Chapter 2

Arriving back at Neverland, Michael was welcomed to the joyful chorus of "Daddy Daddy Daddy" being shouted as each of his three adoring kids clamored over him, vying for his undivided attention. As they showered him with hugs and kisses, Michael playfully tweaked each of their noses. "Slow down, you 3! I'm home, one at a time", he sternly but gently told them.

"I got an A+ on my history test, Dad!" Prince, Michael's eldest son, chimed in first.

Not to be outdone by her older brother, Paris let her dad know that she aced her math quiz and then whispered in his ear, "Prince failed the math quiz, daddy."

Still being able to hear what Paris said, Prince held his head down and said, "sorry, dad. I tried my best."

"Don't worry, Prince. We'll study math later tonight," Michael replied reassuringly.

And last but not least, Michael's youngest son, Blanket, produced a picture drawn in crayon of the four of them."It's our family daddy, do you like it?"

After taking the picture to get a closer look, Michael hugged all 3 of his kids and shouted, "it's amazing Blanket, you are a great artist."

Being a father was a full-time job for Michael. A job that he deemed as his greatest accomplishment and one he wouldn't trade for the world. After a full day of catching up with his children, he was exhausted. He didn't sleep much on his flight back to America, as he never really slept well on airplanes, to begin with.

Later that night, he read his kids their favorite bedtime story, kissed their foreheads, and wished them a goodnight. As Michael closed the door to the bedroom, he wondered if August had children of her own?

Then the dreaded thoughts of her possibly being married popped into his brain, but he quickly brushed them away.

When Michael's cellphone began to ring, his heart raced with anticipation as he answered the call. "Did you find her yet? she has to be out there somewhere? I need a great sound engineer for this album".

Michael was telling a bald-faced lie, but he didn't want his assistant in his personal business.

"No, I haven't located her yet, Mr. Jackson, but as soon as I do, I will have her call you on your private cellphone as requested," his assistant spoke cheerfully.

Every time his cell phone rang or vibrated, Michael got excited, but unfortunately, it was not August's voice on the other end. He remembered how sweetly she spoke; her voice was almost as soft as his back then. He wondered if her voice remained the same? It didn't matter to him, as long as he heard her say his name again.


The 'Hit Factory,' NewYork

August slammed down a piece of studio equipment she had been trying to get to work. An artist whose album she was working on, wanted an ancient synclavier from the 1980s on his album. Even though there were newer digital instruments that produced the same sound, the artist insisted that it didn't sound the same. She agreed, but the hunk of junk just didn't work.

"I need a vacation. I'm going to go crazy," she shrieked! "They don't pay me enough for this, I'm going home," she told herself.

In reality, August was one of the top paid recording engineer's of the year. Though she initially started out being a live sound engineer, she moved into the realm of being a studio audio engineer as well.

Once August arrived home, she turned on the TV & plopped down on the couch. The first image she saw was of Michael visiting troops at 'Camp Zama' in Tokyo.

"He looks so good," she thought to herself. Even though she hadn't spoken to Michael in years, she still followed the news on him and listened to his albums until it became too painful for her at times. She never really got over their drifting apart and tried to suppress her feelings for him.

She was still angry at him for not keeping in contact with her and the very thought of what could have been between them, turned her into a sad crying mess if her emotional guard was down.

Early on, she questioned if she did something wrong? Eventually, she chopped it up to her being an average girl that wasn't good enough for the world mega-star, Michael Jackson.

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