Don't Act Like You Know Us
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Blurb: Putting your foot down during an especially disrespectful interview.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x reader
Warning/Disclaimer: Reader-insert is older than Michael by four years. Michael was 36 during 1995 (the year this interview is taking place) and you are 40. Black and female reader-insert. You are a business woman (whoopeeee). Y/N is not used but F/N (first name) will be.
Author's Note: I've had this in the drafts for quite a while and I still don't like it. I give up. If it's bad, it's bad and there's nothing I can do about it. Sometimes I just gotta take the failure. It's also inspired by the interview Michael Jackson had with Lisa Marie Presley.
You were having a horrendous time at this interview.
That was an exaggeration (although you did have a point). How could you already hate an event without it even starting?
The chair you sat on was uncomfortable. It had a slick and sturdy black frame which gave it strength, but lacked the cushioning needed to make the chair relieving to sit on. You sat on the dreadful chair, one leg crossed over the other, and focused on masking your annoyance. Michael, sensing your irritation, placed his pale hand over your own in a desperate attempt to help you manage your emotions.
You didn't even want to be here, if you were being truly honest with yourself. With no blame given to your husband, if it wasn't for his insistence, you wouldn't have attended this interview. This thought resonated in your head as the interviewer, a woman who looked disastrous in her outfit of clashing patterns, asked her questions.
"Your marriage to one another is something of...a spectacle, so to speak," The woman, her name known as Diana, began, her face lighting up with an enthusiasm that made your stomach twist in suspicion. "I mean, a union between you, F/N, the owner of one of the biggest companies in the world, and you, Michael Jackson, the most famed person on the planet, is really something to mention!"
A small and polite smile graced your face at her words while Michael's was bigger and more luminous. You nodded gracefully at her words as you re-adjusted yourself on the chair, the chic, navy blue suit you were wearing making wrinkling sounds.
"A spectacle to everyone else, but obviously," you turn your head to Michael, your eyes filling with the deep devotion you have for him. "It's a testament to our love for one another."
"Awe, isn't that sweet?" The interviewer coos. "So, as our first anticipated question, how did you guys meet and how did it lead to marriage?"
"I'll answer this one," Michael began, his face glowing with a proud smile. "We met at a charity event in Los Angeles. It was a collaboration between Yalk, as you know, my wife's company, and a local organization in the area. I came to support it and to also promote it when I met this lovely lady right here," He gestured to you with jazz hands. As a response, you began playfully reveling in his praise.
"Yes...I believe that was about...5 years ago?" You added on while looking at Michael with an inquisitive expression. "No---I am correct, because at that time, you were 31 and I was 35." You turned your head back to the interviewer with a lighter and more carefree aura.
"Mhm, that's right. We talked quite a bit during the event," Michael started nodding in agreement with himself. "Soon after that, we exchanged phone numbers and---"
"Hold on, as F/N so kindly referenced your ages," you cringed at Diana's words and suddenly, you regretted your earlier remark. "How do you feel about that? It isn't everyday that we see an older female, younger male duo." Diana continues on as she began leaning forward. "Does it make you feel any lesser of yourself as a man---"
"Are we not both adults?" You interjected.
"Ah, yes, of course. I'm just saying that---"
"If we are both adults then that means that we have all the autonomy we need to make decisions regarding our love lives. The gap between us is not an issue. Our relationship is one of respect and unbridled care for one another," your eyes stare daggers into Diana's own, your hand moving to be on top of Michael's. Michael watches the interaction with a mouth still gaping due to him being interrupted so abruptly. "I don't make him feel lesser than, and he does not feel that way. Close your mouth and allow my husband to speak."
Diana stammers a bit before resorting to a cold and fake smile which she directs toward you. You do not reciprocate it.
"Well I really don't have much to add, so to say," Michael awkwardly continues.
"You were talking about how we exchanged numbers," you remark with your voice cold and face devoid of emotion.
"I know, I remember that," Michael responds, "After that, we just kept on meeting with each other, and began dating."
A few offstandish seconds pass by as you glare at the interviewer.
"Ah---yes. That's lovely, isn't it? Now, onto the next question..."
The interview continues on like that; useless questions thrown out by the interviewer and half-hearted responses from the two of you.
Michael was beginning to get restless in his chair and you knew it. The questions were becoming ever more invasive and it was exhausting to answer them.
"Can we wrap this up?" You question blankly.
"Yes, yes, of course we can. I just have one more question for the two of you," she replies with one of the fakest smiles you've ever seen. "Say...do the two of you perform your marital duties? Do the two of you have sex?"
A cold, tension filled silence washes over the interaction. Michael looks utterly distressed by the woman's inquiry and seems as if he could keel over at any moment. You, on the other hand, are boiling with anger. You fought with yourself to keep your composure because if you didn't, the tabloids would have something to say about it.
"I just---" Michael begins with a shaky voice, "What? This is such a---such a crazy thing to ask---I mean..." He goes quiet when you hover one of your hands over his mouth.
You look at the interviewer and let your eyes do the talking. You permit your head to be held up by the arm that was lounging lazily on one of the armrests. At your silence, which was causing anxiety to build up within the interviewer, a few chuckles were released from Diana's lips.
"Mrs. Jackson."
"Mhm."
"Did you hear my question? I can re---"
"I heard you. I heard you very well. I am just...wondering why the hell you think that you are---let's say---entitled to know that information," you reply with your voice frighteningly calm. "You do not know me." You point to yourself with a well manicured finger. "You do not know him." You point to Michael who was looking at you with full attention. "Together, you do not know either of us."
"Really? But from newspapers and interviews, we can pretty much gage your---"
"Was I asking for your input?" You voice rises as the frustration within you begins to show. The hell with the tabloids. Who cares if they bash your name? You surely don't. "Not only is it an incredibly idiotic question, but why must we broadcast our private life? What happens between my husband me, stays between my husband and me. We do not owe you, nor anyone, any information."
The interviewer watches in astonishment as Michael lounges back, a small yet grateful smile placed onto his face.
"You know what? I believe this is a perfect time for us to go now." Michael stands up after his announcement. "This was a horrible interview." You take Michael's hand in your own and allow him to pull you up.
"Thank the Lord." You loudly declare as the two of you walk off the set, the frozen and disgraced interviewer left by herself.
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Author's Note: The interviewer was not based on Diana Ross. She was based off the interviewer who did the interview with Michael and Lisa Marie Presley. For more information, her name is Diane Sawyer.