Ch. 1: Take the Stress Away

Don’t embarrass me.

The soft rocking of the blacked out SUV awoke Beyonce’s senses as she stared at the bright phone screen clutched in her hands. Her head tilted, brows drawn together as she re-read the text from an unknown number. It didn’t take long for her to know just who it was messaging her so boldly.

Don’t embarrass him? What is he talking about?

For the last two months, she had held true to her claims of being done with Jay for the thousandth time. 8 years of holding on to the the kind of love that came and went with the ebbs and flows of his insatiable tastes in other women had taken it’s toll on her. This time, when she blocked his number and swore her team and family from letting him through, she just knew it would be her chance to break away from a relationship she was constantly begging for him to honor. Begging for him to be a part of after all of this time. 

Peering through heavy lashes, she stared into the rearview mirror situated at the front of the vehicle. Paranoia and anger rolled in her belly before any breakfast could as her eyes flitted between the two men who knew today’s plans, as she wondered just how her estranged boyfriend who seemed to know just how to make her brain ricochet with confusion, knew when to send such a cryptic command. Hazel eyes darkened in the early morning hours as suddenly, the question of betrayal lurked around her. 

David, her driver? No, she had just brought him on in the last few weeks—no reason for him to even have Jay’s phone number. Especially since she has been icing him out for as long as David’s been a part of her team.

No way in hell Julius would do such a thing. She slowly slid the zipper of her hoodie up and down as she became lost in thought. When her eyes shifted to the Dutch bodyguard who had served her well, she felt assured in ruling him out. She’d seen him as a part of her family, and knew that under his strict exterior, he held the same affection and respect. He’d been the only eyes to witness her at her lowest moments some days, especially when it came to the complexities of the love that seemed to do nothing but hurt her.

Sitting back in her seat, she sighed as she closed her eyes. Stretching her arms to release the tension that strained her muscles, her hand fell into the empty space beside her, where her assistant , Andrea, should have been. She had gotten a call from the younger woman early that morning. The sounds of a hospital were undeniable as she described a harrowing night of sudden illness. She didn’t have to think twice about insisting she take this time to herself. She had been on a pretty chaotic run with Beyonce over the last couple of years. Album releases, a whirlwind of a world tour and everything in between, she had more than earned the time off she almost had to be forced to take. She knew that the hectic schedule she kept could wear one down, and she hated the idea of Andrea working herself so hard into sickness. She asked a lot from those who helped her make her dreams a reality, but she never wanted it to be at the cost of their own health.

That’s why for the next few weeks, Andrea would be on a mental health and wellness sabbatical. It had taken a lot of convincing to assure her that she would have no worries when it came to her pay during that period, or what awaited her when she returned. Beyonce knew that health took precedence, no matter what. Aside from a few promotional obligations and mini projects she was working on behind the scenes, this was an easy season for Beyonce as she prepared to hibernate from the public eye.

“Right on time.” David announced with a smile lacing his words. He was able to inject her worsening mood with the kind of lightness she wanted to bring with her on a day like this. Beyonce opened her eyes to see the gates of a private lot come into view. David rolled the SUV to a stop, lowering his window as he verified their identity with the property security before being ushered in. 

She watched as unsuspecting buildings passed them by as they made their way to the secluded parking area they had been directed to when today’s plans had been finalized.

It had been a long time since Beyonce was called on to help out a friend with an up and coming project. She had become so used to throwing herself into her own work, that she forgot how refreshing it could be to be a fly on the wall as you watch another’s creative process and vision come together. When she had received this particular call, she knew that this would be the greatest reprieve from a deteriorating personal life. 

Julius opened the door for Beyonce to emerge. His eyes scanned the already secured lot out of habit as he made ready to flank her entrance into the brick building ahead.

Beyonce gripped the straps of her bag as the feeling of excitement rose from the soles of her feet, chasing away the misery that had weighed her down just moments before. With her free hand, she found herself smoothing out her natural curls that were held back by an old headband. When they were welcomed into the building by yet another checkpoint, she felt like this was her chance to forget all of the going ons of her own world, and it would offer her a chance to step into what she hoped would be a well deserved escape.

“…Is the room set up? We’ll kick things off here soon.” Busy crew members moved about as they prepared to settle in to their home base over the next couple of weeks. Beyonce quickly walked across the linoleum floors with Julius not far behind, not wanting to be in the way of hard work. She was happy to see different faces —some new and some old— as she said good morning to the crew who would be joining the rehearsals of the upcoming short film for a certain star.

Beyonce had managed to build her own name since the last time she had seen him. He was someone she had admired coming into the industry, and someone who wasn’t shy in sharing his own admiration for the work she had done. From her time with her girl group, to breaking through as a solo act, she had shared plenty of conversations with the man who the game was molded after. The fame and dreams artists across the world sought to make come to true, were all inspired by someone who showed you that the grit you needed to make things happen had to be in you, not on you.

Guided by the carefully placed signs, Beyonce followed their direction, leading her to a door that had a laminated banner adorned with her name.

“This is us.” She whispered over her shoulder as she and Julius came to a stop. Before she could turn the doorknob, behind them, the sound of a door creaking open could be heard.

“It is you.”  At the sound of his airy greeting immediately chased away the troubles that clung to her. Turning on her heels, Beyonce came face to face with a warm smile that mirrored her own.

“Hi, Michael.”

oOo

Slender fingers reached up to remove the black shades Michael was accustomed to wearing. The glasses disappeared in his large hands as he welcomingly opened his arms to Beyonce. She barely needed the cue, as she found herself stepping into his arms without a second thought. Her excitement could barely be contained as she stood on her tiptoes. The palms of her hands pressed into his toned back, steadying herself as she felt his hold tighten, tucking her deeper into his chest. From the rumble of his soft laughter, to the beating of his heart in tandem with her own, She could feel her nervous system relax for the first time in God knows how long.

“I’m glad I got out of bed on time. Something told me you may beat me here this morning.” He teased. They leaned back in unison, admiring the other and silently sharing in the anticipation of what lied ahead of them. 

Beyonce had spent hours on the phone discussing everything there was to tell when Michael had reached out, requesting her help for his next short film. When he had brought up a small surprise performance she had done with Usher years ago when he had a show down in Puerto Rico, she had hid her face behind the phone bashfully, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“It was mesmerizing—”

“Please, I’m embarrassed to even think about you seeing that!” Beyonce chuckled as she held her forehead in the palm of her hand. Heat crept up her neck at Michael’s recollection.

“Honestly, Beyonce. I’m never not in awe of you, and was hoping that you would be interested in working with me.”  She knew he was being sincere. He had managed to describe her allure and dance in a way that had become foreign to her over the years. Never did he utter the word sexy. If he had, then maybe she would have known how to respond without being so shy. No, his honeyed tone spoke to the sensuality she was trying to tap into in her brief number. The temptation and desire she wanted to elicit out of her audience, no matter where they watched her from as she took control of the stage. He saw the art in sexuality rather than the raunchiness the tabloids had deemed her performance to be.

“It’d be an honor, Michael. You already know that.” Hesitation was gone as she made her decision.

A small cheer of victory could be heard as he tried to muffle the sound. When he returned, he thanked her profusely.

“And just so we’re clear, the honor is all mine, Beyonce. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Believe me, I’ve been counting down the days for this.” A slight tug drew her attention to Julius as he made to take her bag as he knew a reunion between the two would ensue. He and Michael shook hands, sharing pleasantries in greeting. With a polite thumbs up, Julius’ posture relaxed as he moved to Beyonce’s personal room.

“Then you must have been reading my mind. I hope you found the place alright.” Michael held out his hand, his warm palm turned upwards as Beyonce accepted the offer. Placing her hand in his own, she followed him into his suite. 

“Luckily, we had no issues.” She looked around the spacious room, noting the planned outfits that hung on racks, and the quiet hush of stylists and assistants who worked together like a well oiled machine. Michael stepped away, briefly interrupting their flow to suggest a brief break.

“You guys go hang out. You’ve been up for hours now; get some food and relax before things get started.” 

Beyonce took it upon herself to browse what she could of the room, as Michael chattered away with his team, assuring them a break would cause no disruption to the day. Not wanting to venture too far and invade his space, she turned in a casual circle, catching a peek at a brilliant red suit that remained tucked away in its traveling pack. He had given her just enough information to know what his goal was for this video, and by the look of this suit, she knew she was in for a ride.

Michael followed the team members as they made their exit, answering last minute questions before he softly closed the door behind them. As he turned around, he clasped his hands together, shoulders lowering as he let out a breath of relief.

His white button up revealed a crisp white tee beneath that seemed to stretch across a defined chest she didn’t remember seeing the last time they had met. His large eyes seemed softer today, as he decided against the black eyeliner that had become a defining feature over the years. Beyonce’s eyes drifted lower as she couldn’t help but notice the muscled thighs that seemed to fill out his black slacks in a manner she had never taken notice of before.

She had always found Michael to be a beautiful man at every stage of his life. She’d be lying if she said this new “grown man” weight wasn’t a pleasant surprise as she found a new reason to admire him.

“Are you still here with me?” Loose strands of his black hair drifted into his eyes as a curious look twisted his lips into a smile.

Beyonce straightened her posture as she thought of a way to talk herself out of the moment of embarrassment. “You caught me.” She threw up her hands in faux defense as Michael hid a laugh as Beyonce feigned guilt. “You lookin’ good, Michael. I know that’s not all from Sunny D. I’m glad to see it.”

Michael grabbed onto Beyonce’s elbow as her small quip caught him by surprise, his laughter deepening. During their conversations over the years, he had more than once expressed his love of orange juice, and she had even offered to send him a year’s worth of the best squeeze after learning of how he always kept a glass nearby.

“I’ve had a bit of an appetite lately, that may be what you’re seeing.” He admitted. Beyonce’s eyes brightened to hear the news.

“That’s wonderful, Michael. I guess that means we will have to make time for a dinner date while we’re together.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Michael agreed. Gesturing towards a seating area, he offered her a chance to relax while they still had time. Falling into the cushions together, they both turned to the other, their views unobscured as Beyonce rested her cheek against her fist.

“How has everything else been going?” Beyonce’s voice softened as she studied his face.”You’ve been on the move this last year. I know with that scare you had a while back, we haven’t had a chance to truly catch up. With everything going on.” Her voice trailed off as she knew there was some trust built between the two as friends, but she had grown to learn sensitive topics could oftentimes go one way or another with him.

“I’m doing okay—” Michael stopped himself as Beyonce’s free hand caressed his now tensed fist without thinking.”I’m doing the best that I can.” He took hold of her hand, appreciating the simple show of comfort. 

After all of the lies and speculations that had been told of her in the news, Beyonce tried her damndest to steer clear of the stories shared in the media of other’s lives. Especially those of people she held dear to her. From hospitalization due to overworking himself, to a difficult divorce that still proved a challenge for him to navigate, she could only imagine what these things, plus all of his work in-between, could have meant for his well-being. In this life, most people viewed artists like a machine. One that can handle whatever is thrown at it and never tire. Once you breakdown, they’ll be ready to toss you aside like scraps, looking for the next model.

“Sometimes, that’s all we can do, isn’t it? No matter what others think or demand of us.” Her southern drawl was warm as she spoke in a hushed tone. There was a sense of understanding in her words, as her imagination of what he felt drifted to her own experiences. If there was anything she could bet on, it would be how difficult it could be at times to choose yourself.

Within Beyonce’s words, she had presented a option that had in some ways became a rarity throughout Michael’s life.

The choice to choose what he gave of himself and to who.

Michael’s eyes locked with hers as his thumb pressed into the back of her hand. The slight pressure became an extension of his pointed gaze filled with the weight of thoughts he didn’t feel like he could shoulder alone much longer. He’d spent most of his life, toeing the line of vulnerability and disappointment as he tried to find a home in others where he could truly be himself. He’d been burned more times than he’d like to admit, which had him questioning his own sanity against the ways of this world.

“Yeah.” His soft utterance fluttered from his lips, just as he blinked away the barrage of noise in his mind. Beyonce could feel the slight hesitation that must have held back whatever words Michael had on his mind, as he squeezed her hand, briefly tugging it forward as if he wished to invite her into his inner world. 

Over the years, Beyonce had felt some distance, naturally, as he moved into a new chapter of life as a married man. She could still feel the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck as she remembered giving his personal line a call one night, as was customary in the early days of their friendship. The cold question still took up shop in her memories, “How did you get this number?” She shivered whenever she thought about the surprise answer of Lisa Marie on the other end. She’d seen the anxiety and paranoia caused by her father throughout her parents’ marriage. Every call, every late night out had served as her mother’s own personal hell as she never knew just when or where her father’s philandering would take place. To her own disappointment, she too came to learn what the damage of unfaithfulness could do to a relationship.

And so, she drew herself back. No way in hell did she ever want to cause even a lick of confusion in another woman’s life.

Hazel eyes looked to see their hands still clasped together. Though his head was tilted, keeping his eyes out of her view, Beyonce could see a slight change in Michael’s demeanor as he seemed to drift from where they were in the moment. Pursing her lips, she quickly tucked her legs underneath her as she settled into the couch more comfortably. With her free hand, she grabbed where theirs met, tapping them lightly as she gave him a dimpled smile when his head finally rose.

“Okay, okay! What I need from you now is another rundown on who we’re embodying today. You said I’m a hoe named Susie?” Beyonce twisted her lips as she furrowed her brows, successfully seeing a light return to her friend.

“No, no, no…” Michael shifted as his hair fell into his face. “Susie’s not just any—” Michael shook his head, bashfulness blanketing his face as he censored himself from repeating Beyonce’s words. “She’s a bad woman, by no fault of her own. She’s strong, but that’s no good for the man she meets in me. She’s the type to eat me alive.” Michael became animated as he began to share his vision.

“Oh, I can get with that.” Beyonce leaned forward as she listened intently to him laying out the details she wanted to be sure she knew like the back of her hand.

oOo

“I love chemistry day.”

Beyonce rolled her neck, loosening her muscles as the sound of the choreographer’s voice sounded throughout the room, as he watched through the viewfinder of the camcorder used to document the rehearsals. Once she and Michael arrived, they got to work completing their warm-ups and making all last minute adjustments before their practice began.  The room was fairly empty, as they planned on focusing on building out the choreography between the two of them as the leads, to ensure they set the perfect tone for the other dancers as they slowly filtered in for their session.

A slight sheen rested on her forehead as she reached down to the outstretched hand that helped her down from the impromptu table they had decided to add to their scene. Over the last few hours, they had found their groove with the music and each other as the song played on loop. She had found herself sitting back in the moment, watching Michael’s genius at play. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable up there?” Michael asked as Beyonce jumped down in heels with ease.

“Ain’t nothing to it, but to do it. “ She assured him. They had moved throughout the rehearsals so far, improvising their moves, feeding off of one another. Michael’s choreographer had essentially moved into the role of a sounding board, as he and Beyonce were able to bring to life the story he wanted to be told. 

“Perfect. I really want to capture a, a, feeling of enchantment between us. You are working the scene with me following behind you, knowing that I’m caught in your web and the inevitable is going to happen.”

“Like sensuality that you’re almost angry you can’t escape?” Beyonce turned on her heels as she took her place next to Michael. They huddled together, his arm around her was it as hers draped across his shoulders, while  a team member walked a camera over, showing them the playback of the most recent run through. Their closeness came naturally throughout the day, a mature version of their typical affection with one another. Michael’s body moved involuntarily as he played out what he saw on the screen.

Beyonce bobbed her head along as her own mind began to run with ideas of how to improve.

“Right there,” she pointed her finger as the video was paused, “ do you think we should get a bit closer? Once I’m in a dress, the fringes can flow over your leg if I lift mine towards your hip.” She mimed the actions as Michael studied, liking where she was going.

“Yeah, yeah. That could work.” He tapped his lip as he considered her suggestions. Taking her by the hips, he moved her back to the center of the floor, and without instruction Beyonce carried out their practiced steps, adding the twist. She trusted Michael as he moved in step. 

“Look who took you under,” Michael sang the lyrics as his guide. Taking his lead, Beyonce drove her knee upwards, his hand catching her in his steady grip,” Bop!” He vocalized. When their eyes met, she saw a question of trust reach out to her. With a tight nod, she consented to whatever he had in mind.

“We’re seven inches in.” As she felt her body weight shift with his assistance, she found leverage with the back of his neck as he spun her into a deep drop, holding her suspended from the ground. 

“Oh!” The surprise move brought her nose to nose with Michael. She watched as his pointed stare gave way to gentleness as they grinned together, their breaths mixing knowing they nailed the experiment on the first try. “That was hot.” She admitted as he brought her back to her full height. “And you didn’t drop me?” She pointed jokingly.

“I’m a professional, Beyonce.” He played along. “I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.” He promised with one hand laid across his heart. 

As Beyonce adjusted her clothes, and fixed her hair, Michael clapped his hands for encouragement, and signaled for the music to begin.

“Let’s run it again from the top, please.”

Step by step, Beyonce and Michael were able to come together and create a language that spoke between their bodies without a single word uttered from their lips. Lines blurred between working towards building the perfect choreography for his film, and becoming lost in learning each others bodies in a manner they were used to becoming lost in when performing. It was like second nature to use themselves as an expression of what they felt, of what they thought in moments of creation. It was what had endeared them to the world. But in this moment, the burden of perfection for public consumption fell away as their energy fed each other, alone.

“Oh, I think we should keep that move. Nice and relaxed, but rimming with appeal.” The choreographer stood before Beyonce, mimicking a move, providing tips on what she could make her focus points. Watching him back in the mirror, she caught a glimpse of Michael being called by one of his staff, as he jogged off.

Snapping her eyes back to the center of the room, she tried to remain focused on the conversation before her, but the mystery of what drew Michael’s brows together in the distance was hard to ignore.

“…and I’m thinking the heels you have on today will be a perfect height for the actual shoot. Gorgeous, by the way.” The compliment did not go unnoticed as the man showed his appreciation privately.

“Thank you!” She drew him in closer as she whispered. “They cute, but got my feet hurtin’.” They muffled their laughter, looking all the more a secret pair as Michael’s attention was briefly broken. It was apparent that whatever was passed along to the singer was less than desirable as he shook his head in agitation.

Beyonce was guided to a folding chair as she was offered a chance to get off of her feet during the impromptu break. 

“Michael will work until the wheels fall off, so any reprieve you get, don’t pass it up.” 

“I can be the same way, even when I don’t mean to be.” Slipping off a heel, she gingerly kneaded the reddening skin around her toes. “ I have to remind myself that others need to eat and rest when I’m working. I will barely make it to the bathroom if I’m in too deep.” She admitted.

“Oh, aren’t you a perfect match for him? Michael’s a workaholic and everyone’s come to accept it. After a certain point, you learn how to adjust, but man, he always seems to find more in the tank to keep on going.” Picking up the video camera, the choreographer began reviewing the footage once again. As the sounds of their recorded voices and music filled the room, Beyonce raised her eyes to her reflection to see two others trained on her.

With a soft smile, she acknowledged Michael as his expression softened. Though he wasn’t speaking to her, it felt as though she was somehow on his mind in that moment.

“Okay, let them know what I said. I don’t want anyone showing up here today. Can you make sure of that?” His question to the his assistant found their way to Beyonce’s ears.

“Got it. Would you like for us to continue to screen all calls for the rest of the day?”

“Rest of the day, please.” Michael rubbed his brow. “No, rest of the week. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I’ll let security know.”

As Michael began his walk towards them, Beyonce, dropped her head, hoping she hadn’t overstepped a boundary by eavesdropping.

“I think we’ve made great progress so far today.” He announced, drawing the attention of his choreographer. 

“I agree. Today was testing things out. Our next session will be our chance to tie it all together before we bring the rest of the group in.” He sat up, carefully shutting down the camera as gathered his things, as he knew it was time to shut things down.

Beyonce began to stand to her barefoot, looking between the two men as she placed her hands into her back pockets.

“Are we calling it a day?” She asked as the choreographer stepped forward to give her a hug goodbye. They exchanged pleasantries, as today served as the first time they had worked together. When he trotted off with a pep in his step, happy for a rather early end to the rehearsals, Beyonce looked back to Michael.

She was tempted to ask if he had received bad news, leading to the sudden stop, but held back as the stressed look he once had seemed to melt away.

“Calling it a day.” He confirmed as he looked down between their feet. Noting her swollen toes, his lips curled in a half smile of apology. “ I didn’t overdue it, did I?”

Beyonce waved him away, appreciative of the show of concern. “Not at all. Just wait for when I call up my favor.” She winked.

“Good, good. If I ever do too much, you gotta tell me immediately. Promise?” His stare waited for her answer, already searching for the truth in her words.

“Promise.” 

When he found what he needed, Michael silently accepted her answer.

Michael began to wring his hands together as he seemed hesitant of his next request.

Ch. 3: The Closer I Get to You

Beyonce’s lips curled behind the tips of her fingers as she looked on to Michael, who captured the attention and awe of the room. She held back her laughter as the partygoers clabbered over themselves, to get a better look at the magnetic man that he was.

Over her shoulder, she could still see the shiny head of one of Michael’s men—the one Bill had said she must take with her if she were to step away on her own. Rudy, was it?

His russet toned skin was dotted with sweat, running into his eyes as he scoured the crowd for her. She held up her hand, giving a small wave to catch his attention to lessen his stress. When his eyes landed on hers, she watched him take a deep breath of well deserved relief as he shook his head in astonishment. Later on, she would make sure to thank him for his steadfastness in taking her on when he didn’t have to.

The denseness of the crowd thwarted any further efforts to comb through towards her, but with clear hand signals, he let it be known he had an eye on her if things got iffy. Beyonce gave a thumbs up, as she didn’t want to cause any more trouble for the man.

With the sound of Michael’s voice amplified by the microphone, his words were the clearest in the room as the whispers of excitement and disbelief fell to a lull. Yet, it wasn’t enough to drown out a peculiar conversation that caught her ear.

Just behind Beyonce, stood two well-dressed men, who looked every bit of boardroom ready, if she ever did see it, even after a long night of partying. Out the corner of her eye, she was able to take in their profiles as they nodded towards the front of the room.

“I told you he’d come. He’s a fucking weirdo, but not a dunce.” The shorter one of the pair remarked. Beyonce’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyebrows lowered behind her glasses.

“Who was even able to get ahold of him? I’ve been getting the cold shoulder from his camp for weeks.” A small glass of whiskey raised to thin lips as the taller man shook his head.

Their heads leaned together, shielding her eavesdropping from the name that was shared. Beyonce looked back to where Michael stood with Sid, their friendly back and forth looking more and more like the face-off she suspected. A memory of Michael demanding his team not to let anyone arrive on set unannounced came back to mind. The irritation in their voice gave them away, if the name calling didn’t.

Beyonce was never a big fan of bullies, no matter the situation. As a child, she’d get shit from other kids for any given reason. She was too quiet, she had a jacket others secretly wanted, or simply— they just didn’t know why they felt driven to pick on her. Her mother had taught her long ago that sometimes, people may use hatefulness to hide their true desires. Sometimes, it all boiled down to those who talked down on you desiring something you had.

“You serious?” The taller man exclaimed as the other nodded his head, eyes widening to show he wasn’t kidding. “Give me the number you have,” He requested, slapping his partner’s chest,” I don’t want to be left out of the loop.”

“This is a man with dreams that are larger than life. He pushes boundaries, leaving no limits to what he is capable of. He knows what he wants, and he goes after it, no matter what.”

Taking a deep breath, Beyonce tried to focus as Michael spoke. His words came out casual, yet measured. Something in her stomach told her so. That what he said went deeper than what most probably heard.

The scoff from the peanut gallery proved her instincts were right.

“If only he knew…” Beyonce’s skin tingled as she could feel heat spread from her ears to her toes. She shifted uncomfortably in her sweater as it started to feel too restrictive.

“You think he’s bringing on someone big for this shoot coming up? And that’s why he’s not sharing anything?”

“I fucking hope not. You know, that’s what pisses me off about these big names. They cook up these albums and projects under their own bullshit production company, but still need us to make sure everyone knows about the shit? Without barely any fucking notice, staying tight lipped about the shit that matters?”

The venom in his complaint was hard to miss. Beyonce almost felt dared to turn around and let them know just who Michael was working with, confirming their suspicions.

“All this independent artist shit pisses me off too, believe me.” The calmer of the two added.”But with this one?” A meaty hand pointed past Beyonce’s face, towards the stage. “He’s going to be handled. You can bet your fucking house on that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Folding her arms, Beyonce looked down to her feet, feigning interest in something else so she could sneak a glance at the two men who were testing her patience. They stepped forward, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders as they bouldered their way through the crowd.

“Was talking to Sid yesterday about this and he said — get this— one of these years he’s going to get himself the best birthday present in the world.”

“What’s that?” The taller man gleamed.

The shorter man chortled, the laugh rolling through his chest as he dwelled in the moment.

“Everything Michael’s got.”

Beyonce had to force her mouth from dropping open at the implication as they walked towards the edge of the crowd as they had no interest in listening to the guest speaker much longer.

“You’re an inspiration, Sid, really. A reminder to live your life for you and all that you desire.”

It took great effort to hide how disturbed she was as Michael delivered his closing remarks. If she was anyone else, she would drag the two men to Michael, ripping off their masks to reveal all that she had heard.

Raising her eyes, she studied Michael’s face. Though she didn’t have the full picture, she knew this man was no one’s fool. Just as much as she knew she for sure would be the last person anyone would expect to have heard such secret remarks, she wondered if she would be the best person to bring this information to Michael? Would she be underestimating his own intuition by bringing bits and pieces of conversations she knew nothing about to him? Would it be useful or just more undue stress?

Drawing her cheeks in, Beyonce bit the inner flesh as she quieted her thoughts. She couldn’t keep this from Michael, but there would have to be a better time for her to share what she knew. The feelings their conniving stirred in her would make sure not a single thing would be forgotten when the time came. She’d be there for Michael then.

And now.

When Michael’s speech dwindled down, Beyonce shook herself free from the overheard conversation. The palms of her hands began to sting as she clapped her hands as hard as she could, the sound carrying over the dazed hush of the crowd, drawing Michael’s eyes straight to her own. Michael’s teeth began to show as his lips pulled back happily, recognizing the source of the applause that soon grew throughout the room. Sliding her shades down, she gave him a wink she hoped he could see as he gave the final birthday wishes.

Beyonce’s eye’s followed his movement as he dodged the many hands that reached out to him, desperate to pull him in every direction for a moment of his time.

A strong hand landed on her shoulder, belonging to Rudy as he finally reached her.

“We’ve got to get you a name so I can keep up with you.” Rudy declared.

The suggestion caught her by surprise as the DJ cranked the music back up, making Beyonce question if she had heard Rudy right.

Before she could register anything else, her head was forced back as a sudden movement swiped across her face. With just enough time to dodge major damage, Beyonce felt her shades being knocked off her face as a dull pain stung her forehead. With her eyes still tightly closed, she could hear the crowd began to ask the one question she hoped to avoid.

“Is that her?”

“Beyonce! No fucking way!”

Covering her mouth with one hand, she wondered if it would be enough to make people second guess who she was, to no avail. She felt her body be jostled as some began to invade her personal space, while other’s exercised some restraint.

Soon, she was inundated with questions from every corner. There was no way she could even begin to answer them if she tried as they rained down upon her.

“I’m going to find us a path out.” Rudy decided as he spotted his boss cutting through the crowd towards them. That was enough for him to take action, as he knew once Michael reached them, she’d be in safe hands.

Just as she thought to call out to him, Beyonce stumbled as someone tugged on her clothes. It appeared there would be no way to calm down the excitement.

As anxiety began to take root, Beyonce was brought back as Michael’s hand lifted in the air, waving out to her. She saw him forced forward from behind, but was grateful as it helped close the gap enough for her to grab his hand.

When he drew her into his body, she felt assured there was nothing to worry about. Guiding them to Rudy, Beyonce ignored the teasing remarks Sid sung over the music.

To hell with him and this party.

“Stay close to me.”

Michael’s warm words of protection guided Beyonce through the blinding, flashing lights of cameras that followed them. Though Bill was much older and on the smaller side of Michael’s fortified security team, he alone led the way through the rush of paparazzi who had obviously been given a last minute special run of the exits as they rushed through doors that were blocked off upon their arrival.

Beyonce had developed a habit of observation when it came to her surroundings over the years, as she had been the target of scrutiny and countless attempts to catch her off guard in moments when all eyes were on her. So, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together after the boisterous show the label head had put on just moments ago. Michael’s earlier tight lipped description of what to expect tonight revealed enough to her to know nothing would be as it seemed.

Looking up to her left, her eyes studied Michael’s flat expression as he held his head high and steady.  If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was unfazed by the turn of events. The only proof of tension rested in the grip his hand had on hers. His steps were smooth, not rushed as he maintained his composure and moved with a purpose.

Beyonce had always worked to not show how the rush of paparazzi bothered her over the years. She was used to giving a tight Sunday school smile of acknowledgement, hoping it may satisfy their need to see her. There were times when she would finally be out of their sight, where she’d have to massage away the twitching muscles in her face that worked overtime in moments where the last thing she wanted to do was smile. She knew there were jokes amongst her fans of how quickly she could spot a camera and their even the evidence proving her sharp eye tickled her at times as well. However, the realization that she always felt on the spot even when she thought she was safe would always sit with her. It was damn near akin to being treated like an animal.

Seeing Michael now, she found herself learning just how much he was used to being consumed. Seeing the way the crowd clabbered over themselves as soon as he stepped on stage, even the way Sid seemed giddy to present him told of how no matter how high you climbed, you couldn’t escape this side of fame somedays.

“To the right, to the right!” Instructions were called out as a path to their SUV was made for them. When the door to the vehicle was opened, security moved to push Michael forward to safety. However, Michael’s shoulders stiffened, as he rooted himself in place, unmoved by the forceful hands as he raised his own, commanding them to stop. His team stared intently, confused by the interruption as they wondered what the hold up was.

“Everyone, just calm down. Okay?” He pumped his hands downwards, calling for order as he pulled Beyonce towards the door. He had wanted her to enter first, she realized, as she stepped past him, delivering a small smile of gratitude as he looked down through his shades. She could feel the heat from his body in the chilly night air as he followed close behind as a gentle hand held her hip, guiding her inside.

“Are you okay?” Were his first words the moment the door was shut securely behind them. Michael’s hands folded his glasses as he removed his shield for her to see drawn brows set over concerned brown eyes.

“I’m okay, Michael. I—” Beyonce’s hands cupped at her chest as the weight of responsibility bared down on her. “What happened in there was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone down there like that. I am so, so sorry.”

It had been her decision to breakaway from a foolproof plan that would have made Michael’s appearance much easier, in hindsight.  She couldn’t help but feel she was to blame for the near chaos that ensued.

“No, it was not your fault at all.” He insisted. Before he could speak another word, Beyonce grabbed his knee, drawing his attention from the floorboards back to her eyes.

“You had a plan, and I made my own last minute. I thought I’d be able to just slip in and out, but I was wrong.” She waited a beat as Michael’s chest rose up and down, biting on his lower lip as he considered what she said.

“We both thought the same thing then. So, we can share the blame, perhaps.” With a playful pat, Beyonce tossed her head back with a soft laugh as she sat back in the seat.

“We thought we were slick, huh?” She joked as she felt the pull of the car as they began to move through the alleyway. Camera’s banged against the windows as paparazzi tried to get the best shots they could through the tinted windows. Turning her head away from their view, Beyonce was surprised to find Michael’s face resting close, as his eyes fluttered open, exhaustion at the rims.

“Yeah, tried to be, at least.” He breathed out. His eyes cut to a place behind her, before his hand lifted, pulling her curls further in her face as his hand laid against her cheek.

“These cameras today, sometime they can luck up and get a glimpse inside.” He explained. “If we can’t stop them, we can make sure they don’t get a good shot.”

This was something she was more than familiar with. She still winced when she thought of the time years ago, when drunken afterparty car shots of her ended up plastered all over the internet and tabloids. She’d done the best she could to hide herself away from the prying lens with not much luck. It came with the job, but the sight of an almost up the skirt shot and her desperate attempt to cover herself burned in her memory, along with the sound of Jay’s laugh when she quietly asked for his help.

“What you want me to do? They outside, we in here. Just relax.”

A part of her wanted to believe Michael’s attempts to shield her were pointless as she had been made to feel in the past. What good would it do for her to harp on little situations like this? After all, life had gone on during the times she’d look to Jay, wonder filling her on would he or wouldn’t he do something unexpected. When nothing would come of her hopeful moment, it had never been the end of the world, had it?

But sitting here, intrigued by the intent on his face as he preserved her dignity, no matter how big or how small the moment was, she felt a sense of security she didn’t think would matter anymore.

Beyonce shifted, burying her hands between her thighs as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Michael’s. She felt a crack along the armor of composure she donned in life to protect the parts of her that she tried to keep unmarred by others. It was a layer of protection she carried with her everywhere, as there were few instances and people she felt safe enough to shrug herself out of it for. Michael was in no way new to her, but the feeling sparked at the idea of him showing concern for her in such a common and honestly mundane part of being in the public eye stayed with her longer than expected.

When he moved to tuck her hair closer to her chin, she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to his wrist, eyeing the crossing  of veins that fed into his palm. The tip of her nose brushed against the thin skin there, with the faint scent of amber and vanilla tickling her senses. Her breathing became shallow, blowing small puffs of air against his skin as he nodded his head.

“Hey, Bill, let’s drive around a bit to make sure no one’s followed us.” Michael called out as he sat back, his hold dropping from Beyonce. As she listened to Michael manage his team in a way that ensured her safe return home, it was clear to her it came as second nature. There was no showing out or feeling of getting rid of her for the night. She almost felt he seemed to care more for her comfort than his own.

Typical Michael.

This was mister “Heal the World”. He was one of the most selfless people she’d ever known. Doing for others brought him joy and satisfaction that was lost amongst many today, so surprise at his actions was stripped away once she remembered just who she was with.

That same reading of him stayed at the forefront of her mind as she thought of how tonight played out. As they rode in a welcomed silence, Beyonce couldn’t help but remember how, even when he didn’t seem to want to do this, he ultimately came to Sid’s party for a reason.

To satisfy Sid? Maybe, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that yet. Michael hadn’t seemed scared or forced to come, but more like he knew it was a decision that would have to be made. Like many other things he’s had to do in his life, sometimes your choices boil down to it just being a part of the game.

Something told her that showing up tonight held a lot more importance for Michael than he let on. Like there was something he anticipated rearing its head in the future, that required his time tonight

From what she heard out on the floor, she suspected Michael’s instincts may be proven right.

Beyonce hadn’t ran off to cause trouble, honestly. She found she just couldn’t push aside the feeling of something boiling underneath the surface when she had seen Sid in the flesh. Now, for Beyonce, she never had direct conversations with the man. Hell, she probably wouldn’t have been able to put a name to a face until tonight, yet still his reputation most definitely preceded him.

There had been plenty of rumors from great artists that predated even her time on the scene, but nothing she had witnessed for herself. She’d heard the horror stories of artists completely losing the right to their own voice and thoughts just to maintain a spot within the upper echelon of their label’s good graces. At some point, she herself had felt that unsettling creep getting closer and closer and had to make a call, quick. She was formerly managed by a label that was a daughter company to Sid’s. Since she began managing herself, the label’s role switched to that of strictly being her distributor, something she had taken note from mentors like Michael himself. That meant she didn’t have to sit before anybody’s executive nothing when it came to the creative process, she just needed to speak when it was time to push out her product.

Simple as that.

As she mingled amongst the crowd, she soon found that the dreaded entrapment all artist feared may be what Michael saw on the horizon.

The suited pair had been all to comfortable speaking their disdain out loud, not caring to hide who they were talking about in the slightest. If Beyonce had overheard them, no telling who else had. With liquid courage running through their system, they had laughed as they haphazardly discussed a topic she knew wasn’t meant to see the light of day outside of secret meetings and private phone lines.

Beyonce looked down, studying the way her fingers flexed against the seat as she kept her discovery to herself. It still felt important to hold on to for now, as she had been invited into Michael’s world as a guest tonight, not to incidentally gather intel of any kind. Beyonce had two eyes that could see, two ears that could hear and one brain that could think, but still, until she felt Michael had shared what she needed to know that what she knew would be helpful, and not detrimental, she would have to wait. The last thing she wanted to was to come in uninvited to a conversation that had long began before she got word of it.

Soon enough, she found they had reached her home. When they reached her gates, Beyonce rolled down her window, verifying her identity as her security guard let them through.

“I’ll walk you to your door—” Michael broke the silence, but was beat out by the sound of rapid notifications buzzing through Beyonce’s phone. Looking down, she could see the banners rolling in.

Emails.

Texts.

She stuffed the phone into her jacket, already knowing what could be awaiting her.

“It’s already started.” Michael’s spine curved into the seat as he sat back in thought.

There was no question to answer, as he had stated what was plainly obvious to them both. Evidence of their outing were already spreading like wildfire.

“Pay them no mind. Every other day it’s something new, right?” Beyonce tried to lighten the mood. She surely never gave much attention to the things she saw plastered everywhere about her. There was nothing to be ashamed of. She and Michael were known to be friends. Headline chasers couldn’t change that after one night out—

“You do remember what Sid said, right?” Michael leaned forward as he asked his question. “He called us a lovely couple. You heard that too?”

Beyonce’s eyes dodged around the car as she nodded, “Yes. I heard what he said.”

Michael allowed for silence to fill the car as his eyes bore into her. Beyonce could feel the pressure of unanswered questions.

“That’s not going to cause any issues between you and…” He trailed off.

When Beyonce pursed her lips, Michael’s brows raised in slight confusion. She tilted her chin down to her chest, aware that the car had listening ears. She was sure they were more than professional to conveniently forget anything they may overhear, but the status of her relationship was one of the few things recently she felt in control of.

She continued to divert her gaze as she reached for her door handle, cracking open the car as she looked back to Michael.

Pointing her head, she hoped he picked up on her subtle directive to follow her out as she left the SUV. When she saw him propel himself across the backseat, exiting the car on her heels as he signaled Bill and his driver to wait.

Grabbing the fabric of her sweater, Beyonce looked to it for comfort. As she began her slow stroll home. The sound of Michael’s quick steps could be heard as he moved to catch up to her while she slowly hid her face behind her clothes.

The crunch of their shoes on the paved walkway fell in sync naturally, as the whistle of a wind chime colored their silence. Beyonce’s eyes remained trained on the ground, looking between her leather boots and his worn loafers. She watched as they veered to one another and away, but never too far apart.

Michael’s arm ghosted past her own.

Once.

Twice.

Until finally he nudged her, letting her know she had his attention for whatever she had to share. Taking in a final breath, she turned her gaze to his. She found herself struck by the earnest, warm look in his orbs that gave her no reason to doubt speaking her truth.

Pulling away her sweater, she didn’t want to hide behind it any longer. “I ended things with Jay not too long ago.” Her voice revelation was steady, one that told Michael she hadn’t made the decision in haste.

“Beyonce…” He spoke her name gently just as the stopped before her front door. His hand cuffed her elbow as they faced each other. If he was looking for sadness, he would find none, as she had made her peace in the time since. With understanding, Michael’s concerned frown soon softened. When his arms lifted, pulling her into his embrace, she went willingly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not wanting to overlook anything that may be kept beneath the surface as he pulled away, wanting to see her face for himself when she answered.

Beyonce thought she might feel exposed in a moment like this. After all, she’d yet to have the who-what-when-where-why conversation she knew most people would be dying to ask when learning the big news. But no. She felt—seen. Like there wasn’t a question of where her life would go without Jay in it. In the past, their short breaks would be riddled with any and everyone telling her how she’d get over things eventually, how she’d already spent this much time with him, that it was pointless to switch up now.

How, eventually, she’d learn to live with the things that pushed her to the edge.

“I’ve never felt more sure of myself.” When they separated, Michael shook his head with pride. Over the years, he’d heard her confidence and voice grow more and more. The inner workings of her relationship with Jay-Z were a topic he never pushed, only picking up on what she gave throughout the years. Beyonce knew she downplayed most things whenever she spoke of the years they spent together, having been fearful of just how much of a fool she would appear to those she loved and who she never questioned if they loved her.

“I’m glad you told me, Beyonce.” There was no urging to spill details more than she already had. He accepted her news as is. He had accepted her.

“There aren’t many people I’ve shared this with, but, I wanted you to know.” She admitted. Beyonce watched as a small light grew in Michael’s eyes at the news. “So,” she raised her hands, circling them around in a calming manner, “we can hold off on the worrying.We good.”

They shared a laugh as Beyonce assured him there was nothing to defend or deny.

“Get some rest, Beyonce. We still got a whole lot of time together to look forward to.”

As Michael stepped forward, Beyonce raised to her toes immediately, knowing that a parting kiss on the cheek awaited her. When she felt the warmth of his lips against her skin, she returned one of her own, thankful for the gentle show of respect. They didn’t linger any more than normal—anyone who knew them would have been none the wiser to the new wonderings the exchange left behind. They pulled apart slowly, both sitting in the quiet that enveloped them.

In the blink of an eye, Beyonce watched as a new world of possibility flashed before her. She didn’t know what it could have meant, she didn’t know what she was supposed to see, but as she and Michael began to go their own ways, the chance for a choice that lied fully in her control began to merge.

Rhythmic stomps vibrated throughout the dance studio as the once semi-private rehearsals opened to the ensemble dancers who had joined Beyonce and Michael over the last week. The sharp, staccato sounds Michael made accentuated their movement as he kept an eye on everyone’s reflections.

They had spent their time learning from the choreographer who helped both stars strengthen their salsa moves, as it had been an equally new experience. They were thankful for the distraction of learning something unfamiliar, as they days were spent starting off on the same foot, burying themselves into something more interesting than the rumors that had circulated.

Just as Beyonce had predicted, by not giving the incessant requests for comments and frivolous articles the time of day, the initial hype had died down. She had found herself on hours long phone calls with her friends and cousin, Angie, conferencing in as the need to know had even trickled their way.

“Girl, you thinking about letting MJ ‘beat it’?” Angie teased.

“Now , Angie!” Beyonce smacked her teeth.

“Ah ha!” She doubled over with laughter, sending all on the line into a fit of giggles, save for Beyonce. “I’m just saying! I know you loved that man and whatever, but I’ve been waiting for the day you start to explore. I didn’t expect you to take it up a notch, but shit. I ain’t mad!”

“Y’all have got to chill. You know Michael and I have been friends for years. This ain’t nothing new.”

“Yeah, y’all’ve been friends, but you was all snuggled up with him, girl. I saw that man hop off them people’s stage to get to you!” Kelly interjected.

Beyonce froze as she hadn’t seen nothing like that. Granted, she ignored anything that she could, but she thought she had seen all there was to see with the videos and pictures that captured them walking hand in hand to their escape.

“No you ain’t—”

“Yes I did!” Kelly laughed as the skepticism in Beyonce’s voice grew.

“I seen it too— she ain’t lying!” Michelle sang mischievously.

The sound of Kelly’s cackling made Beyonce’s head drop as she let her crew go in. They were among the few who knew of her break-up, in fact, they had sat on a call just like this as her girls comforted her through tears and well placed jeers to keep her from second guessing her decision. They had been in her lives for as long as she could remember, and among the group, Beyonce had always been the shyest when it came to love. She was loyal to a fault for the wrong man, that was a belief they never hid, but also so no reason to beat her up over throughout the years long romance. All they could do was support her every step of the way, ensuring that when things were good, they were good, and when they went bad, they’d have her back.

Beyonce rubbed her face as they continued to joke with one another, suggesting where they’d take her to show off her newly single status. Asking how long they had before she locked it down with her “new beau” in the King of Pop. Just before Beyonce could speak up to end their good time, the double ding of a new text drew their attention to the group chat. Kelly had dropped a link.

Beyonce’s finger hovered over the play button, thinking that if it was out of sight, out of mind up until that point, maybe it should remain that way. There was an interest that had grown over the days that she wasn’t yet ready to turn to and acknowledge. She knew if she did, she could forget ever ignoring it again.

Gasps came over the speaker as Beyonce accepted defeat, now too tempted to not see what the fuss was about.

“Oh my, God.” The words of intrigue left her lips before she could swallow them. In the video, she watched as someone desperately held their camera phone as high as possible, to catch a clear shot of Michael as he moved across the stage. She watched as Bill said something to Michael, but ultimately go ignored as the raven haired man focused on something in the distance.

Focused on her.

She watched as Sid followed close behind, screaming loud enough for the camera to pick up what he was saying.

“Are you two a thing? Is that what I heard?” Michelle repeated the muffled words for the group as they gave the video all of their attention.

“I think so.” Kelly corroborated.

“That’s not true, by the way.” Beyonce threw in, hoping to break their trance. But, they carried on.

Beyonce brought her phone closer to her face as she watched Michael move to the edge of the the stage, and without a second thought, he propelled himself off with ease. Guests who kept their eye on him screamed with excitement as he became a part of the crowd. The camera bobbed up and down as Michael came closer into view. In passing, Beyonce could see determined look behind his shades as he walked past, reaching out to snatch her away.

What was that?

For a moment, Beyonce became lost in the video as she rewound certain moments, raised the volume as she brought her ear closer to see if she heard what she thought she heard, and zoomed in to get a better look at all that went down.

“He might be fun, not even gonna front.” Angie dragged out her words as she and Michelle continued on their own conversation while Beyonce was distracted.

“Y’all, she just ended things with Jay. You gotta let me girl get her mind right before she gets back out there.” Kelly bit back her own laughter as she tried to offer some buffer room for her childhood friend. “Okay, Bey? You hear that, right? You don’t have to jump into anything if you’re not ready.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean she has to deny herself if love comes her way either.” Michelle countered. “Love happens when you least expect it. Could be sooner or later, you never know.”

“Aw, that’s cute, you two.” Angie cooed. “I respect anything my good sis decides to do. If that means being celibate and dating herself for the next ten years, so be it. But if she’s ready to get out there and explore, I’m going to be right in her corner. Besides--” She lowered her voice, “they say you gotta get under somebody to get over somebody.”

Kelly and Michelle gasped at the suggestiveness of Angie’s words drawing Beyonce back into the conversation.

“Angie, girl, you getting under my skin. Bye! I’m hanging up!” Cackling could be heard as the group talked over each other, vying to get the last word in as Beyonce became flustered. She took no offense to their messiness, it was all in good nature, this she knew. Her cousin, Angie had always been notorious for finding just the right spots to poke her, most times her teasing led to Beyonce finding the confidence to make decisions Angie knew she was pussyfooting around.

As the comfort of her girls’ voices ended with the call, a calm quiet fell over her.

Falling back on the cushions of her couch, Beyonce threw her arm over her eyes as she let out deep, relaxing breaths. Her phone weighed heavy in her hand, as her arm dangled over the edge of the couch.

“What in the world is going on?” She asked to her empty home. She wished she could place the responsibility of the recurring thoughts she couldn’t shake, solely on the nosiness and persistence of her friends. They were instigating, right? That had to have been why within the fog that took up space inside her mind, a ribbons of color swirled on themselves, pulling from any and everything that surrounded it.

This thing—this entity— had began to take shape, becoming realer and realer as time went by. She had this sense that whatever it was, it was calling out to her, pushing forward as it started to show itself. There was a rush of anticipation, with some fear of the unknown weaved in the sensation as she looked on. She had tried to ignore its advancement, paying it no mind, but now she felt herself moving in its direction. The pull it had on her was strong, but did not work all on its own. No, Beyonce’s own desire served as the fuel—as the connecting force that pulled it towards her in much of the same way.

This thing, this feeling, it did not act on its own at all.

As she opened her eyes, staring at her high vaulted ceiling, soft breaths quickened past her lips.

Something was coming, and for whatever reason, Beyonce found herself growing eager to meet it.

Beyonce ran a brush through her blown out curls, closing her eyes as the bristles glided across her scalp as she sat in her dressing room, getting herself ready for the day. The sounds of the group rehearsal reverberated throughout the floor, as the speakers blasted Michael’s song.

“Susie got cha number..” She sang under her breath as she grooved to the beat. Off to the side, Julius sat in a chair, tapping his foot along as they had both become accustomed to the song during their time here. A small smirk broke on her face as she caught the usually stoic man’s movement.

“Ok, Julius.” She said playfully. “Want me to see if you can get a cameo?” She leaned over, garnering a laugh and shake of the head as he waved her off.

“Maybe next time.” He suggested. A serious look fell on his face as he could hear the soft knocks of a visitor, before Beyonce could notice. He stood to his feet, moving to open the door as Beyonce followed.

“We’re ready for your fitting.” The staff member peaked her head in, glasses balancing on the tip of her nose as she announced her presence.

“Great! Come on in.” Beyonce opened the door further as the woman filed in with two others who carried a garment bag and supplies. Julius let her know he’d be stepping out, as the women were left on their own.

“This is a beautiful piece, Beyonce. I can’t wait for you to see the final product.” The staffer exclaimed as the women began to set things up. Beyonce clapped her hands together as she watched the bag unzip to the secret piece Michael had designed with his team.

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t let me see this until now.” She laughed as a flash of red revealed itself.

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Michael loves to work with his designers when it comes to things like this.” The staff held the dress up, presenting the piece with pride in their boss. They had passed by, many times, taking a peek as he sketched away. They had presented him with other dresses from fashion houses who were hoping to get their work in one of his videos, but he had decided nothing was quite right.

“Michael designed this?” The ruby red dress swayed on the hanger, its glimmer catching in the light as she reached out to rub her hand across its fabric. Her eyes trailed down its thin straps that flowed into a soft plunge neck. The asymmetric cut of the skirt of the dress was decorated with the fringe Beyonce had mentioned in passing.

So he was listening to her during their rehearsals?

“How long did it take for him to get this done?” She asked out of curiosity. They began to move, Beyonce disappearing behind a privacy screen as she undressed. When the dress was passed to her, she carefully slid it on. She was happy to see it fit like a glove as it covered her curves with ease.

“The turn around was pretty quick, I think, like three days once he was satisfied with the design?” The staffer shrugged as she recalled the details. “Let’s try this first pair of heels.” She said casually as she next passed along the shoes.

“Three days?” Beyonce said, impressed. She accepted the shoes, placing them on the ground as she stepped into them. She turned her head, looking for a mirror so she could get the first look.

“Oh my…” She admired what she saw. Her hair fell in textured waves to her waist, soft layers cupping just past her eye as, obscuring her face in a sultry curtain. The deep hues of the dress brought out her golden tone, melting against her skin.

“That’s a good sign!” The staffer called from the other side. The woman turned to her colleague, whispering for her to go retrieve Michael before Beyonce could emerge.

Beyonce was stuck roaming over the details as she turned, moving her hair to see the low cut of the back of the dress as she gathered her hair into her hand, to get a good look at the sinewy lines of her muscled back. Running her hands over her hips, she couldn’t help but smile as she became enthralled with the beauty of the dress. She wondered just what Michael saw in his mind, when he came up with this idea.

Soft, slow footsteps approached the screen, a soft rap against its frame echoed in the room.

Michael’s silhouette was unmistakable as he waited patiently on the other side.

Beyonce tip toed around, spreading her free arm as she revealed the look. “What do you think?”

“I knew it.” Michael’s smile matched her own as he drew back his suit jacket, placing his hands on his hips as he took her in. “This was made for you.” He nodded in appreciation.

“Literally.” Beyonce let down her hair, shaking her head. “They told me you sketched this out yourself? That’s amazing, you know that? I mean, look at it.” She gave modeled the dress in admiration. Michael’s reaction gave her a boost as he didn’t grope her with his eyes, but met her straight on.

“It’s only as good as my muse.” He claimed as he took a step forward. Beyonce dropped her head to the side, letting out a shy breath as she placed her hands against her belly.

“Come here.” She beckoned him near as she moved the screen, opening the rest of the room to their view. The staff sang their praises as they watched the vision come together between the performers as a taste of the stage presence that was undeniably them began to seep through. The women watched as Beyonce and Michael stood before each other, quietly observing the other as they naturally inclined their heads towards one another as they spoke in hushed tones.

The staffers ducked their heads, giving each other the eye as they gathered what they came with as the pair examined one another. Beyonce reached out, coasting her fingers across his sleeve as she asked if the jacket was easy to move in. Micheal answered her, telling her of the ideas and scenes he had in mind to make his movement easier.

“Hey, Michael?” The quick question politely interrupted their conversation. “We’re going to head out and let the rest of the group know you’re ready. Is that okay?”

Michael’s head popped up, thanking them as he watched his crew leave.

“Everything has come together so beautifully. By the time we shoot next week, everything should be perfected.”

“Is it that time already?” Beyonce asked incredulously. Time had flown by, even though she knew this would be a quick project. “I feel like we just started.”

Michael chuckled as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Our first time working together like this and I almost wish I had something more to add so you could stay around longer.”

Beyonce entwined her hands together, shifting on her feet as she raised her brows. “Well, first time doesn’t have to be the last time.” She offered, lifting her eyes to see the agreement that decorated his eyes. She didn’t know what and she didn’t know how, but there was no way they’d just simply drift back to their own worlds after this brief look into the joy they found with one another.

Michael’s eyes searched hers, and she didn’t think the turn away.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, you know?” He pointed a gentle finger her direction. That same hand reached out, taking her own as he gave a slight bow.

Ch. 2: All These People in the Room, Only Me You See (part 2)

Michael and his crew moved in unison as they fell in step with the hectic directions of their hosts, who led them backstage to their holding area. Long ago, he’d learn to go to a special corner of his mind when the shouts and conversations that sounded in his presence began to crowd him.

I can move mountains.

“Is the area cleared yet? We’ll be there in 2 minutes.” The staffer fumbled with his headpiece as he listened to his colleague’s response. “That’s fine and all, but soon as Sid gets on stage to introduce Michael, I need that space ready to go!”

If the Creator provides, I shall not doubt.

“Tonight’s theme, of course is to keep everything nice and light.” Looking around, the staffer adjusted his glasses, making sure loose lips who were likely to pass along their observations to Sid were nowhere near. The president had long gone on to take his place, center stage, as he prepared to introduce his special guest. “Kiss his ass, if you can. He’s been on a high all night, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

March ahead.

Michael tilted his head in response, his eyes peering briefly over the top of his shades as he  politely declined the directive. Speaking someone else’s words when he had his own never made sense. As a child, every interaction he found himself placed in was already written out, even when he had his own thoughts, he seldom got the chance to share them. As he grew up, he found himself becoming more assured in making decisions on when to speak, and when not to. What to say, and what not to say. He’d already made a sacrifice to himself by being here, no need to push himself even further into the farce with lies.

In no time, the heavy curtain leading to the stage came in to view, swaying back and forth as bodies entered and exited, all with a mission at hand. The loud dance music gradually quieted down, as the DJ attempted to quiet down the crowd.

Michael turned to his right, expecting one last glance from Beyonce before he went on stage. He remembered her teasing about a dinner date, and wondered if the Mexican restaurant he used to visit years ago was still open, and if it was worth the risk of sneaking a table somewhere tucked inside.

When she was nowhere to be seen, Michael shifted to catch sight of her, the first feeling of anxiety seeping into his body that night.

“Michael…” Through the wall of security guards, he looked up to see Beyonce being led to the opposite end of the metal riser by unsuspecting event staff. Her whisper was subtle, so not to sound off any alarms with her hard to miss voice. Even still, Michael was able to follow her call, above all else.

When his eyes found hers, he watched as she slightly tugged down her turtleneck, giving him a thumbs up as she mouthed to him, “I’ll see you out there!”

“Hold—hold on.” Michael took a step forward, his hand reaching out towards the metal railing ready to retrieve her before a familiar hand landed lightly on his forearm.

“Don’t worry, Michael. I already sent Rudy with her. See?” Bill’s smile didn’t bring any comfort until Michael laid eyes on the bald guard that stood within arm’s reach of Beyonce.

“I didn’t want to leave her on her own. She can stand off to the side with everyone else when we get on stage—”

“How are we doing tonight, people?” Sid’s voice came over the microphone, traveling throughout the event space.

Bill grabbed on to Michael’s shoulder, pulling him in close to relay what the younger woman had shared with him in the midst of all of the shuffling, “It was her idea. Said she wanted to go down herself.”

“Yeah, but Bill, I don’t want us to get separated once it’s time to go. We’re supposed to be in and out tonight.”

Bill leaned back, giving Michael a wink.” She’s a big girl, I think she’ll be fine.”

Michael sighed, exasperated as he would hope Bill would call Rudy back, have him bring Beyonce back to his side. Just as Michael figured he’d do it himself, he saw that the two figures had disappeared. “I’m just trying to look out for her, Bill.” Michael said, defeated.

Michael was slowly pushed towards the stairs, forced to take them as the wave of bodies around him moved in unison. Before he could think to resist, the reminder of why he was there interrupted any plans that could have been made.

“…and tonight, I’ve got none other than the one and only King of Pop here tonight!”

Michael gave a final side eye to Bill, as he knew his time had come.

“I know you are, Michael.” Bill answered. “ And I think she’s trying to do the same for you.” He hinted, raising his brows. Michael had no time to dwell on what he had heard as the shrill cry of the crowd deafened all other sounds.

“Give it up, for Michael Jackson!”

Michael flexed his hand, releasing it from the tightened fist he had held as he let out a short breath. The opening beat of Billie Jean began to play, introducing the star. On quick feet, he strode towards the stage, where the strobe lights of the party shined through the opened curtain. As soon as he stepped out, the party erupted into cheers, as if it were possible for them to become even louder.

Clapping his hands, and waving with a reluctant smile, Michael accepted the warm welcome. Walking to the center, he met Sid whose boisterous laugh was accompanied by fist pumps into the air.

Shaking his head, he clapped as his eyes began to track the crowd for a certain someone behind his blacked out shades. Without missing a beat, Michael reached out, making the first move to shake Sid’s hand vigorously before the cameras.

“Ah ha! My man!” Sid celebrated seemingly happy from the friendly interaction initiated by Michael himself. Waving his hand to the crowd he encouraged them to continue their screams. “Don’t say I never did anything for ya!” Pointing to the guests, the exuberant president jabbed facetiously. Just as Michael was given the microphone, he gave up his search as attention was officially turned over to him.

The sea of faces morphed together as the shine of camera lights emerged one by one in the crowd, arms thrusting their phones as high as they could into the air. The shutter of professional camera’s sprinkled throughout were not lost on him.

“Thank you, Sid. Thank you, to all of you beautiful people out there.” Michael’s words calmed the room enough to hear his greeting. “I’d like to say what an—” He paused, steadied restraint present in his speech, “ honor, it truly is to be asked to appear tonight, to celebrate Sid.” Tempered candor helped Michael to find the words that felt right in the moment.

Satisfied, Sid threw his head back laughing.

“This is a man with dreams that are larger than life. He pushes boundaries, leaving no limits to what he is capable of. He knows what he wants, and he goes after it, no matter what.” Applause sounded throughout the room as Michael’s veiled compliments began to speak to Sid in a different way. At first, his ego reveled in the soft strokes, his confidence being boosted impossibly so. When the elation began to feel a little too good, Sid had to remember just who Michael was.

He could almost slap himself at the giddiness he felt to receive such glowing reviews from the star who always kept him at a distance, stoic in any other encounter between them. When he looked out to the crowd, knowing that this moment would be captured and uploaded to the web, at least he’d have some kind of proof that would belie any of the hostility both men knew to be waiting in the wings.

Michael’s eyes narrowed as he watched the wheels in Sid’s head turn. When the stout man opened his arms towards Michael, grabbing him by the shoulders for a rowdy hug, his attempt at control was soon thwarted as he underestimated the strength in the lean build, many doubted.

Michael braced himself as Sid stumbled forward, his rashness getting the better of him while Michael stood tall. He couldn’t help the genuine scoff that escaped him.

Holding out his hand, Michael could see the restraint it took for Sid to not knock his offer out of the way. As he looked up the length of Michael’s outstretched arm, he could feel his pride chip away, bit by bit. To feel the ding on the inside was one thing, but to allow anyone in on it was another.

Sid accepted the helping hand.

“That’s something I admire about you, Sid.” Michael continued. Naturally, his body now faced the record label leader on its own accord as his speech slowly found its audience of one. The corners of Sid’s smile slowly began to fall into a nice enough grimace as his reddened eyes narrowed. “You exemplify owning your life. Taking that step towards a future no one can deter you from. Committing to seeing through what you say you will do.”

A pocket of silence filled with tension that only few understood.

“You’re an inspiration, Sid, really. A reminder to live your life for you and all that you desire.”

With the sound of chatter dying down, Michael’s head snapped when he heard the claps of a lone guest begin to build. Their rhythm was steady, almost as if beckoning him to find their conductor as his instinct drew directly to Beyonce.

There she was, tucked away in a corner towards the back of the room. He spotted Rudy’s bald head, pushing through the crowd to reach her, almost like he too had been search of the elusive woman. Cocking his head to the side, he filed that tidbit way for later.

The rest of the crowd began to join in to the applause, drowning out Beyonce’s contributions as she lowered her glasses on her nose, her bright gaze letting Michael know he was not alone.

Nodding in appreciation, Michael raised his arm. “Everyone, please wish Sid a Happy Birthday!”

The disjointed chorus of well wishes swallowed up the awkward scene, the music cranking back to appropriate party levels as Michael handed over the microphone to the birthday boy. Michael’s own voice began to ignite the crowd as the chorus of Thriller played. He could hear calls for him to dance, to stop for a photo, to take the folded papers desperately being passed between hands towards the stage for his eyes only, but, he ignored them all.

With practiced waves and peace signs, Michael left enough material for photo-ops for anyone quick enough to catch him as he moved with a purpose.

“Michael! That’s the wrong way!” He heard Bill and the rest of his crew call after him as he searched for  quickest way off the stage. His eyes remained locked on Beyonce as she closed in, with Rudy in tow.

A party-goer, lost in their joy, threw their hands in the air as they screamed Michael’s lyrics at the top of their lungs. A slight commotion followed as Beyonce made quick work to dodge the elbow that breezed past her face, sending her shades flying.

“Beyonce…” Michael mumbled to himself as faces began revved up for their second delightful shock of the night.

“Wait, what? Who?”

“Oh, my God! It is her, right? Yes! It is!”

The hairs on the back of Michael’s neck stood at attention as he could hear the pandemonium rise amongst the crowd. Heads swiveled as some questioned if they were being pranked, and other’s screamed in amazement at the two for one special they seemed to luck up on that evening.

Sid passed behind Michael like a shark as his team joined him on stage, relaying what the commotion was about as he tried to make out what was happening down below. As the attention of the crowd began to surround the advancing singer, his eyes bugled as he recognized her as the lone woman at Michael’s side when he first greeted him.

“Pardon me.” Michael’s irritation grew as the stage suddenly became overrun with Sid’s people. When he felt a sharp pull on his elbow, he pulled away with force.

“You’re telling me you snuck Beyonce into my party without telling me? This is incredible! Get her up here!” Sid’s mouth quirked in disbelief.

“No, no— that’s not what this is, Sid.” Michael insisted.

Sid studied Michael’s face with suspicion, his expression more telling, even behind the comfort of his glasses. “You sly, motherfucker.” Sid laughed. “Are you two a thing? Even with her…you know...” Sid’s voice trailed off with mischief as he hinted at Beyonce’s well known public relationship.

“Michael, let’s head out now, while we have the chance. Rudy will take care of things down there.” Bill had finally made it to Michael’s side, overhearing the conversation as it unfolded. Michael shied away from his touch, hoping to dissuade him from engaging any further, but Michael never took his eyes off of Sid.

“She’s my friend. I brought her as my plus one. That. Is. All.”

Michael corrected, happy that the hitch in his breath was the least of Sid’s concerns as his question itched a forbidden place in the recesses of Michael’s thoughts. A place he still hadn’t began to explore himself. Michael knew he was a sensitive man. He knew that same sensitivity had gotten him into predicaments of his own doing, where the hopeless romantic part of him always came out bruised. The feeling of having Beyonce around for the day were refreshing. Being in her presence felt natural, like something he could do everyday…

A rumbling deep in Sid’s chest turned into an amused chuckle as he slowly raised the microphone to his lips.

Michael tensed, for the first time in front of Sid. The clench of his jaw was evident as Michael held up a single finger in warning.

“Don’t.” Michael’s eyes darted down to the microphone, estimating just how quick he would need to be to snatch the thing away. He was sure he could do it, but only if the blowback from such an action wasn’t a part of the equation.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The party ain’t over! Beyonce is in the house! Michael has brought us Beyonce!” Sid’s muffled scream into the mic was all they needed to toss aside their speculation as they rushed towards an already stuck Beyonce.

Michael moved quickly to the closest edge of the stage. He looked over, seeing metal barriers that kept the crowd at a distance. Without hesitation, Michael bent down, bracing one hand against the side of the stage, as he propelled himself over the barrier with ease. When he landed, hands grabbed at his body, leaving him little room to dodge their hold.

“Excuse me. Excuse me, please.” Michael didn’t know what allowed him to make the progress that he did. Whether it was brute force or pure determination, he made sure to leave apologies in his wake for those he pushed past.

A tight circle formed around Beyonce as people turned to take selfies in passing, giving her the same physical treatment as he experienced.

“Michael, are you two really a thing? Oh, my God! I can’t believe it.” A guest stood before him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she awaited his response.

“I’m really sorry, I have to get past you. Just— sorry about this.” Michael shouldered his way through as Beyonce was just within his reach. Lifting his hand in the air, he waved, hoping he’d get her attention.

When he was shoved from behind, he nearly lost his balance. In the half second it took for him to become distracted, a warm palm pressed into his own, soft fingers wrapping themselves around his hand.

Beyonce.

Michael made quick work to bring her near, gluing her to his side as he looked for the nearest exit. Cameras flashed in their eyes as soon as Michael’s long arm splayed across Beyonce’s chest, as they moved together. Giggles could be heard as the perfect angles of Beyonce’s hands gripping his protective arm were forever captured in a rare moment where neither star considered the optics of their pairing. Escaping without any further incident was the only thing on their minds.

“Michael, this way!” Beyonce leaned into his ear, helping him to hear her over the roar of the frenzied noise.

Michael could feel her body tug forward, leading the way to Rudy who had managed to find the whole they needed to slip out of the crowd.

“Get back! Stay clear!” Rudy commanded, as the starstruck trance some experienced was shaken at the sound of his bellowing shouts.

“Alright, alright, everyone! No need to stampede.” Michael bit his cheek at the tickled instructions of Sid. Looking back, he watched as Sid leaned against one his workers, a half finished champagne bottle in his hand as he watched the chaos from a distance.

“Everyone, make sure to thank our honored guests for joining us tonight! Thank you Michael Jackson and Beyonce!”

“Right here, Mr. Jackson.” Rudy shoved open an exit door, just as the security for the event began to do some crowd control as the mob of people encroached on their safe zone. Rudy held open the door, as Michael and Beyonce ducked under his arm, finally emerging into the safety of the backstage area.

Ch.2: All These People in the Room, Only Me You See (part 1)

“The car’s ready whenever you are, joker.”

Bill tapped his hand lightly against the doorjamb, as he peered into the grand closet, where Michael stood alone. The older man found Michael lost in thought, as he checked over himself in the wall to wall mirror. The sound of Bill’s feet slowly leaving helped the incessant ringing in his ear settle down, as he dug himself out of his deepest thoughts, giving him a chance to join reality again.

The royal blue blouse he adorned sparkled underneath the closet spotlights. He ran his hand down its sleeves, the feeling of the cool silk clinging to him like a second skin. The intricacies of the textured silver design crossed just below his neck like ornate armor. His wardrobe was one of the safest ways for him to show himself to the world without fear of saying the wrong thing or missing a mark. Where his words would be misinterpreted by those intent on misunderstanding him, his clothes could speak for themself.

Seeing is believing.

An old adage he would have to twist tonight as he put on a face that may not show what he truly felt deep down, but would provide him some defense against those who’s masks began to crack long ago.

If there was anything he’d learn over the years, it was that no matter how much heart he put into his work, no matter how much he made others feel with his song and dance, there were still those who never wanted to see him standing across from them on even ground.

Michael walked around the large island rooted in the middle of the closet, dragging his fingers along the glass top where his prized sunglasses collection laid. Pulling out the hidden drawer, he picked out the pair that would travel with him for the night. Bracing his weight against the fixture , he lowered his chin to his chest, as he carefully considered what he had to accomplish.

Over 10 years ago, Michael had made a decision he knew would change the trajectory of his life. Since he was a child, every step he’d taken was in the name of someone else’s dream and ambitions. Of course, he would never deny that his career was something that fulfilled him, but, he knew that there came a point where he would need to breakaway from his father and the expectations of those who counted on his compliance to begin building something for himself.

A simple meeting among friends, the casual mentioning of the power in purchasing music catalogs, and Michael consulting with knowledgable minds who confirmed the importance of securing your future laid the groundwork for him to go on to effectively accomplish something no one ever expected him to do.

With patience and a check to cash, Michael had taken a step no other artist had at the time. He knew that the change from a simple artist adored by many to a man with a hand in how this business ran would come with its rough patches and learning curves, yet, he was still confident he would handle this new found power with as much care as possible. He hadn’t been the first to do it, and when he saw how those he’d grown up admiring had lost what was rightfully theirs, he restored their glory, ensuring them and their families saw the royalties their art had created.

In the aftermath of it all, friendships fractured and debts to maintain his heart’s dreams and desires had come to a head. He’d had no choice but to invite in the devils he could feel lurking in his shadow as he needed some relief to keep him afloat.

A 50% sale of the coveted catalog and a constant thorn in his side was what it took to not be taken completely under in a time of need. The last couple of years had proven to be the reminder he hated to see, that the same hands he was hoping to fully emancipate himself from were now itching to lock him and all that he had made himself out to be in their clutches. He knew no matter how big or how small a situation may appear on the outside, there was always a chance for those who worked against him to gain some kind of leverage to justify their inevitable strike.

That’s why, even though he hated it, tonight’s appearance had to be done as he waited out the end of his sentence within the contract that would make or break his future—his legacy. To escape the downfalls of one’s ego, you had to be extra cautious of the actions you take. Michael wasn’t immune, and neither was his label’s president, who would surely take his absence as another perceived slight to tuck away and turn into a weapon that may be used against him.

Just a few more years, and this can all be a thing of the past…

With a deep breath, Michael recentered himself as he tried to see the bright side of things. On one hand, he would have the chance to gather his own information and observe those he mostly saw in a boardroom, in a more open environment. On the other hand— and most importantly— he got to use this as a nice excuse to be with a friend he hoped to see more often in his life, beyond the phone calls and occasional crossing of paths.

Michael thought back to the conversation they had after rehearsals.

“A birthday party?” Beyonce clasped her hands in front of her as Michael led them down the hallway. They had paced the short walkway for some time now, as Michael’s nerves kept him from standing still as he took a chance in extending her his plus one invitation.

“Yes, for the label president. I—I wasn’t sure if I’d have room in my schedule, but turns out, I think I can fit it in.”

As his fingers smoothed down the hair at the nape of his neck, he hoped his reason was enough to convince her, more than it had convinced himself. Michael drew his lips together, anticipating the brute force of rejection, no matter how tenderly he was sure she would deliver it, it all stung the same. She owed him nothing, this he knew, but he couldn’t hope but have his sudden request entertained, if only for the night. His hands rubbed against his slacks, finding refuge in his front pockets as a pensive look settled on Beyonce’s face.

An arched brow raised as she looked to him while she turned over the invitation in her mind. “Y’all close like that?” Michael swallowed, unable to conjure another half truth to tell her. He gave a tight nod as his answer, his throat relaxed once he saw she didn’t press his silence for more than what he could give.

“That’s nice.” She shrugged her shoulders, as a genuine smile returned to her lips. There was a hint of sarcasm in her words, as he could feel lingering questions she decided to hold back in that moment. “After all of these years…” Her voice trailed off as he held his breath attempting to read her expression for her official answer.

As he listened for her next words, Michael allowed the silence between them to rest. Her eyes held his when she finally spoke. “I’d love to go, Michael.” Her decision had been made.

Relief billowed through his chest as he softened his posture. “I’m so happy you’ll come. Thank you, Beyonce.”

The two of them began to move with Beyonce rubbing her hand across his back as he led them towards the exit, where both of their crews waited. “They better not turn me away at the door, now.” She joked, elbowing him in the arm. “They ask me who I came with, I’m calling your name.”

Running his hands through his hair, Michael tossed his head back with a sly smirk,” You can scream it, if you want. I have no problem claiming you for tonight.”

Beyonce stuttered as her eyes widened, mouth crooked with a mischievous grin as she found the humor beyond his softened, round eyes, “Alright, now.”

“Maybe I should call her, tell her it was a mistake to ask her to come.” He rubbed his lower lip as the thought crossed his mind.

In the eleventh hour, he wondered if he was unfairly bringing Beyonce into a situation that could only be a burden. Was he being selfish to ask her to join him at an event he had refused until he couldn’t anymore? He didn’t know yet, if the time to reveal his real reason for showing face, had come. This would be a moment for him and him alone to answer the questions he had kept to himself—to see if his intuition was misleading him in anyway. He had suspected, at times, if he voiced too many of his thoughts amongst the wrong company, that eventually the label of paranoia would be slapped onto him.

Michael tried to lead with his heart as often as he could, and when he made the split second decision to bring Beyonce into his world, he did so because something he couldn’t deny made him feel, that unlike others he had held close, there would be nothing to worry about with her. Taking that direction, he rid away the thought of reneging on her, as he trusted in all that she had shown and shared with him over the years.

Leaving the safety of his home, Michael strolled through it’s halls, descending his stairs as he prepared to join the others. Outside, the sounds of idle engines guided him to his ride, as multiple vehicles filled with his people awaited. He thanked his driver, who held open his door, seating himself comfortably before, taking out his cellphone and dialing Beyonce’s number as they slowly drove away.

Since he had extended the offer of a night out, it was a given that he would chauffeur her. He and Bill had made a promise to see to her safety and comfort, as her guard had looked on questioningly when she explained tonight’s plans.

“It’s okay, Julius. Michael’s got me.”

Michael hadn’t missed the apprehension in his reluctant acceptance as he made it known he was willing to extend his hours for the day. Where Michael had grown close to his own protector, Bill, like a second father, it was easy to recognize through Julius’s commitment to Beyonce, that they too had developed some form of bond that endeared them to one another. He had told her from the time she was just getting her shine with her group, that keeping a trusted few will always do her well in the long run. Even if it was a lesson he was still learning, he hoped to instill this advice upon those he could in this business.

“Hey, Mr. Jackson. Y’all close already?” Beyonce picked up on the second ring, her familiarity gave Michael some encouragement to stand by his resolve. If he was going to have her at his side, he had to make sure he didn’t make things worse than they needed to be.

“Not yet, but soon.” Amusement colored his greeting. “I wanted to make sure I gave you a call to let you know we are on our way.”

The sound of rustling in the background told Michael that she must have been putting on her final touches, as a jovial lilt carried in her voice, “Oh, thank you! I appreciate that. Bill called too, so I’ll be out the door by the time y’all pull up.” As if on cue, the older gentleman turned from his place in the front seat, sending an encouraging smile Michael’s way.

He shook his head at the realization that by reaching out to Beyonce early on, he wasn’t going to allow Michael to skip out on tonight’s outing after getting her involved. Bill always tried to make sure Michael stood by his word, and for that he was thankful.

“I hope this party is worth your while. They tend to go all out, so I’m sure it will be extravagant.” Michael couldn’t hide the mocking tone in his attempt to promote a potential good time. He knew that all the works would be pulled out for the night, as the president loved to show the spoils of his treasure trove to all who would entertain him. If this was like anything else, Michael knew that somehow his gloating would eventually rely on Michael’s compliance to be paraded around for all to see.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be, but you know I don’t really get into all of that.” Beyonce’s words rung true to past conversations they’d had where they uncovered all of the ways they were similar, which had helped to lay the foundation for a friendship that remained even as their lives drew them in different directions.

“If I’m being honest, Michael,” a soft pause floated between them as she thought of her next words. “I didn’t have that great of a morning. But— working with you and now getting to spend a bit more time together makes me feel a little less lonely right now. If I’m with you, I’m good, so don’t worry about a thing.”

Michael's brows lifted in surprise at her admission. From the moment she appeared that day, she had seemed as happy and upbeat as he was used to. To know that may not have been the case planted a seed within him that would grow determined to learn her in a new way, to make sure he never missed a tell again.Even though he knew she could not see him on this side of the conversation, Michael couldn’t help but to cover his face as the sound of trust stirred up something in his chest he wasn’t sure how to place.

“That makes two of us, then. I know it may seem a little crazy to drop this on you last minute, when you have no obligation, but, if I were being honest—” he let out a breath that had been trapped in his chest. Shaking his head, he took this moment to divulge just enough information she more than deserved to know. She was no fool, this he knew, so giving her some idea as to where his headspace was tonight had to be done.

“There’s a lot I’d like to share with you about tonight, and, about life in general, I guess.” Sitting back, Michael rested his head against the headrest, spreading his legs as he closed his eyes as fatigue of mind threatened to take over. “I don’t know, but, I feel like you may be one of the only people who can understand what I’m feeling.”

The silence on the other side of the line did not bother Michael nor worry him. In the years where they had spoken on the phone, he understood that when she went quiet, she was allowing for whatever moment they were in to breathe life into itself, without disturbing it. He had always felt this was one of the few chances he had when speaking with others, where no one was trying to finish his sentences or interrupt his thoughts. He knew how eccentric others viewed him at times, especially when he got to “running his mouth”, making him cautious of what he said and to whom. But with Beyonce, he never had to wonder if she was hearing what he was saying or if he would look up and see his words repeated somewhere else.

“I know it’s been awhile since we’ve really gotten to just— speak — but you know I’m always here for you.” She affirmed.

“ I know…I know…” Michael sighed. “I guess it’s best I admit that tonight’s not really a leisure visit.”

“Mmhm.” Beyonce’s gave a knowing sound. “So this isn’t just a casual party after all ?” Beyonce’s voice deepened as she waited for her suspicious to be confirmed.

“No, not at all. With the way things have gone, you might be the only friend of mine there tonight that I am absolutely certain of.” He admitted.

“That’s a tough spot to be in, Michael.”

Sitting up, Michael dug his elbows into the tops of his knees as he slumped over. “I know. I’m so sorry I wasn’t being honest with you. I should have—”

“Oh! No, no, no.” Beyonce moved quickly to make a correction. “I didn’t mean it was a tough spot for me, no. I meant for you. You ain’t gotta tell me everything now because I know you’ll share more when you can. Don’t forget, I have an idea of how it feels when you can’t trust the people you’re in these rooms with.”

Michael rubbed his chin, as he hadn’t anticipated the clarification. He was ready to express his gratefulness for the favor, should she demand it, but instead, it was clear she understood his attendance came at a cost.

Before he knew it, Michael found they had approached the gates leading to Beyonce’s home. Their car eased through as they welcomed them in to her world. Each foot they cleared as they drove up her driveway seemed brighter than the last as her home came into view.

When the car eased to a stop, Michael waved off Bill, as he opened the door, letting himself out. Retrieving his date would be Michael's responsibility.

“Some days, I worry about the person I’ll be if I can’t trust anyone. That’s not how I want to live.” Michael’s free hand found its way to his pocket as he took measured steps towards Beyonce’s front door, phone glued to his ear.

“Trust in yourself, Michael. We can’t always know what someone else may or may not do, but at least you’d have the courage to know you can take whatever they throw at you.” She encouraged.

The sound of Michael’s loafers landing softly against the marble steps that led him to her front door seemed to echo in the night. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It ain’t. Not in the least bit. But—” Beyonce admitted. Michael found himself standing before her grand door, the darkness of the night chased away by the warm glow of the ornate sconces that surrounded him.

The soft click of the door opening drew his attention. His vision was flooded with a pleasant sight as he was met by an expectant smile as his partner for the night still held her phone to her ear, just as he did.

“You’ve got me to keep you company along the way.”

The beat of Michael’s heart had always been of much comfort to him. He knew as long as he could feel the familiar thump against his chest, in his ears, even in his fingertips, that it was God’s sign that he still had a song to sing in this life.

A dissonant tune had clashed inside of him for far too long now. The palm of his hand ghosted across his chest as their car idled in a private alley way, hoping he could conduct the chaos to its end, so he could hear himself think. The ride over had been mostly silent, with Beyonce asking simple questions which he appreciated as they were the ones he could answer. There had been nothing intimidating in the quietness between them, in fact, it had served as a chance for much needed grounding.

Michael turned to her in the seat beside him, taking in her profile as his eye caught hers. He took in her all-black appearance. Simple black boots and loose fitting jeans covered her. An oversized leather jacket kept her warm her as the hem of a matching turtleneck reached above her chin. Her manicured hand reached up with one finger tugging the fabric away as a smile quirked in the corner of her mouth.

“What?” She asked as he stared unblinking. Her hand reached out to tap his as he continued to rub circles against his chest absentmindedly. With a soft nod he lowered his hand as he knew her action spoke a simple command.

Relax.

”You think I’m going to stick out too much?” She made an attempt to redirect his attention elsewhere, even if just for a moment, as she presented her outfit to him. “I figured I could be a bit—” Her eyes narrowed, hand circling in air as she looked for the right word. “Inconspicuous, you know? I thought I’d blend in, but it looks like these people came dressed up, for real.”

They had caught sight of some party goers as they filtered in and out of the building. Most were decked out in stylish suits and short dresses, much different from her covered apparel.

“Inconspicuous?” Michael laughed. “Girl, I think anyone would recognize you with one glance.” He placed a hand on his thigh, leaning back as he looked her up and down. “I’d know it was you a mile a way.”

Beyonce’s smile dropped playfully, as she rolled her eyes.”You’re supposed to say, yeah Bey, no one will even notice.” She said, mimicking his soft voice.

Michael couldn’t help but to let out the chuckle that ensued as they shared a laugh together. “Why you do me like that?” He protested, his comfort settling in.

“There you go. You look more yourself now.” Beyonce voiced her satisfaction in lifting his spirits as his energy had shifted in and out of place throughout the entire ride. He didn’t realize he hadn’t managed his outward signs of agitation, but he was all the more grateful for her breaking the trance.

Before he could say anything else, both of their doors opened, one after another, as it was time for them to step into the wasp’s nest.

When Michael stepped out of the car, he quickly rounded the backside, making it to Beyonce just as she took her first steps. A few paparazzi paced just down the alley, their curiosity keeping watch on who would hop out of the mysterious car, that had arrived during the throes of celebration that could be heard inside. Michael looked over his shoulder, thankful for the barrier that had closed behind them, preventing anyone from getting too close. He noted how his team filtered out of their respective cars, moving in a practiced way to cover Michael’s every side for security. Even still, he knew that the lens used today would render the extra protection useless with the right angle and lighting. He had no issue of his presence being known, but if he could limit the pictures they would surely plaster Beyonce in, he’d do what it took to make that possible.

Slipping on his sunglasses, he was happy to see Beyonce produced her own pair as she shook her curls into her face, covering what peeked above her turtleneck.

Finding her free hand, Michael tucked her close to his side, the few inches he had on her in height helped to provide enough coverage to slip them inside.

Dimmed lights lit their way, as the sounds of voices announcing Michael’s arrival enveloped them.

“—Let him know. Michael has arrived. Yes— and his guest.” Prying eyes attempted to gain access to Beyonce’s face as she expertly maintained her anonymity, for as long as she could. At the sight of Michael, the event staff began to move hectically, as they had anticipated his arrival for hours now, the time slot they reserved for his remarks changing continuously.

Busy hands flashed all around as instructions were called out, and questions were asked as the staff coordinated together.

“I don’t care, make sure you clear the stage. Now!” One man snapped into his headset as he quickly texted on his phone. “I just let him know when to cue the music. Yes. Yes! Listen—just get it done, we will be there in no more than 5 minutes. Make sure Sid is aware.”

Sid DeHart.

Michael’s spine stiffened as the name of the label president was evoked. He knew to school his face now, as a greeting was soon to come once the birthday boy received word of his arrival. There was no ignoring the leer that lied within his stare whenever they met. Michael had tried to make those occurrences as scarce as possible, but there were somethings that just couldn’t be avoided. He was happy that his tendency to don glasses, even during meetings had become accepted overtime, as he deemed it necessary to limit the influence others could have over him, or what they could draw from him by giving them access to what he wholeheartedly believed to be the windows to his soul.

Some would call it cliche, but he stood by this idea.

“Let’s get you to the stage, we’ve got everything in motion.” The staffer reached for Michael’s arm, pushing past Beyonce before he was abruptly stopped. Though Bill had moved to intercept, he was beat by Michael who had placed himself in front of her first.

“Woah.” He warned with a clear voice. "That won't be necessary. You can just lead the way." Michael made it clear enough that here would be no need to be manhandled tonight. The staffer seemed to snap out of his focus, apologizing for the overstep as a red shade of embarrassment crept up his neck.

“Oh—uh— sorry about that, Michael.” Stepping aside, he invited Michael’s entourage to follow him as stern stairs pierced him from all angles. Moving as one, they sped to their destination.

The sounds of surprised gasps began to grow, as guests recognized Michael in an instant. Any other time, he would feel obligated to acknowledge everyone, but tonight, they would have to forgive him as he was preoccupied with far too much. He hoped a simple wave would suffice, as the atmosphere became more and more electrified as they passed through.

In the distance, the familiar wide stance gait of the infamous businessman grew closer.

“Michael!” The hearty call bounced against the cement walls of the building as Sid drew attention to his prized guest. “‘Bout damn time you showed up.” Anyone who knew nothing about Sid DeHart would believe his spirited call to be that of a good friend. Even in the midst of all of the competing noise that sounded around them, Michael could hear the discontent laced with a drunken slur.

An opening was made as Sid approached with outstretched arms. His eyelids were heavy, his bowtie undone as the excitement of the night was still having its way with him. The smell of liquor hit everyone as he let out a phlegmy laugh.

“I see why you’re late. Got a beauty on your arm tonight? Ha! Love to see it!” Sid’s peering eyes slid past Michael’s shoulder, catching sight of Beyonce, his inebriated mind unable to place just where he knew her from beyond her covered appearance.

Michael let go of Beyonce’s hand just before Sid’s steps slowed to a stop. He found her waist, pushing her just behind his back as his security team helped to obscure any outside view. The moment she was identified, he knew what would follow may be out of his full control. He had no doubt in her handling herself, should it be needed, but she was his guest and he promised to make this appearance as painless as possible.

Michael pushed his sunglasses further up his face, making sure they were secured as Sid came in for an embrace. A steady hand pressed against Sid’s shoulder, Michael’s grip firm as control of that moment rested in his hands. The other man’s liquor stupor eased any hit to his ego he may have felt as his feet crossed, sending him swaying like dead weight before being propped up by one of his many shadows tasked with following his every step that night.

“Thanks for having me. I won’t take up too much time—”

“Are you kidding me?” Sid’s interruption gurgled in his mouth.”I’m giving you the stage! You can take all the time you want. These bastards may have come to my party, but I know once they find out you’re here, you’ll be who they’ll want to see.”

It was just as he expected. Sid must have ran his mouth, talking up what Michael would be here for, knowing the invitation had been presented a simple “show face” opportunity. Suddenly, Michael felt his hand grasped by Sid’s smaller, but meatier hand.

A moment passed between the two as Sid stared into Michael’s custom dark frames, a smile tinged with a barely there snarl plastered on his face as his labored breath beat across Michael’s face. His gaze did its best to find the slightest sign of Michael’s eyes , hoping for a peek into his mind as his face remained unperturbed. No matter what Sid had done to try and gain some favor in Michael, he never seemed to break the walls the star built around himself during their interactions. It was nearly impossible to get him to concede to any of Sid’s coaxing, especially when talking business.

This was a line Michael always wanted to maintain. He wanted to have a say in how things went, no matter what. What was it he was told earlier?

"Trust in yourself, Michael. We can’t always know what someone else may or may not do, but at least you’d have the courage to know you can take whatever they throw at you."

Trust in himself. Be prepared, never scared.