Smile (a Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

(4)

Michael's POV

I sit with my legs crossed, hands folded on the tacky bar. I look up  to Emma and she rolls her eyes before walking away, into a back room of the bar. I tap my fingers slowly to the solemn music that is playing in the background. No wonder no one comes in here.

Fifteen minutes later she re-emerges.

"You're still here? God dammit." she murmurs under her breath.

"Yeah I'm still here, got a problem with it?" I snark back. She shoots me a look, leaning against the end of the bar.

"Technically I can't have a problem with it since you are a customer and I have to serve you like a fucking king." she rolls her eyes.

"Can't you just tell your boss that some lunatic was messing with you? Can't that get me kicked out?" I ask, trying not to smile.

"Oh please," she scoffs, walking back behind the bar, "My boss doesn't give a flying fuck about me. He hates me more than anyone else and treats me the same. You could do anything to me and he'd probably high five you."

"Why did he hire you if he hates you?" I ask slowly, leaning back in my stool as I fold my arms.

"Because he wanted a 'sexy young thing'," she gestures quotation marks, "To work at this stupid rundown shithole. He said I would attract more customers." She sighs, resting her front against the bar.

"Can't you file a complaint?" I ask, almost naively.

"Well I could, but no one would do anything about it and it'd be a waste of my time," she mumbles, folding her arms, "This is a big ass city, Michael. New York has a lot of shit to deal with and that does not include me getting harassed and assaulted by my boss." she whispers loudly, pointing to a different room, where I'm guessing her boss is.

"He's assaulted you?!" I whisper in a shout.

"Well," she scoffs, "Depends what you consider assault."

"If he has put your hands on you and you haven't consented, that is assault!" I whisper-shout in the same tone again.

"Well then yes. Yes he has." she whispers softly. Something inside of me clicks, and my instinct tells me to go beat this guy up. However, I am hella skinny and I haven't even seen this guy yet. I clench my fists, and tap my heel against the bar on the bottom of my stool.

"What man has the nerve to assault a woman." I grit, shaking my leg faster.

"Hey," she says softly, placing her hand on mine, "It's okay. It's no big deal."

"Yes it is a big deal!" I shout, causing her to slap a hand over my mouth. I remove it slowly, and bring my voice back down, "He is a coward and someone should do something about it." I grit, slipping off the stool. Emma grabs my wrist, pulling me against the bar.

"Michael, you need to stop. You going in there won't fix anything." she says calmly.

"He's an ass and someone, like me, should show him that." I grit once more.

"Oh, Michael Jackson swears?" she smirks, trying to change the subject. I take a deep breath and rest my elbows on the bar.

"Emma, you need to leave this job. You deserve to be treated better." I say, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand.

"I know that Michael, but I can't get a job anywhere else." she sighs, placing her other hand over mine.

"I doubt that. When was the last time you looked for a job?" I ask.

"A year ago." she mumbles, looking away from me.

"Emma," I scold. She looks up into my eyes and shakes her head.

"No one would want me anywhere else." she murmurs.

"Who told you that." I state, knowing she's wrong.

"No one had to tell me, Michael. This shit just doesn't work out for me." she sighs, resting her forehead on my shoulder in defeat. I tense up a bit, not knowing what to do. Luckily for me she lifts her head a second later, and continues, "Trust me Michael. There is no point in applying for a job because no one will give me one."

"Then I'll give you money." I offer. She frowns automatically and shakes her head.

"No way, Michael, I can't take money from you." she says, pulling away from me.

"You're not taking, I'm giving." I try. She shakes her head, and folds her arms.

"No way. End of discussion. I'm staying here." she finishes, causing me to roll my eyes, "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" she scoffs, leaning against the wall behind the bar.

"Yeah I did." I deadpan.

"Why?" she scoffs again.

"Because you're being stupid." I state, looking her right in the eye.

"Oh yeah? How." she challenges.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe because you're a smart, intelligent girl who is also gorgeous and has a lot going for her, but she can't see that because she works in this awful bar and doesn't know her self worth." I explain, holding my hands out to the side.

"Sorry, Mr. King Of Pop, not all of us can sing our way to the top. Some of us actually have to work and do shit that we don't want to do. We can't all be handed our lives on a silver platter. Some of us actually need to work for that shit." I go to speak, but she continues, "And when we do get handed the slightest paycheque there is, we get robbed and can't even eat the right amount of food because we can't afford it, okay? So shove that up your rich, tight, ass." she shouts, throwing the rag down on the counter. I swallow softly before raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't take your issues out on me, sweetheart." I poke. She smirks, leaning against the bar.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" she shakes her head.

"Actually, I don't. You're just seeing what you want to see so you can make me the bad guy." I state.

"Really? If I wanted to make you the bad guy, I wouldn't have been so nice to you in the beginning." she smirks.

"Oh, that's a load of BS!" I exclaim, also leaning against the bar, face to face with her, "You accused me of trying to use you for a, what was it called? Oh yeah.... a notch in my belt?!"

"Well sorry if I get assholes coming in here everyday looking for a piece of ass that they can throw around. It's not often I get someone like you looking for a fucking friend!" she exclaims, invading my space even more. I look down at her heaving chest, and I realize how close we are. I look up, into her eyes, and something ignites between the both of us.

"What's wrong with having a friend?" I ask softly, almost closing the space between us.

"I don't know." she swallows softly. I close my eyes as the space between us starts to close, and the bell on the front door rings, causing Emma to fly backwards, grabbing the rag off the counter. She looks to the husky guy who is now standing at the bar, and her face is beet red.

"Hey there," he winks, "After I get a beer from you, maybe I could get something else from you as well." he chuckles gruffly, causing my fists to clench again.

"I'll get you that beer, but I don't know about anything else." Emma sighs, reaching for a glass, "Bottle or tap?" she asks.

"Tap. You know I can't afford that bottle shit." he grunts, flipping a coin in the air.

"Coming right up." she mumbles, holding the glass under the handle of the beer faucet.

"Emma," I start. She shoots me a look that confuses the hell out of me, but tells me it is my time to go. I take my wallet out of my pocket and throw down a $100 bill for some tap water I didn't even have to pay for. I feel Emma's eyes watch me as I shove the spring door open before the cool New York breeze hits my face. It's almost as cold as Emma's stare that followed me out of the door.