[MJ Fanfiction] Collide

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - ORDINARY PEOPLE

A little music played in the background, and the atmosphere was relaxing around the loft. I chose to play one of my father's old records of Ray Charles, and Michael seemed to love it. He told me how grateful he was to have had the chance to work with such a jazz and blues icon on the song We Are the World. It took me some time to realize that Michael had met, at some point in his life, all of my childhood's idols such as Paul McCartney. It is when Say, Say, Say and Baby Be Mine came out that I got a bit curious about who Michael was and why people were so crazy about him. But my curiosity didn't last long, because I chose to go to med school, which didn't leave too many room for any hobbies, to be honest.

I left my reverie and focused on Michael, who was seated crossed leg in the middle of the living room with
may records all around him. He was holding an old record of The Impressions, Curtis Mayfield's former band, with his right hand while he was reading something on the back, and he was eating yet another cookie with his other hand. I was witnessing this from afar, as I was coming back from the kitchen with two cups of tea on a trail. A huge grin appeared across my face at the sight. I could definitely see his inner child shining through his behavior. The more I looked at him, the more I got to meet the person he truly was, and the more joy I felt.

"Hey Hayley," he excitedly said with his mouth full, as he turned in my direction. "Do you know this record?"

"I grew up listening to it, I better know it," I chuckled slightly, as I set the trail on the coffee table. I knelt down next to him, and took the record from his hands. "People Get Ready must be one of my favorite songs."

"Aretha's cover of this song is mind-blowing! I remember hearing it on the radio, and I started to bob my head to it immediately. I love her so much," he smiled, shaking his head a bit.

"She's extraordinary," I verified, as I gave him the vinyl back. "Did you have the chance to meet her too?"

"Are you going to hate me if I tell you I did?" he asked shyly but with a little smile on, as he looked in my direction.

"You did?!" I asked, surprised. "Okay, I'm definitely jealous."

"At least you don't hate me," he grinned, and I rolled my eyes playfully at him. "So yeah, I did. It was back in the mid seventies. 1976 maybe? We met backstage, at the American Music Awards. It was the first time I met her, and I was quite blown away. It was like meeting the feminine version of James Brown for me."