April 4th, 2001
Mariah was sitting in her bed writing another song for her soundtrack when her phone started ringing.
Ring.
Ring.
She rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hello, Mariah.”
Mariah leaned back against the headboard. “What's up, Louise?”
“Well, I just got done talking to the execs at Sony.” Louise started. “Mariah, you've gotta figure something out. Mottola is getting sick of your shit, and they're not paying for these studio damages.”
Mariah looked down at her nails, uninterested in what Louise had to say.
“Uh huh.”
“Mariah, I'm serious. You can't be having these little diva fits or whatever the hell you did. You of all people know that people in this business talk.” Louise snapped.
“I know Louise.” Mariah replied, monotone.
“Then who's gonna be paying these damages, Mariah? Huh? Are you losing your mind or what?”
Mariah contemplated setting the phone down until Louise got done with her rant, but kept the phone up to her ear.
“Louise, I'll pay for everything. Don't worry about it.”
“Oh, I'm not worried, but you should be before you find your ass out of a contract.” Louise spat.
Mariah glared into the phone. “Who the hell do you think you're talking to? You work for me and if you were doing your job, I wouldn't have anything to worry about. So do I need to find a new manager or what?”
“Oh I do my job very well.” Louise shot back. “That's why I've been negotiating you a new contract with a new label.”
Mariah was taken aback. “With who?”
Louise seemed smug. “Virgin. They're even willing to buy you out.”
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “Louise, I- when did you do all of this?”
“I had no choice after all of the bullshit with Rainbow and this album. So you're gonna do it right?” Louise asked.
Mariah bit her lip. “I have to think about it.”
“I don't know what you have to think about. You can't stay with Sony and if you let this deal fall through I don't know what to tell you.” Louise said.
Mariah hesitated. “I just wanna talk to Michael about it before I do anything.”
“Will you at least come to the meeting?” Louise asked.
Mariah nodded as though Louise could see her.
“Yeah, I'll be there.”
April 14th, 2001
Mariah, Michael, and the girls were at Morgan's apartment for a dinner party. Morgan sat at the head of the table, an unknown woman at the other end was smiling from ear to ear.
“So I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Giuliana.” Morgan started.
Mariah looked the woman up and down and gave a confused smile. “Hello.”
“Giuliana, this is my sister Mariah and her husband Michael.” Morgan continued.
Giuliana giggled. “I know who they are.”
The woman had a heavy accent and Michael assumed that she was from Europe.
Michael gave an awkward grin. “Nice to meet you.”
Morgan cleared his throat. “So I invited you guys here because I have something really important to tell you.”
Mariah furrowed her eyebrows. “What's up?”
“Well…” Morgan shot his eyes at his girlfriend, then back at Mariah. “I've been planning a move to Italy.”
Mariah's jaw dropped. “You're what?”
Michael smiled with genuine glee, he hadn’t been Morgan’s biggest fan lately anyway. “I'm happy for you.”
“Thanks Mike.” Morgan turned to Mariah. “Now Mariah, I know you weren't expecting this but-”
Mariah deadpanned. “It's fine. I'm happy for you.”
Michael could tell she was upset by the announcement, but she held her head down, picking at the pasta on her plate. Michael looked down at his own plate and grimaced at what was supposed to be chicken parmesan.
“So what part of Italy are you moving to?” Michael asked.
Giuliana answered. “We're moving to Sardinia. It's one of the islands off the mainland.”
“That's nice.” Michael glanced at Mariah. “Baby, isn’t that nice?”
No answer.
To the side of him, he noticed Noelle gain the courage to eat her food.
“Is it good, baby?” He asked as she went in for a second bite.
Noelle nodded, awkwardly sloshing the food around in her mouth. “It's good.”
He chuckled as Nicole made a disgusted face at her twin. Elizabeth watched her older sister then went for her own food. She took a small bite out of her chicken parm patty before quickly spitting it out on the floor.
“Lizzie!” Mariah shouted. “Stop that!”
Elizabeth ran her hands down her tongue, trying to make sure every bit of the nasty chicken was out of her mouth.
Michael suppressed a chuckle.
“Elizabeth Whitney Jackson!” Mariah shouted.
Really Mariah...very childish.
“Her middle name is Katherine, babe.” Michael said, nonchalantly.
“Not anymore it’s not! My baby is not walking around with your other child’s middle name.”
Michael could see Morgan flash his eyebrows in his periphery.
“Mari-”
“Lizzie!” She shouted, as her daughter pushed the plate off the table--cracking the plastic.
Cheap ass IKEA dishes…
“What did I tell you!” Mariah screamed, grabbing the eighteen month old by her collar.
Michael went for Mariah’s wrist, unhanding Elizabeth for her.
“What are you doing! Let go!”
“Mariah, you need to calm down!” Michael explained. “You promised: no more whoopings!”
“She trying my patience, Michael.”
Michael’s eyebrows shot straight in the air. “And you’re trying mine!”
“Hey!” Morgan exclaimed. “None of that!”
No one asked you though…
Michael loosened his hand from Mariah’s wrist, choosing to ignore his brother-in-law.
“Mariah, just leave it alone-”
“You’re babying her, Michael!” Mariah interjected.
Michael took a stark look down at his daughter. She stood about 22 inches tall, with a face only angels could mimic.
“Maybe because she is a baby?” Michael retorted.
Mariah forced a breath out of her nose and snatched her clutch off the table.
“You know what, do whatever the fuck you want Michael, I don’t give a damn! When she starts running all over you, don’t come crying to me!”
Michael flashed his eyebrows--his lips pursed together.
“Whatever, Mariah…”
“What was that?” Mariah shouted, stepping right over the threshold of the apartment door.
Michael rolled his eyes.
“Nothing.”
April 21st, 2001
Janet Arvizo sat in her robe in the middle of Michael and Mariah’s second story bed. She’d been sleeping there the past few nights and preferred the feeling of her nude skin against the fluffy egyptian cotton sheets on that bed.
She rolled over and slid off her robe. She spread her legs open wide to let the fresh air hit her vulva.
A large grin graced her face.
This feels amazing.
She lowered her legs and sat up off the bed. Across from the bed stood a floor fan--she figured Michael likely used it to help him breath better at night.
She flipped on the fan then climbed back on the bed--this time on all fours. She let the breeze of the fan brisk through her buttcheeks, each hair inside her crack receiving equal attention.
Hmph.
Janet plopped down on the bed. As she went down, her rock hard nipples pained by the impact.
“Shit!” She cried, quickly slapping her hands over her mouth. She laid in the middle of the bed for a moment, like a starfish stuck to the side of a fishtank, recovering from her painful ‘injury’.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she searched for a calm place inside her head.
Ay-ay-ay. What would I do without this? She thought. The past year had been hectic for her family--moving in and out of houses and hospitals, all across Southern California. She was lucky to have struck gold with Michael Jackson, someone who truly cared for her son and had the means to take care of all the Arvizos. In many ways, she admired the man. The way he took care of his own, and raised his children to be kind and loving people, she wished she could be like that.
Janet rubbed her dry eyes, wondering about how different her life would’ve been if she’d been born a Jackson.
Instead of Janet, it’d be me up there on those stages making out with all those hot guys.
She smiled to herself as she painted her own face over Michael’s youngest sister’s just to make the vision more real.
And I know she’s a freak...getting up there to ride on those guys. Hell, he’s a freak too from the sound of it. She thought of Janet and Michael.
She licked her lips.
I wonder what kind of shit he’s into. He seems like the voyeuristic type...just watching me while I fuck myself.
She pulled back. “Wait a minute…”
She jumped off the bed and went to find Michael’s camcorder. She’d seen it in his cabinet near the staircase the day before during her daily rummaging and thought that now would be the perfect time for her to properly proposition herself.
She grabbed the camcorder out of cabinet and quickly turned it on. She sat it down near the foot of the bed and flipped over to assume her position directly in front of it.
“Hi Michael.” She said, seductively. “I’m gonna make you a little video.” She slowly parted her legs--revealing herself to the camera.
“I know the way you look at me. But this time, just imagine me not as me, but as you.” She explained.
She stuck her index finger into her mouth and sucked it until she felt it ready. She slowly slid it in and out of her vagina, making unnecessarily loud noises each time.
“You like that baby?” She asked the camera, pretending it was him.
She went at it for a little while longer, but soon she’d run out of drive.
“Oh shit baby, I’m gonna need a little something to turn me on.”
She grimaced into the camera before opening his nightstand drawer and pulling out magazine upon magazine of x-rated material.
“Woah, baby…” She said, looking into the camcorder. “What is this?”
She opened up a manila file folder to reveal dozens of ripped out magazine pages featuring women of all sizes and shapes in various sexually explicit poses. Her eyes scanned each image until she stumbled upon one that looked oddly different from the rest--a presumably afro-latina BBW sucking her own nipples.
I see he doesn’t discriminate.
She chuckled to herself before closing the folder and picking up one of the hardcore magazines. She flipped through the pages until she found images of two women having a threesome with a stud of a man. Ironically, the magazine looked brand new, though it was from about four years ago.
She slid her fingers over the top of her pubic mound and inside of herself. She jilled into herself whilst flipping through the scene in the magazine before her. She went until-
Beep.
The camera suddenly shut off.
“Shit!”
She shot up off the bed and went searching for batteries--to no avail.
Upset at the fact that her show was cut short, Janet tossed the magazine back into the nightstand haphazardly. She slid her robe over her shoulders and made her way toward the staircase.
Wait-
It occurred to her that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave the room as it were. She never knew when Michael was coming back and figured it might be a smart idea to clean her fingerprints off the magazines. The problem was: she couldn’t clean them without wetting them.
Clank!
She hurled an empty wine glass that sat on the nightstand at the wall. Her frustration grew inside her and she felt like punishing herself for such a dumb move.
“Mom?” Gavin shouted from downstairs. “What’s going on?”
Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in her head. Janet grabbed the magazine out of the nightstand and ran downstairs with it. She zoomed past her son and into the living room area where he’d been sleeping. She placed the magazine in plain sight, with the hopes of her sons’ curiosity drawing at least one of them to it.
With their fingerprints obscuring her own, she’d have nothing to worry about.
April 25th, 2001
Mariah adjusted her clothes as she followed Louise and her lawyer, Donald Passman, towards the boardroom at Virgin Records HQ. Just as they reached the door, Louise turned back to her.
“Okay, now when we go in here you behave. Got it?” Louise said.
Mariah pursed her lips. “I'm not a little kid, Louise.”
Louise sighed and opened the door for Mariah and Donald. There were two executives in the room.
“Ms. Carey or is it Mrs. Jackson?” The first, an older man, said as he shook her hand.
“Either or is fine.” Mariah replied with a smile.
“Alright, I'm Ken and this is Nancy.” He continued, gesturing to the woman beside him.
Nancy shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mariah. Shall we take a seat?”
Mariah sat down at the table with Louise and Donald. She listened as the two sides went back and forth deliberating over royalties, promotional monies, and other legal matters that she failed to understand.
I really didn't need to be here.
She assumed Louise brought her along to make it easier to convince her to sign with the new label.
“So we can offer eighty million in addition to buying out the contract.” Ken explained.
Donald shook his head. “We want one hundred and twenty million.”
Mariah flashed her brows. This guy is good.
“How about one hundred million?” Nancy offered. “That's all we can offer.”
Donald nodded. “One hundred million sounds good. How does that sound to you, Mariah?”
“That sounds perfect.” Mariah grinned.
Ken leaned forward. “So do we have ourselves a deal?”
Mariah smirked.
“We have a deal.”
May 7th, 2001
“I like her.” Randy noted, pointing toward a Brazilian dancer performing underground routines.
Michael and Marlon side-eyed him simultaneously.
“Do you like her dancing or do you like her body?” Marlon asked.
“Can I have both?” Randy questioned. “Let me live!”
Michael shook his head, turning his attention back toward the stage where fifteen female dancers were auditioning for parts in Michael’s upcoming concert show extravaganza, featuring his brothers.
He folded his arms, his eyes scanning the room for near perfection.
“What about her?” Marlon asked, pointing to a short and stout, but mighty dancer. The girl couldn’t have been much taller than 5’2’, and she was a bit rough around the edges. Michael figured she was more attuned to rock music then the classic R&B sound he was going for on his forthcoming album.
Michael grimaced, not wanting to openly disagree in front of the young lady. He shot his eyes down to the ground. It was only two months until he had to execute the idea he’d had in mind for the concerts, and he still hadn’t found the right leading lady for the “You Rock My World” segment on the set.
“Alright, can we break?” He said, looking toward Frank and his choreographer, Travis.
“Alright ladies, we’re gonna take five. MJ needs a few minutes to think over his final decisions.”
Michael leaned back into his chair, balancing himself on the table in front of him. The men to his right were discussing finalists for the auditions, whilst he was lost in his own world.
“Mike!” Marlon shouted.
Michael wiped his tired eyes. “What- What’s up?”
“We need you, man! What was you thinkin?” Marlon asked.
Michael shook his head. “Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like-, I wanna be here but I shouldn’t. I should be home with my wife. She’s not feeling too well lately.” He explained.
Marlon furrowed his eyebrows. “In the head or…?”
Michael shrugged.
“I mean...y’all kids was talkin to dead people. That got her shook.” Randy replied.
“Yeah but they’ve been doing so much better since we moved out here. I honestly think it’s this Janet Arvizo lady that’s driving her crazy. I mean- Mariah’s been beating on our kids. I told her I didn’t like that but there’s nothing I can say to her. She just gets blinded with rage. And I thought the therapy helped but then some stuff came out about Ros- Uh- She- Basically, she’s just been acting really crazy lately and I don’t know what’s going on. Half the time I don’t even wanna be around her because I don’t want her to go crazy on me.”
The other men seemed taken aback.
“That’s a lot heavier then I thought it’d be.” Travis replied.
“Imagine how I feel. I have to live with it. And then she goes and destroys property and her behavior is getting worse and worse. She’s gonna end up in prison if she doesn’t stop.” Michael explained.
“Well- Listen, man, you need to get your mind off of all of that. Just focus on your work. Things’ll workout with Mariah.” Marlon replied.
Michael took a deep breath, glancing lazily at the stage of unassuming women. He immediately noticed that all eyes were dancing around him, all the girls seemed worked up about his decision and getting to work with him. All except one…
Michael tilted his head to the right to point it at a quiet young lady in the corner. The short, brown-skinned beauty stayed all to herself during the break. Unlike her colleagues, she seemed consumed with her art. She was stretching and practicing moves while the other girls were more preoccupied with the job for the sake of the job.
“Her.” He started. “Who is she?”
Michael was blown away by her focus. She reminded him of himself at his Motown audition thirty three long years before.
“You like her?” Randy asked. “She ain’t really nothin’ special.”
“Take another look.” Michael quipped.
Randy, taking the hint, zipped his lips.
Michael pointed his eyes at Frank. “What’s her name, man? Hurry up, I’m getting impatient.”
“Her name is...Ms. Adams?”
“Ms. Adams?” Michael questioned.
“Yes- Actually, Karrin.”
“Karrin? Which is it Frank?”
“Her first name’s Karrin- It’s Karrin.” Frank clarified.
“Alright.” Michael stood from his chair and cupped his mouth. “Ms. Adams!”
The young lady looked up from stretching.
“Ms. Adams, come here!”
She came dashing over to Michael, clearly anticipating his next words.
When she finally made it across the giant stage, Michael extended a hand to her--his face forcing a smile.
“Karrin?” He asked.
She nodded eagerly.
“You’ve got the part. You’re my new lead.”