Forced II: Whatever Happens

Chapter 38 - Show Time III

15th of July, 2009
Michael is 50, Angela is 45, and Jake is 46

Angela: My fingers tapped nervously on my knee while I waited for Jake. Adam stood next to me, looking around the rehab center's courtyard.

"Where is he, Adam?" I looked my bodyguard through my sunglasses.

"The staff said they're bringing him."

"And you've been getting updates on him, right?"

"Bill is here every day with him, Mrs. Jackson. He's doing okay."

"Angie?" Jake suddenly asked.

I stood up to greet him. He looked so different, so skinny and fragile.

"Hi," I smiled. "How are you?"

"Better, I think. Where's Mike?" he looked down, putting his hands inside his sweatpants' pockets.

I didn't want to let him know Michael never planned on coming. He told me what Jake said to him in the hotel bathroom, during one of our late-night talks. My husband was so offended, and I couldn't blame him.

But he also needed his rest, so I was glad he didn't want to come.

"He's resting, after his show last night. He wanted to come, but he really needs to take it easy, so I made him stay home." I lied.

Jake nodded and glanced up to meet my eyes, then looked away quickly.

"Come sit, Jake. I got you something."

We sat down on a nearby bench together and I gave him the McDonald's bag. His eyes widened, a genuine smile making its way to his tired face.

He took the bag before digging in. "You're the best."

"So you're feeling okay?" I questioned.

"I wouldn't say 'okay'," my ex said as munched he on some fries. "I don't really have an appetite anymore. This is the real first meal I've had in a while."

"But how are you dealing with, uh, you know- Rehab."

"Nothing I've never done before. This time I have something to fight for, though. I want to be there for my kids."

"And you will be. I promise, as long as you get better." I took his hand.

"I watched Mike last night, they put the show on here," Jake kept eating. "Would you tell him how great he was?"

I laughed, "Of course. He was amazing, wasn't he?"

He smiled cheekily, eyeing me.

"What?" I blushed.

"You're a Michael Jackson fan now, huh?"

"Guilty..."

We sat there for another hour and talked. Jake told me about his days at the rehab center, how he's adjusting.

I was really glad he was doing better; he seemed like he was slowly himself again.

After an hour, I hugged him goodbye, saying how proud I am.

"Are we heading home, Mrs. Jackson?" Adam asked once we settled in the car.

"Yes, please." I answered, shifted in my seat a little, then winced as the car moved.

That stinging sensation came back last night during Michael and I's little session in his dressing room, and never really left.

It was less intense than last time, still, it was there. I didn't tell Michael anything, I wanted us to enjoy the moment, which we definitely did.