The rain pelted against the windows in my bedroom and I stuck my pencil between my teeth lost in thought.

The room was cool and I shivered as I leaned against my headboard trying to come up with lyrics to describe how I was feeling.  I shifted slightly trying to get comfortable and resettled the notebook that was on my lap.  

I stared at the blank pieces of paper, willing any type of phrase to drift from the depths of my mind.

Inspiration struck as I grabbed the pencil, jotting down the lyrics quickly before I forgot them.

I don't know what I want, so don't ask me

Cause I'm still trying to figure it out

Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking

Trying to see through the rain coming down

Even though I'm not the only one

Who feels the way I do

I wrote furiously, scribbling down the lyrics that portrayed some deep, gnawing emotion I had kept sealed away for far too long and I moved a strand of curly blonde hair that fell against the pages blocking the movement of my pencil.

I sat back and crinkled my nose for a second, tapping the pencil lightly against my chin as I attempted to let the music come to me.

I lifted my pencil once again and pressed it against the crisp white paper when I was interrupted by a knock outside my door.

I lifted my head up slightly as the door opened and my dad Frank appeared in the doorway. 
 
"Come in"

He let himself in, softly closing the door behind him and turned towards me beaming a broad smile that faltered and then disappeared completely once he peered around my room, disapprovingly shaking his head at the stacks of paper full of lyrics that littered my bedroom floor.

His thin black hair was pulled out of his face and a brown cigar dangled from his mouth.  He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of black slacks and his eyelids dropped tiredly.

My dad had been spending a lot of time preparing for his largest client, Michael Jacksons' tour, and had been spending a lot of late nights in his office.
I looked hesitantly at my dad as he walked across the room, settling himself against the edge of my bed and I quickly pulled my notebook to my chest

"You're wasting your time."

I let out a frustrated sigh and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  It was ironic, having such strong connections but yet being so distant from achieving my dreams of a career in the music industry.

His grin returned, his disapproval forgotten for the time being.

"I want you to go on...something of a vacation with me. Travel, see the world.."

 "Broaden your horizons."

I cocked an eyebrow and looked at him suspiciously.

 "Why?"

He grew completely serious. My reaction wasn't something he had planned on.

 "What do you mean, "Why"? Aren't you the one that said you wanted to get out of this town, see what the world had to offer?"

I shifted on the bed slightly and put my pencil and notebook down beside me before looking back up at him.  "Yea but I have a feeling your idea of seeing the world may be a bit different than mine.  "

He shook his head. "What difference is there?" He asked holding out his hands as he waited for me to continue.

 "The world can't be seen if it's from a hotel room or backstage, dad.  Besides, I have a feeling your reasons for taking me are littered with ulterior motivation."

He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temples slightly.

He looked back up at me and grimaced. "Okay, look. I know we disagree on the direction you want your life to go...but trust me when I say that this is in your best interest and YOU. ARE.  GOING."

I looked at him and let out an exasperated grunt.

 "Are you kidding?" I said my eyes widening. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly.  "I am NOT kidding.  Michael will be here to finalize a few things in the morning and we will be leaving day after tomorrow.  Pack your bags and be ready to leave by then."
I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and opened my mouth to argue when he shot me a steady glare. 

I put a hand to my forehead and closed my eyes scooting down on the bed and throwing the covers over my head in frustration. 

When my dad had his mind set on something, there was no use arguing. 

I gripped the blanket tightly in my fists and felt the bed shift as he pulled himself off of it and walked back to the door. I heard the door close softly behind him and pulled the covers tightly over my head letting out a controlled scream.

When was he going to learn I wasn't a little girl anymore and start letting me make my own decisions? 

My dad and I had been so close before. It was difficult because he was on the road a lot of the time while I was growing up, but he always made time for me, to be an active part of my life.I had lost my mom in a car accident on my 8th birthday and my dad had never lost sight of the fact that I desperately needed him to be a major part of my life.

Somewhere amidst all the chaos of my dad's constant life on the road however, he decided if I should ever go into the music business it should be as far away from the spotlight as possible. Behind the scenes, helping in making the music happen but not creating it.

I closed my eyes and let a recent conversation with my dad rush over me.

"It's no life for you Whitney. It's no life for anyone...constantly being criticized by the media, defending yourself against the masses. It's no life I ever want for my daughter."

His eyes had been serious and a tender expression had crossed his face as he reached up and brushed a stray hair from my eyes.

"Stay away from the spotlight" He said softly looking into my eyes.  "They throw stones at things that shine."

My thoughts drifted from my conversation with my dad to Michael. 







FLASHBACK

He stood before me, every bit of the shining star everyone made him out to be.

"Michael, this is my daughter, Whitney." My dad gently urged me to step forward, my knees quivering against the skirt of my sundress from nerves as Michael looked up.

He smiled warmly, his lips revealing brilliantly white teeth as he stepped forward, holding out his hand in greeting. His eyes were liquid brown. A black fedora rested on the crown of his head, slightly hiding his face under the rim as loose black tendrils of hair framed his almond-shaped eyes. A red, leather jacket snugly hugged his torso, framing his chest down to his waist. His pants matched his jacket flawlessly, his feet covered with white socks and a pair of black penny-loafers.

 God, he looked incredible.

"Hello, Whitney. I'm Michael." I grasped his hand, smiling nervously as I tucked a blonde curl behind my ear. His skin was smooth, sinfully warm. His hand completely enveloped mine, his grasp firm but gentle. A million-watt smile for a multi-million dollar star...
 
End Flashback

I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling.

 I wasn't even sure he would remember me after all the time that has passed, but I sure as hell remembered him.

His voice, his strong jawline, the graceful curve of his neck, his body..the body of a dancer, a performer, his muscles taut under his flesh..

Butterflies encased my stomach as I thought about the way his small curls had fallen into his eyes and the way he bit his lip when he was embarrassed by someone's praise on the set of his music video.

 I had spent the entire afternoon gawking at him and remember being overwhelmed by his kind spirit the radiated for everyone around him to see.  He was incredible, and I had been awestruck by the creativity he put in his music and movements. His precision, the rhythm..

Thoughts of Michael made inspiration for the song I had been creating hit me full force.  I sat up quickly pulling my hair over my shoulder, and grabbed the notebook I had been spilling lyrics in earlier and began writing furiously.

"A Place In This World"

I don't know what I want, so don't ask me

Cause I'm still trying to figure it out

Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking

Trying to see through the rain coming down

Even though I'm not the only one

Who feels the way I do

[Chorus:]

I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know

I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on

I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in

This world

Got the radio on, my old blue jeans

And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve

Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine

Could you tell me what more do I need

And tomorrow's just a mystery, oh yeah

But that's ok

[Repeat Chorus]

Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission

But I'm ready to fly

[Repeat Chorus]

I let out a satisfied sigh and closed my notebook.

My dad may not have approved of my dreams for stardom, but he couldn't stop me from writing my hearts' desires on paper. It was time for me to find my own place in the world.

.... Like Michael, from what my dad has told me about him.

 I had to make my dreams happen instead of idling by waiting for a bit of luck and hoping it would happen.

Tomorrow was the first step towards my future, even though I hadn't wanted to go in the first place.I now see this could be the catalyst I needed to make it happen. whether he liked it or not.