1991. Los Angeles. Moonlit hours on a summer night.
I leaned in the doorway of my sister's apartment and played with my nails as she rambled on about one of her boyfriends. I came here to quickly drop off some medicine for her sick behind and 15 minutes later, I'm officially trapped, listening to her drama. Usually I wouldn't mind, but I was hungry. I slid my right leg up on the door. I have no idea what she's saying at this point. All I can think about is what I'm going to eat when I get home.
"And, girl, let me tell you what this no-good-big bird bitch—"
Sighing, I had to cut her off. "Ky Ky, I really have to go," I said raising my back off the door. "I hope you feel better, okay?"
"You know, I wish you cared a little more," she said, hand on the hip, neck rolling, nose all red and snorting. "You suck."
"I just dropped you off some damn medicine," I laughed. "Love you, Rudolph."
"Ari?" She was calling for me but I was not stopping my legs from reaching my car in the lot. I spun around and blew her a kiss. "You really gonna leave?"
"Love you!"
My growling tummy had me speeding. And I've always been the type to stay in the right lane but I had some fried chicken, greens and potato salad sitting in the fridge. My mommy dropped off the plate just that morning and her leftovers always hit the spot.
Closer to my neighborhood, I had to drive down these long, windy roads that were always empty so I didn't see any harm pushing 20 over the speed limit. It was too late for kids to be out playing so I paid no mind to the "drive like your kids live here" signs. But still, just thinking about parking and settling in and heating the food, my hungry butt started reaching in the glove compartment for a snack bag of pretzels.
Naturally, my eyes glanced over to my wandering hand and BAM, in that small moment of desperation, I almost die. Someone crashed into my passenger side and my head thrashed into the dashboard on impact.
Thank God my little red Mazda didn't flip or anything but I was frozen in shock. As I sat there, pressing my hands against the pounding of my heart, I saw the banged up culprit drive away. But I couldn't turn mad. I was still assessing that I was still alive.
After a minute or so, I was able to safely park on the side of the road in the grass. I then unbuckled my seatbelt and got out to see the damage. It wasn't as bad as it felt. Everything was still intact but the passenger door of my coupe was caved in.
The roads were pretty dark, thanks to the scanty and dim streetlamps, actually kind of creepy. But I was still catching my breath and too shaky to drive. I just leaned on the car and took deep breaths, trying to find my center again.
Headlights were coming around the corner, and I was hoping whomever wouldn't stop and try to help. I was too paranoid for that. But the car reached as I was opening my driver door, and I stopped and stared when I noticed the other car was all beat up. It did a U-turn and parked in the grass behind me, then a tall bald guy in a dress shirt and slacks stumbled out.
"Listen, are you okay?" he asked.
"You did this?"
"No, you did that," he said, having the nerve to point his finger at me. "I was pulling out at the stop sign and you came flying outta nowhere! I just'a cames back t'see if yous were okay and going to, to get your insurance info so you can pay for my car's damaged."
I rolled my eyes. This dude was definitely drunk.
"You do got insurance right!?"
"Yes, of course I do! But this isn't my fault! I'm calling the police!" I opened my car door and leaned in, looking for my cell, ignoring whatever he had to say. Off the floor, I grabbed my new Motorola flip phone, '91's best one out. I stood outside ready to make the call but before I could even flip the phone open, another tall man in all black stepped out from the backseat.
"Wait, Miss, please don't."
I frowned towards him and his getup of a fedora and sunglasses. The car lights shined brightly behind him, and I couldn't see his face as clear as I knew he could see mine. But this whole thing was getting weirder.
"Mike, its fine," dress-shirt-and-slacks said pulling out his phone, which happened to be the same as mine. "I'll call the cops too."
The mysterious man said something to his fidgety friend that I couldn't hear. But whatever he said made him put his phone down and walk back to the car to wait inside.
The man started walking closer to me and removed his shades, and once again, I almost died.
Laughing to myself, I walked around the front of my car and perched myself on the hood. I'm not even 100% sure why the sight of him made me weaker than the car crash did. I didn't obsess over Michael Jackson like my sister but still—it was him. It was really him, Michael Jackson, who came up to me and cupped my hand in between his, sending a million and one chills to scatter over every inch of me.
"Hi, I'm Michael," he smiled.
Smiling back, I looked at him like he was crazy. "I know who you are..."
"I did this too?" His eyes and thumb were on my forehead now. "You're cut."
"I am?" I only felt the sting once I touched it.
"I'm very sorry about this," he said. "I honestly was the one driving. I should've seen how fast you were coming."
"It's fine. It's my fault actually. I'm sorry." I was already taking the blame. I think he knew what he was doing and that it was working.
He put both hands inside his pant pockets. "Can we make a deal?"
My brow raised, anticipating his offer.
"I'd like to give you money to pay for the repairs and then we can forget this whole thing happened. Of course, you don't have to worry about my car either. If you need to go to the doctor, I'll take care of that too."
Ugh. His smile was killing me.
"Sounds good?"
And he smelled nice too, like a man you'd steal a t-shirt from so you can wrap yourself in his scent when he goes away.
"Please?"
"Yes," I said shaking away kooky thoughts.
"Thank you. I can't let anyone know about this. It's complicated," he said, brushing a curl out of his line of sight. "You won't tell anyone right?"
Is this what it feels like to be starstruck?
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked with a small laugh.
"Yes," I nodded. "Sorry. I hit my head on the dashboard and I'm starting to feel it now, that's all."
"God, I feel terrible," he said holding his cheeks. "I am so sorry."
"It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention."
"No, don't blame yourself. Please, let me take you home or wherever you need to go."
"No, no, I'm okay," I said standing up now. But I was feeling a little unstable so I was still leaning on the car as I made my way back to the driver door, which Michael kindly opened for me. But to my surprise, he leaned in and took the key out of the ignition. "What are you doing?" I smiled.
"You can't drive like this."
"I can't just leave my car here either."
"I'll have a tow truck come get it. I promise."
"I'm only like two-three minutes from home."
"No, I've caused you enough trouble tonight—Kayah?" he questioned, lifting the gold-plated name hanging over my chest.
My heart reacted violently; so fast he could probably feel it. He let it fall back over my shirt. I couldn't hide the hard swallow I took. "Okay," I said.
I got a few things from the car before Michael chauffeured me to ride shotgun in his. The friend was laid out in the back. "He's drunk, if you haven't noticed yet," Michael said. He shut me inside and jogged around to get behind the wheel.
When the engine turned on, I felt my legs tense up. I couldn't believe I was in a car with Michael Jackson with some drunk guy in the back passed out. Looking, I asked, "Is he okay?"
"He'll be fine." Michael smoothly pulled off.
"I didn't know you drive," I said trying to make conversation. I didn't know what to say but I wanted to take advantage of the moment and talk about something.
"I haven't driven in a while actually. I just was forced to because of him...I turn right here?" he asked, unwrapping a piece of bubblegum he got from his pocket.
"Yes." He was looking at the road so I let my eyes spy on him. I was enjoying the way he chewed his gum, and the way he handled the stick.
"Would you like a piece?" He stretched his arm over to me and it accidently hit my lap. "Ooh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay." I grabbed a piece. "Thank you."
He put the pack back in his pocket. "This was my first car accident."
"Mine too."
"I'm such an idiot. I'm very sorry again."
"It's been an honor for you to hit my car." OMG, Ari. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. How crazy did that sound?
He just softly laughed which made me feel even more embarrassed.
"What kind of car is this?" I asked.
"Ferrari."
"Oooh. Fancy. I promise I won't tell anyone though about tonight."
"Thank you. I just don't want it getting out, you know? Enough crap is said about me."
"Yeah, I feel you." And thinking about all the stuff people did say about him, it popped a lot of questions in my head, especially about his wife Leila, the one-hit-wonder he married in '89. Everyone thought she'd for sure blow up then but every song she put out after was a miss rather than a hit. Really pretty lady though...
Michael hardly did interviews so this moment was golden. I had his full attention for the next minute or so. So why not be nosey? "So, I heard Leila is pregnant."
"Who said that?"
"People."
He snickered and held a smile. "She's not pregnant," he said gently.
"Do you want kids?"
"Of course," he said proudly. "But we're too busy with our careers right now."
"What exactly has she been up to?"
"She's working on her third album. Is this your street?" he asked making a turn.
My house was closer than I thought. "Yeah," I said holding back my pout. "My place is that white one over there," I said pointing.
"Do you live alone?"
"Yes, why?"
"I'm sorry. I have to use the bathroom really bad and I can't hold it anymore," he said sounding embarrassed.
"Aww, that's fine," I laughed.
He pulled up in my driveway. After locking his friend in the car, Michael followed me to my front door.
"I promise I won't steal anything," he said laughing.
"That never ran across my mind." I opened the door with the biggest stupidest smile on my face and led him to the bathroom. It was just straight back to the right. I lived in a cute little two bedroom, two bath one-story.
I turned the light on for him and he said thank you.
I went to my room and ran straight to my mirror, took out my messy bun and started combing my relaxed hair. The new red mark on my forehead was throbbing but instead of attending to it, I was putting on lip gloss. I guess deep down in my vagina I did want him to stay. But then I had to stop and question myself. What the hell are you doing? I was definitely acting like Kyra. Well maybe not, because she probably would've busted in the bathroom with her titties out by now.
I heard the toilet flush and I went to meet him in the living room. "Everything good?"
"Yes, thank you." He started walking to me while counting his money.
"You always carry this much cash on you?"
"I was at a casino. Here's five," he said slapping it in my hand.
"This feels like more than $500."
"It is. It's 5,000."
"Woah," I said as I threw the money right back in his hand. "It's not going to cost that much. I swear I'm not charging you for bathroom use."
He laughed while recounting the money.
"Here." He gave it again. "Keep it."
I didn't want to count it in front of him but it felt like more than half of the original stack. "It's not a Ferrari. It's a Mazda."
"Just keep it."
"Fine. I'm going to call the tow truck though. Don't worry about that part."
"Okay. But I need you to do me another favor."
"And what's that?"
"Call someone to come stay with you."
"Why?" I laughed.
"You hit your head. Or I can take you to the doctor."
"No, I'm fine."
"You shouldn't be alone."
"So then you stay." Lord, my shyness was definitely wearing off. I even winked at the man. I never wink at anything.
"Stop," he said laughing.
"Stop what?" My heart dropped to my knees when he pointed to the gold band around his left ring finger...
"Now, please go call someone," he smiled sweetly.
The dork in me apologized and went to the kitchen. Mother it was. As soon as she answered and heard my voice, she was all frantic because I was calling so late. And Michael stood in the entryway, leaning his shoulder on the frame just watching as I leaned back on the counter, watching him watching, shaking my head. "No, no, Mommy, I feel fine but still a little shaken up."
She demanded that I not fall asleep and said she'd be over ASAP. After she threw out a quick "I love you," she just hung up on me.
"She's probably gonna show up in her robe and slippers," I said placing the phone back on the wall.
"Good. I trust that she'll be here soon so I'll go now."
The words poked out my bottom lip, getting him to laugh again as he walked up to me.
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. "Take care."
"You too."
I didn't even walk him out. From the kitchen I heard the door close and that's when I went over to lock up behind him. Then I watched him drive off from my window. What a sight to see.
I went back to the kitchen and sadly looked through my phone book for a tow truck and called them. I actually forgot I was hungry until my mother showed up, asking me a million questions. She told me to go take a shower while she warmed up my meal.
I told Michael I wouldn't tell anyone and at first, I wasn't planning on keeping the secret exclusively. I tell my mommy and Kyra everything. But for the first time, this was something I wanted to keep to myself, at least for a little longer. 'Cause honestly, I was hoping this wasn't it, and that there would be more to this story.