Michael's Point Of View ~

'Bad' Tour Backstage | New York

"Thank you. I love you New York . . "

The microphone that I hold only inches away from my lips causes my voice to echo throughout, allowing the feeling of my voice to stretch for miles. The crowd screams in response. The sweat that slides down my cheeks, to the rapid rise and fall of my chest as I stand here trying to catch my breath again and not to mention, the almost heaven like vision of many phone torches that are being held up right now - appearing to be endless . . I love it all.

It just makes me smile and have so much to say but yet, I'm left almost speechless. The level of love my fans show me . . ugh, I just have so much to be thankful for. I look at them, at their faces and I say to myself this is why I do this and this is why I never will stop doing what I do. I blow the crowd another kiss before I walk off the stage. As soon as my loafers hit the concrete after leaving the backstage staircase, I'm followed, almost surrounded by my security. It's a subtle exhale as I know the extent for this number of security is for my own safety. Especially after a show. The view of the black waiting car makes me feel relief but also such sadness as I wish I could stay on stage forever . . or just for that little bit more. I scurry further and further towards the mixed feeling that this black car brings until I climb in.

Looking out, I see many faces. Consisting of staff strictly for the tour and people who work for me - some familiar, and also some un. But these faces can't see me, with windows tinted so dark that no one from the outside can look in. I lean back against the seat, closing my eyes with a smirk suddenly appearing from the corner of my lips as I think how close I am to seeing Ariana. To kiss her, to touch her . . all of her, finally. The thought of her has sparked nothing except pure desire. This feeling isn't one to be surprised by at all causing me to softly chuckle. But then, I'm left reminded.

Ariana and her new song.

Yes, I've heard the song and watched the video too. And there is no such need to use my mind to brainstorm or verbally convey a thoughtful 'hmm'  as to who in fact Ariana is speaking of when she expresses such lyrics of giving her temptation and that this certain individual has her walking side to side. Please, don't be concerned. Because I am nowhere near embarrassed . . not in the slightly. Instead, I am proud. So proud, that such a stunning women loves me enough to express it to the world with no such thing as hesitation in her entire persona. As I watched, I couldn't help but smile as I saw nothing but her confidence in how certain she is of me. But the thing that I found truly a gift from her is how she addressed the media - she sang, but she also was speaking to them directly. Speaking the truth of how they can twist and turn things. How they continually come after us. She told them . . and with a voice as powerful as hers, I'm sure they will think again before they talk too much. My eyes squint together as I come to think of it, that there is no way it will put a stop to them, but perhaps it'll be something at least to somewhat soften the blow.

The car almost hums as the engine is turned on, upon the arrival of Frank. A cigar lit and the smoke never failing to make me cough a little.

"Can't wait to get back home . . "

I say, waving my hand from side to side in front of my face in hopes of eliminating the smoke. Frank nods. His free hand giving me a slight nudge as I believe Frank has immediately connected the dots.

"Back home to the Mrs, right Mike . . "

He chuckles. With his entire body bouncing back once in an almost sudden way as he does so. But it's a few seconds of silence before I respond. I hate that term. I have never liked it. It always made me cringe because to me, it always sounded less than.

Pft, Mrs . .

It's nothing but a nonsense word. It means utterly nothing. Not until Ariana is actually my wife. But until then - she is referred to as my girl. I squint my eyes shut. Yet I keep a calm voice when I speak to Frank. "Ariana is not my Mrs, she's my girl . . ". He holds up one finger to indicate to me that he'll be right with me. Because to have a long puff from his cigar is apparently more important, and appears to be overdue since he lit it. Smoke escapes from his lips as he speaks to me. His voice resembles one that is amused and at my expense it seems.

"Relax Mike. Was only saying . . "

I look out the window, and out at a world that isn't allowed to look at me for I am so protected. It would be silent if Frank isn't continuing to puff away on his cigar. "Well Mike, you will see her soon because your going home now . . ". I smile but with the back of my head still facing Frank. "I know I can't wait . . ". I feel the butterflies return from the mere mention of returning home to finally be able to hold her again.

It's been weeks.

Weeks of doing what I love, but also weeks of feeling the sadness that such separation can bring.

I notice the car is on, but isn't moving. What exactly are we waiting for? The sooner we leave, the sooner I get home. I turn to face Frank once again. The impatience of this motionless car is causing a stir of irritation inside me.

"We ready to leave now? . . " I ask softly.

"Tatiana is still coming, Mike . . "

Frank tells me. I move slightly in my seat. I wasn't aware that Tatiana was coming with us back to Los Angeles. Before I can say anything else to Frank, the seat next to him is suddenly occupied by Tatiana. She seems out of breathe as she speaks to not just me, but all the souls that are present in the car.

"Sorry, was just packing up a few more things from my dressing room . . "

I inform her she doesn't need to apologise, or that there was a need to even rush. Though I do admit to being very eager to leave. So I was left impatient. The car finally moves. The feeling of it slowly edging forward before all four wheels spin around fast-moving makes me turn hopeful. My spirit uplifted as Ariana is envisioned immediately.

"Thank you for letting me come along with you Michael. It makes my travel plans so much more easier . . and cheaper . . "

Tatiana says with a giggle. Again, I wasn't made aware of her joining us but I'm happy to help in terms of expenses. I'm sure things like that can leave the pocket feeling quite low. "No problem, Tatiana . . ". I shoot her a smile before turning to look out of the window. We are on our way back to my hotel suite - a quick stop, if you will. For I wish to shower and grab something I swear I quickly tossed in the dresser drawer by the bed before I left for my show tonight.

I can't forget it.

I mustn't.

My thumb presses my phone, causing it to light up. The screensaver showing Ariana smiling and therefore just being her beautiful self. Upon eye contact, it causes me to do the very same thing - light up. She is so amazing and I can't get enough of her. I bite my lip, knowing that within a matter of hours I'll be by her side once more. "She's very pretty, Michael . . ". I snap my head to the right of me and let out a nervous chuckle as I completely forgot anyone was even in my presence.

"She is. Thank you Tatiana . . "

"I'm sure you have both missed each other being away for so many weeks . . "

Tatiana says as she sits forward to get a better view of me with Frank sitting in the middle of us. A rush of sadness comes over me as I think back. I worked, I kept myself as busy as possible so that I wouldn't miss Ariana too much . . but to no prevail.

"Being away from her wasn't easy, no . . "

I look back down at my phone. Ariana's face making me smile again. "So I would find myself looking at photos of her and I together because it's nice to be reminded . . ". I tell her softly with a somewhat shrug of my shoulders. Tatiana smiles before squeezing her lips together and she too, shrugs her shoulders as she responds.

"That's what love is all about . . "

Michael's Hotel Suite | New York

With Arthur to escort me, Frank and Tatiana are to wait in the car for our return. He opens the door for me to walk right in. And the way I see it right now, time is precious. My clothes almost fall off all on their own it feels as I dash for the bathroom to strip off and charge into the awaiting shower. I purposely avoid to make any sort of eye contact towards the mirror for my vitiligo is still something that I haven't yet come to terms with in it's true extent. So, I do this as often as I need. It's paramount.

The warm water is soothing. Completely drenching me and washing away any source of unpleasant sweat that my show has caused.

Done.

I grab the only towel that the hotel have kindly offered me before I head out of this hotel suite that I had no choice but to call my home for the weeks I was away from my true home. It was a substitute but nonetheless, it was a comfortable stay. I walk out of the bathroom and into my bedroom to see clothes lay out neatly upon my large and made king-sized bed.

Thank you Arthur.

I mentally say to myself as I place one leg, then the other leg into each one. A plain shirt is then put on and it's all I need. My curls out and I have no real desire to throw it in by any means. I chuckle softly then bite my lip as it reminds me of Ariana . . how she loves my curls all out.

"Everything alright, Mr Jackson? . . "

I hear from the other side of the closed bedroom door. "Yes Arthur. I'll be right out . . "

I feel as though I have been the one that has kept everyone waiting. I make my way towards the bedside dresser, opening the top drawer.

I knew it.

There it is.

The bottle of sleeping tablets are here. I did put them in here. I grab them, stuffing them inside my pant pocket like someone will walk in and see them in my hands at any moment. Arthur and I make our way back to the car that Tatiana and Frank still sit in. I clear my throat as my mind is occupied on taking the sleeping tablets.

I need them.

Otherwise I just won't sleep.

I can still feel the adrenaline racing through my entire body. Arthur ensures I'm in the car before he makes his way towards the passenger seat where he resided. "All good, Mike? . . ". Frank asks before the car is to move. My hand presses down on the bottle that sits securely and yet secretly in my pocket. I nod to him.

"All good. Let's get moving . . "

I say with a smile.

The drive isn't long at all. Not to Los Angeles, but to the airport that is, where my private jet is waiting. The high pitched scream of the jet banishes any kind of communication with anyone upon the moment I step foot out of the car. Once inside, I find myself somewhere to sit. Settling myself in and remaining tight-lipped that I just wish to sleep for the entirety of this flight.

As I look out of the jet window, and no more of the car window - it's eerily still. But the dead of night is a good time to sneak away - no fans, even no paparazzi. They will be too busy updating the world on the last New York show I finished tonight. A single file kind of arrangement is seen by Frank, Tatiana and Arthur as they join me onboard. I see how Frank carelessly slump down on his seat while still puffing away. Tatiana, she sits down with a level of grace and crosses her legs. And as for Arthur, he sits at the seat right by the door as I guess he feels anyone can still catch us all off guard and possibly bring harm to me. He looks at me, nodding his head, before his eyes look all around.

We take off.

Staying seated until that delightful ding is heard that informs passengers that seat belts can only now be removed. I stand up, excusing myself to go to the bathroom. The bottle of sleeping tablets out of my pocket and in my hand . . taking this time, a handful in a matter of seconds from each other before having a few mouthfuls of water from the sink tap to wash it all down. The urge to see Ariana is great, but the urge for rest is greater. I walk out, seeing Arthur standing up in his usual professional stance. I grab a blanket and pillow from the overhead locker, walking slowly over to Frank and Tatiana as they embark in small talk with one another. The sleeping tablets already kicking in as I feel drowsy. It's a feeling I really do crave and so wish I could feel naturally.

Frank looks at me as I approach.

"I'm going to get some sleep . . " I tell him.

He nods at me, chuckling. "We'll be here. I see the exhaustion from the show tonight has caught up with you, Mike . . "

"Guess you could say that. I just truly need this rest . . ". I chuckle softly as I alone know the true extent to my sudden need for rest. I walk to the very back of the jet to a comfortable two seater to first place the pillow down and take my loafers off. The blanket thrown over me once I lay down.

My eyes only heavy from the tablets, my entire body only limp from the same reason as they have caused the adrenaline of the show to have thankfully worn off. But my mind is still picturing Ariana, and Ariana only. 

I can't wait to see her.

But now, the urge for rest is taking hold. I can't keep my eyes open any longer . . so I allow them to close with Arthur being the only figure I can make out. He'll stand by me, watching over me now that darkness is all around me.

to be continued.