"What have I told you about tears?!" He screeches, storming into the waiting room.
I hiccup quietly, trying to look him in the eye through blurred vision.
"Speak! I know you can hear me Jesse!" He snaps, his voice booming in my face.
"I-I'm sorry. I-I thought I could win" I whimper through hiccups.
"Jesse..." He sighs, actually seemingly calmer.
"I know you worked hard, but working hard won't be enough. You have to eat, sleep, and breathe dedication for dance. That's why I'm hard on you because the world will be much more gruesome." He reasons, gently lifting my chin.
"I'm proud of you. I am. Keep that chin up princess" He smiles, wiping my lone tears from my cheek.
Finding a clearer vision, I manage a smile.
For the first time, I feel as if I won. Never has he been so genuine, it makes me want to work all the more, just to have another moment like this.
My first father daughter moment.
Relapsing from the pleasant memory, I lightly pat my forehead with my hand towel. I have been working with Mister Sanchez as an official member of his assemble. I've been practicing nonstop on every step, every turn, every pose. I work it until it's perfect. That's what I was taught as a young girl.
My father was harsh with words. He could snatch the smile off your face and step on your pride, like an helpless ant against the shoe of an human. He'd bagger me about missing the slightest step, not hitting target as I should."That step could cause you your career Jesse! Do it again!" He'd screech from the other side of the studio.
My father may have been cruel with words, and even sometimes wrong in direction, but he taught me so much. He taught me the ways of a strong dancer. Not only how to be a strong dancer physically, but mentally and emotionally.
"You have to feel the music in order to convince your audience. If you are faking it, they will know" He would warn, if I claimed defeat. The hardest thing about my relationship with my father, was that he will never see his words reign through my success.
"Jess? Jess?" Michael shouts in my ear, shaking me violently.
Lifting my head from my passenger window, I glance around the limo in confusion.
"You kind of blanked out, during your rehearsals, so Mister Sanchez called for Bill to come pick you up. I was worried, so I tagged along. Are you alright?" He asks, stroking a piece of my hair back into my bun.
"Y-Yeah I'm fine. I fainted? I don't even remember that" I sigh, rubbing my temples.
"Well according to Mister Sanchez, you were blanking out a lot, until you actually just didn't respond. Are you sure you're okay? You know I can call a doctor in a matter of seconds" Michael apprehensively offers.
"Yes. I'm fine babe. Really" I convince honestly.
"So where are we on route to?" I ask, before he could protest my answer.
Leaning back into the cushions of the limo, he runs a pair of hands through his curly locks.
"Frank Dileo called earlier. He wants to talk business"
"So why am I going?" I question, removing my pointe shoes.
"Because you will be my sanity. I get real frustrated in these meetings. Plus, Frank likes you, so he will play nice" He reasons, stealing my hands.
"But I'm all sweaty..." I whine, poking my lip out like a defiant child.
"If it means anything, you still are very attractive. Even sweaty and a bit stinky" He teases, pecking my lips.
I screw up my face in playful anger, only to burst into a roarous laughter. Michael eventually joins in, after fighting it for awhile. This is what I love about being around him. We can giggle and laugh like children, have long talk about what ever is on our mind and have sweet sensual moments that leave us in desire for each other.
Soon enough we arrive at Frank Dileo's main office; in uptown New York. I have actually never visited Mister Dileo's main office. I've never visited his main office, because Michael ordinarily has his meeting in an rented recording in West-lake Los Angeles, California. That is also where the magic of his chart topping album Thriller was born.
"Hello Mister Jackson and Mister Jackson's guest" A man with the name tag,Oscar greeted us as we entered the rather large establishment.
"Oh you must be new... Oscar. This is my girl, Jesse Rose" Michael introduces me, grinning from ear to ear.
The mans eyes bulge for a split second before he clears his throat for correction.
"Oh. My apologies Miss Rose..." He smiles, fully embarrassed to have insulted Michael and I.
"That's fine. Nice to meet you too Oscar" I return his smile.
Oscar nods and apologizes once again for the confusion before proceeding to escort us to Mister Dileo's office. On our walk to Mister Dileo's office, Michael and I were met by a couple of confused and bewildered stares. Michael would only continue smiling, squeezing my hand for support as we were unfazed by the stares.
When we finally reach Mister Dileo's office, Bill enters first to search the room for any bugs. Bugs being secret cameras, microphones, or anything else that can be used against Michael for any reason. It's not that Michael Doesn't trust his own manager, it's just you can never be too safe and cautious. You wouldn't imagine how many people Michael thought he could trust, stabbed him in the back.
"All clear Mike" Bill informs, allowing us entry.
Upon entering the smell of a lit cigar instantaneously hits my nostrils, making me wheeze a bit in response. I am well aware that Mister Dileo is quite fond of cigars, but Michael usually warns him if comes to visit, so that I wouldn't have to bare the smell.
"Frank really?!" Michael hisses, waving at the smoke.
Mister Dileo, who had his feet propped up on his desk, while he leaned back smoking pleasurably, quickly leans back up, smudging out the cigar.
"My bad Mike. You know you have to warn me before you come...Damn" He sighs, switching on his mini rotating fan.
"Do you want to stand outside for a bit?" Michael offers, turning to me.
I shake my head, no.
"I'm fine" I assure him, stealing a spot in one of Mister Dileo's office chairs, closest to the window.
Still a little concerned, Michael gives Mister Dileo a look, before taking the next chair beside.
We all sit in an long awkward silence before Mister Dileo decides to break the ice. Standing up he sort of wobbles over to Michael and I. Mister Dileo is a rather heavy set, short Italian man. He has a tough guy persona, which is useful because most demean him over his height. Oppose to what many have said about him being rude and inappropriate at times, I actually like Mister Dileo.
"So you're Michael's official PYT?" He chuckles through his heavy, nasal breathing.
I feel my cheeks instantaneously began to warm, as I avoid Michael's goofy smile before answering.
"Yes, we can now go out in public"
"Yes, It's about damn time. I told Michael you might leave his ass if he didn't hurry and stop being a wuss" Frank chuckles at his own joke in the recollection.
"Frank! Jesus, your mouth. Can you just tell me why I'm here please?" Michael rolls his eyes.
I find it adorable when Michael is annoyed, for good reasons. The way his nose crinkles and he bites down on his bottom lip, is befitting in attractiveness. Michael is just naturally quite attractive.
Putting his palms up in surrender, Mister Dileo, opens a folder on his desks and passes it to Bill, who transports it into Michael's hands.
"Whats this?" Michael asks, not even scanning over the fold or it;s content.
"I don't know if you want to talk in front of your lady here, but that's a receipt for the royalties you recently purchased. I think Pau is a ittle pissed you outbid him"
Michael nods knowingly then shrugs.
"I mean I bought them fair and square, I even offered to go half and half with him, he turned me down and said I could have it. He shouldn't be angry..." Michael tries to solve the situation, thinking aloud.
"Well Mister McCarthey, is whining like a little bi- Um, like a little kid. But, at least you got your song"
Michael's face lights up, his apple red, flannel ruffling as he quickly hops up from his sit in elation.
"I have Come Together?!" He squeals like a small child.
Mister Dileo's laughter flucks up an octave at Michael's resemblance to a small child receiving candy before dinner.
"Yes. It's yours"
Michael falls silent as he squints his eyes Mister Dileo.
"You're not pranking me are you?" He interrogates.
Mister Dileo places his right hand of his breast pocket and his left, midway in the air.
"I swear on David's angels. The entire Beatles catalog, including the single Come Together, rightfully belongs to Michael Joseph Jackson. It's all in the folder"
Calming down Michael retrieve his seat. I glance between the two in complete and utter confusion. I never understood Michael's music talk. I just understand when music talks.
"I just have the rights to the Beatles musical catalog. I basically earn money from any media usage of the following songs I have in the catalog" Michael explains in layman terms.
I nod, blushing at my own lack of knowledge.
"Now onto the real reason I brought you here Mike..." Mister Dileo lulls, clapping his meaty hands together.
"In less than a month you are going to be releasing Bad. In less than a year, you will begin the first leg of you international tour. My question to you Mike, is what are you planning in the mean time. Should I start booking events?"
By the look on Michael's face, I know he is regretting the next few months. It will mean that he will go back into his old stressful days and sleepless nights. It will also mean, less time for us to be together. He has stressed to me that his upcoming album and the tour following will not take his attention away from me. I only retorted that I understood his preposition. I would hopefully like to be busy with Art Thou A Flower.
"Mike... Come on. You knew this was going to happen. Don't get all soft on me now. So tell me whats on your mind" Frank pushes for an answer.
"I just don't want to go through what I went through with the ticket mishap that happened during the last tour with my brothers. Frank, that can't happen again. I also want to be in control of the interviews and the amount of questions. I know there will be a lot of them. As for events, we will have to see along the way. Everything else, I'm sure you can handle" Michael pans out, gesturing his words with his hands.
"Alright boss man. You have my word that everything will be done according to your wishes. Next meeting, you two better not come in here talking about getting hitched and moving to Africa or something" Mister Dileo harmlessly jokes.
I glance at Michael, who seemingly doesn't find Mister Dileo's last funny comical. Standing up from his chair, he silently exits the office. I stand up as well, forcing a smile.
"Nice seeing you again Mister Dileo" I speak softly.
He nods, still dumbfounded by Michael's reaction to his, fairly unamusing joke.
Slipping out of the office, I can hear Mister Dileo questioning Bill about Michael. Wanting to check on Michael, I drown out the remainder of the gentleman's conversation and jog over to Michael who was walking behind Rafael.
"Michael? Baby, don't let it get to you" I soothe, gently grabbing his wrist.
He pauses in his tracks and turns to me.
"Why does everyone have to make a mockery of me? I make one mistake and people won't let me live it down. First Bill and Now Frank!" He snaps, retrieving hand and proceeding to walk out into the lobby of the office.
"Let him breathe. You know how sensitive he can be. Let him blow off the steam" Bill suggests, patting my shoulder briefly, before gently pushing me onward.
Just when I thought Michael was beginning to open open up to, he isolates himself further, once again shielding his true emotions...
To Be Continued...