dchfourteen

�So, the problem as I see it my dear is that although it�s an awesome story.� Marvin bent forward as if to convey some deep, dark, inner secret, and Faith found herself reaching toward the desk, expecting to hear something profound. �Frankly, I never would have expected it.� Marvin sat back in his chair, clasping his hands once again, appearing for all the world like some sort of jovial Santa Claus. �Now, the problem is�neither will anyone else.� He got up and began to pace in the small space behind the desk, turning to look at the tiny blonde as he asked, �What about Lisa? Is she a willing partner, perhaps? Will she collaborate your story?� He looked at Faith hopefully. �She�d be a very reliable source, people would believe her.�

Faith shook her head.

�Very loyal.�

Marvin raised his eyebrows� Who�d a thought?

�Get back inside. Get evidence, proof� then, we�ll buy your story.� He sat back down in his now familiar pose with his hands clasped confidently in front of him.

�Buy it? No, you don�t understand, Mr. Bledsoe. I don�t want you to buy my story� I want to write it.�

Marvin smiled as sweetly as he could. Poor delusional child.

�My dear. Your journalistic abilities� well, you�re a guppy here, in a sea of sharks; you�d be eaten alive. Don�t you see that? And, Mr. Jackson, make no mistakes about it, love, he�s the biggest shark in the ocean.�

Marvin Bledsoe sat thumbing through the morning copy, but his mind was on anything but the pages in front of him. Good old Ellen had sent him a live one. Well, he owed her for this one. His dear sister hadn�t thought much of him when he had left the �Sunday Herald� to join the editorial staff at the �Universe� and she hardly spoke to him at all these days, but no matter, he hadn�t had much use for family or all that small town garbage he had left behind. He�d had his first taste of the journalistic world at large when he had been hired on out of college at Chicago�s prestigious �Harold�, all his family and all of the staff at the �Warren Weekly� had been so proud of their hometown boy, but world news hadn�t been enough for Marvin, he wanted the world where journalists made as much as their story subjects, and when he had come to the �Universe� he had found it. As he turned the copy page his mind focused on the subject at hand. Wondering if sweet, little Faith really had it in her to deliver the story of the century. This was so exciting his palms were sweating in anticipation of the shock it would send through the entertainment world. The thought of the neat package that he would tie Mr. Michael Jackson into was thrilling beyond all measure. Lord knew he had done his best in the past to put that son-of-a-bitch in his place. This time� yes� definitely� this time.

Michael closed the door of the empty studio behind him and walked through the dimly lit hallways of Tune Town. The little cluster of studios that lined the hallway were nothing compared with the big name studio�s that lined the streets of Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York, but he was comfortable here. He could come and go as he pleased without much bother; the equipment was exceptional in spite of the fact that it often appeared as if they had forgotten to pay their electric bill. He walked out the door into a dimly lit parking garage, no danger here; the entrance was well private and well guarded. He walked down the row of cars toward his, stopping suddenly to squint in the dim light, straining to make out the figure leaning, one foot against the side of the little, black spider. Well, glory be, the night was beginning to look brighter.

Brandon walked into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of shrimp before Carmen could swat his hand and he smiled at her over is shoulder as he headed for the fridge. God, she thought, he looked just like his father. So much like him it often made her want to cry. Opening the can of pop he had retrieved from the refrigerator door, Brandon glanced at the clock on the wall� eight o�clock.

�He�s not coming. You know that, right?�

Carmen kept up her vigil of carefully placing the shrimp around the plate. A procedure she had repeated over, and over several times since six, when she had begun to wait for the sound of his knock.

�He�s just late is all, darling.� She reassured herself out loud. �He�s busy. Under a lot of pressure to produce that album.� She looked up at her son still standing by the refrigerator and pushed the plate of shrimp toward him. �Another?�

Brandon turned and walked out of the room.

�He�s busy alright, I�m sure of that.� His voice trailed off down the hallway and Carmen heard his door shut behind him, then, the familiar sound of the modem dialing up.

Have you written yet?

Again he asked the question, waiting for an answer. A response from the other end. A person unseen, far away, someone he had never met, possibly never would, but whom he cared for on a very deep level, in spite of the charade.

I�m working on it.

The reply flashed back. Come on� he thought to himself. If anybody can get to him, maybe, just maybe it would be her.

You so slow girl

Push gently, get her going, she�d rise to the challenge, he knew it.

Have you heard from Eve, or Tate, yet?

He smiled at her skillful change of subject, okay I�ll bite, anything to keep you writing, he thought.

Yes, everybody has written� but you

He watched the screen, waiting.

Has he answered anyone?

She was stalling�. Pulling him out�. Trying to evade the question for all she was worth.

That�s not the issue� are you going to write him?
Or are you going to sit there and stare at that box?

Minutes passed with no response� He was beginning to wonder if he had lost her altogether. Then the screen blinked.

Bryan, I�m scared.

Brandon sat back, and thought about that for a moment. How did he answer something like that? He understood all to well the fear she was confronting.

WRITE THE DAMN LETTER GIRL!!!
J
What�s the worse that can happen? Huh?
Come on. No guts, no glory.

Michael opened the door to the car concealing his excitement at seeing Faith there waiting for him. Then he turned and motioned for her to get in, which she did with no apparent hesitation.

�Missed ya.� He smiled as he settled in behind the wheel and turned the key. He looked over at her waiting for a response but getting nothing. �Okay, no need to talk.� He pulled out of the space and exited the garage heading south toward home with his silent passenger.

Joe sat in the chair by the fireplace, waiting for Kate to hurry in with his ice cream. Friday night was his favorite night of the week, it had been ritual from the time their brood had all been just babies. After a long week of work, they�d gather round the living room and eat ice cream, tell stories, or sing, or even occasionally watch TV. But even now, in fact, especially now that it was just he and Kate, he anxiously awaited Friday nights. Just the two of them by the fireside with bowls of ice cream, talking about their weeks, planning their weekend. Getting ready for Sunday when the entire gang that was available would converge upon Hayvenhurst and they�d be one big, happy family again.

He heard the footsteps as they came into the room behind the chair, and her voice as she announced that he had better grab his dish before she dropped it in his lap. But he couldn�t bring himself to make his arm move, his head felt like lightening was crashing through it and there was a choking tightness in his throat as he slumped in his chair.

Michael heard the phone ringing as he opened the front door, allowing Faith to enter before he crossed the threshold and slammed the door. Where in the world was Mona?

�For Goodness sake.� He mumbled as he brushed past Faith, grabbing her by the waist to keep from knocking her over in his rush to run for the phone. �Hello� Michael listened as the voice on the other end frantically explained the events that had occurred just that evening. He felt his stomach turn; he could taste the bile as it rose in his throat. God he was going to be sick.

�Mike?�

Mike turned to face the woman who had finally broken her vigil of silence to stare at him in horror. The look on his face was hauntingly familiar. But this time he waved her off.

�Where the hell did he go?� Mike screamed into the phone, having regained his composure.

�I don�t know. He was upset. You were supposed to be here for dinner. He went into his room, slammed the door, and the next thing I knew I heard the front door slam, and he was gone. I tried calling the studio, but you had already left. I should have known you weren�t on your way here.�

�Sorry. I got sidetracked.� He looked over at the source of his forgotten dinner date, and smiled to reassure her worried look but he wasn�t sure if he was convincing anybody, including himself.

�Hum I bet.� The voice on the other end of the phone sounded in disgust and the line went dead with a bang.

Katherine Jackson listened to the steady beeping of the phone as it heralded a busy signal. She had tried all night to reach Michael, whose phone had at first rung over and over with no answer. Where was everybody? Then having called everyone else who was in town, she tried once again only to hear the aggravating sound of a busy line.

�Damn� she slammed the phone down and felt Jack�s arm circle her shoulder. Turning she cried into her eldest son�s chest as Joseph lay on the bed alongside them. They had all come running except, of course, for Janet who was still half a world away. They were all there except for Michael who was unreachable, like always.

Brandon stood in the corridor of the white hallway, looking anxiously at the door to the room where the family who had never even so much as acknowledged his existence, now held a bed-side vigil.