Chapter Eleven

　


A Few Days Later

Rainelle Parish, Louisiana

“…aw this moldy rag is repeating stuff I already know…” Lorraine Devereaux sighed dismissively, with a grunt thrown in for extra measure, as she and Vylette loitered near the magazine racks of the five-and-dime.


Glancing up from her article about how comedian Charlie Chaplin liked to spend his afternoons when not working, Vylette observed her cousin’s pretty face, a freckled scowl.


“What’s it saying?” She questioned, certain the “stuff” had to do with a certain bleach-haired bombshell….


Shaking out the latest issue of Fashions on Film, Lorraine read aloud,


“Screen Siren Jean Harlow, is apt to usher in a new trend in manicuring. Whilst most women are content with nail lacquers in reds, pinks and corals, Miss Harlow stands apart from the pack, by matching her nail color to her silvery-white mane…”


The magazine was flung back on the rack.


“Who are they kidding? I read about this three months ago in Photoplay! Everyone knows Jean gets her polish custom made somewhere for it to come out in silver! Gosh…” Lorraine shook her head so hard, that one of the carefully placed pins, keeping her hair arranged in what looked like a bob, came flying out.


“…I mean, tell me something I don’t know!”


She reached for the current Photoplay, with actress Dorothy Jordan on the cover.


For reasons, even unknown to herself, Vylette abruptly stated.


“You could tell me about something I don’t know.”


“And just what is that?” Lorraine was casually flipping through the pages.


Leaning against the rack, Vylette tried to be coy, but something had been eating at her for days.


“Well, seeing as I told you everything that happened between Michael and myself, down to the barest details…” Eyes lowered and black lashes fluttered, “…I reckon you could do the same for me.”


That was true.


Since the first Love Lessons, only three days earlier, Lorraine had been all but mum on the topic; even as Vylette had willingly shared all points of her encounter with the younger of the Jackson brothers.


Plus, Vylette had been curious to know just what had been done to keep her cousin screaming off and on for nearly four hours!


A scarlet flush began to color Lorraine’s cheeks, and perching on tip-toe, she peeked to see if anyone was with earshot.




(Who knew what Kathleen Meraux would have done to them, if word of such a deviant foray reached her ears?)

Old Mr. Goebbels sat, dozing at the very back counter.


He was deaf to them.


“My Dear…” Lorraine gripped Vylette’s hands in her own, eyes dancing. “I…I didn’t tell you sooner, for fear of how you’d react…” She began and curiously, Vylette’s head tilted.


“I know Michael and you only touched each other…”


“Yes…” Vylette snickered girlishly, then searched her cousin‘s face in wonder.


“Well, Marlon and I did more than that.” Lorraine nodded and when she noticed the plain, non-understanding and ignorant expression on her brunette relative, she repeated deeply,


“More.”


Understanding hitting her like a ghostly freight train, Vylette recoiled.


“Oh, Lorraine! You didn’t!”


Vylette suddenly felt ill and cold all over.


A trembling hand came to her mouth and she muttered through her fingers.




“Oh Lorraine…you mean you’re not…?”

Shaking her head Lorraine snickered and her head dropped.


“No…not anymore.”


Lorraine was no longer a virgin.






“OH!”


Vylette was beside herself. Her…her cousin had done the one thing they’d been taught since birth to wait on until marriage.


Having intercourse.


“Oh, how could you?” She whispered, wanting to cry.


This was wrong. This was awful. Well-brought up girls didn’t go ‘all the way’ with a man.


They had always been taught against it.


If he got that out of her, then why bother marrying?


(And yet, it failed to reveal itself to Vylette that she had been the one to help goad her frightened cousin into Jackson Manor that fateful day, saying it “had” to be done!)


“I couldn’t help it Vy…don’t be upset…” Lorraine begged, eyes swelling. “I was just so attracted Marlon, I couldn’t refuse him. You know how weak I am near him. I’m crazy about him.”


“Lorraine!” Vylette staggered, desperately hoping that right then, at that moment, her cousin wasn’t on the very verge of being ‘in trouble’.


Lorraine would have been ruined! And how folks would have talked!


(Author’s Note: This was 1931. Unwed mothers weren’t rewarded with a reality show on MTV! MTV wouldn‘t exist for another FIFTY years!)


“And you’re crazy about Michael!” Lorraine accused suddenly. “I see you, Vy! You always think of him, get that funny look to your eyes. You’re always looking at that bracelet he bought. Touching it, counting the gems. And you’re forever on that typewriter, putting down stories. All because he asked you to. You want to be a writer for him! Well, I’m the same way.”


Pacing over, she leaned against the open doorway and hugged herself.


Minty eyes going sea foam with a faraway cast as she recalled the most thrilling event of her young life.


“I’d do anything for Marlon--all he’s got to do is ask. Oh, Vy, it was so nice… Marlon was so kind and gentle with me. He gave me the prettiest nightie--green silk with ivory lace. I don’t dare wear it at home, its see-through!--it was gorgeous. He said he loves me in green, on account of how it brings out my eyes. He said I was sexy! The sexiest woman he‘d ever seen…”


Lorraine snorted and tossed her head with conceit.


“And he gave me a bracelet too.”


She held out her arm, displaying her simple, tennis bracelet, glimmering with dozens of small, princess-cut diamonds set in platinum.


“I love it, and the only way it’ll come off is when I’m dead and blue. Me, with real diamonds.” Lorraine vowed, running her fingers over it.


Neither girl had removed the bracelets and had no intentions to.


In spite of herself, Vylette was inquisitive, whispering,




“Lorraine…did…did it hurt?”

Eventually, somewhere down the line she was going to cross that bridge with Michael, perhaps when she had become more open-minded to it.


(If they hadn’t been married--but how she hoped they were married by then!)


Coming closer, a soft smile turned Lorraine’s lips.


“A little bit…but Marlon is quite large…” She confided with a chuckle. “I didn’t know men were that large, Vy!”


Adjusting a pin poking her scalp, Vylette concurred, recalling her own man’s mammoth girth.


“Michael is larger than I expected. Not at all like in the medical books!”


“That would be the name of the chapter of the medical book about them: The MJs: Hung Like a Moose!”


Lorraine sputtered and both cackled raucously.


Yes, the bodies of their lovers had been much more than either girl had anticipated, as illustrated in the modest drawings of Dr. Meraux’s journals.


Booklets that had stated, erroneously, that at maximum, the erect penis of a man would reach no more than six inches.


And both Michael and Marlon had stood at more than double that estimate. Each.


“I know you told me all about how Michael had the flowers in the vase for you, and he put out the lights and all…” Lorraine was waving her bestie over and the two linked arms leaning against the wall just inside the store.


“Well, Marlon had his room done differently from that…” A hand was pressed to her flecked bosom.


“…he had all the lights out and the windows open, so the sun would come in. And he had these candles. Vy, it looked like a thousand ivory candles to match his room! They were everywhere. On the tables, the mantle, just all over the place, you know?”


Lorraine’s head tilted and was on Vylette’s shoulder.


“And…he gave me the robe, and told me to put it on in the bathroom…” Her voice deepened and she mimicked Marlon Jackson.


“Slip into that Cherry…get comfortable. I want you comfortable, Baby…”


Her eyes closed and she trembled.


“I put it on, and oh, I was so scared. So nervous. I wanted so badly for him to like what he saw. Oh, I know he’s seen my…my breasts before…but not my entire body. And that peignoir he gave me, was so sheer, it was practically nothing!”


Vylette grinned--Marlon and Michael certainly did seem to think alike!


“While I was in the bathroom--it’s so pretty, blue marble!--I could hear music playing. He has a bedside radio, and tuned it in to some jazz. Marlon loves jazz! I let my hair down, and put on some more perfume, you know, he loves that scent he got for me, and I…I…I opened the door.”


Nails dug into Vylette’s arm and a sharp breath was taken.


“And, I swear to God and Jesus, it was like something out of my books. Marlon, he was lying there…with nothing on! Oh Vylette! The Statue of David has nothing on Marlon Jackson!”


She gulped and stunned by such a comparison to what was supposed to be a biblical figure, Vylette’s mouth hung.


“Marlon has to be the most wonderfully illustrated example of masculinity I’ve ever seen. Oh Vy…” The red head shook and another pin clattered to the floor.


“He may not look it, as thin as he is, but he’s so muscular. He doesn’t look like any of the fellas around here. I could see every muscle on him. His arms, his chest, his stomach. Jesus Christ! He looked like brown marble or something! And then his…you know…”


Eyes fluttered open and that puckered mouth was drawn into a huge grin.


“It was--hard--and standing up and so big, I wanted to faint. But he’d already told me a dozen times not to faint! He waved me over and explained what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to just touch like Michael did. But he said ‘Cherry, looking at you, as fetching as you are…I can’t just touch. I have to have all of you. Experience all of you, if you’ll let me…”


She trembled and her nostrils flared.


“I let him.” Her head fell back and she cooed.


“He kissed me. Kissed me all over my body, Vy. My face, my mouth, my bosom, my thighs. It felt so good. He held me, squeezed me. Was so tender as he made love to me. That was the best feeling in the world, Vylette. Our bodies touching. Feeling the weight of him on me. Smelling his cologne and manliness. Feeling his beads of sweat falling off him and landing on me. We…were one. Marlon and I weren’t two separate people. We were one being, together. I love that man.”


With a sigh she turned to Vylette.


“Vy, I hope that whenever it happens with you and Michael, that you feel like I do. You and he are one. I mean it.”


Arms wrapped Vylette and her cousin was hugging her.


Through the door, a poor woman in a flour sack dress, followed by a pack of smudge-faced, and homely looking children entered, a few gazing at the cousins.


Solitude interrupted, both girls smiled.


Patting her best friend’s arm, Vylette suggested,


“Come on, let’s go see if Vinnie ever picked out her candy…she always takes forever.”


Giggling the twosome left the dim store and stepped out onto the bright sidewalk, destined for Pelant’s Grocery.




“Vylette!”

At the call, Vylette nearly stumbled and Lorraine gripped her to steady her.


Jogging up the sidewalk, towards them, and waving, was Michael Jackson.


He was a vision in a dark yellow shirt and brown trousers, a brown plaid tie at his throat.


“Hi Sweetness!” He kissed after her mouth affectionately, and hugged Lorraine. “Hi!”


“Hey Mike.” Lorraine replied, smiling, plum purple as she was still thinking of his brother.


Vylette couldn’t help staring, not because Michael was so casually handsome, but because she had expected him to be the rest of the week in New Orleans consumed with his theatre being painted.


“Woo, I just got in last night.” Michael grinned, seeming to know what she wanted to ask, squeezing Vylette’s hand in his smooth, warm one.


“Are you ladies busy?”


“Nope.” Lorraine beamed. “We’re just wandering.”


Thin brows bounced in interest.


“Would you please come out to the house with me? Marlon and I would like to discuss something important with you.”


Something important? Hearts fluttered and the cousins stole glances at each other.


Agreement was automatic, the sound of wedding bells chiming in ears.


The bells were silenced when Michael added, escorting them to his black and red vehicle,


“Where’s Vinnie? This concerns her too.”


Okay…so maybe a proposal wasn’t in the cards. Just yet.


“She’s across the street, buying penny candy.” Vylette pointed out, deflating like a popped balloon.


The passenger door was opened and politely, the girls were helped into the front seat.


“I’ll run and fetch her!” The door was shut and Michael was jogging away, leaving the cousins to luxuriate in the velvet interior.


“I wonder what’s up.” Lorraine wondered, as they watched him disappear into the store.


“With Jacksons, who knows?” Vylette tittered, liking how Michael and Marlon could be up to any and everything.


“Well, no matter, I wanted to see Marlon today.” Lorraine sniffed and slapped at her burning cheeks.


“And you see Mike--”


“…I told y’all, them damn trout wasn’t biting with a million kids swimming’ in Jamison’s Pond. Everyone trying to beat this here heat! We was overrun with them like the locusts on Egypt. Waste of time…”


The cousins straightened up immediately, the sound of a deep, accented voice reaching their ears.


Emerging onto the sidewalk were a group of about a half-dozen young men, all dressed down in overalls, tees and their bare feet, fishing poles slung over Black, Tanned and Sun-Burnt shoulders.


Leading the pack, walking backwards as he addressed the rest, was Steven Wilkes.




“I’m telling you, if it was up to me, I’d drown all them little pickanin--”

Vylette prayed he was so entranced by the sound of his own voice, he’d have passed them by without notice.




Clang!

The metal hook on the end of Steven’s fishing line collided with the iron of the side of the car.


“What in the Hell?”


Steven spun, face going darker in his instant and swift rage at being confronted with his ex-girlfriend in her new flame’s car…in full view of anybody with eyeballs.


“I’ll be damned--Ulrich I‘ll break your arm off at the socket! Stop that shit!”


Ulrich, whom had raised his hand to wave cordially, lowered it and stared at the wooden sidewalk.


“Well, now, ain’t this some fancy shit, fellas!” Steven announced, throwing his pole to ground.




“Lookee here at Miss Vylette and Miss Lorraine!”

Both girls, in a desperate attempt to ignore him stared straight ahead.


“Gots to call them ‘Miss‘, ‘cause apparently, they’re fancy women now! Riding around in Cadillacs with rich N(bad word)s. Ain’t got time for hard-working fellas like us. Ain’t even looking at us!”


Hard working indeed. All he did was sit behind the counter of his father’s store, reading the funny papers!


“Aw, lay off them Steve!” A squat, pudgy boy, his skin a deep bronze spoke up, voice heavy. “They’re just sitting there, minding they’re own business, Man!”


“Shut up Darnell, this don’t concern you!” Steven shouted back, head tossing, cold blue eyes on Vylette, staring past Lorraine, seated neared to him.


He stared at her intently, as if he expected her to step from the car and walk off with him.


This fool still believed she was interested in him!


Purposefully, Vylette raised her left wrist, light shining and reflecting off her bracelet.


Finger pointing, Vylette began softly, out loud, counting the diamonds set in her bracelet.




“One…two….three…four…”

And the rest of Steven’s clique was up in arms.




“Christ!”


“You see that?”


“Goddamn man, look at that bracelet!”


“Them’s diamonds!”


“Oh my God!”

Coming closer and stepping around Steven, fat Darnell questioned, leaning against the door.


“Are…are those real diamonds, Vylette?”




“…thirty-seven…thirty-eight…Yes, Darnell…”

She replied continuing to count the rest of the fifty-five gems on her tiny wrist.


“Set in platinum too!” Lorraine boasted, touching after her hair, he bracelet sparkling.


Ulrich stared first at Lorraine’s bracelets, and crestfallen, he turned away, head down.


Vylette did feel sorry for the boy. He was so nice.


All eyes turned to the outdone Steven, most definitely unequipped to even think of buying something so precious, despite his standing in town. He could not compete with the more successful Jacksons.


Not financially.


Grimacing like he was taking with a stomachache, as Vylette looked to him for the first time since he’d thrown her from his porch, he sneered, trying to save face.


“Ha! Diamonds, that’s a laugh. All y’all ignorant as hell if you believe that crock of horse shit! Diamonds! Shit ain’t real. Nothing but cheap glass and metal to turn their arm’s green! Almost had me going! Decent fakes though!” That swarthy face cackled evilly and Vylette had to grab Lorraine to keep her from flying up and out the car.


She’d have been killed, but Lorraine would have scratched and disfigured Steven Wilkes for life, for saying anything against her Marlon.


“If those bracelets are indeed fake….”


A strangely calm voice spoke and all the boys gulped. “…then I do believe the jewelers at Cartier will have some tall explaining to do to my brother and myself.”


Standing at the driver’s side and opening the door, Michael Jackson stood, holding little Vinnie by the hand.




“Cartier?”


“You ever hear of that?


“Is that French?”

The boys mumbled amongst themselves, as Michael helped Vinnie up onto the running board.


Eyes widening at the car, the child questioned, mystified,




“You mean, I can ride in it, too?”

Dark eyes sought out Steven and Michael replied, helping her in, with Vinnie settling beside her sister.


Lorraine’s tongue jutted out.


“Of course, all my friends are welcome to ride in my car.”


“We’re his friends!” Lorraine winked enjoying the way Steven was turning green. Whether it was from illness or jealousy, was anyone’s guess.


Ulrich was growing paler and paler.


Steven unwilling to lie down and die, tossed his head angrily and growled as Michael stepped up, ready to sit.




“You’re nothing but a lousy bootlegger--”


“Can I get a pint of gin, though?”


“Darnell, damn you!”

A small slip of white paper was produced from Michael’s pocket and tossed. It hit Steven in his heaving chest, his bruise hidden by a plain tee, and fell to the ground.


Where Ulrich picked it up.


“My card--Michael Jackson, of Jacksons’ Theatres Incorporated. Established, 1925. With twenty theatres in operation, locations in New York, St. Louis, and Chicago. Two more opening soon in New Orleans…”


The card was being passed around, each boy cooing in amazement, while Steven Wilkes appeared ready to vomit.


Vylette couldn’t hide her smile.


“And not a drop of liquor in sight!”


The door slammed as Michael dropped into the seat.


With a wave of his hand he called,


“Good day, Gentlemen!”


The engine turned over and as they started off, they heard Darnell tease.




“Well… he got yo’ ass beat by a country mile, Steve.”


WHAP!

And the resulting punch that sent poor Darnell flying clear across the street and into Pelant’s.


He could hit Darnell. That fat fool couldn’t fight.


But Vylette knew Steven wouldn’t dare approach Michael Jackson to tangle again.


Not if he valued having his heart in his chest.


“I don’t like to be a snob like that…” Michael admitted with remorse, as they turned up the dirt road leading to the estate on the hill. “…but that Wilkes character turns my stomach. I had to knock him down a peg.”


“He makes everyone sick!” Lorraine tittered, “I’m so glad you put him in his place. Arrogant ass N(bad word)!”


“You were splendid!” Vylette encouraged with a snicker. “Why, you were only defending your good name, Darling.”


The car, save for Vinnie, busted up with laughter.


Michael, noticing how silent the child had become, asked, over her head,




“Is she alright?”

Eyes leaving the gorgeous angular face of the younger Jackson brother, Vylette caught sight of her little sister.


Vinnie sat, still as a statue, the only movement coming from her huge, glazed-over grey eyes.


Amused by the look of unabashed awe, Vylette explained,


“She’s alright, she’s just never ridden in a car before.”


One never forgot their first car ride, especially if the car was so fine and ostentatious as Michael Jackson‘s Cadillac.


“Oh…” Michael nodded, inquiring. “Do you like my car, Vinnie?”


“Yes, Sir…it‘s lovely. ” Vinnie’s head managed to turn as she looked at Michael who kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Does…does everyone in your family have a Cadillac?”


It was a personal question, but Vylette didn’t think to reprimand her as, as soon as the question was asked, Michael Jackson laughed.


“Hee-hee! Just about Vinnie, just about. Except for my older sister, Latoya. She’s been dating some hotshot the last few months, and for her birthday, he gave her a fairy-floss pink Rolls Royce!”


(Author’s Note: Fairy Floss is Cotton Candy.)


“Oh no! You’re kidding us! A pink car? Michael, quit joking!” The entire car was consumed with feminine laughs and protesting.


The very idea. No one drove a pink car! That was just silly.


“I’m not joking!” Michael held firm, taking the car around a curve and swerving to avoid a squirrel.


“Latoya drives a pink car! Pink’s her favorite color! You can paint a car any color you like. My brother Jackie once had a green car!”


“Pink is my favorite color too!” Vinnie patted herself in the chest and was surely dreaming to one day own a pink car herself.


As the iron gates surrounding the Jackson Estate were becoming more visible, Michael wondered,


“Vinnie, do you like tuna salad sandwiches, and potato chips and sweet tea?”




“Yes, Sir!”

Vylette nudged Lorraine and both girls were masking their chuckles as the youngest girl’s exuberance.


“Well, I had that made especially for you, Dear.” Michael winked at the child and she screeched.


“Oh Boy!”


“There’s plenty of hors d’oeuvres for us all.” Taking a sharp turn, Michael was driving towards the open gates of the property.


Hand on her sister’s skinny arm, Vylette informed her proudly,


“Michael’s a great host: he always had wonderful for snacks for his guests!”


Michael beamed.


He beamed harder when Vinnie completely stood up, dazzled by the tree-lined lane leaning towards the manse.


“Goodness Gracious!”


Vylette kept a strict hold on her sister, to keep the girl from toppling over and knocking Michael out, as they eased down the avenue, the girl’s head whipping from side to side, trying to see everything at once.


At the end of the road, the mansion came into full view and Vinnie made a noise something like a squawking belch.


Vylette saw all the emotion in her sister she had felt the first time she’d seen the grandiose structure the Jacksons called ‘home’.


Slipping from the car, Michael rounded the back of it and was opening the passenger door.


Two women got out and stood.


One child remained, rooted to the spot, standing in the car.


“Vinnie?” Michael held a large hand out to her.


She continued to stare, unblinking at the house.


“Vinnie?”


“Lavinia, an adult is speaking to you!” Lorraine called and instead of replying to her, her cousin whispered breathlessly,




“Zowie! Michael, you live here?”

“Yes…” Michael’s hand eclipsed her wrist and he was tugging her out of the car. “…with Marlon, and Baron.”


Naturally, Vinnie had a limited scope of how Michael lived as her sister and cousin usually conducted all conversations pertaining to what happened within those gates to themselves and out of the knowledge of the ten-year-old.


Well…


Michael started to walk towards the house, leading the group of beautiful girls in his company, when, knowingly, Vinnie piped up,


“Baron’s your dog! Vylette and Lorraine told me all about him! I love dogs! I keep asking Mama for one, but she keeps saying no--on account she thinks all animals are filthy beasts and Papa’s allergic to dogs. Oh his eyes run something fierce, his nose too…”


Spinning on his heel, Michael had a hand in one pocket and with his tongue in his cheek, sauntered back over to Vinnie, still blissfully chatting about her father’s allergic reactions to canines, and glanced at Vylette and Lorraine.


The two smiled back at him and offered shrugs.


This was completely out of character for Vinnie, who was usually so quiet and reserved.


But Michael had that effect on people, good people anyway, made them so at ease, they’d volunteer anything to his ears.


He would have made a great Southerner.


“…I’m not allergic to anything…well that’s not true. I can’t eat rabbit. I can pet a live bunny, but if I try to eat one, I break out all in hives and itch and Papa has to put calamine lotion on me. Once I ate fricasseed rabbit--”


Gently, two brown fingers pinched the flapping pink lips together.


“Sweetheart.” Michael’s eyes met the wide grey ones. “It’s mighty warm out here. Don’t you think you’d like it better inside in the cool?”


“Oh!” Vinnie nodded so hard, her curly locks flew.


“I’m sorry--”


“Yoo-hoo! Mr. Michael!” That cheerful, bawdy voice exclaimed, and on the porch, the round, proud black figure of Adelaide appeared, wiping her hands on her white apron.


“Adelaide!” Michael called, waving with one hand and with the other, taking Vinnie by the hand again. “I have someone I’d like you to meet!”


Together, the happy foursome ascended the steps onto the porch.


“Good afternoon Miss Vylette, Miss Lorraine.” Adelaide chuckled and the older girls nodded at her.


Seeing Vinnie the middle-aged woman grinned brightly.


“My, and who is this sweet little thing?”


“This…” Michael positioned Vinnie in front of him and patted her shoulders. “…is Vinnie Meraux, Vylette’s little sister and Lorraine’s little cousin. Vinnie, this is Adelaide. She’s the housekeeper and keeps me and Marlon from starving, beating each other to death and burning the house down to the foundation.”


Vylette noticed Michael’s nose wrinkling along the bridge in the cutest fashion as he teased.


“Well, I am very pleased to meet you Miss Vinnie--” Adelaide put out her hand and Vinnie leaned back.


“I’m only ten!” The child squeaked. “You don’t have to call me ‘Miss’.”


“Uh--” All eyes fell on Michael.


“I’m afraid she has to.” Michael cleared his throat. “Vinnie, you’re a guest here. And you’re to be addressed the same as your sister and cousin. It’s okay, Honey. It‘s her job.”


(Author’s Note: Before anyone gets bent on age difference, just remember Geoffrey called Ashley ‘Miss’ on the ‘Fresh Prince of Bel Air’. )


Vinnie, who had never been called anything in her life other than her given name, bobbed her head, but Vylette knew it would take a great deal of time for a child to grasp the reversal of herself, a child, being called ‘Miss’, when she could call the maid by her first name.


Also, Vinnie had never known anyone well-heeled enough to afford ‘help’. All work was usually done by the people living in the home, with no outside workers.


“Where is Marlon?” Michael inquired, pulling Vinnie, rubbernecking at everything on the porch, along, and pushing one of the double front doors open.


“Up in his office, Mr. Michael. Shall I run and get him for you?” Adelaide offered.


“Yes, thank you. You did set everything up in the living room as I asked?” Michael was partially drowned out by Vinnie.


“ZOWIE!”


“Yes, Sir…” Adelaide trailed off watching as her boss was being pulled in various directions and eventually in a circle as Vinnie, whose hand he seemed to refuse to drop, was going arms’ length from him, trying at once to see everything in the front foyer, with Adelaide waddling up the stairs.


“Come on, Honey…” Michael was trying his best to urge Vinnie along and Vylette and Lorraine couldn’t help laughing.


Vinnie’s eyes were fixed up on the painting of the nude woman who mooned all who entered the home.


Leaning down alongside the child, Michael pointed out the obvious.




“Staring at her isn’t going to make clothing appear on her…”

“But…why?” Vinnie, who’d never been exposed to anything naked, other than the Baby Jesus, was lifted under her armpits easily.


“I don’t know about you, Miss Vinnie, but I want to eat some sandwiches and chips!”


Rushing to help, Vylette and Lorraine opened the shut doors to the formal, royal blue living room.


All was immaculate and across the room, beside the radio, the sideboard was full of platters of appetizers.


“This is a palace!” Vinnie dangled limply in Michael’s arms, mouth wide open.


Setting her down, Michael patted her head, speaking to all of them.


“Please, help yourself. I’m going to go run up and see what’s keeping my rascal of a brother.” He offered and Lorraine placed a hand on his arm.


“You tell Marlon not to keep ME waiting.” She fairly purred and Vylette rolled her eyes.


“I’ll…I’ll try.” Michael’s brows rose, his eyes sparkling with laughter and he jogged from the room.




“…don’t know if I can make my voice do that…”

Lorraine watched him go, before shrugging and slapping her cousins on the back.


“Let’s feed, I’m starved!”


The three proceeded to the sideboard, where one of the greatest spreads of hors d’oeuvres had been set out for them.


And it was immediately apparent to Vylette that Michael Jackson had done the bulk of it for the benefit of her little sister.


As mentioned, there were triangles of chilled tuna salad on white toast, a large bowl of crunchy, kettle cooked potato chips, and a crystal punchbowl of sweet tea with lemon slices floating in it.


But in addition, there was Michael’s required dose of iron in the form of liver pate on wide crackers, deviled ham on cucumber slices, a platter of cubed cantaloupe and honeydew melon, a platter of raw vegetables with a mayonnaise-based dressing, and a huge bowl of sweet crab salad surrounded by toasted slices of baguette.


Lorraine was merrily sampling a little bit of something from each silver platter, in her own stomach-satisfying world.


Taking a plate, Vylette questioned,


“I know you want some tuna and chips, do you want some fruit, too, Vinnie? I know you like cantaloupe…”


Met with silence, she looked up, and found her sister a few feet away, staring at the radio.


“Beside me. Now! I’m only going to say it once!” Vylette heaved a sigh of warning and a small body appeared next to her.


“I can’t help it, Vylette.” Vinnie whimpered taking her plate and allowed her sister to fill it with food.


“This place is so beautiful. I just want to look at everything! I didn’t know people here could live like this. Wait till I tell Hildegard! She’ll never believe me!” She gushed, then noticed all the vittles.


“Zowie, Sis! Do Michael and Marlon always offer this much?”


Loading her plate with fresh fruit and a pate cracker, Vylette nodded.


“Yes--”


“Gosh, Michael and Marlon must be richer than I ever thought, huh?” Vinnie whispered impressed beyond compare.


“I suppose so--but don’t ask how much anything costs, you know that’s…gauche!”


“I know! Mama says it’s rude.” Vinnie rolled her eyes as they joined Lorraine, happily gorging on crab salad on the quilted blue couch.


Vinnie, plate in lap, picked up a potato chip and went to her mouth with it.


A frown crossed her cute little face and she pleaded innocently.


“Vy…will you please marry Michael? That way, you can live here, and I can visit!”


A sharp elbow poked Vylette in the side and Lorraine, full mouth bouncing, was winking at her.


Putting an arm around her sister, Vylette assured her.




“We’ll see…we’ll see…!”

The older girls grinned; that was all they dreamed.




Thirty Minutes Later



All was quiet in the dark blue, formal living room of Jackson Manor.


There was no trace of joking, no noise of raucous joyous laughter, no rumble of deep male voices.


There was no mark of masculinity at all in the living room.


Instead, Lorraine, with a plate loaded with fruit in her lap, sat nibbling and munching on a honeydew cube, Vylette was again counting and naming each stone in her bracelet and Vinnie…


Vinnie, the inquisitive child that she was, was letting her eyes go into every crevice and across each blessed, intricate and showy surface in the room.


She remained planted beside her sister, out of the sheer fear Vylette would uproot a tree for her, if she dared to move and possibly break a pricey decoration.


“Mmm…” Lorraine swallowed her fruit noisily,


“What on Earth do you think is keeping the fellas? I really don’t like waiting! It‘s been half an hour! The food is good, but I want Daddy!”


“Daddy?” Vinnie echoed and one thick brow went up at her cousin.


“That’s what I call Marlon.” Lorraine tossed her head, no qualms about her pet name.


“Adelaide did say he was in his office. I suppose it has something to do with the theatres--” Vylette tried to reason and was cut off by a male voice declaring.


“…look, I know she’s doing us a damn favor, but the way she’s holding it over our heads, you’d think she was delivering the goddamned Statue of Liberty at our feet! Her demands are outrageous! This is why I don‘t live in Manhattan right now! I‘d fling her ass off a skyscraper!”


“That’s Marlon!” Lorraine was erect, setting her plate on the low, gilded coffee table, and pinching at her cheeks.


(With Vinnie staring as though she’d lost her mind.)


As more swearing ensued, Vinnie plugged her ears against it.


“She is our big sister--” Michael began, voice closer to the door and Marlon cackled wildly.


“HA! ‘Big’ sister? Like Hell! The only thing ‘big’ on Latoya’s little, skinny ass is her runaway mouth! Big! She’s only eleven months older than I am! Bullshit!”


“Marlon!” Michael hissed and he was so close to the room, his long shadow fell across the Persian rug.


“Put a lid on it, before I pull your skeleton out through your flat nose! There are females in the living room. And one of them is Vylette’s kid sister! Cut out the cursing! There’s delicate company in there, and furthermore, I don‘t like you using that kind of language where my woman might hear you! I don‘t curse like a sailor in front of Lorraine! I know Latoya can get on your nerves, but, well…DAMN!”


“Don‘t make me bust your nose open again, Michael!”


At the threat, Vylette rose, worried a fight was going to break out in the foyer.


And with the skills both men possessed, this could only end in someone being knocked out or worse.


Vinnie stood and was pushed back into the divan.


Michael’s voice was acidic.


“You busting my nose was a lucky punch, ONE time. And you paid to have it fixed too. Do it again, and I will fuck you up to where you and Brandon won‘t look like twins anymore! And a search party will have to find your lips to put them back on your face!”

“Awww…go to Hell!”


“You first!”


There was a moment of tense silence and all three listened for the sound of a curled fist crash landing into someone’s nasal cavity.


Nothing.


And as if a switch were flipped, through the door, a pair of brightly smiling, almost euphorically happy men passed.


Noticeably, Michael was juggling what appeared to be several, thick booklets along with notepads and sharpened pencils.


“Hey everyone--” Marlon waved and was besieged by a flaming redhead.


“Daddy!”


Arms opened, Lorraine was attacking the man, throwing herself against him.


And Marlon was stopped mid-sentence by soft pink lips pressing his violently.


As the kiss went into overtime, Vylette put a hand over Vinnie’s eyes.


“Yuck!” The child gasped and Vylette breathed easier, knowing at least some part of her innocence remained intact.


Michael, struggling to hold onto all in his arms, face starting to twist as tongues began flashing, asked with his foot tapping.


“Sometime today! These ladies do have to go home tonight for dinner! And this is heavy!”


“Put it down! Alright…alright…Cherry, please.” Marlon Jackson was physically ducking away. “Give me a few minutes. I’m not off to war. War’s been over since 1918. Sit.”


“Sure, Baby!” Lorraine pinched at his mustache and wiggled her hips back to the divan.


Marlon paused a moment, watching her go, licking at his lips, hands in the pockets of his tweed trousers, and started for the sideboard.


“Hey!” Michael called and Marlon, occupied with a plate, stalled.


“You give me a minute too, Greasy. Let me get some food, and I’ll get to it. Calm down. Shit--pardon me, ladies.”


Once his plate bore several tuna triangles and deviled ham on cucumbers, Marlon wandered to the center of the floor.


“I’m glad you ladies could come today. Mike and I wanted you here because…”


The curled head turned and he stared at Michael, still standing inside the door, clutching after items.


“Man, go park your emaciated ass in a chair! I know we used to dance together, but I’m capable of speaking on my own. Been doing it twenty-six years! Sit down!”


Slowly, and deliberately, Michael paced across the room, and his mouth moved soundlessly as he passed behind Marlon.


Marlon’s brows went up, as he heard whatever was said.


“Call me ‘Liver Lips’ again and see won’t I drag you all over this house by your hair. Don’t make me shame you in front of your woman, Michael!”


Unphased, Michael squatted, placing the books and things in a chair, he straightened and proceeded to the sideboard.


Standing at the sideboard, Michael picked up a pate cracker.


“Floor is yours, Big Brother…” He bit the cracker. “Violette Blanche, sit down, cause if he touches your hair, I’ll break his arm again.”


Vylette was seated in a nanosecond and Marlon spun, finger jutted out.


“Look Ass Munch, the only reason my arm got broke in the first place, is cause we were doing that big finale for the show. Brandon got off beat and spun early, and whacked into you. In turn, you whacked into me, and I flew into the orchestra pit. I probably would have broken my damn neck if I hadn’t gotten stuck in that tuba. And I still kept up with y’all with my arm in a sling! Now eat your organ meats, get gout and clam up!”


As Marlon faced the girls again, Michael’s tongue poked out and a middle finger wagged.


“Awww--” Vylette clapped a hand over her sister’s mouth.


Lorraine was on another planet, gazing at Marlon passionately, likely, envisioning him naked as a jaybird.


“You were saying, Marlon?”


Starting to pace in a small circle, Marlon bit into a sandwich, asking,


“Do you ladies know why the three of you have been brought here today?”


“No…” Heads wagged.


“Hmm…” Pouty lips pursed. “Michael can keep his mouth shut.”


Leaning against the sideboard, Michael Jackson was gritting pearly teeth.


Coming closer, Marlon’s plate was set down and fists returned to the pockets of his tweed trousers.


“Lorraine, as you and Vylette know, we’ve been accepted by the Fleur-de-Lis Country Club, by the invitation of Sir Reginald Cavendish, and his wife, Lady Tabitha…”


The older girls stiffened, eager, as they remembered the charming English gentleman.


Vinnie, with no knowledge as to what a country club was, sipped her tea.


“Just yesterday, we received our invitations to the welcome gala being given in our honor at the club, set for the twenty-seventh of this month. We‘ve already RSVP‘d.”


Startled gasps escaped the girls.


A gala? They were to attend a gala? At a country club? On the arms of their men? With the toast of New Orleans?


“Oh, Daddy, really?” Lorraine’s eyes sparkled, and her hand gripped at her throat.


“Yes.”


Golden-amber eyes looked at them each in turn.


“Your lives are going to change once you get in with these club people. Especially the other wives and girlfriends. Its very different from Rainelle Parish. These are ladies of leisure. They do lunch, throw dinner parties, attend the opera. They play bridge, ride horses and do as they please. They are accustomed to a certain manner of living, as part of the upper echelon of New Orleans society.”


Marlon’s head tossed with brute arrogance.


“A society that includes everyone in this room.”


Hearing she was included, Vinnie spat her tea back in the glass.


“They live in the best homes, vacation in the best spots on the Earth and wear the best clothing…”


Across the room, Michael nodded, but remained silent.


“Lorraine, you and Vylette are the girlfriends of two theatre moguls. And its about time you look the part of sophisticated women, and not country girls.”






“OH!”


“Vinnie is also a part of this…” Michael put in, sauntering over. “Because, several of the members have children, whom we think she’d like and there’s activities she could try. And…” Michael grinned, as Vinnie put a hand to her mouth.


“Just didn’t seem fair to leave such a sweet girl out!”


Vylette wanted to cry and had to fight back tears.


Marlon started to clear the plates away, and Michael went over to the arm chair, retrieving the booklets he’d dumped.


“These are catalogues for the premiere boutiques in New York and abroad. We want you to pick out and write down lists of any and everything you want--”


“Why can’t we go shopping in New Orleans?”


A dismayed Lorraine interrupted, dimpled chin quivering, completely blind to the blessing being bestowed upon them.


“Because everyone shops in New Orleans stores!” Marlon spoke sternly. “You three are Jackson women. Jacksons don’t wear what everyone else does! You are ordering from abroad. I won’t have my woman turn up in the same dress as someone else!”


Jackson women. It had the most wonderful thrilling ring to it.


“Put your lips back where they belong, Lori.” Marlon was snapping his fingers.


“As new members, you’re going to be scrutinized anyway. And Mike and I want you to be the women others want to copy and envy. Not the other way around. Jacksons set the trend, not follow it.”


Understanding showed on all three faces.


They had to not only keep up with the proverbial Joneses, but exceed them! They were Jacksons!


Dropping to his knees on the opposite side oh the table, Michael pointed out an especially thick book.


“This is the catalogue for F.A.O. Schwartz. it’s a large toy emporium. I want you to pick out any toys you like, Vinnie.”


“I love you!” Vinnie was up and embracing Michael.




“I love you more.”

She then darted to Marlon, leaping in his lap as he sat in a chair.


“You all choose anything you want. There’s no budget.”


Marlon pointed out as Vinnie skipped back.




No budget?

“Oh my God.” Vylette and her cousin were opening books and being dazzled by the latest fashions.


Cleverly, each and every last price had been blackened out.


Free reign. She had absolute free reign to buy anything she liked. Simply because she wanted it. Vylette whom had never spent more than five dollars on anything for herself before.


She couldn’t stop herself.


A book fell to the floor as she buried her face in her hands sobbing.


“Vy…don’t!”


The couch bounced as Michael squeezed between her and Vinnie.


“Don’t cry. This is happy. This is a happy thing, Darling.”


A silken hanky was dabbing at her eyes and rubbing her nose.


“Now quit that. Look in the books and get things. Dresses, blouses, skirts, shoes, hats. Two dozen gowns are coming from Austria so you can choose something for the gala--”


“Undergarments!” Marlon interjected lighting a cigarette.


“Oh, and bathing suits!” Michael kissed at the damp cheeks.


“This stuff is too pretty to wear in Jamison’s Pond!” Lorraine giggled, and Vylette smiled thinking of how the stylish swimwear would look so out of place when most swam in their underwear.


“You ain’t swimming in no damn pond.” Marlon said flatly blowing a smoke ring.


“There’s an indoor pool at the club, and Monday, we’re installing a pool here and converting one of the back rooms into a solarium for Mike.”


“I…I can swim here too?” Vinnie whispered, scribbling down for dolls.


“Yes…” Michael nodded, hugging at Vylette. “Once the pool and solarium are built, you can have little pajama parties here with Hortense--”


“Hildegard!”


“Yeah, her.”




“Oh thank you!!!!”

“Leave some toys for the others!” Michael picked up the book for Randolph’s Department Store, and opened to a section on children’s clothing.


“Vy…help me!” Vinnie looked to her still weeping sister.


“I never picked clothes for myself, Mama always does it!”


“You can order everything and send back what doesn’t meet Mommy-approval.” Michael winked.


“Wow!”


At the mention of her mother, Vylette went stiff.


What would her mother say when expensive clothing arrived at their home?


“She knows. Her and your father, it’s alright.” Michael patted at her.


“Ooooh! Princess Pat make-up!” Lorraine tittered.


“NO!” Both Jacksons cried and Lorraine trembled.


“Don’t buy any make up!” Marlon was on his feet. “I just damn near went through the phone after my sister over this!”


“What does your sister have to do with this, Marlon?” Lorraine demanded, red lashes fluttering.


“Latoya, while she owns theatres like us, she likes to dabbling in giving women makeovers. You know, advice on hair, make up, manicures…that sort of thing. Make them look their best. And she is damn near spectacular at it. Right now, she’s checking into a hotel in the City. Tomorrow, we’ll drive in to see her. Vinnie too.”


Makeovers, they were getting makeovers and Vylette wept harder.


“But I don’t wear makeup!” Vinnie chortled and Michael turned to her.


“My sister styles children too. You’re going to be the best outfitted child at the club and in school.”


“Oop!” Vinnie groaned in rapture.




“I want to look like Jean Harlow--”

“Jean should want to look like you, Lori!”


This was all happening so fast. So many blessings all at once.


“Oh, God!” Vylette buried her face in Michael’s chest.


“You’re going to exhaust yourself. Come here…” Taking her by the hand, Michael carefully helped her up and led her from the room into the hall, placing her on the steps leading to the second level.


“I’ll get you some water. I don’t want to have to send for your father.”


Michael stood, first closing the doors to the living room, and started for the kitchen, leaving Vylette sagged against the banister.


He returned with a glass of water, ice floating in it.


“Now…drink. Stop. I can’t have you in tears every time something happens.”


“But--”


“I know you’re happy and excited. I don’t want you sick.”


Gulping water, Vylette whined, overcome.


“Why are you and Marlon doing this? Giving so much?”


“Why? Well…I…um..” Michael mumbled and shifted.


“Well…well…” He stammered and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I…I…I…”


His head shook and he scooted closer to her.


“I…I love you, Vylette.”


His eyes were piercing. “I love Vinnie. I want to care for you. Provide you with all. Should…should anything happen to your parents--God forbid--I want to help raise Vinnie.”


“Oh…” Vylette sniffled, half-laughing at his nobleness and wiped at her nose.


“You talk like you’re going to marry me.”


“I am going to marry you, Vylette.”


Michael managed to catch the dropped glass before it shattered on the floor.


Lavender eyes widened and breathing shallow, Vylette was drawing away from him.


He didn’t…had he really just said what she had so longed to hear?


“No…” Her hands were gripped.


“Yes…I intend to marry you. I’ve known it for quite a long time, Baby….” Michael’s eyes fluttered and those thin brows flexed.


“There’s only two things stopping me.”


“What?” Vylette didn’t know if she was capable of crying any more.


Michael wanted to marry her. Michael truly wanted to marry her. He loved her that much. Did Heaven feel like this?


“One, I’m…I’m designing a ring for you. It’ll take time to be completed. You’ll wear the ring forever, I want it perfect. Two, I want us to honeymoon in Vienna, during the ball season. We’ll attend scores of balls. That’s some time away also. I’m doing all this because I want you…you to be used to the things my wife should be used to. Living well, nothing but happiness. I don’t care about the Depression. It doesn’t affect you--not anymore.”


Leaning against Michael, all her dreams seeming to come true in one fell swoop, she heard her cousin laughing.


Oh, it meant so much to Lorraine if she could marry Marlon.




“Is Marlon going to…”

A finger pressed her lips.


“Yes. Do NOT tell her. You’re not even supposed to know. And like me, Marlon is still doing his ring and selecting a locale for the honeymoon. He really would break my nose open if he knew I had told.”


“Will…will we do it proper?” Vylette snorted envisioning how wonderful her ceremony would be. How dashing Michael would look in a white suit and tails. The entire town would surely turn out for the festivites. Her father would give her away, Lorraine would be her maid of Honor and Vinnie would be her flower girl. Her mother would cry.


“Yes, Darling. Catholic ceremony, big chapel, Father Lachey if you desire it. Satin dress, a hundred bridesmaids. You can ride in on a giraffe if you want. Anything!”


Lips pressed hers warmly.


“Soon, before the year is out…” Michael spoke into her mouth smiling.


“…you will be Mrs. Michael Jackson.”


And all went black for Vylette, as she collapsed against him.


The last thing she heard was Michael’s frenzied screaming.




“Quick! Someone send for Dr. Meraux! Vylette’s fainted!”