10 Months Ago…

He hated being driven around by other people. There was always a better route to follow, a quicker way to take them off from a traffic light, but those calls were not for him to make. While many envied those with private chauffeurs willing to take them anywhere at any time, Michael was the type that often said he envied those who could simply get up and go. Today, all he wanted to be just go shopping for new clothes. That was it. Just a bit of shopping to update his wardrobe and purchase a few things for his children, too. But shopping as Michael Jackson meant calling in the proper backup, making an initial sweep of the chosen area to ensure the star’s safety on arrival, arranging backup escape routes in case things got too rowdy, being accompanied by his hired bodyguards at all times, and having the luxury of being toted wherever he wanted in Las Vegas discreetly in a heavily tinted van or limo (if he was feeling flashy). It was sad how one couldn’t even shop for Spongebob t-shirts without needing an army at his disposable.

The drive was long and the day warm. Inside the vehicle he was joined by his three best men; a group who had protected him from many and slaved hours at a time keeping him protected from the repercussions of his renowned reputation. He loved his fans, they were his heart and reason for the music he made, past and present. Without them there would be no him, no legend or status envied by musical icons across the world. But even Michael knew of the downsides of fame and the dangers of having too many people gathered all at once eager to catch a glimpse or touch their beloved icon. Protection was necessary not only from that of his fanatical fans, but the attention that often came whenever word spread that Michael Jackson was out and about in a normal setting. Try as he may to live a peaceful life like an average guy, his name and image alone could stir pandemonium within minutes. Some attempts to slip into the cracks of normalcy were met with success, while other attempts failed tremendously enabling his bodyguards to kick into action until they were safely out of the harm’s way. Despite all the failed attempts, none of that seemed to stop Michael from trying again and again.

Even his love life had to be handled with the same guarded measure of safety and care. Whenever word got out that he even had the slimmest attraction to a person, media spread the news like wildfire. Nothing was private for him. Not even a hello to a stranger. After the divorce to his second wife, love had become somewhat of a mythical beast in his life, always spoken about in tales and depicted as beautiful but nothing more than that  — just a tale. Love was a word he used seldom when it came to women in his life. He loved being with them. Their essence, their beauty, curves, and enigmatic presence, but that was about as far as it tended to go. Sometimes it felt as if the women loved his legacy more than the man himself, another drawback to being who he was. There were times he often just wondered what the world would be like for him if he was just Michael. Just a man with a love for music but no fame or glory tied to his name. Would these women still love him? Would they still befriend him and give the attention they seemed so willing to give easily?

What he wouldn’t give for just a second to step outside everything that he was and be a normal human being. To have someone get to know him first without the attachment of his high profile image. It was this way of thinking that made Michael so heavily interested in shows like the hit television show, The Bachelor. When word got out that a rich and successful bachelor was looking for a wife, women flocked at the opportunity to bag a good one on national television. Whether or not these women were there for the riches or love was the whole appeal of why the show was so popular. Some were clearly there just for the status while others simply wanted a chance at love. In the end, it was up to the woman to decide whether or not she truly loved the man who decided she was the one, even if his fabulous lifestyle was all just a huge lie. It made him wonder if there was a way that could be reversed. A chance to have someone reach out to him but believe him to be nothing more than an average Joe Schmoe.

Seated near the window of the van, Michael watched quietly as various cars sped past them on the highway. Some vehicles carried solo drivers or businessmen yacking on their phones. Others had families or large groups chatting with each other or calming their rowdy children. The women that often drove by were often judged on a scale he kept to himself, ten being definite good fish while two or three was one he’d throw back into the pond. When the van pulled over towards the shoulder of the road, his people watching came to an abrupt end.

Michael shifted a bit in his seat, his face turned forward while he adjusted his legs from the cramped space shared with the other much larger men inside the van. The hunt for new clothing had turned into an adventure as they were now headed for what would be their fourth store. Michael was very specific about what he wanted to buy and preferred nothing but the best. This high expectation turned what was supposed to be a thirty minute errand into an all-day event. The boredom in between the drives made the silence excruciating, and with nothing to gaze upon aside from the blurred trees, it was time to turn to the only set of people he could chat with. His bodyguards.

“How are we doing today, guys?” asked Michael, breaking the silence in the van.

“Not too bad, Mr. Jackson." Came the response, almost all of them in unison. The group suddenly broke into a small fit of laughter at that before falling silent again.

In that silence Michael took note of each of the men within the van. At the very front seen driving the vehicle was Terry, an ex-military member who had dedicated his life towards guarding Michael and his family. His build was like that of your traditional bodyguard, fit yet bulky, capable of pummeling a being into dust if given the opportunity. Despite his frightening size, he was more of a gentle giant, especially around his children. To the far left of him was Johnson, a former police officer turned bodyguard who had been by his side for only a few years now. He was tall, extremely so, and built like a football quarterback. With olive tone skin and a clean cut fade, Johnson was one of his more reliable guards that he could depend on. In front of him at the other seat was Henry, a smaller framed male with a lighter complexion and lankier build. His height was probably the only thing intimidating about him, but what he lacked in appearance he made up for with his excellent knowledge of hand to hand combat. Thankfully, that was something he had yet to use. Sitting alongside him was Anthony, another large bodyguard who was a bit huskier than the other two who looked more like a sumo wrestler instead of a guard. Unlike the other men who were focused at gazing outside the car, Anthony’s attention was focused on his smartphone.

He watched quietly as Anthony grinned at the screen, his fingers practically flying across the keyboard with each and every quiet notification received. It was the first time he had ever witnessed the male show signs that he had a life outside of guarding him. Not that he believed they had no lives outside of their work, but very seldom did he ever catch glimpses of them simply being ordinary men. After thinking so heavily on how his own life was anything but ordinary, seeing this intimate side of one of his own engaged in conversation with someone other than co-workers made him wistful. They had it easy. Whatever he was doing, it looked to be far more interesting than his car fishing game.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

Two of the three raised their heads, then both turned to Anthony who appeared to have missed the question. It took a light jab of an elbow from Henry to finally get his attention.

“What? Oh—I’m sorry, sir!” he quickly apologized.

 “No, it’s fine,” said Michael, softer this time just to remove the suspicion that he was angry. He knew how easily his voice could often convey that message, sometimes unintentionally. “I just … wanted to know what you were doing.”

“He’s probably talking to his new girl toy.” Said Henry before he could answer. The van suddenly erupted into laughter, all except Michael and Anthony. Feeling a bit detached from whatever inside joke had just transpired, Michael decided to egg the conversation on. This was clearly something that he was not let in on, likely because it was personal affairs.

“What girl toy?” asked Michael.

The group each looked at each other, then back to Michael. “Some girl he met online that he’s been bragging about since Sunday,” said Henry as he flashed Anthony a grin.

Michael smiled. “Online dating?” chuckled Michael quietly as he turned to Anthony for confirmation. “You do that?”

“Yeah, sort of. I mean it's not that bad.” Said Anthony, embarrassed and a bit annoyed at the same time by the direction of the conversation. “I told the guys I was going to try out this site. So I’ve been doing that and met this girl.”

“Does she look good?” Asked Michael.

“She is fine as hell.” Anthony crooned.

Johnson snorted. “Yeah, a little too fine, if you ask me.”

“I think she’s fake.” Added Henry, a comment that was immediately followed with a shove by Anthony. “What? You see her body? She don’t need to be on no damn dating site.”

Michael scooted slightly forward until he was at the edge of his seat to get a better look over Anthony’s shoulder towards his phone. “Let me see!”

Despite being hassled by the others, Anthony did as asked and quickly pulled up a picture of the woman in question. She was indeed fire. Slender frame, pouty lips, and an outfit that accentuated the curves of her body while leaving little to the imagination in regards to her breasts.

“She’s got some big titties!” giggled Michael, a comment that made the entire van break out into laughter. “And you said you met her online?”

“Yeah, it’s called e-Match. They’re this big name company that gathers all your information, what you like, what you don’t like, and just … match you up with people that they feel are compatible to you.” Explained Anthony in an excitable manner. “They got these algorithms or something that make it perfectly tailored to you. So you can’t go wrong. They pick out the women that feel will be your soul mate or something. And there are success stories, too!”

“Yeah, the ones that don’t end up with disasters.” added Henry.

The description by Anthony, however, had Michael more than just a little intrigued. It sounded almost too good to be true. A website that could find you a perfect match. Technology sure had a way of removing the work out of everything. Back in his day, dating required meeting people face to face and getting to know them before determining if they were worth your time. Now it seemed all one had to do was enter a few things and their dream girl was found.

 “How, uhm … how do you do it exactly?” Asked Michael quietly.

“You thinking about making a profile, Mike?” Came a voice from the front. Even if he had been focused on driving, Terry had listening the entire time.

Michael smiled and lowered his head bashfully, trying hard not to laugh even if he was a tad embarrassed by that presumption of his intentions. “Me? No, no… I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” asked Anthony.

Michael made a face that immediately told him how dumb that question really was without having to say a word.

“Right. Well, I mean I’m sure you could try it just to test. The internet is famed for the power of anonymity. Who said you had to say who you were?”

Michael nodded sagely. “You think I can get away with that?”

“Yeah, why not? Just don’t use your name.” replied Anthony with a shrug. The other two bodyguards gave each other a look of quiet disapproval. One of them cleared their throat as a silent form of telling the other to shut up.

“That’s … that doesn’t seem right. I can’t do that.” said Michael with a shake of his head, not picking up on the subtle clues by the others trying to dissuade Anthony from continue. The van fell into a short silence only to have it broken minutes later by Michael again who appeared to still be thinking on the subject. “I mean, I don’t want to be … dishonest or anything.” Michael added. Now that the idea was already in his head, the others knew Michael wouldn’t let this go.

Anthony passed a look over to Henry who was still giving him the eye for him to keep his trap shut. Against his better judgment, he decided to answer again anyway. “You wouldn’t be. Who said anything had to be serious? It’s harmless.”

“You really think I could find my match?” said Michael, feeling a bit inspired by the encouragement. The idea of going undercover and pretending to be someone other than his famed status – it was tempting. It wasn’t the first time that Michael was drawn to the allure of the internet. He had often visited many of the fan sites dedicated to him and had taken up the guise of a regular person when commenting on articles of interest. Yet the idea of using that same anonymity as a means of dating? Well, it sounded a bit skeptical, but the appeal was certain there.

“Never really thought you had a problem with finding women, Mike. I mean, boss.” Said Anthony after, hoping to clean up the mess he had made. “You can get any woman you want.”

Michael chuckled. That may have been slightly true, but it was certainly not always the case. He could count a handful of times where his advances was met with disinterest. “I like fishing,” murmured Michael. “I think if I can do it without … without being bothered or judged … I’d like that.”

“I would advise against it, sir.” said Johnson who had no problem putting the brakes on what looked like a potential for a train wreck. Unlike the others who were a bit more laid back, Johnson took his job to a more serious level, never one for sharing personal details or acting too casual. This was a job he took seriously, an admittedly admirable trait Michael favored about him, but often was found to be bit too much. In this case, it was like a kid stomping on a sandcastle. “I don’t think anything that has the potential to attract the media is a wise move.”

“I wouldn’t do anything that would attract them,” said Michael in some hope to defend himself and the idea, not that he was committed to it yet. “I’d be careful. I’m always careful.”

“I’m sure you would, Michael, but for your case it might not be a good idea to throw yourself into a world where we’re not able to protect you properly.” Johnson pointed out, then continued. “It would be bad for both you and your family if one of those ‘fish’ you caught decided to take the conversations to the press about how they were pursued by a famous icon.”

Michael swallowed hard and gave a sad nod in agreement. There was no denying the potential dangers if word ever got out. That sad dose of reality crushed him a little, but it was something he needed to hear. Online dating may have had the advantages of making looking for a partner convenient, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he was still going to be Michael Jackson on a dating site. All it would take was one person to catch on to the fact that they were speaking to him and massive hysteria would break out. The tabloids would especially have a field day with such information and turn his image into an even bigger mockery. He couldn’t have that on his conscious. The allure of cruising the site for potential matches suddenly didn’t look quite as magical as it was originally made out to be.

Defeated and silenced by the cautioned words of his men, Michael settled back against his seat and resumed his people watching. The trio all gave each other looks when they noticed Michael fall back into a state of silence. Even if the topic had come to an end, somehow they all knew it would not be the last time they’d hear of it.

. . .

This shopping center was a little more outdated than the others he had visited, but the selection of clothing outlets were at least promising. Michael was not dressed for appearances on this day as demonstrated by the Mickey Mouse pajamas worn beneath his jacket. He really didn’t care. Today he wanted to just be comfortable and himself for a change, that and he had originally intended the trip to be quick so dressing up seemed pointless. But even when dressed like a bum, Michael had a knack for drawing a crowd. One had to only look twice to realize that the guy in cartoon pajamas, fedora, surgical mask, and iconic shades was no other than Michael Jackson. He paid little heed to the whispers, occasional flashes from phones, and shouts from across the building by men who shouted phrases like ‘yo, mike’ and ‘ey michael’ from afar. As amusing and flattering as it all was, today he really just … wanted to shop.

After flipping through a selection of clothes on the rack in one of the stores, Michael gave a thankful nod to the attendant who had been helping him before slipping back out to browse a few more stores.

His bodyguards, armed in suits and presence, kept him locked in a circular pattern that allowed him to walk about freely in his own guarded bubble.

As he looked behind him, he could see that Anthony was once again off in his own world on his phone yet again. Even if it was a bit unprofessional, Michael couldn't help but envy the enamored look on his face from a few words seen on a screen. He longed for that kind of relationship, the kind that stole his attention away from the world. Looking forward again, he slowed his pace considerably until he was walking alongside the clueless bodyguard. “Anthony.”

The quiet utterance of his name broke his connection from the phone and instantly he pocketed it away. “Sorry, sir.” He sputtered, ashamed to have been caught yet again. “I just thought if I appeared normal people might not—”

“No, it’s not that,” murmured Michael as he cut him off, then gestured with his hand to keep their tone down, “I have a favor to ask.”

Anthony’s brows furrowed as he looked to the men ahead then back to Michael again. “Of course, sir.”

“Can you … can you make me one?”

“Make you one?”

“You know, a profile. On that site.” Michael whispered, trying to keep their conversation as private as possible now that his behavior alerted the attention of the neighboring bodyguards. Despite their concern, they kept their distance to give the boss privacy.

“I…” Anthony blinked, surprised by the request and stumped for a proper response. A look was given towards the other guards who were unaware of what Michael was doing, at least for now. Without any guidance from the others to help him properly give an answer that would save his hide, he decided to make a quick decision on his own. Michael may have been a celebrity, but he was still a man. Left with the awkward decision of either responding properly or pleasing his boss, he opted for the choice that wouldn’t immediately get him laid off.

“Of course, boss. I can help.”

Michael nodded. “Good, good. I want a profile and you can write everything you can about me. Just don’t use my picture. No picture.” He instructed.

“Yes, I understand, but … you realize most people kind of skip over profiles with no pictures right?” Anthony revealed.

“They do?” Michael looked away as he considered his words.

There was no sense in making a profile if nobody was going to interact with it all because of some picture. Suddenly, he was reminded of the television show Bachelor. The entire show was sensationalized because women were clueless to the fact that the guy in question was not the millionaire described and it was up to the Bachelor to decide which one would love him regardless. What if this was reworked differently?

What if he applied it as women thinking they were dating one guy while actually being another all while keeping true to his personality? Yes, there was the chance it could explode in his face and thus work against him, but there was no denying the potential of it working for him, too. She would learn about him and everything with only his face being the little white lie. There was so much potential here, an experiment of sorts like a modern day Coming to America. Except instead of the character played by his friend Eddie Murphy, it would be him instead. Sort of. Well, almost like that movie.

It was in that moment that Michael knew he was going to do this, with or without their approval. A smile crept across his lips beneath his mask.

“I think … I think I have a picture you can use.”