July 2nd, 1984

Birmingham, Alabama

4:24 PM

He just about slammed the phone back into the receiver with joy.

"The house is done!"

I groaned loudly from my spot on the couch. "Oh, about time. It felt like they'd never finish it... What does it even look like now?" I asked, turning my head towards an excited Michael.

In the last few months, I'd become—that's right—bedridden. Almost. This was not only the longest I'd ever carried a baby, but it was also the roughest pregnancy ever. Nausea up the wazoo! As well as some serious vertigo that would come and go like the days of the week. So, here I was, laying on the couch in the living room of the high-end hotel suit we'll be leaving tomorrow for Kansas City. My hands rested on my protruded abdomen all while watching the grin on Michael's face grow with intensity. 

"It's amazing. You'll love it, I know." He stated, kneeling down next to the couch so he could be closer to me. I smiled, thinking about sitting up. I found his eyes landing on my belly; I'm only five months now, almost. I've got a couple more days before I'm officially five months along, but close enough. "Is the baby kicking right now?"

"No. Our little roll is asleep right now." I grinned as I watched him put his hand over the apex of my belly lovingly. After we'd been told we were pregnant, Michael came up with all kinds of fun names to call the baby until we knew it was a he or she - which we're waiting till they decide to join us to find out - names like, Peanut, Wiggle Worm, Happy Meal, Junior, and lastly, bun. I spun off that last one and have called it our little butter roll ever since. It made him laugh, so we kept the nickname.

"Darn. I was hoping I might be able to feel them kick again..."

"You will, don't worry." His hand stayed on my belly for a bit while we conversed.

"You remember that invitation we got in the mail last month?" Michael asked me. My mind was elsewhere.

"Hmm?"

"The MTV Music Video Awards in September, baby. Think you'll be able to come with me? I'd hate to go solo, plus, this would be the only time we could reserve two seats for three people." He chuckled. 

"You goof!" The back of my hand lightly hit his shoulder that was closest to me. "I'll be huge by then. Would anyone really want to see me that giant?" Women didn't show off their bumps much, even though it was the 1980's. Talk about empowerment, jeesh. He gave me those irrisistable bedroom eyes of his.

"I do. I'd want you at any size, you know that." He told me, moving his hands from my belly to hold my hands in his. I sputtered some words that weren't really words while my cheeks flamed. "A lot of artists from your label got invited too, but you know that already. All I'm saying is, it would be super amazing to go with the woman I'm marrying this December."

That's right, we'd picked a date too.

"December can't come fast enough, October too." Our dinner roll is due in October, can't skip that now, can we? "I'll think about it." I told him.

"Yes!" He fist pumped the air. "We're gonna be a best looking couple there, best believe it." Michael stood up from the floor.

"I believe it, baby." Michael was about to kiss me, but we both heard a commotion stir from the entryway. The voices arguing sounded familiar. Two of the people in the commotion were most certainly our bodyguards, the other one I couldn't quite place as I moved to sit up on the couch. Both of our nerves were raised as the sounds continued. The front doors flew open, anyone could have heard the bang of them hitting the walls. "Michael..." I said hesitantly.

There was a yell, a loud exclamation followed by the shattering sound of a vase. I flinched and tried to stand with Michael's help. Things were getting scary, and why we were standing there like deer in headlights I had no idea. The voices began to become more distinct as well as closer. My hands gripped my fiance's, this can't be good.

Then we saw Randy's face pop around the corner of the wall briefly. I frowned, suddenly exasperated. There was more sounds of shuffling coming from around the corner, but I was simply done.

"What the hell is going on?!" I yelled at Randy, but even more surprisingly it was Marlon's face that popped from around the wall next with a overly polite smile.

"Sorry, Astoria. Randy's just -" He got cut off and disappeared back behind the wall. They must be grappling around the corner, but why?  "AH!" Then Randy's voice came through.

"Would you just let-" Grunting and the sound of rolling met my ears, "Let me-"

"No! You-" More sounds of wrestling. "Leave them alone!" I looked at Michael with sharp eyes.

"Will you go see what the heck they're doing? This is ridiculous!" Michael simply covered his mouth and chuckled lightly at everything that was happening, but I didn't think it was as humorous as he did. He walked around the corner, still visible from where I was standing and flicked on the light switch for the hallway. I watched him cross his arms and his eyebrows furrow.

"Ran, Marlon, get up off the floor and tell us what the hell is going on. Y'all are acting like a couple of children. You made it this far, might as well tell us why you didn't want Randy bothering us..." His voice was without much emotion, completely deadpan. The shuffling sounds had stopped, thankfully. Soon, the three of them walked into the living room where I'd stayed. I sat back down on the couch, smoothing out the dress I was wearing today - I hadn't had the heart to put on pants, I'll probably spend the remainder of my pregnancy in dresses at the rate I'm going. They're so much easier to put on, and with the vertigo I've been having they've been much easier to manage. Michael has even had to dress me a couple times, I've been so out of it. He's been an angel, a godsend, the best person I could ever have a baby with.

Michael sat down next to me, crossing his legs casually as his brothers sat across from us in modern, white chairs. Marlon looked pretty done with his younger brother, who looked much worse out of the two of them. I was completely in the dark with what was happening with Randy, but I'd never seen him looking more devastated. Yesterday had been the first full dress rehearsal at the Birmingham Jefferson Convention Complex and everything went as smooth as can be. I don't know what could have happened between then and now that has Marlon and Randy so in a twist...

"You know how Brinley was meeting up with us in Kansas City tomorrow?" Randy paused, waiting for recognition from us before continuing. "Well, she called me about an hour ago..." He didn't want to finish his sentence, it was obvious. They had only been together for almost two years, but it was clear they weren't made to last. Everything was beginning to make sense again.

I leaned forward, feeling that if I stood right now, my head would meet up with the carpeted floor pretty quickly. I still wanted to be able to comfort Randy all the same. "Ran, I'm so sorry things didn't work out between you two." His face began to contort in the fashion where tears aren't far behind. "Come here, you. Come here..." I gestured for him to come to the couch so I could hold him. Randy was like a brother to me—and soon enough I guess he will actually be just that, my brother—and to see him so down hurt me too.

Randy came over, wrapped his arms around me as I did to him, then he broke down quietly. My hand rubbed his back in soothing circles. Marlon didn't look uncomfortable with his younger brother's display of emotion, but soon enough he stood and walked out of the room. Michael followed suit, leaving me to console Randy on the couch.

Michael

"That's all it was? Randy got broken up with?" I crossed my arms while staring at Marlon. It didn't make a lot of sense that the two of them would be wrestling over such a thing... then again, on some level it did make sense.

"He's being a baby about it, this isn't his first break-up." Marlon shrugged at me.

"I know that, but why barge into Astoria and I's hotel room, wresting all over the floor?" I glanced downward on my right. On the floor was the remains of a vase that hopefully wasn't too expensive, that they'd shattered during their altercation. I pointed at the vase. "Y'all are paying for that, not me." Marlon held up both his hands at me.

"Fine, fine." His expression changed then, "I didn't want him bothering you guys mainly 'cause of Astoria... Mike, we're worried about Ash. She looks, well, frail." He put in hands in his pant pockets. 

"The doc put her on bed rest." I muttered, knowing full-well where this conversation was about to go.

"Then why in the name of god is she going on tour with us? That can't be good for her or your baby. Touring is stressful, and we're constantly moving from place to pla-" I cut my brother off, annoyed.

"Don't you think I know that? She insisted! If you know Astoria at all, you'd remember how stubborn she is. How do you think she started her own record label? Stubbornness and hard work. I told everybody now wasn't the time for a tour! Did anyone listen? HELL NO. Why listen to little Michael? What does he know?" I was fuming. Everything I'd been holding onto for the past couple months just came bursting out of me without a filter, and it felt kind of nice. None of it was just for Marlon specifically, it was for the record company, our father, the tour managers, all of those people who wouldn't take the time to look at my family and I as actual human beings who have lives outside of the music business. 

"Well, first of all I did listen to you at those meetings, Mike-"

"But you didn't have my back on any of it when it mattered!" My voice lowered, not wanting to yell because there really wasn't a reason to. Yelling wouldn't makes things better than they currently were, but getting all of this off my chest did make me feel a bit better. Marlon frowned.

"I'm sorry I didn't speak up, Mike. You're right, of course." There was a pause, then his brow furrowed quite fiercely. "That's what you want to hear, isn't it?" Marlon crossed his arms roughly. My lips parted in slight shock.

"What?"

"You need to remember that you're the one who shut down the multimillion-dollar deal with Paramount Pictures to have them film one of the shows! You are not the only person in the group that matters, ok? We're not kids anymore, we all have families now. Mouths to feed and take care of, to raise properly." He uncrossed his arms and began to use them to emphasize his argument. "This is not the Michael Jackson Show, alright. This is a joint effort. A tour of brothers, or at least that's what we're supposed to be. Jackie can't even open the damn tour with us cause you worked him so hard in pre-rehearsals that he fell off the stage from exhaustion, and rebroke the same damn leg that Enid ran over!"

"Jackie didn't break his knee!" I rebutted.

"Ok, so he banged it up real good. Good enough that we can't open with him, and won't be for the foreseeable future. Either way!" He let out a huff through his flared nostrils, thoroughly done with this conversation just like I am. "I'm done. I am done with your pretentious ass, thinkin' you're the only one who matters right now."

"What the hell do you mean?" Jeez, I'm loosing this argument.

"I'll see you at rehearsals and shows. That's it." He looked over my shoulder and raised his voice, "Astoria, it was good to see you. I'm heading out." He didn't sound mad at her, then again, he had no reason to be. Her voice called back to Marlon.

"You too, Mar! See you!" I wanted to cringe as I watched him storm off and out of the hotel room. Some tour this was turning out to be...

Astoria

Michael walked back in the living room looking quite... frustrated, angered, confused? He looked so many things rolled into one as he sat down roughly on a chair opposite of Randy and I. His eyes were looking off beyond me, deep in thought most likely. I turned to Randy.

"Ran, do you think you'll be ok now?" We'd been lightly talking things through about what happened between him and Brinley, and the tears had subsided. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't heard a snippet of what Michael and Marlon had just been arguing about in the hallway, and it concerned me. Randy nodded.

"Yeah. I'll head out." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I'll let you two be. Thank you."

"Of course. Anytime." We hugged and Randy got up and left. I then turned my attention to Michael, who looked to be full of angst. "Ok. You're quiet." I waited for any sign of movement other than breathing coming from him, any sign at all of a reaction to my words. Nothing. He's still staring off into the space above my head. "Michael Joe, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Marlon, or should I come up with something from the tidbits I heard come from the two of you while you were in the hall?" His eyes met mine. Finally.

I waited a couple minutes for him to say anything, but nothing expelled from his mouth. He simply kept continuous eye contact with me all the while, as if waiting for me to reply to him. I groaned lightly.

"Alright then, I guess I'll be piecing things together." I clapped my hands together, then rubbed them a little while settling myself into the couch. This was going to be an interesting conversation for certain. "It's about the tour, of that I'm sure. Correct me if I'm wrong of course, my dear. Your brothers are... frustrated with you. You've become a huge success in recent years, need I mention Thriller?" My question was rhetorical and he knew it. Here I am, playing Sherlock Holmes with my fiance. "Obviously some of it has gone to your head, in the minds of your family, and naturally it can happen to anyone. No one is an exception to the dreaded affects of fame. Anyway, now there's uproar amongst the six of you - maybe not so much Randy at the moment, but he'll bounce back to his normal self in no time. They're questioning your demands for the tour, saying what you've been asking of them or Epic is too much! You're demands are insane! Preposterous! That your head has become so swollen with pride that you can't even begin to comprehend the level of insanity that you're asking of this tour to achieve!"

I stopped, letting my words sink in. Michael leaned back in the chair, no longer leaning his chin on his elbow. His voice was low, quiet as he finally spoke to me. "Yeah, pretty much."

I gave him a sympathetic look. Michael always meant well, but he didn't go about it in the best way always. But that's why he has me, to help him navigate the mess that is currently the Victory Tour. I decided to stand, feeling the ebb of my nausea subsiding for the time being, and walk over to him on the chair to sit in his lap. He welcomed me with open arms, putting one around my back and the other around my protruding belly. 

"We'll figure it out, together." I told him, putting a hand to his cheek. "Whatever it is, we'll work it out. You know how many tours I've overseen so far? A ton. We got this." I kissed his lips softly, just a peck. He smiled ever so slightly.

"Whatever will I do without you, Ash?" He asked sincerely. I shrugged.

"Hopefully, neither of us will find out the answer to that question."

Friday, September 14th, 1984

New York, New York

Radio City Music Hall

6 PM

"Are we late? It feels like we're late."

"Ash, we're not late. I promise." He replied, calmly.

Sure. He's calm, but I'm not. I'm a whale! And the world is about to know I'm pregnant, and huge, and we're not married. It's the 80's, that shouldn't matter! Oh, god. Save me. There's gonna be hundreds of cameras, tabloids, magazine people, radio... So much. Am I hyperventilating? It feels like it. Just breath. SHIT. I am breathing! That's the problem!

"Michael Jackson, I swear to god! Why the hell did I let you talk me into this?!" I gripped one of his hands while we rode in the limo, trying to calm my breathing.

"Everything is going to be fine! You're gonna be the most beautiful woman there, I know it." He tried in vain to console me.

"Your opinion is biased, Jackson." He simply chuckled. The limo came to a stop then, making my nerves spike in response.

"Ok, here we go!" I wanted to hurl just then at his eagerness.

"How are you so excited? You normally hate going to award shows." The door was then opened by the limo driver, and camera flashes could be seen along with a red carpet.  He didn't answer, just slid out of the limo, first into the frey. The crowd roared like multiple dragons at once for his arrival. I gulped. Michael held a hand out for me to grab, and grab it I did as I tried my best to gracefully maneuver myself out of the vehicle with ease. His hand helped quite a lot actually, but the reaction from the crowd surprised me more than anything else.

They got louder. As if that could possibly happen! And why? Because of me? The baby? Probably the ever-growing child that was currently making my belly protrude more so than a watermelon hidden under your t-shirt. He held my hand the entire way as cameras tried to flash us into oblivion - it now made complete sense as to why Michael wore his sunglasses all the time, so he didn't go blind from all the flash bulbs.

We'd decked ourselves out in all white. It was becoming our thing, matching and dressing in the same color - white especially. Why white? I've no idea, but he certainly sparkled like usual. We posed for multiple pictures and just when I was about to give it up and go inside someone caught my eye.

"Prince!" I called out, his head turned and found me in an instant. It'd been quite a while since I'd seem him, my friend. He artfully strutted over to Michael and I. The world thought the two of them enemies, but truly they simply had nothing but respect for each other - only, they didn't realize the other felt that way.

"Astoria Briggs." He wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug, "It's been too long, girl." We parted and he really looked at me while lowering his own glasses, his eyes becoming huge. "A congratulations is in order too, I see."

"Thank you, Prince. It's so good to see you! How've you been?" I grinned while Michael stood off to the side, quickly finding conversation with Cyndi Lauper. Prince just smirked like his usual self.

"I think the real question is how've you been? Carrying that baby around 24/7 and here you are at an awards show..." He clicked his tongue. "You're glowing. An absolute goddess, lord help us all. When are you due?"

"Next month."

"Damn. Ok, ok." By now, the collective roar of the crowd and all the camera people were requesting - no, demanding - for Prince and I to pose together. We let them take a few shots, all seeming friendly to me. One was of us smiling while Prince rested one hand on my belly with the other around my waist, which was a pose Michael had done a few minutes earlier. After taking the photos with Prince, I caught back up with my man and we all enjoyed the awards show.

Michael ended up winning three of the six nominations for the Thriller music video, and really, those three awards were the best to describe the video anyway. The video won Viewer's Choice, beating out Herbie Hancock - who'd won the majority of the awards tonight - Best Choreography in a Video, which included Michael Peters because he helped with the choreography as well. Lastly, Thriller won Best Overall