not gonna do this with you. I have to work.”
She went for her notebook. He blocked her hand.
“Not until you tell me what happened.” He said, looking dead into her eyes.
“Nothing happened! Stop asking me fucking questions!”
He huffed and let go of the notebook. Mariah wasn’t telling the truth about what happened between her and Tommy, and he wasn’t going to let it slide just like that.
May 22nd, 1998
Michael followed Mariah into the studio, still weary from their fight last night.
“You don't have to come with me.” She said quietly.
He shrugged. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”
“Why wouldn't I be?” She asked, irritated.
Oh I don't know, because there's a radio-sized hole in our wall.
“I'm not a kid, Mike.” Mariah continued.
“I didn't say you were.”
Mariah huffed and walked into the room where a vaguely familiar man was waiting by a piano.
“Hey Walter.” Mariah said.
Walter stood up. “I hope you got something good today.”
She opened up her notebook. “I got something.”
Walter took the book from her and grimaced. “I think we can clean these lyrics up a little bit.”
While Mariah and Walter were discussing lyrics, Michael glanced around the studio. One of the walls was actually made up of two-way mirrors--on the other side of which were rooms where studio executives sat to evaluate the quality of recordings without disturbing the artists.
Michael's curious eyes shot between Walter and Mariah. “Well I guess I'll leave you all to it.”
Walter nodded and sat back down.
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “I thought-”
He shook his head. “You got it.”
Mariah still appeared confused so Michael winked, subtly jerking his head in the direction of the room with the two-way mirrors. She followed his gaze and nodded her head, though he couldn't quite place the emotion on her face.
When Michael entered the other room, he noticed Walter, now next Mariah, scribbling things on her lyric sheet. Mariah shook her head and sang the part for Walter, who instantly seemed to understand what she was trying to do.
Michael sat there for about forty-five minutes watching Mariah go in and out of the booth to adjust to Walter’s ever-changing ideas. Soon, though, the studio door swung open.
It was Tommy.
“Walter, what’s going on?” Tommy asked.
“She’s in there.” Walter explained.
“I know that-”
Mariah belted out a high note, interrupting his conversation with Walter. Tommy’s head flew over to the booth.
“Damn that girl is good.” He glanced at Walter. “I’m gonna fuck with her.”
Walter chuckled. “Come on man, she’s actually being productive for once. Cut her some slack.”
“No. She’s gotta remember who’s the boss around here.” Tommy replied, a sinister grin on his face. Tommy walked over to the soundboard and instructed Mariah to stop. She jumped slightly, clearly startled at the sight.
“Come here.” Tommy demanded.
Mariah nodded hastily and scurried out of the booth.
Michael leaned in, clenching his jaw as Tommy approached his wife.
“What was that?” Tommy inquired.
It was genius. Michael thought.
Mariah looked down. “I was just working on-”
“Trash. Like usual.” Tommy interjected, laughing.
Michael furrowed his eyebrows.
“I-I can change it.” She offered.
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Like that's gonna fix anything. You're gonna have to start over.”
“What?” Mariah exclaimed. “I've been working on that song for three days!”
Walter, who was still sitting at the piano, raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head.
Tommy cocked his hand back and slapped Mariah, knocking her to the ground.
Michael saw red.
He jumped up out of his seat and ran back into the studio.
Tommy had Mariah pinned down on the ground, his hands wrapped around her neck.
Michael, much smaller than Tommy, snatched Tommy by his throat and slammed him down on the ground.
He cocked his hand back and went straight for Tommy’s mouth. He hurled punches at him over and over, without relent. He didn’t say a single word, only focused on murdering Tommy Mottola.
“Michael stop!” Mariah shouted from behind. “Stop! You’ll kill him!”
Walter stepped in front and tried to pull Michael off, to no avail.
Michael beat Tommy’s face into a pulp. Tommy’s nose was clearly broken, a tooth chipped, and orifices leaking with blood.
Michael could feel his knuckles growing sore, so he stood up kicked Tommy in his chest, repeatedly. Michael could vaguely hear Mariah and Walter’s screams fading in the background.
Michael’s senses went black. He no longer had control of himself and continued to stomp Tommy into the ground until he felt himself being lifted away.
Sweating profusely, Michael started to regain his senses.
“Michael what the hell?” Mariah exclaimed.
Michael’s blurred vision began to sharpen and he could make out Tommy being pulled up by medical staff.
Michael glanced down at his hands, stretching them out. His knuckles were red and cut and stung of open wounds. His head was pounding and raced with thoughts of What did I just do?
“He’s unconscious. We’ve gotta get him in now.” An EMT shouted.
Shit what the hell happened?
Mariah facepalmed, tears forming in her eyes.
Walter took a deep breath and walked over to Mariah.
“It doesn’t look too good for him.” Walter said. He glanced at Michael, who looked up in utter disbelief. “Are you good, dude?”
Michael nodded, anger washing over his face from the memories of Walter just turning the other way when Tommy hit Mariah.
Mariah seemed to notice the exchange and reached over to grab Michael’s hand. She stroked his knuckles and signaled for Walter to go away.
As Walter turned his back toward them, Mariah scooted in towards Michael. She lifted his chin.
“Are you okay?”
Michael nodded.
“Good-” Her expression darkened. “Because you just ruined our lives.”