Michael had to stifle his well-recognizable laugh and hold his stomach. He squinted and dried his eyes behind the photochromic glasses. Glancing over at his side, he saw Lisa laughing as well, her blue eyes beautiful and sparkling, fixed on Blanket who, in the right mood, could be quite the comedian. His impersonations of every single member of the Jackson family were hilarious and had everyone at the table crack up. Jermaine especially was spot-on.
They were all having dinner at a nice and cozy Greek restaurant, in a private area where nobody but the maître and the waiters were allowed. Michael was glad that Janet and Lisa held power and were still able to shelter them all, mainly because the kids currently had no security around. Not that he thought something bad would happen on the small island of Santorini, but still, sometimes the old paranoia peeked from behind the twitched curtains of his rationality.
He still remembered how overly suspicious he had become during the last years of his old life – to the point that, for a long time, he had struggled to keep the idea of having gone insane at bay. Eventually, he had come to realize that his fears and doubts were more than justified. He had escaped by the skin of his teeth and barely in time. In the process, he had lost a good chunk of himself, as if shedding the most innocent part of his soul after the trial had not been enough.
Now, over seven years later, he had come to terms with a new life that in no way risked being exposed. It had taken a while and a lot of effort to get used to the idea. He still remembered how he would barely go outside or exchange a word with anyone for the first two or three years after his escape. He was terrified at the possibility of being recognized, and his reaction had been to fine-tune his new identity until it became natural and flawless. Commitment, discipline, patience had been the keywords that had allowed him to pull through.
Michael was also well aware that, out there, there were still people convinced that he had faked his death. Some theories had left him frankly appalled, while others could even sound a tiny bit believable. But the truth was that his old persona was gone forever and would never come back, and nobody could guess the kind of life he was living now. Too normal. Too ordinary.
For the first time in his life, he had realized what it meant to be a commoner – and surprisingly enough, he liked it. The only thing he didn’t like was the absolute lack of control he had over the people he loved. He was still overprotective; that was no news, but after all a man could only shed so much skin and just give so much.
The difference was that the King of Pop could easily refuse to accept a no for an answer and obtain almost everything he wanted, while Ethan Murphy, the art dealer, well… He was just a guy. Still, Murphy would probably be able to walk right in the middle of hundreds of Michael Jackson’s fans going pretty much unnoticed. So all in all, being just a guy was not that bad sometimes.
Mike, the person behind Michael Jackson, was just a guy as well – but it looked like there was no space for that part of him in his old life. And eventually Mike, the man, had been swallowed whole by the machine, and it had been excruciatingly painful.
“…Right, dad?”
Michael blinked and snapped out of his thoughts, turning to Paris, who had a broad smile on her face. Instinctively he smiled back, noticing how relaxed and peaceful she looked.
“Absolutely!”
He hoped his enthusiastic nod had looked convincing. Since he had zoned out, he had no idea of what his daughter was talking about but didn’t want to be the party-pooper.
His mind went back to a few days earlier, when Lisa and the kids had come back to the villa after their long walk on the beach. It was almost noon and the day was beautiful and bright, pretty warm for February. Fighting the urge just to join his family on the beach, he had decided to take a long shower. It was the perfect way to get away from Janet, who kept teasing him mercilessly about his nasty look.
Irritating little sister. She just couldn’t see that there was nothing nasty about him glowing, basking in pure love and post-orgasmic bliss.
Anyway, the moment Lisa and the kids had entered the vast kitchen area, the change in his daughter’s demeanor and her serene features had immediately told him that something had changed. For the better. Maybe another piece of the puzzle had managed to snap back into place. Paris no longer looked confused or torn, nor did she look upset. Whatever Lisa had told her, or maybe that he had told her the night before, had worked like a charm. Team-play champions, indeed!
Paris had walked over to him, who was sitting at the table pretending to read a book and wearing his cute reading glasses. She had hugged him from behind, kissing his cheek and ruffling his wet hair.
“Good morning, daddy.”
For real?
“Good morning, sunshine… you good?”
He had tried to keep his voice calm and casual. Paris had sauntered to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bottle of water.
“I’m great, thank you!”
Michael had cocked his head, a baffled look in his eyes.
Teenagers! So moody!
He had glanced at Lisa and had shrugged his shoulders interrogatively. She had just smirked in return. Getting up, he had walked over to her and taken her hand, kissing the back of it while staring into her eyes.
“Hi, love.”
“Hey, baby.” Her eyes were soft and she had reached up to him, giving him a gentle peck on the lips. “You look good in those glasses.”
He had smiled and pulled her into a hug. His lips had brushed her ear.
“So… What did you tell her?”
“It’s none of your business!” She had whispered in return.
He had pulled back and looked at her, frowning in pretend shock.
“Woman, are you serious?”
“Totally.” Lisa had smacked his butt. “Why do you wanna know about girls’ stuff? You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
It was likely true. And that had been pretty much the end of it.
However, one of the things that hadn’t changed about Michael was that he was nosy and persistent, and that he had his ways to make Lisa confess. So, if she kept rubbing him the wrong way and being a tease, he would do just that. Later. In the privacy of their bedroom.
In all fairness, he had tried to dig deeper into the matter later that night, mainly by moving into her body repeatedly and thoroughly, but she had remained substantially tight-lipped.
“Paris just needed to be reassured…” She had conceded eventually, after their lovemaking. She was draped over his torso, her head nestled against his shoulder as he played with her hair.
“Do you think she’s mad at me? You know… for talking to her so bluntly, the other night…”
Lisa had kissed his chest with slow, open-mouthed kisses that had sent shivers up his spine.
“No, baby, she’s not mad at you… In fact, she said she’s glad you talked to her so openly last night. I think that was what she had been expecting from you… what she wanted from you. To be comforted. And she is better, now, you know…”
He knew that dealing with teenagers was tricky, and the truth was that he had no experience in that department. He had been utterly absent from his children’s lives for three full years after June 2009, and finally, when it had been time to get in touch with them again, he had realized how much he had been missing out. How much his babies had changed and how scarred they were after what had happened. He had felt tremendously guilty, and even though his kids had been nothing but understanding and had told him that they understood his choices and decisions, his remorse hadn’t subsided. Maybe it would never go away, but at least now he had the chance to do better.
The fact that Lisa was a great mother and could accompany her kids through the delicate phase of adolescence made him feel way more secure than he had felt in a very long time. Somehow he was back to square one: not only he had wanted her as a mother of his children because he loved her, but also because he had always known what an excellent parent she was. Now, her talent and experience were finally coming in handy.
“Mike… Where are you?”
Lisa’s soft voice had snapped him out of his thoughts. He had turned his head to her, and she had leaned up on her elbow, her hair wild, her azure eyes hooded and bright.
“Don’t get stuck in your head, baby, please… I know you’re overthinking stuff and it’s just not the case.”
“No, I’m not, baby. I’m right here.” Naw, she was right. He had been overthinking, and he knew it. Clearing his throat, he had brushed her chin with the back of his finger. “Sorry.”
She had smiled and had taken his hand, kissing his palm, the tip of her tongue drawing light, lazy circles on his skin. He had shuddered, his blood immediately starting to run south. Man… was he ever soft around this woman? Sooner or later, he was pretty sure he would pass out for lack of oxygen to the brain.
He had moved his hand behind her head, pulling her close for a long, slow, all-consuming kiss, and she had caressed his face, resting her forehead against his.
“Can I ask you something?”
He had kissed her again.
“You can ask me anything you want.”
How easy it had been to say those words, and how sincere they were. How had they been able to stifle their uncanny ability to communicate, in the past? Who had poisoned them to the point that trust had become an issue?
“OK… Have you ever… I mean…” Lisa had taken a deep breath. “Did you have any women, while you were… you know, in hiding?”
“Well… I’m still in hiding. And I got you.”
Michael had smiled and pulled back just slightly, studying her face. He could see how hard she was trying to downplay something that clearly bothered her.
“You know what I mean, dipshit.”
She had smirked but had also looked down. He had waited until she had finally glanced up at him again.
“No… I didn’t have any relationships.”
Lisa had opened her mouth to say something, but he had preceded her.
“And to be honest, I haven’t even had sex.”
“…Ever?”
“Ever.”
She had blinked, as if taken entirely by surprise.
“Dude, are you serious? Not even once?”
At that very moment, she had reminded him of the young girl he had first reconnected with so many years earlier, and he had laughed.
“I’m very serious. That’s why…” Michael had rolled over, maneuvering himself in between her legs. “…I’m always starving…”
Lisa had giggled, running her hands over his back and rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, that would explain quite a lot of things…”
“It would, wouldn’t it?”
His hips had pushed down and against her, and she had sighed in delight.
“Uh-uhm… Definitely…”
She had started to kiss him again, and before he let himself slide into the blurred mist of passion one more time, he had faintly wondered if she was trying to distract him from the loop of his doubts and regrets.
Possibly. And, well… it was working just fine.
Anyway, Lisa had been right: Paris was, indeed, better. The following days had been pure bliss – days of reconnection, communication, dialogue. They had become proper nourishment for his tattered soul. For the first time in ages, Michael had been able to speak and spend time with his kids, and even talk exhaustively to Janet about things that had drawn them apart in the past. They had even spoken about their future as siblings.
Lisa had always remained on the sidelines, spending much of her time alone – swimming in the pool, writing her journal, taking long walks on the beach, and joining them only when she saw it necessary. However, sometimes Paris would look for her and they would spend a few hours together, strolling outside, on the patio or in the huge garden surrounding the villa. Neither of them shared what they talked about, and eventually, Michael just stopped asking. He was learning to let things just run their course without interfering too much – something he had not always been able to accomplish in the past. He guessed growing older and wiser meant letting things go.
Then, about five or six days into their holiday, the press caught up with them, and the first images of Lisa and Janet with the kids had appeared online. Blanket was the first to notice them and told his father about them one early morning, while Michael was having his coffee after his morning jogging session on the beach.
“Dad… I think you need to check this out…” Bigi had placed his tablet in front of Michael’s face, and he had frowned.
“It’s written in Greek, son.”
“Yeah. Wait… There you go.”
He had clicked on the “Google Translate” option on the website header, and some poor translation of the article had appeared on-screen. Basically, the webzine said that Lisa Marie Presley had been spotted reconnecting with Wacko Jacko’s family and the journalist wondered if her “recent, worrying antics” were a good influence on those kids, especially on “the already troubled Paris.”
The article included pictures of Michael’s family – minus him – in the city center of Santorini. No, that was incorrect. On second glance, there he was: the slightly blurred, bearded guy in the background.
Michael had made a face and had looked up at Blanket.
“OK… uhm…”
“I won’t tell them, dad. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah. I think it’s best if we don’t talk about it. Thanks, son.”
Bigi had solemnly acknowledged their silent pact by nodding his head and then had closed the browser.
Michael had sighed.
Lisa and Paris really didn’t need to know about any of this. He wasn’t concerned about Prince, Janet and Blanket, given their much calmer personalities. But the other women in his life were fierce and could be temperamental. And they were also ultra-sensitive. Bullshit like that was not welcome. Not during their vacation. Of course, they would find out eventually… but hopefully not now.
Thankfully, everyone seemed so absorbed in their holiday that, strangely enough, the internet had not been one of the main focuses for the kids. Nonetheless, Michael had hoped Paris could be distracted enough not to surf the net too much.
If it had happened, Paris hadn’t shown any signs of discomfort and the proof was now right in front of his eyes. Their last dinner together in Greece had been fun so far, and his daughter’s face showed no trace of worry. The next day, or in a couple of days maximum, she would be back in Los Angeles, but she was safe for now. Her dad was there with her.
Michael’s heart sank, thinking that in only a fistful of hours he would have to say goodbye to his kids and sister. His mood darkened even more realizing that, in less than two days, Lisa would be leaving as well. She had meetings to attend in Tennessee and Los Angeles and would be gone for a couple of months. The mere thought of going back to complete loneliness made him suddenly nervous.
When a couple of hours later they all walked out of the restaurant in the starry, quiet night of the island, he was a bit somber – but was managing to keep his mood under control not to waste any more minutes of those last, precious hours with his family.
It all went well until the paparazzo appeared.
At first, Michael noticed the flash of his camera out of the corner of his eye. Muscular memory and forty-five years of experience in the entertainment industry told him that they all needed to get to the car as fast as possible – unless they decided to play it differently. He pulled at Janet’s shirt, and when she looked at him, he tilted his head to the left.
Janet’s eyes narrowed.
“Uhm, OK. I can see him. It’s just one guy. Ignore him…”
They kept walking to their SUV, and the click-click-click of the camera became more insistent, louder. A few steps ahead of Michael, Lisa heard it too and turned to look at him. Her eyes were worried.
“Janet… Hey, Janet! Lisa Marie! Miss Presley!”
The pap was anglophone, possibly British, and Michael wondered what tabloid would end up buying those pictures. He also wondered if the reporter had come to Greece with the precise purpose of hunting them down. The occasion was yummy, after all. So many Jacksons and Lisa were there together. A mouth-watering occasion for real.
“Paris? Prince? …Hey, Jackson kids!”
The photographer’s voice had become louder. A few people walking by stopped to look at them.
“Fuck,” Michael muttered under his breath. “Come on. Let’s hurry up.”
He spoke in a very even tone and rested his hand on the small of Lisa’s back, pushing her forward gently.
“Miss Presley? Miss Lisa!”
The pap came to walk right by Michael’s side, and of course, ignored him. Michael could hear his uneven breath as he tried to keep their pace.
“Miss Presley, why are you here with your ex-husband’s kids? Are you trying to reconnect with the family?”
Lisa didn’t even turn to look at him and kept walking. From her stance and body language, Michael could tell that she was tensing up. She didn’t like the press, and she had never wanted to be at the center of the attention. As a matter of fact, she hated being in the spotlight.
The photographer kept taking pictures and didn’t relent.
“Is it for Michael? Are you doing this for MJ? How do you feel about him now? Is it getting better finally? What about your divorce? Is it settled?”
Lisa stopped mid-step and finally turned to the guy, her beautiful face frozen in a mask and so very serious, her blue eyes as cold as ice.
“Leave it alone.”
“Yeah… come on, dude, just let it go.” Janet’s tone was softer as she put herself right in between the guy and Lisa. “It’s a family moment… I am sure you can understand.”
She even gave him a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. But the Jacksons had been trained to look peaceful and entirely at ease even when they just wanted to wring someone’s neck.
“Well, then maybe you can talk to me, Janet… Just a couple of questions, come on! Are you guys reconnecting? Are you doing this for Michael? Was it Michael who wanted this and now it’s the right time?”
“No comment.”
Michael’s eyes darted to the kids. Thankfully they had reached the car, and Prince was already sitting in the driver’s seat. By his side, Paris pretended to be busy with her smartphone and nervously bit her lips. Blanket sat in one of the back seats and just stared at them through the window, his face calm and unreadable.
“Janet… Hey, Janet… Are you and Lisa Marie still friends?”
The guy’s voice had that insincere, mellifluous tone that Michael had always loathed with a passion. The pap couldn’t have the answer he wanted, so he was changing his strategy, circling around them like a shark.
“Of course we are, always have been.” Janet answered calmly, showing the guy the palms of her hands in a pacifying signal. “Just let us go. You got your pictures, and you got your answers. Let it rest now.”
The guy zigzagged around her and stepped right in front of Lisa, raising his camera on her face, ready to take a new set of pictures. Instinctively, she winced and turned her head, trying to hide from him.
“Miss Presley… Lisa Marie.”
And that was it.
Something in Michael’s mind snapped and it felt like a red drape falling in front of his eyes. His vision became hazy, his body weightless. Within a second and barely realizing what he was doing, he was pushing Lisa behind his back while he pressed his other hand on the photographer’s chest.
“Step back.”
The guy looked as if he had been suddenly being pulled out of his professional wet dream. He blinked and stared up at Michael, who towered over him in height. His confused face told Michael that the guy had no idea who he was looking at. Good.
“I’m sorry, what?”
The man was short and plump. Absent-mindedly, Michael noticed his unshaved beard and droplets of sweat on his forehead.
“I said, back off. The ladies ain’t talking to you no more. Just leave.”
He realized that his fingers were about to close on the man’s shirt and immediately let his hand fall at his side.
“Hey, I’m just doing my job! …And who are you, anyway?”
Michael didn’t reply. His ears buzzed and he suddenly remembered how many times he, Lisa and her kids had found themselves surrounded and harassed by paparazzi during their marriage and afterward. Unlike back then, when he would consider everything very normal and acceptable, he now felt the sudden need to stop being the peaceful, meek, understanding guy. Tabloids and biased press had ruined his life, their lives. Fuck that shit!
For a second, the only thing he wanted was to punch that guy right in the face.
“Sir, who are you again? Are you Miss Presley’s new partner? The art dealer? What’s your name?”
Michael stared at him with a dead look in his eyes.
“Step back and leave.”
His voice was deep and low, the sinister undercurrent of his tone even more apparent. Meanwhile, Janet and Lisa had finally managed to reach the car.
The photographer seemed to study him for a second and finally moved a step back, letting go of his camera, which, assured to his neck by a shoulder strap, fell against his torso. Yeah, well… Maybe he was not willing to risk getting scrambled by this stranger for a picture.
“Alright, man… Look, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal. It’s just what I do for a living, OK?”
The guy shrugged and gave him an apologetic look. Michael swallowed and blinked, regaining his self-control.
“Have a good night,” he just replied politely, before getting in the car and slamming the door shut.
They drove off quietly, and nobody spoke for a few minutes. Eventually, Paris burst out laughing nervously and turned to Michael. He was sitting in the back seat, staring out the window, nervously pulling at his beard.
“Alright… What was that, daddy? Holy crap! You were so cool out there!” She reached over and slapped him on the knee when he didn’t acknowledge her words. “Dad! Were you getting mad for real? ‘Cause it sure looked like it! I told you, you’re a superhero in disguise!”
Oh yeah… He had been mad for real indeed. But the feeling was gone now. A smirk appeared on Michael’s face as he relaxed a little and shook his head slightly as general laughter erupted in the car.
“Dad, you really were cool. You actually scared me, for a second…” Blanket muttered, his eyebrows shooting up.
Michael had almost scared himself, too, and yet he kept smirking. He felt a thin layer of sweat covering his back, under his clothes, and exhaled a long cleansing breath. Looking over at Lisa he noticed that she was quiet, staring back at him, her eyes lost in something indecipherable.
“Mike, I’m glad you couldn’t stop that infamous asshole streak of yours for once. That motherfucker just wouldn’t let go!” Janet exclaimed. Then she pressed her hand over her mouth when Michael glared at her. “Oops! Language. Sorry.”
Paris laughed even louder and sank back into her seat.
Lisa reached out and took Michael’s hand into her own, squeezing it.
“Thank you, baby…”
He just nodded slowly in return, not knowing what to say. For how long had he been suppressing his fury? All of a sudden, he had almost exploded. He once again had felt like a volcano about to burst and wondered what was wrong with him.
Since that night was the last one they were going to spend together for a while, the kids decided that they would not sleep in their rooms. Instead, they placed comforters and pillows on the massive carpet in the living area. Michael and Janet joined them on the floor, and it all looked like a giant pajama party.
Lisa stayed with them for a couple of hours, curled up on a plush armchair, her head resting in her hand, watching them all with an amused look in her eyes and joining the conversation every now and then. Eventually, she decided to go to bed, stating that she was tired and needed to get some real sleep.
Michael shot her a worried look. She had dark circles around her eyes and looked very pale.
“Are you sure, baby? Why don’t you stay here with us? I can share my comforter with you.”
He smiled at her suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. Lisa burst out laughing. He was shameless!
“Thanks, but no, thanks. You’re too naughty for this old woman. I’m gonna call the kids and then lie down for a while. My back hurts, and I need to sleep for a few hours. Who knows, maybe I’ll be back after taking a nap… You guys just enjoy your night.”
He took her hand and pulled her closer, kissing her gently on the lips.
“OK…”
Lisa got up, wished everyone good night and left, and Michael just let her go, watching her walk down the hallway.
The following handful of hours saw him engulfed in the guilty pleasure of reliving experiences he thought he had lost forever. Telling stories, cracking up at jokes, teasing Janet, engaging in a pillow fight, watching movies and videos on the huge plasma TV, eating popcorn and sweets and, all in all, merely reveling in the presence of his family. He missed Lisa more than he let on and wanted to have her there with him. But he knew her: when she needed to go, he had to let her go. That was why he decided to give her the space that she so obviously craved.
When finally everyone else fell asleep, around three in the morning, Michael silently got up and went to his bedroom.
The small lamp on Lisa’s nightstand was still on, and the dim light illuminated her face. She looked like the painting of a Greek goddess.
Her eyes were closed, long strands of auburn hair rested on the pillow and her shoulders. It looked like she had fallen asleep while reading, and the book was still open, abandoned over her stomach.
Quietly, Michael sat on his side of the bed and placed the book on his nightstand. Then he reached over and turned off the light, allowing the room to sink into the comforting darkness of the night.
Lying down he scooted closer to Lisa, needing to feel her warmth, her skin.
His finger traveled over her naked shoulder, which he gently kissed before closing his eyes. She woke up after a few seconds and snuggled against his body.
He smiled and immediately spooned her, kissing the back of her head and inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, nuzzling her neck and letting his hand slide over her small frame, the valley of her waist, the slope of her hip, her thigh.
“I love you,” he murmured. “And I’ve missed you tonight.”
“I love you too… so much.” Her voice was heavy with sleep.
“You OK?” He kissed the nape of her neck with soft, gentle pecks. “How’s your back?”
“It’s better now… Have I ever told you how warm you are? You’re like my personal oven.”
He heard her smile and smirked in return, his eyes still closed.
“It’s because my temperature always goes up when you’re around.”
“Yeah, it’s not the only thing that goes up… thank God…”
Michael giggled, very pleased with himself. Typical male.
“Well, about that… I’mma let you rest tonight… but only because I’m a gentleman, and I can tell you’re tired.”
Lisa took his hand and pressed it against her chest, then kissed and gently bit down on his forearm.
“I totally appreciate your concern.”
“Yeah? Don’t get too used to that, OK…”
“‘kay…”
She kissed him again and then let out a long breath, closing her eyes and waiting in the dark. She waited and waited, until Michael’s chest started to rise and fall slowly and regularly, signaling that he had fallen asleep. He too needed to rest properly for a few hours.
More than anything else, he didn’t need to know that she had spent a long time locked in the bathroom, curled up on the floor and shaking, rocking back and forth, experiencing one of the worst panic attacks she could remember since she had found him again.
Her entire body felt as if it was about to crack and explode from the inside. Its fragments were about to crumble from her soul, like bark from a tree after it was hit with a hatchet. She felt as if her most inner self was exposed and shattered. Her teeth chattered, her vision was blurred and every breath burned in her lungs like fire.
Not having the chance to do anything else, she had finally managed to run the water into the bathtub and had taken a long, hot bath. It had only worked partially. The cold she felt was internal, and what reverberated on her skin and on the tip of her fingers was just the superficial symptom of much more profound pain, the most external layer of a much deeper wound, of a way more severe and disturbing damage.
At one point, she had started wondering if that was not a simple panic attack but more like post-traumatic stress disorder, whose seeds had been planted in 2009 and that now extended their ravenous roots into her after Michael’s return. She suspected that the paparazzi incident had been the last straw, causing her to break down once again.
Nobody had to know about that.
Locked in the bathroom, her hands pressed on her mouth to silence her sobs, Lisa had fought and fought against her demons until she had been able to regain some composure and at least an appearance of self-control. Michael and his family didn’t need to see her in that messed up state. In a few hours, he would have to say goodbye to Janet and the kids, and Lisa had to be strong for him.
Nothing else mattered, for now.
Chapter song