August 1st, 1998
John sat at his post, dozing off. It was nearly four in the morning, meaning it would be another hour until someone relieved him of his duty. He stood up to stretch then took a glance towards the main house. All of the lights were off, signalling that everyone inside was asleep.
He yawned as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. He was just about to fall asleep when he heard rustling and giggling. He peeked out of the window and saw Katherine with a tall, thin man. His mouth dropped as the man leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. Katherine laughed again and pushed him out of the gate.
“Call me when your flight lands.” She said, waving.
The man turned briefly to blow a kiss but John couldn't make out the man's face. Katherine stood there awhile longer before going back to her guest house.
Gotcha.
August 1st, 1998
“Ugh, you’ve gotta get this damn room clean, Mike. There’s so much shit everywhere.” Mariah said. She and Michael were putting the girls to bed in their cluttered nursery. Michael had been ‘cleaning’ it for the past few days.
“Don’t cuss-”
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Mariah demanded.
Michael grabbed Mariah’s hand and escorted her out of the nursery, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Mariah huffed. “Michael, I’m not playing with you. Figure out what stuff you’re gonna throw away so you can clean up. Their room shouldn’t look like a damn hurricane hit it.”
Michael sighed, his wife’s voice muffling in his mind while his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
I wonder if I can get Chris to come for my birthday. Hah. That guy’s hilarious. But I’d probably need to fly him out here. I think he’s doing a project...Rush Hour? Brett’s directing that one, I’m sure. I’ll probably go see that-
“Michael!”
Michael snapped back into reality. “Huh?”
“Are you listening to me?” Mariah shouted.
Michael put on a fake smile. “Yeah baby...that’s very nice.”
“What’s very nice?”
“What you said, I think it sounds great.” Michael replied.
Mariah folded her arms. “My brother possibly going to prison is ‘very nice’ to you?”
Michael frowned in confusion.
Prison? How the hell did we get on that?
“No...I mean...wait, can you remind me of the last thing you said? I was listening but then my ears went out.”
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “You ears went out, Michael?”
Michael nodded hastily. “Yeah.”
Mariah took a deep breath. “I was saying you need to get everything together around the house instead of having me deal with it all. I already have enough on my mind with Morgan possibly going to prison.”
Michael crossed his eyes, and was swiftly met with a smack on his hands. Michael giggled, backing away from his clearly irritated wife.
“Boy-”
“Listen, babe, we have nothing to worry about. Instead of driving me up the wall with cleaning up and the move and everything, let Fallon deal with it. That way you can relax too. All you need to do is lay back and take care of your uterus.” Michael explained.
“What?” Mariah responded.
“You know, just chill out. I don’t need you stressing out and stuff. You need to stay healthy for the next baby.”
“The next what?” She asked, incredulously.
“The next bab-”
“I heard what you said. Who said I’m having another kid?” She responded.
Michael pulled his head back and responded, “Uh...me.”
“Uh, how bout, ‘no’.” She said, giving him the ‘boy bye’ look.
“Wait, did you- I know- You cannot be serious right now. Did you think I wanted to stop after the twins?” He replied.
“I gave you two, that should be enough.” She scoffed.
Michael raised his eyebrow at her.
She rolled her eyes and pushed past him, but he grabbed her arm before she could leave.
“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.”
“What, Michael? Don’t act like you didn’t already know how I felt about more kids. I don’t even know why you’d even bring that up like it wasn’t hard enough for me with these two.” She exclaimed.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t hard, but the twins are seven months old. You’ve made a lot of progress--excuse me for thinking we could try for more.” He replied.
“Okay well I don’t wanna try for more.”
Michael’s mouth slowly dropped open. He loosened his grip on Mariah.
“Why would you even say that to me?”
Mariah frowned at her husband, and said, quietly, “I don’t know, same reason why you’d bring up more kids considering these two almost killed me.”
Michael let go of her arm. He could see where she was coming from but didn’t exactly understand how she could still feel that way given how much time has passed. So, he just stood there, staring into her cold eyes until she stormed away.
August 3rd, 1998
Michael was laying in bed with his daughters, the TV on cartoons. He was keeping a close eye on Nicole, who kept trying to crawl off the edge of the bed. Noelle was staying close to him and staring at the TV.
Ring.
Ring.
He huffed and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi Michael.” The voice belonged to John Branca, one of his lawyers.
“Branca. How are you?” Michael said as he picked up Nicole and brought her closer to the center of the bed.
“I'm good. How are you?”
Michael pulled Nicole back again. “Busy.”
Nicole screamed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
John chuckled. “I can tell.”
“What's going on now?” Michael asked.
John sighed. “Tommy wants to buy your catalog.”
Michael froze. “Um, what?”
Mariah came into the bedroom and picked up Nicole. Michael mouthed 'watch them’ before walking out of the room. “Can you repeat that?”
“We had a meeting and he wants the rest of ATV.”
Michael wiped his hand across his forehead. “What the fuck do you mean he wants my catalog? That’s my catalog Branca.”
“Michael, listen, listen! I know it’s yours. But this could help pay for your album.”
“I’ve never had an issue financing my albums.” Michael snapped.
“Okay and you never will if you accept-”
“Listen Branca, he’s trying to fuck with me. He wants to bleed me dry. He knows what my catalog is worth. Two billion Branca, billion with a ‘b’.” Michael exclaimed. “You’ve gotta get him off my back, man.”
“Michael, I’m just asking you to consider-”
“Consider what? This catalog generates over $300 million in revenue per year for me right now. He’d have to be talking money in the debt ceiling numbers to get me to sell it.” Michael went on. “See Branca, I own the largest publishing company in the world. There’s nothing anyone can do to make me sell it. Period.”
John sighed. “Alright Michael, I get it. I’ll see what I can do.”
“‘See what you can do?’ It’s my catalog. He can’t take the shit that I own.” Michael responded, flippantly.
“Well he can do other things to your career Michael. You keep forgetting that you still work for him. Your own music could also be at stake here. I know you really care about your masters ending up in the right hands.” John explained.
“He’s not touching my shit. I own Mijac. Nothing he can do about that.”
“Wrong. Sony still owns a lot of those songs, Michael.” John retorted.
Michael took a deep breath. “Branca, do whatever it takes to keep my money in tact. There’ll be a big reward for you.”
Michael could hear John smile through the phone.
“You know I will--but I can’t make any promises.”
August 7th, 1998
“Nicole, hold still.”
Since Nicole learned how to crawl the seven month old couldn't stay still for a second, which made changing diapers a lot more difficult.
“Need some help?”
He glanced up at Mariah. “Please.”
Mariah walked over and held Nicole while he strapped the diaper on. Mariah picked up Nicole as Michael picked up Noelle out of her swing.
“So I was talking to Morgan this morning and-”
Michael shook his head, holding his palm up to his wife. “I don't even wanna know, okay?”
Mariah nodded and followed him downstairs to the lower level of the master suite.
Michael handed Noelle off to Mariah and laid a blanket on the floor. Mariah put the girls on the blanket and almost immediately Nicole started crawling in Michael's direction.
“Oh! Hey baby.” Michael said, a large grin forming on his face.
Mariah smiled and laid down on the floor, acting as a barrier between the girls and the rest of the room.
Noelle had finally learned to crawl as well but she was off to a struggling start. She constantly looked as if she had no idea where she was going.
“Noni, you gonna come over to mommy, now?” Mariah asked, trying to get Noelle’s attention.
Noelle didn’t even look at Mariah. Instead, she took one little knee toward Michael and Nicole. She kept crawling until-
“Noelle!” Mariah shouted. “Come to mommy, baby.”
Noelle stopped and twisted her head around the room. Michael, scooping Nicole up, looked on at her.
“Noni, did you hear mommy?” Michael asked.
Noelle swung her head back over to Michael. She looked as if she was trying to focus on him.
Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “Why does she keep doing that?”
“Yeah, I noticed that too. She’s been doing that awhile now.”
“Noni, come here.” Michael demanded, putting Nicole back down.
Noelle leaned toward him and began crawling--almost in a stammer.
“I’ve never seen a child who couldn’t crawl in a straight line. Noni you drunk?” Michael said.
Nicole looked up at her dad, grimaced, and smacked his leg.
“She been drinking that Jesus Juice.” Mariah joked, tossing Noelle’s bottle over to her.
Michael cackled. “That’s so funny.”
Noelle started laughing too, though it was impossible that she understood what was being said.
“What you laughing for baby?” Mariah asked.
Noelle just cheesed harder, exposing her two tiny front teeth. She soon went for her bottle but
Michael shifted near her, confiscating it. “Okay baby, you can get your milk when you go to mommy.”
Noelle frowned and sat upright.
“Noni! Come here!” Mariah shouted.
Noelle, kept looking around trying to see what she was crawling toward.
“Mimi, I don’t think she can really see that well.” Michael noted.
Mariah glanced up at him before trying again. “Noni, can you see mommy?”
Noelle squinted in Mariah’s direction.
“See, she’s trying to see you.” Michael said. “Maybe we should take her to the doctor.”
Mariah nodded, concern washing over her face.
“I’ll make the appointment.”
August 12th, 1998
Michael was holding Noelle on his lap as the doctor looked down on the clipboard. “Well, after looking at Noelle's eyes I've got a diagnosis.”
Mariah and Michael both leaned forward.
“What's wrong with her?” Mariah asked.
“It appears that she has astigmatism.” The optometrist informed. “She'll have to wear glasses.”
They both nodded slowly as the doctor wrote out a prescription for Noelle and handed it to Michael.
“Take that out front and there should be someone out there to help you all.”
Michael glanced down at Noelle.
“Alright baby girl, time to find you some glasses.”