June's point of view

As hard as I tried to get rid of the person who was keeping his hand over my mouth so I just shut up, I couldn't: that person was way too strong for me. My voice was muffled against his hand, so nobody could come and help me. That's when I regretted not having Pit with me.

"Will you stop?" the person asked behind me, visibly irritated. The voice seemed familiar. "I just want to talk!"

"Damon?" I managed to say.

"Yeah. Will you shut the fuck up now, and talk to me?" he asked, finally letting go of me. I turned around, and hit him hard across the face. He automatically put his hand over his now aching cheek, and looked at me wide-eyed. "Are you fucking crazy? Why the hell did you do that?"

"Why?" I scoffed. "You're seriously asking me why I did that, you motherfucker?" I asked in his face. "You think it's a way to treat a woman? Who is, on top of that, the daughter of your... whatever you call her?"

"I thought she wasn't your mother anymore," He smartly said with a smirk. "You're talking non-sense, girl."

"I'm not wasting my time talking to your ass," I said, and began to turn around, but once again, the guy grabbed my forearm, and pulled me against his body. He looked down at me with a black stare, and I gulped. I didn't know he could be this scary.

"Your mother told me you were a coward, just like your father was. When things get complicated, you just walk away instead of facing your problems and work things out. She didn't lie about this," he gave me another smirk.

"You son of a bitch, don't you dare talk about my father," I warned.

"Or what? You're going to call your Wako Jacko so he can hurt me?" he asked, and I was beyond pissed. I tried once again to get away from his hold, but he wouldn't let me go. "Nah, you're going to listen to what I have to say," he paused, and squeezed my forearm even more. "First off, stop talking to me like you do. You feel superior because you're dating this Michael Jackson freak, or because you had a meeting with Karl Lagerfeld, huh?"

"What? H-How do you know that?" I winced. He hurt me.

"I just know. Now you're going to get rid of this attitude, and accept my relationship with your mother. You're going to talk to her, and face your damn problem for once."

"Stop acting like my damn father!" I yelled, and he covered my mouth again.

"Stop yelling! I won't hurt you!" he hissed, looking at me straight in the eyes.

"You hurt me!" I said against his hand, and tears were ready to fall from my eyes from the pain.

"Stop fighting me, and I'll let you go," he said, his voice was calmer now. "I really care for your mother, and seeing her in pain because of you is pissing me off. Don't you have any consideration for the woman who raised you? Who held you? Who fed you?"

"Does she have any consideration for the man she called the love of her life that passed away not even a whole year ago? Does she have any consideration for the man who represented my whole world?" I asked him, my vision blurry because of the tears that welled up in my eyes. "Does she have any consideration for the man she cried for months? Does she have any consideration for the man that gave her everything?" I finally said, crying at that point. I could feel my heart broke at every word I spoke about my father. I knew that I would cry his loss my entire life because he was everything to me, and I didn't want anybody to take his place because no one would be able to: we have just one father, and one mother in a lifetime, and once I lost my father, I thought my mother wouldn't try to replace him, but she did, and I couldn't understand this. I think you just have only one true love, not two, not three. Just one. My mother was my father's one true love, but he apparently wasn't my mother's, and I couldn't stand this idea, and I felt like she was cheating on him.

"June," Damon sighed, leaning wit his back on the brick wall. "I understand what you're saying, but I just want you to understand that I want to be with your mother. I really do," he admitted, looking at the floor. "I'm not planning on becoming your stepfather or anything, I just want to be with your mother, and I want you to be happy for the both of us. Be happy your mother is enjoying life. I'm sure this is what your father would have wanted her to. Enjoying life," he said, now looking at me. "Please," he pleaded once again.

"Well, I'm happy for the both of you," I said, wipping my eyes. "But like I said, please be happy without me. I can't see you guys together. Not now, and maybe not ever," I admitted.

I remembered things David, Jer, Pit and Michael told me about my mother and this guy. I remembered they told me not to be so harsh on her. When I looked back at it, I knew I was too harsh on her, but I coudn't stand this idea she was loving another man than my father, and it hurt me to the core. I love my mother, and I want her to have a happy life, but I can't witness her happiness because it would hurt me, and I think I've been feeling enough pain for a lifetime.

"June..."

"Please stop," I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "You don't have any right to say my name after what you said and done to me."

"I'm sorry, but I was irritated, and I don't control myself when--"

"If I hear you've been violent to my mother, I swear I will hunt you, I will found you, and I will kill you with my own bare hands, you hear me?"

"You know I'm a lawyler, right? I can call the police right away and tell'em you're threatening my life," he laughed.

"Oh yeah? Then I'll show them the bruise on my arm with your hand mark on it?" I said, showing him my arm in front of his face, and he looked down, perhaps realizing he was stupid. "Now you're gonna listen to me for once," I commanded, and walked closer in front of him. "You're going to tell my mother I'm better off without her for now, because if I see her, it'll hurt me, and I don't wanna be in pain again," I said, and all traces of anger were replaced by sadness. "You're going to tell her that I'm fine, that she doesn't need to worry about me. Tell her I'll get back when I feel like it, but just not now. I need to wrap my mind around it, and I need time. Tell her I love her though, that she's my mother, and even though I'm hurt, I love her, because I can't deny the woman who took care of me and who gave me birth," I said, and tears fell from my eyes. "I'm ready to forget about what just happened between you and me, but please. Just disappear. I don't wanna hear about you, I don't wanna see you around here. I just want to be left alone. I have a lot of things to deal with right now, and I don't have time for this. Please," I pleaded. I never thought I'd be beggin this man for anything, but I really needed him to do what I told him. "If you want me to be okay with your relationship with my mother, then you'll do it."

"I will," he promised. "I'm sorry for what I did," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to be like this."

"Stop talking, and just go to my mother," I asked, looking into space.

He nodded, and began to walk away, while I started sobbing again.

"I wish you the best, June. I wish you to be successful. Your mother would be proud of you," he smiled, before walking away from me.

I collasped on the floor, feeling my knees go weak. I put my hands on my face, and I began crying uncontrollably, asking myself why things have to be so complicated for me. I couldn't understand why shit kept happening to me. I wanted the pain to stop, I wanted to be able to have a perfect life, away from any form of drama, away from the pain.

As I was still on the floor, crying my heart out, I heard steps not far from the place I was, and I recognized Pit's voice calling my name. I found myself not able to speak due to the shock: I indirectly kicked my mother out of my life, and I realized how hard and tough life was without my father at this particular moment. On top of that, I was shocked by the behavior I had. I didn't think I was able to be so brave. I didn't hesitate to say what I was thinking to Damon, and I was proud of it. I didn't bite my tongue, and told him what I was thinking about him. It could have cost my life if the guy planned on killing me, but I didn't care. I needed to tell him what I was thinking, and I did. A few seconds later, Pit came running towards me, holding his phone to his ear. "I found her!" he exclaimed through the phone, running closer to me. He kneeled next to me, and I immeditely hugged him. He wrapped his large arms around me, and I cried on his chest.

"I'm with her Mike, stop panicking, she's fine, man," Pit said, and I understood it was Michael. How did he know I was in trouble? I asked myself. I held Pit tighter, wishing it was Michael I was holding on to. But then, it hit me. He was panicking because of me again, he was worried about me again. He didn't need that. I came to realize that he shouldn't need a girl like me. Michael needed a woman who could give him happiness like no other, and not a woman who brings drama and worries in their relationship, a woman who could show him she loves him just as much as he does. He didn't need a girl like me, that I was sure about. I was broken, in pain, and I didn't know if it would ever stop.

"Do you want to speak to Michael?" Pit whispered to me, stroking my hair with his free hand. I simply nodded, even though I knew I won't be able to speak. I just needed to hear his voice, his soothing voice. He handed me his phone, and I took it with my shaking hands, pulling away form Pit's chest. I put the phone to my ear, and I began crying again. I didn't want a phone, I wanted Michael. I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything would be ok.

"June? Baby?" his shaking voice asked on the other end of the phone. "Stop crying, baby girl, I'm right here," he soothed, and I cried even more. My eyes began to hurt at that moment, because I couldn't stop crying. "I heard you scream and then there was a loud crash, and the line went dead. Tell me, what happened honey? Did someone hurt you?" he asked, and I could tell he was crying as well. I felt so guilty. I made him cry more than one time, and I couldn't stand myself for this. I couldn't stand hurting him.

"I-I..." I began, but couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't know what to say, and how to explain him that I disowned my own mother because I couldn't bear the pain of seeing her with another man than my father. A man that physically hurt me. I think those words couldn't escape my mouth because it would sound stupid if I said it out loud.

"Take your time, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere," Michael reassured, and his voice became to come back to its normal tone.

I took a few minutes to collect myself, and then I explained him what happened. Of course, he wasn't pleased at all to know that Damon touched me and dragged me to a dark back alley with him, but I didn't tell him he hurt me the same way Frank did, because he would have freaked out and he would have been able to just put his tour on hold and cancel a couple of shows just to be by my side and do everything in his possession to get Damon arrested for this. I didn't want this, because if this man made my mother's happiness, I was ready to cope with it, but not to witness it. So I didn't tell him the whole thing: that and the fact he insulted him and me, both. He was acting out of rage, and I was ready to understand this. He was also acting out of... love maybe. He just wanted me to stop acting like I didn't know my mother anymore. He did that for her, after all, and I guess it was his own way to be protective and cute.

I was back at Jer's house, on the couch with a blanket around my shoulder and a tea Pit made me in front of me. He asked me if I needed anything, and I politely declined. As days and hours went by, I knew I had a new real friend in Pit, and it warmed up my heart. Before he left the living room to give me some privacy, he told me he would be in the kitchen, and if I needed him, I just needed to call his name, and he would be here in a heartbeat.

"I understand, and I think it's a good beginning for you to be able to cope with it," Michael said in his soft voice. "You need time," he concluded.

"I really do," I verified. "When he walked away, he told me he wished me the best, and he wished me to be successful and stuff," I explained. "He didn't mean no harm."

"I don't know. He could just have talked to you without covering your mouth and stuff like a psycho freak would do," he said, and he had a point. "You were right to be suspicious about him."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Now I hope he and my mother will listen to me and just leave me alone, and leave me the time to cope with all of this without pressuring me," I admitted.

"I hope too," he sighed, and I heard muffled noises on his end of the phone. "Carson is here, I need to leave for the interview," he let out another sight, but a deeper one.

"I know you don't like interviews, but it's going to be fine. Think about your fans," I reminded him. "They'll love to watch this interview so they can learn more about you."

"Yeah, I know," he laughed a bit through his nose. "If anything's wrong, just call Carson, okay?"

"I will. Don't worry, I'm fine."

"You're lying, I know you're not. I can't help but worry..."

"I know, baby, but I'm between good hands, ok?" I tired to reassure, and at the second I said this, Jer and David came in the house.

"Tell Pit I say he has to be with you everywhere you go outside the house, even if you're refusing," he commanded.

"I will. I love you, honey," I said, and I don't know why I felt like crying when those words came out of my mouth.

"I love you too. Always," he added, and made a kissing noise before hanging up the phone.

I set Pit's phone on the coffee table, and rested my head on the couch, my eyes tightly shut so the tears won't fall. Once I collected myself, I sniffed back tears, and stood up to walk towards the kitchen where the three boys were gathered. I gave Pit his phone back, and he gave me a sympathetic smile, rubbing my back. I walked towards Jer and gave him a hug. I didn't see him all day long because he was working all day at the hospital.

"What's up, Blondie?" he said, frowning. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

I sighed, and sat on a barstool at the kitchen island. I needed to tell them what happened.

***

The day after, February 18th 1988, New York City, New York

Coming back to New York City reminded me Michael's concert at the Madison Square Garden, the concert that changed my entire life. It was something for me to come back here, because I knew that, at the second I would left this city, my life would have considerably changed once again: I would leave this city being Chanel's first muse.

Pit and I were stuck in the late afternoon traffic jam, and I was becoming slightly nervous, I couldn't know exactly why. I knew what I was doing, I needed that, and I was now sure that this is what I wanted, but knowing I'd see Karl again made me nervous, I guess. This guy intimidated me like no one ever intimidated me. Not even Michael. I mean, the first time I met Michael was quite impressive and all, but I never felt inferior to him in any ways. He always made me comfrotable and I felt good around him even though I was starstruck. But everything seems different with Karl. Everything.

We reached Chanel's offices around six in the afternoon, and Pit escorted all the way to Lagerfeld's room. We pressed the eleventh floor button, and the elevator's music filled our ears. Pit gave me a side hug and told me how much he was proud of me, and I just smiled up at him and his cuteness.

Once we arrived to our floor, I asked the woman behind the front desk where I could find my future boss, and she showed me my way to him. I took a deep breath, and repeated to myself that everything would be ok, and knocked on the door with a shaky hand.

"Come on in!" Lagerfeld's voice rang out inside the room. I enterred alone in the room, and was greeted by Lagerfeld himself, and some other guys I never met in my life. "Here is she, isn't she lovely?" he asked one of the man standing beside him. As I was about to shake his hand, he came to me and gave me a hug before kissing both of my cheeks. I didn't say anything, and just went on with it. "June, I want you to meet my assistant, Louis," he said, patting the shoulder of a short man with red hair. He didn't seem really old. Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five years old.

"We spoke on the phone, right?" I asked, while shaking his hand.

"Yes," he laughed. "I'm the guy you gave a hard time to."

I laughed a bit too, but I was actually a bit shy, and I think I blushed, "Sorry."

"This is my lawyer, Jerry King," he introduced me to another man. He was really tall. Even taller than Michael, and had grey hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a black and white suit, just as Karl himself. "He has to be here for this, you understand," Karl asked me, and I nodded. "And finally," he said, and a smile spread across his face when he arrived in front of the last man present in this room. So much testosterone in here, I said to myself, "this is my partner, Jacques de Bascher."

I extended my hand to the guy, and shook hands with him, just like with the three of them. I told them all it was nice to meet them, and then we sat around a circular table. The four man were in front of me, and I was seated in front of them. I'm not going to lie: I was beyond uncomfrotable, and I was really nervous.

"Before we begin, let me tell you that you look stunning, doll," Karl said, and I shyly smiled at him, and thanked him.

I was wearing a tight black skirt which stopped just above me knees, black heels, and a purple blouse. Nothing too fancy, but apparently, the boss liked it.

"Shall we begin, now this is said?" Karl said, clapping his hands together, and we all agreed. "Ok then. First of all, do you have any questions, any worries about this contract?"

A lot, I told myself.

***

Michael's point of view

When I woke up this morning, I felt better than the day before. It was finally the day I got to go home. The last shows of the tour were cancelled because of intrastate problems in North and South Korea. I really wish the situation of this country will get better one day, it's sad to think that people who have nothing to do with any of those politic problems have to pay the price because of the governement. I didn't tell June yet, and I hoped with my entire being she would be happy to see me again, even though we had some issues the past couple of days. I couldn't wait to spend more time with her, I couldn't wait for us to be reunited in Neverland together. I wanted us to be fixed, to begin a fresh, brand new start together.

While on the jet, I was writing some lyrics on my notepad, and I heard my phone ringing in my pocket. I picked up the call, without looking at the ID, and all I heard were sniffles.

"Hello?" I asked, worried. "Who's this?"

"It's me, Jess," she cried again. "Josh rejected his pancreas," she blurted out without warning. I let my pen fall from my hand in shock, and all traces of color left my face.

"What does this mean?" I asked, a huge lump in my throat. I was afraid to ask this question at first, because I was really afraid of what the answer would be.

"He's... He's back on the transplant list. He needs another one," she cried, and I could hear the distress in her voice, and I felt helpless. I didn't know what to do.

"Back on the transplant list? But it could lasts months before we found him another pancreas," I said in a low voice. I was shocked, I could barely speak.

"He's at the top, the doctor said he could have one anytime soon," she said, and her voice was really weak and a bit hoarse, I guess due to all the tears she shed. "He's currently under intensive care. He's into an artifical coma, so he doesn't feel any pain," she found the strength to explain to me.

"Why did he reject it?" I asked.

"I don't know. Nobody knows, actually. It just happens sometimes. This is a new surgery, it haven't been done a lot of times, but doctors here in UCLA are really good, and I trust them. I know they'll do everything to save my little boy's life," she said, her voice shaking with every word she spoke. "I'll pay all this bills with my own blood if I have to, I don't care."

"Accept my offer, let me pay for all of this. You have no idea how high the fees will be, Jess. Please, I just wanna help," I pleaded. I couldn't stand seeing her in such a situation. I would help every single person in the same situation without hesitation if I could.

"I told you not to ask again. I won't accept your money, Michael. Never. I know you mean well, but I really don't want to, and I won't change my mind. You're adorable, but please, stop asking," she asked in this weak voice of hers. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she didn't get a lot of sleep.

"I'll stop asking, but please, at least think about it. Please, Jess," I pleaded again, and she said she would, but I didn't believe her.

"Damn, I wish you were here," she whispered after a short silence.

"I'm on my way home," I declared, "I'll be by Josh's side tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked, frowning.

"For being such a carring and loving guy towards Josh," she explained. "He grew up without a father, and I think he considers you like his role model."

I felt important knowing that a little boy would look up at me like a role model, "I'm glad to hear that," I smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if things change before you get here," she informed me. "Bye Mike, take care."

We said our goodbyes, and once I hung up, I sank in my seat. I looked through the window, and a felt a tear roll down my cheek, again. I found myself crying a lot those days, and I didn't like it.

I just hoped Josh would be okay.

***

June's point of view

"What do you mean by 'using my name'?" I asked Lagerfeld who was still sitting across from me. "It looks like I'm selling you my name, and this is not what I want," I admitted.

"Oh no, darling. You're not selling your name," he laughed. "It's just that you allow us, the Agency, to use your name in interviews, in ads, and so on. But of course, we'll tell you evertime we need to use it," he reassured me.

We had been talking about the contract for at least an hour, and this was the last question I needed them to answer. Eveything was clear for me now, and I was ready to become an haute couture model for Chanel. Karl was really reassuring, and told me there were no traps in this contract, that I could be sure of. I trusted him. I didn't know him well, but I could tell he was a man of honor, so I just signed the contract.

After I signed it, Lagerfeld embraced me I his arms, and welcomed me in the "Chanel Family" as he called it. We drank champagne to celebrate, and Karl assured me I would be the happiest girl that ever walked this planet once I'd begin my job as a model. He told me I was his little treasure, that I could "count on him like one two three", and tell him about everything.

"What happened to your arm, beautiful?" Karl asked me, examining my arm carefully. "You should have put make up on this. It looks pretty bad," he said, and I thought I heard a touch of worry in his vioce.

"Oh um, I fell on my arm, nothing serious," I said, hiding my arm behind my back.

"You're lying. Don't start lying to me. Remember, I'm your manager, I need to know everything," he warned with a slight smile. "What really happened?"

"One of my friend squeezed my arm too tight, and... Voilà," I shrugged, laughing my nervousness away.

"Is Michael being violent with you?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"What?" I shouted in disbelief and everybody in the room looked at me. I lowered my voice, and went on, "Of course not! This happened yesterday, Michael wasn't even here. I promise, it's just a friend who thought he was playing, but he actually hurt me," I slightly laughed.

"Whatever," he said, dropping the subject. "I'm gonna say I believe you, but I really don't," he said. "You see that?" Lagerfeld asked me, looking at me with a smile and motionning the room.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

"Just, this. This is my gift for you. The beginning of your independence. Take the time to live, doll. You're young, you need to think about you and what you want to do with your life," he smiled again. "It's time for you to be emancipated from this Michael Jackson's girlfriend's status. Live for your own name, make your own name, June," he encouraged, wrapping one of his arm around my shoulder. "See what your priorities are, study them, and then make a change," he advised me, and he left me confused. "You need change in your life. You need positive things, and this job can be your fresh start. You told me you had a rough life, so it's time for you to fix yourself and move on, and see how beautiful life can actually be. It's gonna be hard, it's gonna be even painful, but you need to be back on the tracks of life."

As I was about to open my mouth to say something back, Lagerfeld continued.

"That's why you and I are going to Paris for the Fashion Week in two little days to present the Winter/ Fall collection of the house," he cheered. "What a wonderful way to introduce you to the world as Chanel's official muse, huh?" he smiled, and clapped his hands together.

Two days?