The bright warm sunshine woke me up as they bathed me through my bed side window. I got up and yawned while stretched. The fresh sun made me to feel fresh too. I rubbed the back of my neck and turned lazily to my wall clock. Damn! I rubbed my widened eyes. Yes. Its 8:30! I jumped out of the bed.

“SHIT!” I yelled before running to the bathroom.

Ok! I’m not the only one in this whole damn world who forgets to get up early or trying to think about an excuse while brushing my teeth but it had become a routine; something I cant help. I put on a dress my hands grabbed out of the closet when I dried off my washed face. I combed my hair and searched a rubber-band to tie my wild hair, but I couldn’t find one since the bands are inside the basket in cupboard and I probably don’t have time for that shit; So I let my hair free. You don’t really care about your make-up when you’re getting ready at 8:45 for your 9’o clock job.

“Ok ok, Calm down. You still have 15 more minutes” I said to myself as I breathed to relax.

“But it takes half an hour to reach that fucking place!” My mind interrupted.

“I know but you should just shut up, you’re scaring her” My heart said, defending me.

“No, I’m just trying to make her lazy ass get up atleast tomorrow morning” My mind retorted.

“Okay guys Shut up!” I said aloud to myself when my housemate opened my room door and looked like I’m the super freak known to mankind. Great!

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Do I look like I’m alright?” I asked her back with attitude.

She chuckled. “Not really. You never did” She laughed now. “Not physically but mentally”

“Hee-Ha-Ha!” I exclaimed as I rolled my eyes. “Cas, this is not a time to joke, I’m going to be late for my work.” I said now bending down to find my hand bag.

“Well that’s not unusual. This is happening every day and I have been witnessing this ever since I got my eyes. From kinder garden to middle school to high school to college and now to wo—“

I huffed. “What the hell do you want?” I asked as I finally found my hand bag on the dust-bin. “Or What the hell are you doing my room? When do you plan to learn some good manners girl. You have the knock the fucking door before getting your crazy ass inside!”

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot. Like you always forget to get up early.” She said in mock-sorry voice as she handed me my papers.

I scoffed. I love her. She is my best friend. Infact she is the only friend I have and the only human being in this whole planet, who can live with me, but, yeah she have her bitch moments like I do. All the time she kept smiling at me like an idiot. That means, she is going to ask me a favor, a creepy favor.

“Okay. Whats up? What do you want?” I asked pushing the papers inside my hand-bag.

“Well, since you’re going to interview Michael Jackson today, can you get me an autograph?” She asked hesitantly.

My heart almost skipped a beat. Yes! I have to interview Michael Jackson today! How did I forget? “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I took out my schedule. Michael Jackson’s name and his address were in big block letters next to 9:00 Am.

Oh God! I need to hurry the hell up! I threw my schedule inside my hand bag and ran out of the room.

“Girl, I’ll kick your ass if you forget my autograph!” Cassie yelled behind me.

I called a cab and told him to go to Encino. In the car, I tried to arrange my pile of questions I was suggested by our publicist to ask him and then there are questions I decided to ask him but obviously I know that he won’t answer to my questions. I’m bored about hearing the same questions and same answers. I want to reveal a different side of him. But we have already been seriously warned and agreed to terms such as ‘No Personal Questions!’

Everybody was crazy about Michael Jackson. I mean EVERYBODY in United States Of America, except some few un-mesmerized people like me. My friend Cassie is a best example for that crazy category. You cant find a small space in her wall without his poster. She wake-up seeing his face and go to bed after kissing him. She was practically worshipping him. I don’t know exactly why I’m not drooling over him, may be because of my job of reporter, because we should never be a fan of a celebrity we are supposed to interview. It would destroy everything. We have to see both there pluses and minuses and ready to criticize even he is Michael Jackson.

Now, ‘Michael Jackson who had just turned 23 in the August was a contradictory figure. He was decisive and determined as he proved along the way, but he was also vulnerable and confused.’ Is what I have found in my little research.

I heard this guy never liked interviews, well our publicist had to almost fall to the ground and cry to make him do the interview. He agreed to do the interview, but here comes the wacky concept… He don’t do the interview in the direct manner. He don’t speak with the interviewer! Well, I clearly don’t know the concept. But the extra-ordinary Man-Child promised that it will explain it to me.

Finally I reached his house in Encino after making the poor driver to pull his hair because of my attempt to say the way. I finally gave him the address sheet and he reached within minutes.

“Oh My fucking god! If you have said that you want to go to Jacksons home, I would have reached here before 15 minutes without any goddamn address sheet. You wasted my time and your time” He blabbered as I gave him the money totally ignoring him. He kept sulking as I walked towards the gate.

The huge majestic gates were probably made of oak. I expected some terror-looking bodyguards but to my surprise and relief, not even a freaky fan was there. I made my way ahead and knocked on the gate. No answer. I knocked again. Again, No answer. After knocking for next five minutes, I lost my patience. I opened the gate and let myself in, astound to find no one inside; too. It was a bit surprising, after all Michael Fucking Jackson is here and not even a security was present. I didn't give much thought about it as I looked around the place. It was gorgeous. Sounds of Birds chirping and his caged animals filled the fresh morning air and the field looked like as if a green carpet had been wrapped above it. It was a lovely site to see and a pleasureful coolness for eyes.

I moved towards the well-designed wooden door. I pressed the calling bell, wondering if have to let myself in all by myself here too. But before I could press anymore the door swung open to a middle aged women probably in her late thirties with a warm smile on her beautiful face.

"How may I help you?" She asked even sweetly.

“Well, Ma’am I’m working for Rolling Stone Magazine as a reporter. I’m scheduled to interview Mr. Jackson today” I said smiling back and tried my best to sound polite.

The sweet smile in her face suddenly dropped. “You’re a paparazzi?” she asked innocently. she almost said it like, 'You're a Paparazzi!'

Does she really thinks I’m a Paparazzi that succeed in climbing her big compound and entered her house with a lame excuse? May be because the way I looked! I took out my Identity Card with my photo, in which I was well-dressed and showed it to her.

“No Ma’am I’m an interviewer from Rolling Stone. You can call the office if you want to check.” I said confidently.

The women let out a loud sigh and opened the door fully and moved out of my way. “Whatever. People are really writing mean things about Michael! My heart aches when he cries after reading those things!” she said in a broken voice. So this must be the man-child’s mother! I assumed. “I’m Katherine Jackson” this just proved.

“Oh, hello Mrs. Jackson. I’m Monisha. Pleased to meet you” I said and let out my hand to shake. She let out a close mouthed smile and shook my hand. I entered and she politely told me to sit on the couch. I did. She went upstairs while calling out "Michael…"

I used this time to put on some make up, at least to look descent. I then, studied my surrounding. It was a big old-fashioned sophisticated house with so many art works, all over. Then my gaze drifted to the show case had the collection of the Jacksons’s pictures and their proud trophies like animal's horns in a hunter's house. There was a family photo in the middle with everyone grinning except Michael. I didn’t know why he was so serious in that photo and I also noted all their beautiful faces, no wonder they all got it from Katherine and not from Joseph. The next photo was Michael standing closely.. very closely to Diana Ross with this cute big grin on his face.

His latest song ‘off the wall’ was playing in the background in a low volume.

Only five members were living there.. Michael, his mother and his father and his sister LaToya and his little sister Janet. I heard that other Jacksons were moved out to escape from the father Jackson. I also heard Mr. Joseph Jackson is really weirder than his superstar son.

Out of now where, suddenly a handsome young man approached me. Before I could say anything, he let out his hand “Hi I’m Chad. Michael’s Personal Assistant.” He said smiling.

I smiled back and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Chad, I’m Monisha from Rolling Stone”

He nodded, "Nice to meet you too".

He sat next to me. “Listen Monisha, I really need to tell you something. You should not insist Michael to answer any question, which he doesn’t want to! No personal Questions! You’ve to produce what exactly he said. You’ve to send an advance copy for us, before you publish it; only if Mr. Jackson feels its fine. You should call him as Michael. And photographers are not allowed as told already, If you need any photos for the interview, we will give you one. And very importantly” he looked straightly into my eyes with his blue eyes like he was trying to mesmerize me, but I'd to control my laughter, “You should not talk or ask anything about Gina Sprague. Well I’ve already warned your publicist about that, I hope he told you!”

Asshole Tommy! He never told me that! He even wanted me to ask Michael some questions about her. If I didn’t know, I would have asked Michael about Gina Sprague and the Man-Child would have freaked out and kicked me out!

Gina Sprague. I knew about her. Mr. Joseph had a love child with her. He cheated on Katherine. The Jackson family was in a great confusion and angry on Joseph. Especially Mrs. Katherine. I heard that she’s gonna divorce Joseph.

"Fine" I said reassuring him.

He did everything in a programmed manner and of course I know the programmer. "Michael told me to apologize for making you wait and said he will be in a minute." He walked away as if he didn't bother to know whether I accepted his irrelevant apology or not.

 
I waited for the next 10 minutes looking around the living room, as I seated in the well-comfortable leather sofa. I felt a little disturbance, followed by click sound of shoes behind my shoulder.

My head turned, but he was already standing right before me. And there he was... the Michael Freaking Jackson.  He stood there tall and strong with his sunglasses on. He was wearing a Black Tee Shirt and a Black Leather Jacket matched with a pair of Denim Jeans. I'm not gonna lie. He was drop-dead gorgeous. His cologne filled the room. His presence was unbelievable; The Aura, The Energy, The Man. May be because it was the first time I saw him as a person. He was Taller than me even though I was wearing high heels.But I didn't show any expression of acknowledging his effect, I'm an expert in hiding my feelings. No wonder he had such freaky girl fans.

"Hello Ms. Monisha." He let out his hand with his breath-taking smile. No wonder girls faint just by the sight of him smiling. "I'm Michael. Its so nice to see you. Glad you made it."

"Thank you, Mr. Jack__ I mean Michael." I said shaking his hands but he actually pulled me into a hug. Yes, the special gesture is only for lady reporters. Now I know why so many girls in our office battled to get this offer. His hands gripped around my waist tightly as I politely softly hugged him back, still in surprise.

He let go finally as we pulled out. He told me to take a seat and sat after I sat and flashed me another billion dollar smile. Before turning to one side as he called out, "Janet!"

Janet, his little sister; who was around 16 at the time came in with her head down. She was dressed so professionally in her red leather jacket with a red t shirt inside and a red leather miniskirt which stopped before her knees, With big black boots which made her to walk funnily. She was holding a file like thing. Her hair was in a bun and her lipstick was dark red. She walked in a robotic fashion and sat next to her brother. She was staring at the floor.

I have no idea what's going on here.

I turned to Michael with my brows furrowed. I'm sure it was something his wacky ass's some freaky idea. His weirdness was in a blast.

"Oh I guess your publicist Tommy explained the way I wanted to conduct the interview." He said, innocently.

"No, actually he did. But I didn't get it. He told me that you will explain it to me."

"Well, See…" He said clutching his fingers to together. "Janet is gonna sit in our interview…" he continued.

My mind went blank, What's exactly happening here?

                                                                                                                   ***To Be Continued***