Tuesday, January 3rd, 1984

Tsunami Records

Malibu, California

6:34 PM

Brian slapped a newspaper down on my desk in front of me, making me slowly look up at him in question. All flow of thoughts that had been running through my brain ceased to exist at the angry smarting sound the print had made against my desk.

"What's up, Bry?" I asked, looking at his concerned and slightly angry expression.

"Look at the paper, Briggs." His finger was still touching it, pointing harshly onto the front page of the National Enquirer. On the front was a picture of Michael's parents getting out of a vehicle and bracing against the onslaught of camera flashes, it wasn't appealing. Then there were two smaller, circular photographs, one was of Michael—he looked like the photo had been snapped without him knowing—and the other one was of myself, another not very flattering photo. I sighed, reading the headline.

DISCOURSE! BRIGGS KICKED OUT OF JACKSON FAMILY HOUSEHOLD 

"When? When the hell would that have happened?" A spike of anger rose up through my being. I've had to continuously battle against the recent onslaught of tabloid media firing back against me in the last couple months, it hasn't been any of the major magazines and papers, just trash like the National Enquirer or The Globe. Gossip papers such as those anyway... It's tiring, reading them. Both mentally and physically; I'm thankful none of this is happening to Michael, the press only has good things to say about him. He's a good person...

...Am I a good person?

"No idea, but this is the third one this week Briggs."

"The New Year just happened! They can't think of anything better to write? There has to be something a bit more saucy or tragic to help consume the lives of those who revel in trash like this!" Releasing a heavy sigh, I rested my head in my hands, leaning my elbows against the smoothed wood grain of the desk before me. Brian saw my tension, he understood how much this bothered me though there was nothing much he could do about it. Our Public Relations team was always on smooth sailing except for when it came to myself, and why, no one really understood it. It feels sometimes as though the world doesn't want me around anymore, yet I'm fully aware that's not the case. Brian wants me around, Janet wants me around, I'm fairly certain Mama K enjoys seeing me, and there's Michael of course... Why wouldn't I think of him first?! Maybe I need some sleep, it's been a long day. Hell! It's been a long week.

"Just thought you should know Briggs, that's all." He said, sounding melancholy with his hands in his pockets. He paused. "This one isn't even that bad, they don't even have a picture like they did with some of the others." Letting go of my face, I looked up at him.

"It doesn't matter. The headline plants seeds, Bry. That's how they can turn the world against you..." Then I paused, glancing away momentarily. "Can you... Could you not show me anymore of these tabloids? I think I'll loose it if I see more of them." He nodded at my request.

"As you wish, Briggs."

I frowned.

"Hey! Turn that frown upside down now!" Brian took a seat on the edge of my desk, still facing me. "The new album is doing amazing, just like you projected. No surprise there. Wink, wink." He winked while saying the word.

"If you're trying to be cute, it's going to take a bit more than that."

"Oh, don't be a sourpuss." He then changed the subject, "Rolling Stone called. They want Nikki & The Flies on the cover." Actual business was the only thing I had patience for at the moment, so the transition of topics was greatly appreciated on my part.

"What month? Did they say?" I asked, getting out the band's calendar.

"Wants them for the March cover, just in time for their first headlining world tour."

"That's brilliant! When do they want to shoot?" My hand flipped through the thick binder.

"In two weeks on Friday. Their photographer wants to do multiple locations, the rep I talked to on the phone mentioned something about being inspired by the early release of the album, blah, blah, blah. The guy's happy, that's all that matters." He waved a hand through the air once, then folded it back with his other one once more.

"They're free that day, awesome. I'll let their manager know..." After penciling in the shoot with Rolling Stone, I slapped the binder closed and stood up from my chair, then proceeding to walk out of the room with Brian following close behind. With a huff, I made a quick decision. "I'm gonna head home..." My voice trailed off softly at the end of my sentence.

"I was just about to say, you look exhausted, Briggs." I turned back around, looking somewhat harshly at Brian. "Get some rest, ok. This fort is getting ready to close up anyway, and..." Suddenly he grinned broadly, "I bet Mike is waiting up for you at wherever you guys are living, right, this, second." Then he winked again, making my suspicions rise along with one of my eyebrows.

"Why are you...?" Blinking I let his strange behavior go for the time being. My mind wandered to longing thoughts of home, being able to lounge about in whatever I wished sounded divine at the moment and in the arms of Michael... Even. Better.

I rushed home but not before giving a parting goodbye to Brian. Some of my vigor was back at the thought of being done working for the day. Which brings me to an interesting tid-bit of information; after being surrounded and almost ambushed by a butt-ton of fans, Michael and I as well as our body guards, managers, insurance people, ect... came to the same conclusion: time to switch it up. After that bundle of crazy we've been moving around every week, living out of a couple suitcases that we've been lugging around with us from condo to condo. We're only doing this until our wing of the house we're having built is done and therefor livable, it's more than safe to say we're quite excited about it all. Right now the significant amount of land has been referenced as 'The Ranch', but Michael wants to give it an actual name a little bit later.

Not soon enough, I found myself unlocking the white double doors to the Malibu condo; we have two condos in Malibu, two in L.A. and one in another part of Southern California. The doors shut quietly behind me, locking with ease.

My feet walked me through the rooms, dropping my things as I maneuvered to my destination. Normally, I'm not the kind of person to drop my things everywhere, I'm quite neat actually. Organized chaos. Ok, maybe not chaotic, but mostly clean if that makes sense. My jacket all but fell off from my shoulders as I entered the master bedroom...

Michael was nowhere to be seen, so I called out only to receive no answer. A frown stuck onto my face. He was probably spending another late night at the studio working on another album with his brothers–. That's right, Michael caved in under pressure form various members of his family as well as people in the business to make another Jackson's album - but this is the last one for certain, contractually speaking. Michael had his lawyer type up a contract of stipulations for this album, if anything deviates then... well, I'm not entirely certain what'll happen. It won't be a happy outcome, I know that much. The phone rang then.

"Hello?" A cough was heard from the other line after I answered.

A long pause filled the air around me and on the phone line, there wasn't even breathing on the line. Cocking my hip out, I decided to say something else. "If anyone's there, then they better speak or hang up the phone." I wanted to curse, but I had to be the bigger person basically always nowadays; someone could be recording the other end, a media personnel trying to earn a quick tabloid buck. Screw it.

I slammed the phone back in its receiver with slight relish, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. I was about to walk away and put on pajamas but then the telephone rang again.

"What?"

"Ash? You ok, baby?" It was Michael. I sighed, running a hand softly down my face.

"I'm- I'm ok. How're you?" My mouth felt dry.

"On my way home, wanting to see your beautiful face..." He was totally grinning like a fool when he said that, and it worked too, it made me smile as I leaned against a wall.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Indeed. We were working at Sunset Sound today, couldn't agree on a beat for a song." Sunset Sound is in Hollywood, he'll probably be home in an hour depending on when he left the studio. I hummed, letting him know I was listening. "I'm... well, exhausted. Just want to curl up with you for a bit, you know?" I bit my bottom lip.

"That's what I want too." My voice started out quiet, "Work was..." I groaned a little. "It could have been better, I don't even want to really talk about it. It'd be much nicer to be in your arms." He chuckled lightly and static crinkled through the call on both ends, this was normal. 

"I think I can arrange that." He stated deviously. I only slightly ignored it.

"Are you calling from the limo phone?" I wondered aloud, already knowing the answer to my question. He hummed an affirmative. "Hmm, well get back here quick mister."

"Without speeding?" He asked, already knowing where my mind had wandered.

"It's not worth a ticket, Daddy." I heard Michael let out a quick breath on the line.

"I'm 15 minutes away." And there was that deep voice I adored so much—for multiple reasons—making me feel as though he was already inside me.

"That's good."

"You better be a good girl and wait until I get there..."

"I can't promise anything, Michael Joe."

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell– I told you about the Pepsi deal, didn't I?" Just like a switch, we were back to business.

"You did. Why? Did something happen with the deal?" My eyebrow raised, curious. If Pepsi cancelled a deal with Michael (and his brothers), they'd have to be insane. Pepsi couldn't have picked a better band then The Jacksons to strike a deal with.

"No, no. Everything's fine with the deal, we're going to be shooting a commercial for..." He paused, sounding slightly displeased. "For a tour." I waited for Michael to elaborate, but the words didn't come.

"A tour?" I asked him, staring blankly at the wall nearest to me. I wasn't sure of how to respond.

"Yeah, another tour." His voice deadpanned, sounding dull.

"But the contract that was draw up between you and your brothers- I thought-" 

"A loophole was found, I guess. I've already gotten a better lawyer-"

"Well, I sure as hell hope so." Another pause between us, "You deserve to take a break if that's what you want." My frustration rose through my voice.

"That is what I want. To focus on the Ranch, someone has to oversee the building process - and you've got so much on your plate right now. Tsunami signed what, six new artists? In the past month! Your business is booming, babe." That comment made me smirk as he continued explaining. "And I'm... I need a break from it all. Maybe start up that non-profit idea that's been lingering in the back of my mind, you know?"

"Yes, I remember." My voice became soft as I listened to him. Michael continued talking and explaining everything he wanted laid out in from of him to do, and even though he'd be taking a break from music it sounded as though he'd end being just as busy. Here he was breaking unbelievable goals set for himself and in the same breath, creating new ones. 

He finally took a breath after what seemed like quite a while. So I prodded him with a leading question. "Is that all you'd like to accomplish?"

"What'd you mean?" I disarmed him. Good.

"Well, the non-profit is a lovely idea and I think you should go for it. And then there's the Ranch, like you said, and I'm busy, yes, but..."

"But?"

Just say it, Astoria.

"But what about family?"

"What about them? Of course we'll still get together, Ash. The tour isn't the end of the world between my brothers and I, it's just put quite the damper on things." I chuckled at him, clearing my throat before explaining what I meant by 'family'.

"I don't mean the tour, or your brothers, Michael. I'm suggesting, that maybe, we... could possibly... have a family of our own." His shock could be heard from the other end of the line, and then there was loaded silence.

"Wait. Are we- Is this us-" He paused, making a small slapping sound before speaking again. "Is this us planning? You want to, have a family? Like, make a baby together?" How he poised his questions made me want to giggle loudly, but instead of laughing I simply gave him a one-word answer.

"Yes." I barely heard his quiet response after answering him.

"Oh my god." 

That's when I began laughing, mostly with joy, but also with humor and love and everything one could possibly feel when something positive happens in a person's life. This feels right. When I got pregnant the first time, things felt... odd. I wasn't overjoyed, I wasn't excited, I wasn't ready. But now, we're getting married, our home is being built, my record company isn't just a dream I've set on a shelf - it's real, just like this feeling. Michael's ready for a break, I'm ready for a break, it's all coming together isn't it?

Friday, January 27th, 1984

5:20 PM

A man held up a cone for projecting his voice throughout the stage area, except it wasn't just a stage like you'd see at a concert. Behind the man holding the giant cone were professional video cameras up the wazoo, along with other people who are proficient with using them. Those guys are waiting for their cue and amongst everything else are countless makeup people, costume individuals, assistance, lighting crew, and pyrotechnics just to name a few. Then there was me, standing behind a monitor so I could watch the playbacks of everything that was recorded with a partially eaten apple in hand. The flesh crunched in my mouth as I found myself absorbed in the cinematography taking place around me.

"All the cues are good down here, how we feelin' up there, Mike?" The director, AKA the man with the cone, called up to Michael on stage, glittering like that was his only job. My fiances soft voice reached my ears.

"Good, good. All the backstage shots we got, can I come down and see?"

"'Course!" My eyes watched Michael grab the side of the stage, lifting himself down with a flourish. His long legs jogged him over to a monitor as the playback rolled onscreen, there was a moment of black signifying the shots we hadn't gotten yet and then it continued to the end of the commercial where all six of the brothers could be seen performing on stage, glittering, rocking, overall looking beyond cool.

"You're the Pepsi generation
Guzzle down and
Taste the thrill of the day
And feel the Pepsi way"

That unmistakable bass of Billie Jean played softer than it had before while filming, the reverberating sound meeting my awaiting ears. I crossed my arms, putting my weight on one side of my body as I leaned to the left.

"What we have is great! We just need to do the pyrotechnic scene, but the pyro guys want to run through it a couple times before we have you and your brothers up on stage." The director informed Michael and consequently myself as he spoke. Michael nodded.

"Sounds great, the footage looks fantastic."

"Cool!" The director clapped his hands together, then looked around. "I need a smoke... SHERI!" He walked off looking for one of the on set assistants, hands resting near the belt loops of his Levi jeans.  

A hand wrapped around my waist. "What'd you think?" I stared at the screen for a little longer.

"What'd you mean? The film?" He nodded as I looked up to meet his eyes, "Yeah, the commercial is gonna be great, Michael." A familiar weight settled against my head - it was his own, relaxing. The glamour was becoming stale to the both of us, that must had revealed itself with time, and the more we worked the more it shone across our faces.

"You sound distant." He commented. A light note of concern could be heard in his tone, which I appreciated.

"You look exhausted." I countered, putting one of my own arms around him.

"I- I am ti-" He yawned in my ear, "tired. But we've only got this last scene, I can make it just fine." 

"You're certain?"

"Yes." Michael's legs began to languorously walk away from the screen and towards the stage once more, my own feet followed suit. "Let's check out the pyrotechnics, babe." Together we stopped at a safe distance, watching, listening to the stage cues between everyone as the set off the sparks with a BOOM that shook the ground slightly. The soles of my feet felt the explosion, surprising me.

"You know," I began, "I've watched pyro before. For stage acts, I mean... And, I've never felt it like I did just now." My fiance just blinked at me, "I mean, I really felt it Michael. It moved the ground." 

"Yeah... Isn't it supposed to do that?" Michael question made an uneasy feeling rise within me. There was TONS of pyrotechnics on Nikki & The Flies' tour, almost one third of the budget was simply on these effects. We'd used fire, sparks, smoke, all of it really, anything you can think of that would made a musical show more intense. With all of this running through my mind I became wary, but answered simply.

"I guess so."

Later

"Okay, let's give this a full run! Mickey, Jorden, you guys ready?" The director called to the pyro guys at the same time they put their thumbs in the air. "Great, places everyone." Pause, "Cameras, ready?" Camera crew nodded, "Sound, ready?"

"We are a go, Chief." They replied. I sucked in a deep breath, nervous.

"K, MJ and the guys? You ready?"

The brothers all used their headsets to confirm their readiness. The director clapped his large, rough hands together, "Alright, ACTION." The music started up, the pyrotechnics blew golden sparks behind Michael first, then his brothers, giving them all a very glorious and god-like appearance. It's gorgeous showmanship, I thought to myself as I watched Michael walk down the steps hurriedly towards front center stage where mics situated on stands awaited them all. They finished the take and did another four more, wanting perfection.

The guys came down, off stage, getting sips of water, or their makeup touched up, and there was Michael talking to the director while watching the playback once more of the most recent take. While making my way towards him, I heard him utter something I hoped he wouldn't have. The crew really, honest to god, had all the footage they could possibly need. The commercial was going to be great, and we all needed some rest. I touched his shoulder, getting the performer's attention.

"Michael, they have everything they need. The commercial is going to be fantastic! Are you certain you want to do another take?" Hearing my own voice, the concern and exhaustion was tangible. One of his hands found mine as he became suave towards me, kissing that hand and proceeding to hold it in his as he responded.

"It's just one more, and then we'll go home, I promise." He's thinking this is about being tired, and while that wasn't entirely wrong, there was something else bothering me as well... the pyrotechnics. I shook my head.

"No, that's not it Michael. Yes, I'm tired. The whole crew is, your brothers, even you can't hide the