▷ my little reporter - part 2
bad era! michael jackson x journalist!reader
summary: in which michael realises that he can trust only you to tell the full truth, especially on tour
a/n: hey.. how yall doing.. sorry guys, should have dropped this sooner but i've had some SEVERE writers block in this omg. anyways i watched the michael movie yesterday and it motivated me to finish this :)
part 1
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The email came through at 2pm on Thursday, two days after the original interview of Michael Jackson. It read as follows:
Dear Miss L/N,
We are delighted to reach out to you regarding a huge proposition for your career, as well as our clients. It would be in your greatest interest that you contact me as soon as you see this email as our offer is extremely limited. Contact me at: XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX.
Regards, Frank DiLeo
The light from the large screen in front of you burned your eyes as you stared, unblinking, at the computer, reading over the name on the email. Frank DiLeo, Frank DiLeo, Frank- Oh!
The manager of Michael Jackson, the one you had met the other day with the low ponytail and the huge cigar shooting out of his mouth when he kissed her hand with an unwanted kiss.
You glanced between the telephone number and the red telephone on your desk, contemplating if you really wanted to deal with this right now, especially after one of the longest interviews of your life with the worst type of celebrity - the snobby type.
Reluctantly, you picked up the phone, placing one finger into the rotary dial, looking back and forth at the screen and the dial. When you put the last number in, the dial tone begins. A long 10 seconds of waiting before a voice cuts through the static.
"Hello, Mr DiLeo's assistant speaking."
"Hi, erm... I received an email from Frank to contact him about a job offer he's making for me".
"Miss Y/N? Ah, yes, hold on, let me put you through to Mr DiLeo, thanks for your patience."
You gripped the phone tighter as the dial tone began again, a heavy, exhausted sigh cutting through your lips as your eyes wandered around your office out of boredom.
"Hello? DiLeo speaking"
"Mr DiLeo, it's Y/N"
"Miss L/N! What a wonderful surprise. I wasn't expecting you to contact so soon to be honest. However, I can't say I'm disappointed!"
You let out a mock interest laugh, trying to sound amused but the tiredness wore down to your bones, wanting this to be over and to make it home as soon as possible.
"So, straight to business. There's no doubt that Mr Jackson enjoyed your interview, in fact, he was so happy with it that he wanted me to make you a special offer. However, he would like to tell you that offer himself as he has reasons only he can seem to understand"
A sound of acknowledgment cut through the phone from your mouth, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you tried to work out what he could possibly have meant.
"Do you have a pen and paper? Great. So, if Saturday at 3PM is free for you, Michael and I would love to have a small meeting at the CBS Records building. Great! See you then."
The connection cut off before you could respond, just staring at the paper before lowering the phone back into its keypad.
Great. Another long day.
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Black heels clicked across the polished floor of the CBS building, your bag balanced on your arm as you walked across the large room towards the receptionist's desk.
"Hi, I have a meeting with Frank DiLeo"
"Let me just take your name"
After giving your name, you were escorted upstairs by a tall man in a dark suit, pressing the 34th floor button for you and standing in front of you as the doors shut.
The ding came quicker than you expected, before exiting and walking down the long corridor towards the door at the end.
You knocked on the door, hearing a short commotion behind the door before it opened, Frank's head the first thing you see.
"Hi! Come on in. Welcome to my office." he boasted at the glorious office, graced with floor to ceiling windows and a large desk in front of them.
As you walked in after greeting him, you saw Michael sat at the long meeting table in the corner of the room. He wasn't staring out of the window towards the bridge of LA traffic, rather, he was staring intently at you.
You smiled at him, suddenly nervous in is presence even though you had met him only a few days ago for a face to face interview. Both yours and Michael's eyes downcast as you smiled shyly.
You sat on the opposite side to Michael whilst Frank sat at the head of the table. You turned towards him, realising you knew absolutely nothing about why you were here in the first place.
"Well it is lovely to see you both, truly. However, I know absolutely nothing about why I am here, so I would appreciate if we could cut straight to business", your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at Frank.
"Well, I'll let Michael explain this to you because I don't really approve but... whatever makes the main man happy!" he said, a sarcastic smile on his face as he shrugged.
"Erm... okay.. so.. I-I really appreciated your interview the other day. You know, I do a whole lot of interviews weekly, but your interview was special.. You were special." he said, pouring his emotion into his words.
"Oh wow! Thank you so much, that really means a lot to me" you nervously giggled. Nobody had ever told you how good your interviewing style had been, considering you thought that celebrities didn't really want to be there, as who wants to be grilled on their life choices?
"Yeah, hah, so, I have a proposal for you. I loved how you asked about my music and my discography, and I would love to bring you on my Bad tour to do all of my interviews." he smiled fully at you, as if he didn't just drop the biggest lifetime opportunity ever.
You stared at him blankly for a few seconds as you comprehended the weight of his words.
"I'm sorry?"
"I would love for you to become part of the family and join me on tour to do all of my interviews exclusively on tour" Michael repeated.
You looked down at the table as you played with your hands under the table, your usually composed and professional exterior slipping as you thought about the task at hand. Should you accept it?
"How long is this tour, Mr Jackson?"
"16 months, however, if at any point you need to cut it short, you can leave." he leaned forward, almost as if begging you to accept the position.
Contemplating on the decision, your eyes wandered around the room towards the picture frames on the shelfs. One of Frank and Michael, their arms around each other as they smiled next to his platinum plaque. The other picture showing Michael carrying 8 Grammy's in 1984, his blue sparkly jacket blinking under the studio lights.
"I'll accept your offer, Mr Jackson. I want to be apart of history."
A large smile grew across his face as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, your hand sliding into his in a firm hand shake.
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You packed a big suitcase and a dream and left LA on the large plane, exclusively for the Bad tour. Your hands shaking and heart racing, but you knew that this was a life changing opportunity and you were seeing history being made with Michael's magic.
The first stop had been Tokyo, Japan. Michael had been preparing to perform to a stadium of 38,000 people, which meant long and demanding rehearsals for the entire team to ensure everything ran smoothly.
You and Michael had small, passing exchanges and you tried to shrink into the background, to get the most optimal information to make a good report for Michael.
One thing that had become apparent to you had been the devoted attention towards making everything as perfect as humanly possible. Michael clearly becoming more exhausted as time went on, his movements still sharp but the shadows under his eyes darkening.
Backstage of the last night of the second leg, you wandered around the equipment, jotting down anything that could make good interview notes and anything that could be interesting to look back on in the future.
You sat down on a small stool in an unusually empty area, setting your notepad down next to you, you reflected on your life over the past few weeks. Constantly on the go and blending into the background, and making new friends within the group, including some of the backup dancers and the band that Michael performed with. You had taken it upon yourself to bring water to the dancers who had collapsed on the break from the heat and overexertion, helping them put their backs to the wall and opening the bottle for them.
You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of footsteps, you lifted your head, seeing Michael walking towards you. Dark curls hanging in front of his face and his white shirt untucked from his black dress pants, his large doe eyes staring directly at you as he caught your attention, slowing his pace to stop before you.
"May I sit down next to you?" he questioned, pointing to the stool next to you, his large hand shaking slightly from the adrenaline.
"Of course, do you need me to get you water or something?" concerned, you reached out your hand to place lightly on his shoulder as he sat down.
"No, no its okay.." he took a deep breath before continuing,
"I just need a second away from all the chaos out there, its really stressful out there" he turned to look at you, seemingly seeing you as a salvation for his exhaustion.
"Well, I know that I was brought here to, you know, get all of the details and interview you, but if you need anything... I'm here for you." you said quietly, a soft tilt of your lips appeared as you slowly rubbed your hand across his arm.
He stared at you, slightly leaning into your touch, as if it was something he craved to feel.
"Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it" he stared deeply into your eyes, his hand coming up to cover yours on his arm.
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Since then, Michael had been seeking you out wherever you was. He had come to you for some silence backstage, especially after a concert as everyone wanted to crowd round him to shower him with praise, whereas what he really wanted was some silence to wind down or to watch some TV in his room and have meaningful conversations.
So far on this tour, you had done five interviews. Michael had refused to do any other interviews with anybody else as they all seemed to want to talk about his looks or rumours or, for some reason, his private life.
By the sixth interview, you had sussed Michael out completely. How he had warmed up to you almost immediately, laughing louder and allowing himself to throw his head back when something you said tickled him particularly hard.
Under the studio lights, his eyes had softened under the aviators when looking at you, his legs tilted towards you instead of the camera recording him.
"You always tap your fingers when you're thinking," you observed, your fingers wrapped around a pen and a notepad.
You were both perched on slightly uncomfortable black leather armchairs in his hotel room, sitting opposite with the camera just over your shoulder and the studio light sitting beside them.
He blinked once, before smiling a toothy grin.
"You notice everything, don't you?"
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The outside world had began to notice Michael's fixation on you, the tabloids growing increasingly worse.
At first ,the headlines amused you.
'BAD TOUR INTRODUCES MYSTERY JOURNALIST'
'JACKSON REFUSES MAJOR NETWORKS FOR UNKNOWN JOURNALIST'
But as the tour stretched on, the articles became harder to ignore.
'FROM PRESS TO PERSONAL? INSIDERS QUESTION JACKSON'S EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEWS'
'OBSESSION OR ROMANCE? MICHAEL JACKSON SHUTS OUT ALL OTHER PRESS'
'MICHAEL JACKSON'S "MYSTERY GIRL" CAUSING TOUR TENSION'
Frank tossed another newspaper onto the growing pile on the table with a groan.
"They're getting worse," he muttered.
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"Michael, NBC is requesting an interview in Los Angeles next week."
Frank barely finished the sentence before Michael shook his head.
"No."
"Michael, the press are speculating-"
"I already told you."
His voice was sharp, certain.
"I only interview with her."
Michael turned on his heel out of the door.
There was no time to question his decisions as they were right in the middle of one of the biggest and most successful tours in history.
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You sighed, exhausted from constant plane rides and early mornings for the last few months. You placed the newspaper down gently, the big bold letters staring at you, speculating whether Michael was your boss or boyfriend.
You questioned it yourself too. There was no doubt that you and Michael had grown closer during this tour, closer than maybe professionals should be. But you couldn't help it, how could you when Michael was so kind, consistently wanting to hang out with you to watch old movies on the cassette player or play random board games he found in the closet.
The door creaked open, your head turning to see who was walking in to your own personal room backstage of the stadium. Michael, in his red button up, fedora pulled low over his face, snuck into the room before quickly shutting the door behind him.
He smiled at you, almost in relief, before his eyes took in what you were looking at.
'OBSESSION OR ROMANCE?' screaming at him from the dark oak table.
"Michael, can I ask you something?" you said quietly.
"Of course" he replied, sitting in the seat opposite your desk.
"Why me? I mean, I'm sure its more convenient to just accept interviews from different news sources to promote your tour and..." you trailed off, not really needing to finish your answer as he had understood what you meant.
"Because you make me feel like a person first. You listen. You ask me questions about my music, or about the tour, or about the outfit choices I've made. Never about anything else, nothing invading or disgustingly personal"
Everything he had told you about his family and about past memories from his childhood had been private moments, intimate in his hotel room, kicked back on comfy sofas with soft blankets covering your legs.
Your eyes softened at his words, the noise of the stadium outside fading into something distant.
Silence settled between you, warm and heavy.
"That's because I want to know you as Michael. Not just Michael Jackson."
Michael's gaze dropped for a moment before he let out the smallest smile, one meant only for you.
And somehow, despite the screaming crowds outside and the headlines waiting for you in the morning, this had felt like the quietest moment either of you had experienced in months.
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sorry if this isnt too good.. yikes!
