Chapter 452: CH : 441 Do You Remember, Girl…?

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She turned toward the booth before he could see how pleased she was.

"*My Boo*," she said.

Marvin looked at her. "Yeah."

"You really think that’s the one?"

"I do."

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

Then she glanced toward the microphone. "You know, when you first told me you wanted me on one of your songs, I thought you were just being nice."

"I wasn’t."

"I know that now." A little smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "My dad is going to love this."

"He already does."

"He does?"

"He’s been trying not to look too impressed."

Beyoncé laughed. "That’s because he doesn’t want you knowing how much he likes you."

"I’ve noticed." She shook her head, amused, and picked up the headphones.

For a second, she didn’t put them on. "My dad was very—he wanted me to be here. He said—" She paused, choosing the phrasing. "He said this is the kind of thing you don’t say no to."

"He’s right," Marvin said.

"I know." She looked through the glass at Max. "I also wanted to be here."

"I know that too."

"You know what’s funny?"

"What?"

"I’ve spent so long trying to get people to take me seriously."

Marvin waited.

"Then I meet you, and you just..." She shrugged. "You act like you already know me.."

"Because I’m."

She looked at him. "You say that like it’s easy."

"It isn’t."

"Then why do you make it sound easy?"

"Because you’re already doing the hard part."

Her expression softened. "You really believe that?"

"I wouldn’t have asked you to sing with me if I didn’t."

She looked down at the headphones in her hands.

"*My Boo*," she said again, quieter this time.

Marvin nodded. "You wrote it for a group of girls, though."

"I wrote the song."

"So?"

"So I decide who sings it. I wrote it," he said, "for anyone who needed it."

She raised an eyebrow. "That simple?"

"That simple."

She smiled. "I like that."

"I know."

"Oh, you know everything now?"

"Not everything."

"Good."

She stepped into the booth. "Because I still have a few things you don’t know."

Marvin leaned against the doorframe. "Like what?"

She gave him a look through the glass. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

"I would."

"But I’m not telling you."

"That’s cruel."

"Maybe." She put the headphones over her ears.

Marvin smiled. "Come on. Let’s hear what you’ve got."

She pointed at him through the glass. "Don’t make me sound bad."

"I won’t."

"And don’t fix everything before I get a chance to."

"I won’t."

"And if I mess up—"

"We do it again."

She nodded. "Good."

She turned toward the microphone.

Then she stopped and looked back at him. "Marvin?"

"Yeah?"

"I am glad I met you."

His smile faded into something warmer. "So am I."

She held his eyes for another second.

Then she turned back.

Marvin closed the booth door.

The studio settled around them.

Max adjusted the faders and glanced through the glass. He kept the booth microphones off. By now, he knew better than to speak out loud about some things with Marvin. "Ready?"

Beyoncé nodded.

Marvin slipped on his headphones. "Whenever you are."

Max pressed the button.

The red light came on.

For a moment, Beyoncé said nothing.

She closed her eyes.

The instrumental began in her headphones, soft enough to leave room for her voice.

She breathed in.

Then she sang.

The first line came out quieter than expected. No pushing. No trying to prove anything. Just her voice settling into the melody and finding its place.

Marvin watched from the other side of the glass.

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t need to.

Beyoncé knew exactly where she wanted the song to go.

She opened her eyes halfway through the phrase and found him watching.

A tiny smile appeared.

Then she sang the next line. This time, she didn’t hold anything back.

Marvin smiled.

Max glanced toward him from the console, then back at the meters.

"Yeah," Max murmured.

Marvin didn’t take his eyes off her.

Beyoncé finished the passage and pulled one side of the headphones away from her ear. "How was that?"

Marvin pressed the talk back. "Again."

Her eyebrows shot up. "That’s it?"

"Again."

"You didn’t even say anything."

"You don’t need compliments. You need another take."

She stared at him through the glass.

Then she smiled. "Okay."

She put the headphone back over her ear. "But if it’s better this time, you owe me."

"What do you want?"

"I’ll decide later."

Marvin laughed. "Deal."

She faced the microphone again.

Max reset the track.

The red light stayed on.

And this time, when Beyoncé started singing, Marvin heard exactly what he’d been waiting for. With that they reset and truly began recording.

On the other side Michael and his bodyguard, Paul, were already on their way down.

The elevator doors had closed, leaving the recording floor behind as the car began its descent through the building. Michael stood quietly beside Paul, one hand resting against the front of his jacket.

Then his fingers stopped.

He looked down. Something was missing.

Michael checked the other side of his jacket, then ran his fingers over the lapel again. "Paul."

Paul looked at him.

"My brooch."

Paul knew exactly which one he meant. "The Mickey Mouse one?"

Michael nodded.

The small gold brooch had been with him for years. Walt Disney had given it to him himself, and Michael rarely went anywhere without it.

"I had it upstairs," he said, thinking back. "I must have caught it on something."

Paul glanced toward the elevator doors. "The recording room?"

Michael nodded again. "Probably the door."

The elevator continued downward.

For a moment, Michael seemed to consider leaving it alone. They were already headed toward the private parking level, and there were people upstairs who could look for it later.

But the thought of losing that particular brooch bothered him more than he expected. "Can we go back?"

Paul pressed the button for the recording floor.

The elevator stopped at the next level and began climbing again.

When they reached the studio floor, Michael stepped out with Paul behind him. The building was quiet compared with the main streets outside, but not silent.

Music was coming through the speakers.

Not just from the control room.

The studio had several floors, with recording rooms, production spaces, offices and lounges spread throughout the building. Someone had routed Marvin’s new recording through the facility’s speaker system, and the volume had been turned up enough for people working nearby to hear it.

Everyone had wanted to hear the new songs.

Michael slowed.

He could hear Marvin singing before they even reached the control room.

Paul noticed him stop.

Michael looked toward the sound.

"I’ll get the brooch," Paul said.

Michael nodded.

The music continued. He had come back for a little gold Mickey Mouse brooch.

Instead, he found himself listening.

Paul went ahead toward the room while Michael remained near the back of the corridor, where he could hear without interrupting anyone.

Inside, nobody had noticed him yet. The session was still going, and the people around the console were listening to Marvin through the studio monitors.

Michael listened too. Not as a celebrity. Not as a guest. As a musician.

And for the moment, the brooch could wait.

He walked quietly, almost reverently, into the back of the control room.

Michael stood perfectly still in the shadows near the couch. He slowly closed his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, completely surrendering himself to the frequencies filling the room, and listened with absolute, professional intent to the boy and girl in the booth.

It was laced with concentrated, shimmering magic.

The soft, breezy groove of the track filled the studio—warm electric-piano chords looping gently, a light strutting drum pattern with a soft snap, subtle acoustic-guitar textures, and that distant, sighing soul sample floating underneath like a memory. The bass moved slow and smooth, giving the whole beat a relaxed, intimate sway.

Their voices rose together over it, close and easy.

"There’s always that one person... that will always have your heaaart..."

Marvin’s tone was low and velvet, sliding right into the pocket of the groove, while Beyoncé’s voice glowed golden above it. They stood near the same mic, shoulders almost touching, the soft piano chords wrapping around them like shared warmth.

"You never see it coming... ’cause you’re blinded from the staaart...

Know that you’re that one for me... it’s clear for everyone to seeee...

Ooh baby... ooh, yeah..."

A quiet smile passed between them as the light drums kept their steady, unhurried pulse.

"You will always be my boooo..."

Marvin’s fingers rested lightly on the keys, playing the familiar soft chords that had always lived inside the track, never overpowering, only cradling.

Then his verse began, voice dropping into something private and nostalgic over the gentle groove.

"Do you remember, girl...?

I was the one who gave you your first kiiiss..."

The electric piano shimmered softly beneath him.

"’Cause I remember, girl...

I was the one who said, ’Put your lips like thiiis...’"

He shaped the line slowly, eyes on hers, the light percussion ticking like a quiet heartbeat.

"Even before all the fame...

And people screaming your naaame...

Girl, I was there when you were my baaaby..."

The words lingered in the room for a moment, carried by the soft melody. There was something tender about the way the song looked past the fame and noise, reaching back to a time when love had been simpler—before success changed everything.

Michael Jackson closed his eyes, letting the melody wash over him. His toes tapped softly against the floor, following the gentle rhythm as a faint smile slowly found its way across his face.

Something about the song reached deeper than he expected. It carried the warmth of a memory that had never truly faded—the sweetness of young love, the ache of growing apart, and that strange, beautiful feeling of realizing that someone could remain a part of you long after they were gone.

For a moment, the studio seemed to disappear around him. The music wrapped itself around his memories, turning them softer, brighter, almost dreamlike. He could practically see those old moments again, suspended somewhere between yesterday and a place that existed only in his heart.

His smile grew a little wider.

There was something almost magical about it.

It wasn’t simply a love song. It felt like someone had opened a forgotten door inside him and allowed all the warmth, innocence, and longing on the other side to spill back in.

Michael remained still, simply letting the feeling settle before the next part of the song pulled more emotions and memories out of him.

Marvin and Beyoncé came back together, their voices blending effortlessly into the chorus as the warm bass, shimmering production, and distant sample sighed beneath them.

"It started when we were younger... you were miiine... My booo

Now another brother’s taken over... but it’s still in your eyyyes... My booo

Even though we used to argue... it’s alriiight... It’s alright, girl, that’s okay

I know we haven’t seen each other in a whiiile...

But you will always be my boooo..."

Every shared line felt like a private conversation set to the smooth, nostalgic beat.

Then Beyoncé stepped forward for her verse, and Marvin’s magic bloomed.

It poured from him in a soft, shimmering wave the moment her solo began—concentrated and intimate, weaving itself through the existing production so that the electric-piano chords glowed warmer and the distant sample seemed to lean closer around her voice.

"Yes, I remember, boy...

’Cause after we kissed... I could only think about your liiips..."

Her tone turned liquid and luminous under the magic, richer, softer, as if the groove itself had become more tender just for her.

"Yes, I remember, boy...

The moment I knew you were the one I could spend my liiife with..."

Marvin watched her, feeding the magic carefully so that every syllable floated on the light drums and warm bass like a secret only he could hear.

"Even before all the fame... and people screaming your naaame...

I was there...

And you were my baaaby..."

The magic curled around her last words, making them linger inside the breezy arrangement.

They fell back into the chorus together, voices braided, bodies close, the soft piano loops and gentle percussion carrying them.

"It started when we were younger... you were miiine... My booo

Now another brother’s taken over... but it’s still in your eyyyes... My booo

Even though we used to argue... it’s alriiight... My booo

I know we haven’t seen each other in a whiiile...

But you will always be my boooo..."

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