Chapter 5: The Fainter and the Painter (Alex POV)

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I heard a quiet voice from inside the dark limo, but I couldn't make out who it was.

"Yes, of course Frank," the voice said carefully, "I'm 100% sure. Uh huh. Really? Well, either way. I'll see you at the round table tomorrow morning. We will discuss it then. Alright. Goodnight Do-do Head. Hee hee hee!" The voice went quiet and I heard the sound of a phone returning to the receiver. Whoever it was was talking to someone named Frank. Maybe the same kind man from the interview?

Karen was standing on the curb fidgeting with the buttons on her suit. Why was she suddenly so anxious? My inner sarcastic-Alex wanted to ask her if she had a bug up her butt.

But I refrained.

I had the job in my cross hairs. I wasn't going to let my smart mouth screw this up! I stood aside from her waiting patiently for the man to finish his conversation. When suddenly, a black fedora came into view, with small black ringlets of unruly hair peeking out from under the hat. The head tilted up and the street light revealed his face.

His absolutely beautiful face. You have GOT to be kidding me.

He dramatically inhaled deeply and closed his dark chocolate eyes, "mmh, I love the smell of the night air. Don't you, Karen?" He opened one eye and smiled at Karen. That. Smile. It spread across his entire face.

Hell, it spread across the entire universe.

Ok, if you've ever met, or been in the vicinity of, a famous person, you'll know that you spend a bit of time assessing from afar. You know, making sure that that's the celebrity you thought it was and not the damned postman.

I stood there, like a dope, the blood completely drained from my face. Karen placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and roused me from my trance. I must have been staring at him with my mouth agape as he sat in the limo, his feet now on the sidewalk.

"Alex? Alex. Hey sweetie," she cooed a coy smile splaying across her face. Sweetie? Where did 'nice' Karen come from? I blinked unable to answer. I closed my mouth and managed to look at her in a 'why didn't you tell me we were working for Michael Jackson' stare. She must have been loving this.

The fedora disappeared into the darkness of the car and reappeared. Now, standing less than three feet away from me was Michael Joe Jackson. He was--

Tall.

He extended a long-fingered hand toward me outstretched, "hello. I'm Michael" he said. You would have thought he sang it. The words slipped so perfectly and fluidly out of his mouth. I'm not sure how long his hand was outstretched. I feigned a smile and reached out to shake his hand.

Wait.

Where is my hand going? Wait.

Why is the street lamp sideways? Oh shit. I'm fainting. This is happening. I'm--

*THREE HOURS LATER*

My head was spinning and all I saw was darkness with small streams of light passing in a quick blur.

Ok, I was in a car, got it.

My legs were outstretched but propped up as I lay on my side.

Alright, a big car. I was in a big car.

"Are you going to do this to all of your new hires? I mean, come on!" a familiar woman's voice jeered. I heard a muffled giggle.

I weakly opened my eyes. Rolling onto my back, I saw the black upholstered ceiling of the car.

No, not a car. Limo. Limousine?

My head lolled to the side.

White socks? Jesus, where the heck am I?

My head was spinning as I threw my forearm over my forehead. Why was I sweating?

"You were right to call us, Karen" said a foreign voice, "she's severely dehydrated. When was the last time this young lady had a decent meal??"

"I had to call you, Dr. Crabbe! I'm a makeup artist not a Doctor. Give me a face to paint and I'm your girl. Bandages? Not so much," the woman joked.

Oh! I remember Jessica!

I mean, Karen. Ok Alex, retrace your steps, dammit.

Karen came over this morning.

No.

This evening. Yeah, yeah I remember because it was dark. We came up to a limo on a dark street.

My thoughts were interrupted by a small shake. Someone had their hands right under my knee and was gingerly shaking me while saying, "hey there, are you ok?"

I opened my eyes and looked down towards my feet, towards the angelic gentle voice. There, inside of the limousine, my feet were in his lap; Michaels lap. He smiled from under the shade of his fedora and asked again, "you ok?"

Authors Note: Hey Moonwalkers! Hope you guys are enjoying the story! I know it started a little slow, but I wanted to make the characters have some dimension! Who's ready for some "Michaek POV" segments?!! Leave me a comment!

-A

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