Chapter 8

"So you've just been hanging out with Janet?" Michael asked me as he made his way around the kitchen.


"Yeah. Well, just recently actually. I went over to Hayvenhurst to get your mail and no one was home. Mom went on vacation, I guess. Janet was home alone, so we figured, 'why not be alone together?' Ya know?"


"Sounds like fun." He laughed.


"Yeah..."


"Did I get a lot of mail over there?"


"No. Just something from the doctor." I got up to get the letter and gave it to him.


"Ahh... Just what I needed. Thanks, baby." He kissed my forehead and put the letter in his back pocket. I sat on the counter. "Do you want your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?"


"Sunny side up." I swung my legs. I caught another glimpse of his hand. "So um, I have a question."


"Shoot."


I bit my lip, "Um, you have another show, don't you?" I asked him quickly. I would have asked him about his hand, but I'd much rather not at this time.


"A couple actually... More like six more shows." He sighed.


"Six?" I gasped.


"Yep."


"So hey..." I jumped off of the counter, stood in front of him, and put my arms around his neck.


"What, babe?" He laughed.


"Am I allowed to go to one now or would I still be risking a lot?"


Michael looked me in my eyes, "Baby... I just don't know..."


"What do you mean?"


"I just don't know if I want you around all that mayhem."


I gave him a look, "That's a dumb excuse. You know that, right?"


"I know..." He groaned.


"Is there any real reason why you don't want me to go? Are you ashamed of me?"


"Ashamed of you?!" He looked at me.


"Well, are you?"


"No! Why would I be?"


"Well, no one knows your relationship status yet. I don't know. That sounds rather ashamed to me..."


Michael gave me a look, "Shayla, I'm trying to protect you right now."


"Protect me? From what?"


"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We've talked about this plenty of times. If I recall, it was you who cried to me about not wanting to be in the spotlight yet."


"I never said that. I said, I just didn't want everyone and everything on my back for being 'Michael Jackson's wife.'"


"Exactly! Spotlight!"


"Okay, okay. You know what? This is totally beyond the point. Can I go to one of your shows or not?"


"I'll let you know." He took my arms from around his neck and moved away from me.


"Is that a no?"


"Shayla," He sighed. "I said, I'd let you know."


"So that's a no."


"No, it means, I'll let you know."


"Wow. Ok." I walked away.


"Shayla, are you serious?" Michael walked after me.


"Pretty serious." I walked up the stairs.


"Come here."


"What? No." I heard him come up the stairs.


"Stop." He grabbed my arm and made me face him. "Look, baby. I've been under a lot of stress lately and I've been going through a lot... The last thing I expected to come home to was an angry wife and a series of arguments over petty stuff."


"It's not petty."


He gave me a look, "Don't do that. That was really petty back there and you know it."


"Whatever." I sighed.


"Whatever?"


"Yeah. I'm over it."


"Really now?"


"Really."


"Huh." He let me go and began to make his way back down the stairs. I turned around and started going back up the stairs. I mean, I guess it was pretty petty. It was stupid for me to pull the "ashamed card" when I had already told him that I didn't want to be in the spotlight. That was rather childish of me. "I don't think you're over it." I heard Michael say as I was suddenly lifted up and carried up the stairs.


"Well, I am. You can put me down now."


"Nah..." he said as he opened the bedroom door and put me on the bed. He took off his shirt and made his way between my legs. "I assure you you're not over it." He said in a husky voice and grabbed my waist. "But you will be over it once I'm done with you..."

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