Michael's POV

Camille places the last ornament on the Christmas tree. I clap with a grin, "good job! Now it's all done."

"Not yet.. we need the star at the top!" She points.

I grab the star and place it at the top, looking down at my daughter's approving face. "Ok now it's done!" She gleams. "When is Santa gonna come!"

"In one week." Rayne explains. Camille went through the same routine every year since we started celebrating Christmas in '93. But this year she did something different.

"Daddy how come grandma never comes over for Christmas."

I stammer for a minute, "Well..grandma doesn't celebrate Christmas..she doesn't believe in it."

"Why?"

"Some people believe in different things.. grandma just doesn't believe in holidays... but you can believe in whatever you want buggy" Rayne says, placing the cookies on the living room table.

"Well I believe in Christmas!" She affirms to herself. Camille grabs a cookie and stuffs it into her mouth.

Rayne, Camille and I relaxed together, watching an old Christmas movie that aired on TV. After the movie, a news commercial interrupted and I honestly wish it'd had never aired.

"Apparently, Wacko Jacko's got a mega mix album coming out. 'Blood on the dance floor' it'll be right on time for the holiday season

"Who the hell is wacko jacko?" Rayne says angrily.

I scoff loudly, "I wonder where they got that from. I'm so sick of this." I flip the television off.

"What's wacko Jacko?" Camille asked innocently, her eyes wide.

"It's not a nice name. Don't repeat it." I reply sharply. It angered me so much that my daughter witnessed me get publicly disrespected for the first time.

"But why'd they say that?" She asks.

"They don't really care about other people's feelings." Rayne says, "come on let's get you upstairs.." she says leading Camille into her room.

I sat in the living room simply stunned, annoyed that no matter what I did I was still ridiculed even when I stepped out of the spotlight.

I came into Rayne and I's bedroom, all I could do was look at Rayne. She sighed quietly, "wanna talk?"

I shook my head, "no." I lean beside her laying my ear across her stomach. I feel a nudge against my cheek, causing Rayne to giggle.

"He kicked you.." she smiles, she rubs her hand across my hair. "You're a good man Michael. No amount of media or stupid name can change what people know you as."

I sigh, "I just didn't want Camille to see that, or be associated with those horrible words. I never wanted her to hear anything about me in the press."

"I know, but you are still her dad, and she loves you dearly Michael.. you know this."

"I know.." I groan.

***

To air out my frustration, I sat in my music room all day writing. Camille was in school and Rayne had her bi-weekly check up for the baby. I was home alone.

"Ain't the pictures enough?
why do you go through so much,
to get the stories you need,
So you can bury me.."

I sing angrily. "I was so upset with how I've been treated in media, they act like I'm not human, like I don't have feelings. Out of rage, I toss my papers across the room, flip over the stool that sat in front of the keyboard and practically trashed the music room. After I finished I sat in the mess I had made, honestly feeling better.

"What the HELL happened here?!" Rayne says dropping her bag. "Mike are you ok?" She says stepping over the papers.

"I don't know what to do.." I mumble

"What are you talking about?"

"I want them to stop slandering me, my name, my family. It's driving me crazy."

Rayne grabs hold of me, leaning my head into her chest and I just cried. "I'm so sorry.. if I'd had known things would get like this.. I would've never married you and put you in this..." I apologized.

"I'm the happiest I've ever been with you.. your daughter loves you and your son will too. Marrying you was the greatest thing that happened to me. Don't say things like that. We're in this together." She says pecking my forehead.

***

Rayne's POV

I wished there was a way to help him, ease that pain, but there wasn't. After years of abuse, he was damaged. After walking in on him in his mess he and I cleaned up the room and he disappeared into his office. I hated when he became so reclusive even his family couldn't get to him. That's a sign for bad times.

Camille came home from school dragging her bag across the floor. Her eyes glossy, like she's been crying.

"Baby what's wrong?" I ask

She shakes her head, a small sniffle coming from her.

I fold my arms. "You're not crying for nothing. What's wrong??"

"The other kids were mean to me. They said Wacko Jacko was daddy's real name. I told them to stop. But they didn't listen... why is everyone so mean to daddy?" She sniffles again.

I honestly couldn't answer that question. It made me upset to think about all of Michael's accomplishments to see that this is what he received in return.

"I don't know baby.. I'm sorry the kids were mean." I hug her.

Michael emerged from his office almost 11 at night. His eyes red and dry, But low from exhaustion. He didn't say two words to me, he laid down behind me and sighed. I don't even think he went to sleep that night. He tossed and turned, adjusting his pillows before finally sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Mike try and sleep.." I say lowly.

"I can't. I'm thinking." He replied.

"what about?"

"There's an interview offer waiting on me. I just don't know if I wanna do it. Barbara Walters wants to interview me.."

"About what you haven't done anything recently." I frown.

"I know.. that's why I'm hesitating..."

I place my hand on his back. "Do what you feel is the right thing. But please get rest.." I pull his arm down leaning him onto me and wrap my arms around him. He pecks my nose, before placing his arms around me.

Hey guys, thanks for reading this story faithfully! Just wanted to let you know that while I'm working to the end of this book. I'm starting a brand new short story called "Cover Story" the first chapter has already been posted! Like, leave comments, and if you don't already, FOLLOW ME!