Michael or Mac Ep. 10

Hi, and welcome my latest offering of Michael or Mac.

Before you read this one, please check out the first nine, or you won't understand what is happening or why.

Wow Michael or Mac 10. This has been a real enjoyable series to make. I'm thinking there will be one more after this and the cross over continues with Isabel and James's story. There's no need to read both stories but it does give a viewpoint from different people.

Please note that many aspects of the story are written to fit and may not be true to the real events. I hope this doesn't ruin your enjoyment and am always happy he read your thoughts. Also I've put some French conversation, and not being a French speaker, I apologize if it's wrong.

All characters are over the age of 18 involved in any sex scenes.

I must thank HP48 for his time editing in this chapter. Both myself and the editors give our time to produce what follows, our only remuneration we get is from your comments and scores to show you have enjoyed what we have to offer.

I will forewarn you that there is a death of someone in this episode, and the aftermath. You will already know this if you are reading, Isabel the beauty next door. We do go a little past this and the effects it's has on James especially.

As always, your score counts, and if you would like to comment, please do. All comments, ideas, or just a thank you are always appreciated. I read each one and answer as many e-mails as I can. I've said it before, but if it wasn't for the readers what I do wouldn't exist.

Please enjoy...

******

I am sitting in first class, and next to me is a sleeping Miley Cyrus. I smile at myself as I look at the woman I have idolized since we first met when I was seven. Our friendship is one I value and enjoy. We get on very well and naturally have become close friends. I recline my seat to make it into a bed and close my eyes.

Landing in France, we are fast-tracked through immigration and transfer to a helicopter. There's not much conversation I between Miley and me as we lift off. The helicopter's noise makes it difficult, and it's easier to look out the window, watching the French countryside zoom past.

As we land at the heliport in Cannes, a Limo pulls up next to us, and we are ushered into the back as our bags are loaded into the trunk.

"God, this is part of fame that sucks. We are in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, and we won't see any of it," Miley says.

"Don't see why not," I say, pulling my hat and glasses from my bag. "Dress down, hair up, glasses, and we can pass as anybody," I say.

Miley looks at me with an open mouth. "You're crazier than me, but I like it," she says with a smile. "I'm a little surprised you haven't asked me about flowers," Miley asks.

"Which question would you like? Is it about your ex, Liam, or me? Question?" I ask.

"Oh, that's what I like. Cut the bullshit. I guess we are close enough to be direct," Miley says with her usual smile.

"I wouldn't have asked at all if Emma hadn't brought it up the other night," I say.

"Hold that thought," Miley says as the limo pulls up outside our hotel and the door is opened.

The one good thing about being famous is that we didn't have to book in; we were whisked straight through and onto the top floor. I'm taken to one way, and Miley is taken the other.

The guy that's with me leans in. "We thought it would be better if your rooms were apart to stop rumours," he says.

"I doubt it will stop shit, especially how Emma couldn't make this trip," I reply. "But thank you for the consideration; it means a lot guys," I add. The guy smiles at my response and stops outside a door. He uses the key card to get in and opens the door, allowing me to enter first.

It's just a room with a double bed and a balcony overlooking a recreation area. Better than nothing, I think. "Okay, Mr. Carter, not what you are used to, I guess, but you will only be sleeping here. Your instruments arrived and are stored at the theatre where the premier is being held. Someone will be up to run through the itinerary and take you and Miss Cyrus out to dinner later; I suggest you get some rest now." He takes a deep breath to think if he left anything out. "Do you have any questions?" He finally asks.

"Is the restaurant open downstairs? I am starving for a bite now. Sorry, I'm still on US time, and my stomach thinks my mouth is playing games," I say.

"Ummm, yes, but we can send something up if you want."

"No, I need to walk and stretch my legs," I say, getting my phone out. "Hey, Miley, up for something to eat downstairs?" I hear the door close behind me and see the guy has disappeared.

"I was just about to order room service, but your idea sounds better. What room are you in?"

"Six ten, be quick; I'm wasting away," I say.

Less than five minutes later, there's a tap on the door, and I grab my card key and exit the room to an excited-looking Miley.

As the elevator doors close, Miley says. To answer your question, Flowers has nothing to do with you." The lift stops on the second floor, and some girls start to walk in, then freeze when they realize Miley Cyrus is in the elevator. "Come on, girls; we don't bite," I say. They look at each other before stepping in, and the doors close.

"So, what are you girls here for?" I ask to break the weird atmosphere.

Again, they look at each other. "Ummm, we are here to meet as many stars as possible and get photos and autographs," one girl says as the lift opens.

"Well, good luck with that," I say as we exit the elevator.

The two girls stop in front of Miley and me. They turn, looking a little embarrassed. "Is there any chance we could get your autograph and a picture with us?" The more forward one asks.

"Sure," Miley says, and we sign and pose for pictures before quickly making our way to the restaurant. We get seated quite easily, and I order a burger with fries. Miley goes a little lighter and gets a crepe thing. Our being in the restaurant seems to be getting a little attention. We sit chatting and sign autographs. It never gets too much, and people seem to leave us alone when our food arrives.

Food is done, I turn to Miley. "Fancy a walk along the beach?" I ask.

"Yeah, but how?" She says.

"See that woman over there with the headscarf?"

"Okay, I get it. We disguise ourselves," she says.

"Yeah, change of clothes simple, not over-the-top disguise, and we should be good," I say.

We walk back to the elevator and return to our rooms. Ten minutes later, we are at the elevators again and quickly descend to the lobby before walking straight out of the door and turning right toward the beach. "I can't believe that worked," Miley says.

"Yeah," is all I can say. Our hotel is about a hundred yards away from the beach, and when we get there, people ignore us as we walk along the water's edge. Miley loops her arm through mine, and we quietly discuss the performance.

"Oh, I saw a recording of you on Jimmy Fallon's show. You know he was extra pissed at me that I gave the exclusive to Emma to Saturday Night Live."

"Yeah, I can see that. Do you remember the producer? He got the sack for missing my little secret. Jimmy thought hiring him and then getting my exclusive was good payback."

Miley laughs, "I bet he did; you know the same people own the two shows?"

"No, why are they so competitive then?"

"Ratings, darling," Miley says in her best posh English accent. "You realize that the way you sang 'When We Were Young' will go down in history as one of the truly great performances?"

"Yeah, you're not the first to say that. Adele's invited me to London after Glastonbury," I say.

"Really? I thought she would be pissed at you."

"Nah, she's so down to earth. She knows that people like her voice the way it is and didn't feel threatened at all, unlike a certain star at her concert."

"You got me there. It's unsettling that someone can be so talented but not want fame. I understand, don't get me wrong, but it seems such a waste."

"You know I don't see myself like that. I am so grateful to experience what I have. I won't stop playing and will do things for the fun of it, but I won't promote myself, go on tour, or try to stay in the limelight. Hell, I doubt I will release a record in my own right unless it just happens." I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. "Hello?....Oh, hi......Sorry, is it that late already? Okay, we'll make our way back. Okay, see you in a bit.....bye." I look at Miley. "I think we've upset the organizers."

"Nah, they're used to us famous people being a pain. Come on, let's walk back and Mac.....Thanks. This afternoon is just what I have needed."

We walk back the way we came, still not being bothered by anyone as we stroll at our own pace. I think the sun hats and glasses have something to do with that.

As we get closer to the hotel, Miley turns to me. "Ya know you are becoming one of my closest and trusted friends?"

"And why is that?" I say, not thinking.

She stops and turns me towards her. "Because you give me a taste of normality."

"Normality? Christ, I thought that since I met you, my life has been anything but normal."

Miley laughs and walks off into the hotel lobby, straight into a group of autograph hunters. I smile as I skirt around them straight into a not-so-happy events organizer.

"Monsieur Carter, so good of you to make it," she says in a thick French accent. Then her eyes turn to Miley. "We need to wait for Miss Cyrus a moment."

Miley finishes signing autographs and taking selfies and walks over. "Hey, Franchesca, are we en trouble?"

"No, mademoiselle Miley. We have plenty of time to get to the pre-premier press conference. You two have just missed luncheon, that's all."

"I don't think so," Miley says. She takes hold of my hand and pulls me into the restaurant.

We are sitting on a stage in a room specially set up for press conferences. There are seven of us on stage. The two main actors in the film, the Director, some guy who's orchestrating the press conference,

I drink from the bottle provided and wait for the conference to begin.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming, and welcome. We will begin with a bit of dialog, a quick introduction to the people on stage, and then we will open the floor to questions."

The guy talks about the film, introduces all of us on stage, and then asks the director, Mona Achache, to discuss the film in more depth and give some technical evaluation. I listen to her talk and can feel the passion; the woman speaks mainly in French, but I understand what she is saying. She talks about hearing our song, "Emma", for the first time and changing a couple of things in the film because of the emotions the song brings out.

Eventually, it's time for questions, and straight away, the questions are aimed at Miley and me. "Ladies and Gentlemen," I say. "We are here to talk about the film. I will happily answer any questions after we have finished."

I look at Miley, and she smiles. "Yes, I will stay back with Mac and answer any questions you have for us, but we are here for the film."

The questions then go back to the film. The director catches my eye and gives me a smile of thanks. The questions go on for nearly an hour. We get the usual ones about winning a possible Oscar and whether we've seen the film. I think I'm the only one who hasn't had a chance to see it yet.

"Mona, do you feel that the theme tune has made the film?" One of the British press contingent asks.

"I feel the song "Emma" brought unprecedented attention to our film and has had an huge influence. I hope the film lives up to the music produced for it. None of you have heard the entire score that Mac put down. This film is about love between two people; the music more than represents that and has been used throughout the film. We tell a story between our two talented actors and with the music that an incredible musician has created. I hope you enjoy it as much as I am proud of producing it."

"Mac, how does that make you feel?"

"I'm always amazed by the reaction to my music. I created the music when I was in a dark place where my only light was my love for Emma. I saw her most days but didn't have the courage to go and say hi. This music is what I was feeling, but I had trouble expressing it in any other way. You could say that my music kept me on a level."

Then, the questions go towards the two stars of the film. Miley leans in, "Good answer; you're not afraid to bare your soul now."

"I have nothing to be ashamed of and am now happy where I am." Miley's eyes raise at my answer, and she thinks for a second before nodding that she understands.

Our attention is taken by the guy standing and telling the press that was all we had time for and that once the stage is cleared, they can then ask Miley and me things we didn't want to discuss during the film press conference.

There are many questions, including where Emma is. The one question that didn't upset me, but angered Miley is, "Miley, with Emma in the States, is there any romance between you and Mac?"

Miley looks at the reporter briefly, not knowing what to say. She takes a deep breath. "I will answer this once and only once. There is nothing and never will be anything between Mac and me. If you had ever spent time with Mac and Emma, you would never have asked that question." She pauses for a second and then adds. "I think every famous person like me needs a Mac in their life. Mac doesn't take or need anything from me other than friendship. He is one of the few people on this earth who I can rely on to be straight with me, and I value that more than anything."

That seems to have changed the mood in the room, and the rest of the impromptu press conference goes by more comfortably. We are escorted to a restaurant where the rest of the news conference awaits us. They have been joined by more of the cast and crew. Most are talking in French, but all eyes are on us as we walk in.

"Do you get this often, or have I grown two heads?" I ask.

"Nah, I think I've forgotten to put my skirt on again," Miley looks down. "Nope, must be that second head of yours then."

We both walk in laughing, and Mona Achache quickly walks over. "Bonjour and welcome," she says in her thick French accent. "Thank you for not letting the press make it the Miley and Mac show," she says.

"No problem," I say. "We are not here to overshadow the film."

"You are sexier in real life," she blurts before realizing what she said. "Pardon, mon amour. C'était devant moi."

"Ne vous inquiétez pas. Tu devrais entendre ce que mon amie Amelia dit parfois," I reply in my limited Canadian French.

"Oh, tu parles français?"

"Un peu, notre gouvernante était Franco-Canadienne," I reply. "Elle était là quand j'étais jeune."

"Okay, but English, please," Miley says.

"Sorry, I was just explaining that I learned French from one of our housekeepers who was French Canadian."

"My Mac, aren't ya full a surprises?" Miley says sarcastically, "Can we eat?"

I laugh, and Mona takes up both by the hand. "Mesdames et Messieurs," Mona says, gesturing towards the tables.

******

It's six thirty, and I am going downtown to pick my date up for the evening. Keira Knightly has offered to be my date for the premiere, and Miley has invited Tish to accompany her tonight.

Walking through the reception, I hear someone call, "Mac."

"Tish, how are you doing?" I say, almost bumping into her. I recover, and we embrace.

"I'm good; lookin forward ta a coupla days off," she says, returning my hug with interest. "Are ya off to pick liddle ole Keira up?"

"Yeah, my car should be outside waiting, so I have to shoot."

"Make sure you look for me later, honey; we must catch up."

We separate, and I head for the door. There are a couple of autograph hunters outside the hotel door. I politely sign their books and let them take a couple of selfies. One even gets away with kissing my cheek in one. The limo driver stands by the car door, waiting patiently. He smiles when I apologize for making him wait.

We park outside The Hôtel Barrière Le Majestic, and the doorman comes to the driver's window. The driver tells him who he's here to pick up, and he radios it through to the desk.

Four minutes later, I get out of the car, like I've been brought up to do, and hold the door for a lady. Keira comes into view with a radiant smile and a knockout dress. It's like a silver shimmer that clings to all the right places. "Hey, Mac," she says as several flashes go off from paparazzi who seem to appear from nowhere. Kiera takes my offered hand and slides majestically into the limo.

"You've practiced that move," I say as I close the door and walk to the other side.

As I sit, she replies. "Everything is practiced. Nothing worse than looking a prat in the press."

The driver pulls out, and we are on our way. "So, how have you been, Mac?"

"Busy; I'll gladly take the company over early at this rate," I say.

"Not surprised. I watched the show on YouTube several times to see if it was as good as I first thought."

"And?"

"Christ, Mac, you were incredible. The sound was much better than in the studio, and your voice. It makes me melt when I close my eyes."

"Thanks, Kiera, but I must warn you, I don't take praise very well," I say.

"Oh, ummmm, I mean what I say, Mac, but I will try not to gush so much...You are just so cute," she says. I feel she's talking because she's nervous.

I laugh. "Don't sweat it. Anyway, you are looking incredible tonight." I say, trying to change the subject.

"My other half wasn't so impressed. He would have put his foot down if you were any other man."

"Shit, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Mac, but you are probably the most unattainable man on the planet. The world would crucify the woman who tries to get between you and Emma. It would be career suicide for me."

We pull up behind a line of limos. "Looks like we have to wait our turn," I say.

Kiera swishes her hair and dramatically says, "Don't they know who I am?" and then laughs. "That's fine; it gives us more time to catch up." As she quickly checks her hair is still in place, she asks. "Are you still planning to meet with Adele after the Glastonbury?"

"That's the plan as long as she doesn't cancel. So, what's happening with you?"

"Not much; I don't overwork. I turn down way more than I consider. I've just finished doing the promotions on The Boston Strangler and am having a little me time."

"Do I fit into your time?"

"We are friends, aren't we?"

"I can't believe I am friends with Keira Knightly; this is so weird. I am proud to call you my friend." I say as the car pulls within one from the front. Keira looks a little nervous and takes my hand and squeezes it. "Are you nervous?" I ask.

"I'm always nervous at these things. How are you so calm?"

"I'm not sure; I guess the nerves will kick in just before Miley and I perform."

"You're performing tonight?"

"Just the one song before the film starts. We will be watching it together. You will still have Tish Cyrus to talk to."

"That's fine; I'm pleased I can see you perform again."

The car pulls forward again, and there is a pause before the door opens. I hear the driver tell someone who's in the back.

The door opens, and someone announces, "Keira Knightly." Keira gets out. The camera flashes, and shouting takes me by surprise. Then she steps away from the door, and I slide across. "Michael, the Mac, Carter," the announcer says. I shake my head at my name but get out and stand for a moment while the press gets their shot. Keira takes my hand, which causes another flurry of photos, and we walk onto the red carpet.

Suddenly, people call Keira's name, and she pulls me over to where the press is waiting to interview whoever will talk to them.