... And There She Was

Chapter 16

After learning of the altercation from Michael, Katherine had kicked Joseph from the house. Michael didn't care, but he found out some days later that he had put himself up in a condo in Las Vegas.

Fine by him.

He gleefully waited on Zoey hand and foot for the next week. Cooking (badly), cleaning (badly), laundry (bleached her favorite green shirt), but she couldn't have asked for anything more. She had never been so tended to, so doted on. It made her feel a bit like a pampered princess, but seeing as it was difficult for her to walk, or do much of anything with one arm, she gladly took her ineptness with good spirits. Plus, she happened to think she had the cutest live-in nurse ever.

Bath times were something that left her mind spinning as well. Getting in and out of the tub on one foot and a bum arm, while then keeping the injured foot out of the water was tricky business and, well...she needed a hand or two. All modesty was lost here, standing stark naked in front of her oogling man as he eased her body into the bubbles. Not that Michael was complaining. He was so loving and mature about it. Besides, the road went both ways, as Michael would join her naked as the day he came screaming into the world. It had become her favorite time of the day, curling up with him in the tub, lounging against his strong torso as they pruned together. Turns out he's an expert hair washer, to boot. Was there ever any doubt, with hands like those? There's a definite difference between sexual and sensual, and they were rapidly discovering both worlds.

Around the time Zoey was able to hobble around the house on her own without struggling with the crutches, Michael began to reluctantly head off to brainstorming meetings with John Landis, preparing for the shooting of Thriller which was to begin the following week. Every night, he rushed home in time to fix something simple for dinner, whilst telling Zoey of his day and all the fantastic ideas they were coming up with.

"How was your day?" He asked, striding over to the couch and handing her a plate with a PB&J sandwich and potato chips.

"Good, fine," she said before taking a large, sticky bite. "Got the stitches out."

"You did?" Michael asked, surprised. "How did you get there? To the doctor's?"

"Maddie took me," she replied. "We talked about this yesterday, remember?"

"Oh." Michael's shoulders slumped down into the couch, his eyes narrowing onto his plate.

"What?" She asked, half laughing. "You look upset that I finally got those itchy stitches out!"

"No, it's just...I should have been here to take you, that's all." He began to munch on his own sandwich, rearranging himself so that his back was against the opposite armrest, delicately curling his feet up with Zoey's, careful of not bumping her wound.

"You were busy! It's no big deal, really. She's coming over tomorrow again to take me to the store, unless of course you'd prefer to keep using Kleenex as toilet paper." Zoey rubbed her curled toes up and down his thigh, teasingly. "Stop sulking." She purred.

"I'm not sulking," he pouted, though he most definitely was. Taking care of Zoey had become his obsession this past week, wanting and needing to do anything he possibly could to make her comfortable. He was doing it out of a fair bit of guilt, seeing as the reason she was a wreck was because of his father, but mainly because he just simply loved taking care of the woman he loved. He knew he wasn't that great of a cook, and pitiful at dusting and vacuuming, and clearly no champion at doing laundry, but he felt such a sense of normalcy in taking complete responsibility of these tasks. She had joked once that he may as well fan her with palm leaves, the way he was obsessively doting on her. Little did she know that he had considered sending Bill to a nursery to pick some up.

"What's going on tomorrow?"

"Dance rehearsals. Thinking I might wear the jacket you got me."

"Won't that be too hot? Temperature wise, I mean..." she added, knowing full well how sexy he looked in the black and white leather jacket she got him for his 'birthday'.

"I think the jacket I'm wearing in the video is similar, so I need to make sure I can move around in it. Do the choreography."

"Ahhh...smart."

Michael placed his empty plate on the coffee table, and shooed Sophie away as she tried to jump up on her hind legs and snake her snout up to the plate to finish off any crumbs that were on it. "Pig," he said, laughing at the obviousness of his remark. Gingerly, he cupped Zoey's foot in his large palm and brought it up to his face, kissing each toe, then her ankle, then the top of her cut.

"Does this hurt?" He whispered.

"No," she replied shaking her head, and relaxing back into her pillows on her side of the couch. "Thank you for taking care of me this week."

"It's my job," he said, his fingertips tracing up and down her shin and calf. Biting his lower lip and grinning like the cat that caught the canary, he shifted his weight forward, preparing to fall on top of her for a sofa rendezvous, when the phone rang.

"You answer it," she said, throwing an arm over her face in frustration.

Michael cleared his throat to put on his "low" voice, before picking up the receiver. "Hello?" He grumbled into the mouth piece, as Zoey muffled her laughter into a pillow at his impression of a middle-aged chain smoker.

"Hello, is Zoey Jansen there?"

"Sorry....she's going to the bathroom" he said, trying his best not to laugh at telling this random man she was on the can.

"Uh...wow, okay? Well, this is Ronnie from Ronnie's Garage, I'm calling about her..." Michael heard the rustling of paperwork in the background. "...Jeep Wagoneer? We were able to fix the radiator and put in a new serpentine belt, as well as replace the exhaust system, and repair the front axel rod. But, I have to say, this thing is on its last legs."

"Oh, it is, is it? Interesting."

"Yeah. At this point, it's really just a waiting game until the whole thing goes to pot. We're happy to keep fixing it, and as a mechanic I shouldn't really say this, but she's putting more into the car than it's worth, to be frank."

Michael continued to speak to Ronnie, as Zoey absently clicked through the television channels.

"Who was it?" Zoey asked.

"The garage. Your car is fixed."

"Is it all better?"

"Yup. The man said the car is good as new, and you shouldn't have any more problems with it." He put on his best 'I'm being serious, really!' face. "Guess all that talk about a new car isn't necessary afterall."

"HA! I told you so, Mike! You laughed at me and called my Jeep a piece of junk, and now here we sit and she's just fine!" She stuck her tongue out at him, as he turned to head off down the hallway to let Sophie in from her nightly worm hunting excursion.

"I guess so, Zo. I guess so." He replied while trying to chew back the most enormous grin.

The seed had been planted.

_______________________________________________


The next morning, on her last day off before having to go back to work, though in a limited capacity, Zoey awoke feeling like she had just slept for 24 hours straight. Her eyelids were heavy and sluggish and her mouth was parched. She was lightheaded and disoriented, yet the most...relaxed she could ever remember being. Yawning widely, she reached her arms above her head to stretch out her languid body, when the brush of the silky smooth sheets against her completely exposed lower half had her eyes bursting open in remembrance.

'Where are my shorts? And underwear?!'

Then...the flashbacks began.

The panting.

The heavy kissing. The writhing.

The shedding of clothes.

The way his eyes turned completely dark as he seeked her permission.

The wet, warm breath of his butterfly kisses down the entire length of her body, as she shyly, slowly opened up to him with his gentle coaxing.

The way he looked up at her flushed visage...after seeing all of her.

When she weaved her delicate fingers into the mess of ebony curls on Michael's head, as he nestled in even further between her quivering thighs.

And then...that same explosion, in an entirely new way.

Her hands ached from clutching fistfuls of sheets at her side. Her back was sore from arching with such severe pleasure. The hair at the nape of her neck was still damp from sweat.

She. Was. Spent.

The intoxicating events from the night prior were replaying in her mind, when the arm that was flopped across her stomach began to stir.

"Hey," Michael drawled, his eyes focused in on her.

"Hi," she whispered, still woozy from sleep. He leaned down and gently kissed her shoulder.

"Sleep good?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Mmm," he moaned. His head was resting in his hand which was propped up by the elbow on his pillow, hovering over her. Zoey's gazed zeroed in on his lips. They looked...different this morning. She had an inkling why. Reaching up, she traced the pad of her finger across them. They were so pouty. So soft. On every part of her. He kissed her fingertip, the plucking sound yet another reminder of one more bridge they had raced across, giggling and impatient.

"You okay?" He whispered, reading the quizzical look in her eye. "I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

"No. No, not at all," she slurred, her face breaking out into a slight Cheshire grin, feeling that familiar pit of fire begin to brew in her tummy.

Michael's eyes darkened again, in the way they do when he's up to no good. He dipped in to claim her lips, ever so gently, before releasing them with a subtle 'pop'. His finger smoothed back a few strands of her hair, as he teasingly dragged the finger down the smoothness of her face, across the ticklish bridge of her nose and down into the hollow of her neck, where he then pressed his tongue. Her head fell back into the pillow, in rapture, and she felt her pulse skyrocket in anticipation, and her stomach turn to knots.

He was training her body to react to his every touch.

"Zo." He rasped, once he had worked his way back up to her lips. "You're so beautiful. Everywhere." His eyes flicked downwards to the delicate area south of her navel.

Zoey gasped and threw her arm over her face in embarrassment. "Mike..."

"What? What?" He laughed, tugging at her arm, which eventually loosened. "You are." He said again, in that low, husky voice that rendered her powerless. He shifted his body atop hers, letting his hips settle in between her nude thighs. "Can I do it again?" He stuttered sheepishly, lowering his lashes to hide his smoldering gaze.

Zoey's heart whacked violently against her rib cage, as she knew that to answer 'no' wouldn't satisfy him in the least. She had barely the chance to give him every bit of permission he craved, before he took the lead and impatiently claimed her mouth again.

The first of many stops his lips would make that morning.

__________________________________________________ ___

"SHUT. UP."

"Nope, I'm serious."

"SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!"

"Would you keep it down?" Zoey hissed. "The entire store is going to hear you!"

"OH MY GAAWWWWDDDDDD!" She whisper/shouted, before leaning into Zoey with a suspicious gaze. "Wait...is your hymen still intact?

Zoey rolled her eyes and laughed. "I can't believe you just said that. Nevermind, I can. But it's still as shocking to hear even when you know it's coming."

"Is that a yes?"

"Shhhhhhhh. Yes, of course. We're keeping away from that. I guess we're just doing...everything else."

"Bullsh*t. You're gonna wake up one night and he's looking at you to play hide the salami."

"Hide? The salami? You are far too oversexed, Mad."

"So how did it happen? Did you ask him to? Did he just go for it? Did you like it?"

The girls finished their shopping, as Zoey whispered details of her and Michael's 'encounters', as Maddie squealed in glee. When Zoey reached the check out line, she surveyed her basket to make sure she had everything she needed.

Body wash, soap, moisturizer, lotion, condoms, razors, tampons, q-tips....

........

CONDOMS?!

"Maddie!" She hissed, taking the enormous box of Trojan Magnum condoms out and trying to hide it amongst the candy bars and gum.

"What are you doing? I put those in there for you to get!"

"I don't want to buy them!" She said through gritted teeth. "Take them!"

"Keep them!"

"How do you know he needs Magnum anyways?!"

"I don't! Why, does he need Magnum XL instead?"

"I'm not buying these!" Zoey hissed, shoving the box at her.

"Yes. You. ARE." She shoved the box back.

"No."

"Yes. Better safe than sorry."

"Noooooo......"

"YES."

"Hello ladies, find everything alright today?" The nice, middle-aged lady at the register asked.

"Yes!" the girls sweetly said in unison, flashing their best 'I'm behaving myself' smiles. Maddie flicked the box back in Zoey's basket, as it rolled down the conveyor belt. The lady took out the items one by one, scanning them past the censor. She pulled out the impressive box of condoms, before doing a slight double take, studying the largely fonted "MAGNUM" on the front, whilst eyeing the petite redhead before her. Her jaw bunched up in embarrassment as she quickly passed the box over the scanner, but it took about 6 tries and one nervous chuckle for the machine to beep.

Zoey blushed beet red and just gave the lady a smiling shrug while Maddie had to lean against the potato chip rack for support, she was silently laughing so hard.

Wide-eyed, the lady tossed the condoms into the bag like a chunk of hot lava rock, fumbling the rest of her way through the merchandise.

Knowing Michael was a snooper, she hid the box deep within the back bowels of her sock drawer.

________________________________________________


It was official.

The shooting of the most ambitious music video ever was underway. Michael had already been on the set for three days now, each morning arriving at nearly the crack of dawn to sit for hours in a make-up chair as Rick Baker transformed him into a 'werecat' with a slew of rubber prosthetics, glue and furry wigs. Despite a numb butt from sitting in the chair for so long, Michael was loving every minute of it. The filming itself was a riot, as it allowed him to stretch the acting muscles he's always been curious about. He had caught the bug way back on the variety show—even though he hated that particular gig. A film crew was documenting the shoot, along with a couple of photographers—the only press allowed on the set. A lot of the shooting was done at nighttime, and he wouldn't get back to Zoey's until very early morning—around 5am. She would wake up early and sleepily listen to him excitedly recall details of the shoot before heading off to work for the day while he slept. He was open about how the working relationship was with the girl they choose for the 'short film', a former Playboy model named Ola. Zoey would admit that when Michael first uttered the words "model" and "Playboy", she nearly jumped out of her skin, but she had the utmost faith and trust in Michael, and after a few hours of silently stewing in a tiny bit of childish jealousy, she got over it.

On the sixth and final night of shooting, Zoey's Jeep pulled up to the blocked off industrial section of downtown Los Angeles. A police officer asked her to roll down her window as he shined his flashlight into the car.

"Name, please?"

"Zoey Jansen and Maddie Daniels. We're guests."

The man flipped through the papers on the clipboard, before coming across their names. "Please pull forward and follow the cones until you come to a parking area."

Parking the car, another usher verified their identities again, before showing them towards the set. The area itself was downright bleak, old abandoned brick buildings with a few streetlamps littered here and there. They began to hear the hum of excitement, when they rounded a corner and into the middle of what appeared to be a real-life movie set.

"Oh, wowwww," they gasped in unison, nearly dropping the boxes of cupcakes they had brought as sustenance for the tired crew. Michael had come up with the ruse, suggesting that Zoey come visit under the guise of a caterer, to avoid any suspicion.

"You can put the cupcakes over here on the craft services table," said Mary, a set coordinator. The girls arranged the treats on a table next to a large spread of deli meats and cheeses, vegetables and fruit. Everything around them buzzed with excitement. Dancers in full, gory zombie make up and tattered clothing walked about and socialized with the crew, trying to talk through uncomfortable dentures and layers of latex. Camera men worked together to set up shots. John Landis fluttered around like a manic butterfly, from one station to the next, checking to see if everyone was on the same page.

"Is that him?" Maddie asked, pointing to the backside of the only Zombie dressed in a strikingly bold red ensemble.

It was Michael.

He was chatting up some of the dancers behind him, when he turned around to face the cameras for the next shot. Zoey's eyes traveled up his long, lean legs and the way those red jeans seemed to fit him to a T, though without showing off too much of the goodies. Her goodies. A dirty, tattered red leather jacket with arrowed black accents framed his strong torso, and his face was that of the undead. Brown, black green and sunken, with gnarly rotted teeth and exaggerated, buggy eyes. When he had described the face prosthetics and makeup they had fitted him for his zombie sequence, Zoey thought it sounded downright disgusting and was worried she would be put off by it. But now seeing him, in the flesh (so to say), even under all that makeup and the raggedy costume surrounded by other members of the undead, she suddenly blushed at feeling a little turned on by it all.

"Why does he still look hot?" She asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Cause you're horny," Maddie mumbed, audible to only Zoey, who just gave a guilty shrug. "What do you 'spose it's like to get eaten by a zombie?" She asked with a waggle of her eyebrows, a sly, dirty innuendo that earned her a hard jab in the ribs.

"Quiet on the set!" John shouted over his megaphone, as a hush fell over the crew. "And....cue music....and ACTION."

The synthesized beats of the bridge of Thriller began to blare out from the speakers, as the dancers immediately fell into character, and into line. They shuffled forward in unison, Michael front and center, putting on their best ghouly faces. They started in on the choreography, the same choreography Michael had demonstrated for her in the living room a few nights prior. Her heart always stopped at the point when he did a succession of rapid fire, quick little pelvic pops, and tonight was no different. Perhaps it was the adrenaline surrounding it all, him being in full costume, full makeup, full performance mode, but that little move he did made her heart flutter a little more than usual.

She wanted him.

Every step, every stride, every shimmy oozed raw sexuality. An animalistic, prowling anger in his dancing and body language that made her neither regions quiver. She caught herself thinking that perhaps their shenanigans had a little something to do with his newly aggressive dancing.

Take after take after take, the dancers banged out the stunning choreography, each time as brilliant as the last. No one made a mistake, no one started off cue, no one wasn'tat the top of their game.

"I've never seen anything like this," Maddie whispered, watching the dancers in a trance, her eyes settling on a particularly beefy one a few rows back. "This is going to be the biggest thing ever. I just know it." She squeezed Zoey's hand.

After what seemed like 20 takes of the same sequence, Michael scrunched up his face, desperate to reach up and scratch the itchiness of his skin under all the glue and paint. He shuffled his tired, loafered feet on the ground, wondering if Zoey had arrived yet. He glanced around the set, looking for that one particular redhead that just so happened to hold his heart, but with the lights shining in his direction and blinding him, that was easier said than done.

"Alright everybody!" John said over his speakerphone. "Got some camera issues, just hold tight until we get it fixed. Take...thirty or so." The dancers scattered off in groups, as Michael made his way towards John, asking him questions about how the shots were, how everything was going, and watching playbacks on the small video screens. John was excited and enthusiastic, wildly gesturing in glee at how wonderful the film was. At one point, he slung Michael over his shoulder and twirled around in circles, before lowering him back down to the ground. Listening in amusement to this madman, Michael saw the backside of a girl at the craft services table, arranging cupcakes into rows for hungry crew members and dancers. His tight face breaking out into a huge grin despite the restricting face mask, he excused himself and sauntered over to the table, careful of not looking too "zeroed-in" on the girl.

"Oh, here comes Michael!" Mary squealed, grabbing Zoey away from the table to face him as he approached. Michael did a stutter step as Zoey was whirled around by the woman. "He's kinda shy," she whispered in Zoey's ear. "But so sweet!"

Bashfully, Michael shuffled towards the girls, pretending to grab a napkinful of carrots and cherry tomatoes.

Mary cleared her throat and prodded Zoey forward by poking her pointy-nailed index finger into her spine. "Michael?" She asked, as he nonchalantly looked in their direction. "Michael, this is the girl who donated all the cupcakes for the crew. This is....um....what's your name again, dear?" She whispered.

"Zoey."

"That's right! Zoey. Michael, this is Zoey. Zoey, this is Michael Jackson."

Michael took a few strutting steps towards the two females, his eyes focused in on Zoey the entire time. He held out his green hand, into which she slipped hers. His confidence confused Mary, who had only ever seen him as endearingly shy and bumbling towards new people.

"Pleasure to meet you Zoey," he crooed in his best sexy voice, rubbing his thumb across the satiny smooth skin of the top of her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson," she said back, clearly enjoying this little game.

"Please, call me Michael. Or...Mike, even."

"Okay, Mike. I like your makeup."

"I like your cupcakes."

"I like your red jacket."

The pair stood dumbly in front of one another with their hands still clutched, as Mary looked repeatedly back and forth between them, desperately confused and curious of how quickly Michael Jackson had taken to this cupcake stranger. Hearing her name bellowed from across the stage, she scurried off to tend to whatever she was being beckoned to.

"Well played," Michael said, grinning. Why does he look so gorgeous even as a Zombie?! He pulled her hand closer and whispered. "I put your name on the access list for my trailer. You can go hang out in there and I'll come by in a minute, kay? Have to do a real quick interview with Quincy." He glanced around. "Where's Maddie?"

"Oh...I think she's infatuated with one of your undead," Zoey laughed. Sure enough, they spotted her chatting up a creature on a picnic bench off the side of the set.

Michael eased away from her, fighting the urge to forget about mussing up his makeup and smothering her with kisses right here in front of everybody. "My trailer is just over there. Don't make it look obvious." He said, before walking away.

Strolling around the set, pretending to pay close attention to camera equipment, sound boards and extension cords, she gradually made her way over to his trailer, and after showing her ID, gained access. The inside was decidedly unfussy, just a small kitchenette and a dining table in the front, with a tiny bed in the back. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, her eyes instantly began to droop when she saw the numbers 2:33 staring back at her.

"Little nap couldn't hurt," she drawled, easing herself on top of the cool bed, and immediately floating off to lala land.

She was awoken by the familiar sensation of his warm lips against hers, and then the pressure of a wet thumb.

"Sorry," Michael laughed, wiping at her face. "I got green all over you."

"Mmmm..." she moaned, stretching. "How long was I asleep?"

"Twenty minutes, maybe? Thirty?" He shucked off his shoes as they landed on the floor with a thud, and crawled up on the bed, resting with his legs curled up under him. Zoey shuffled around and mirrored his stance, getting a good eyeful of the stunning make up job the artists had done.

"You like what you've seen?" He asked, rubbing his hands on the tops of her thighs, mindful of any more makeup coming off his hands. Oh well, he likely needed a touch up anyways.

Zoey just smiled a nodded, reaching out to gently poke at the prosthetics on his face, but pulled her hand away in hesitance.

"This is a mask," he said, signaling to the area surrounding his eyes. "And then just a lot of makeup and shading. Go on, you can touch it."

"It's incredible," she asked, biting her lip a bit, laughing at how even under all the ghoulish makeup, he was still stunningly gorgeous. "I want to be a zombie."

"Nah, you're far too cute. People would never buy it." Michael leaned in, pouting out his lips in an over-exaggerated fishy face, the only way he could kiss her without turning her own face green with all his makeup.

A rap on the door broke them of their alone time. "That's Quincy!" Michael said excitedly, hopping off the bed and rushing to the door. Zoey followed him nervously, smoothing out her clothes and checking her flushed reflection in the mirror above the kitchenette sink. She wasn't expecting this.

"Hey, Smelly! I'm here, what's so important that you had to show me?" He asked in a kind voice as he climbed the stairs into the trailer. He stuttered a bit on the top step as the pretty redheaded girl shyly came into view. "Oh..." he whispered, now understanding.

Michael chewed on his bottom lip as he grinned like a goofy schoolboy. "Quincy...this is my Zoey." He snaked his hand around Zoey's back and eased her forward to accept Quincy's outstretched hand.

"It's so great to finally meet you," she said, leaning in for a polite hug.

"Likewise, likewise," Quincy said, still a bit shocked at finally meeting the girl Michael swore had changed his life. Michael eagerly looked back and forth between the pair as they exchanged the usual pleasantries, becoming acquainted with each other. Much like how he felt after his Motown performance when she was introduced to his family, it took everything in him to not climb onto the roof of his trailer, and shout to the world about how it felt to have the love of a girl like Zoey, especially when it was witnessed in the flesh by the people closest to him. People like Quincy, who had heard endless stories of Zoey, but had yet to meet her face to face.

After several minutes of polite chit chat, Quincy had to excuse himself, saying he had an early start to the day in the studio, working on the score to Steven Spielberg's new movie "The Color Purple".

"Zoey, again, a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, giving her another sweet hug. "You two will have to come to the house for dinner sometime with Peggy and the girls, okay?"

The couple agreed, as Quincy stomped his way down the narrow trailer steps. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, turning around and looking at them both. "He wears a different kind of smile now," he said, pointing to Michael with a twinkle in his handsome eyes. "I think I now know why." Then with a wink, he was gone, leaving a very bashful couple in his wake.

Michael gave her one more careful, quick peck before rushing out back to the set, but not before Zoey copped a feel of his glorious backside in his tight red jeans. She hung around a few extra minutes so nobody would catch them exiting his trailer together. Ready to pack it up and call it a night, she searched around the craft services area for Maddie, finally seeing her sitting in a director's chair talking to a group of dancers. Just as she began to take a step towards them, she noticed a short girl walking by, in a skintight pair of blue leopard print tights and a similar denim jacket, sporting voluminous curly hair and red lipstick.

Ola.

The new pangs of subtle jealousy reared their ugly head, as Zoey made her best attempts to squash them back down. She wasn't a jealous person, but seeing the girl who your actual boyfriend had to pretend was his girlfriend would make even the most confident girl stumble a bit. Especially when they were as pretty as Ola Ray.

The crowd had gathered around the dancers again, when Michael emerged from the makeup trailer. His face was now free of his mask and green makeup, looking like how Michael Jackson was supposed to look. He was also wearing his non-zombified outfit, the slick red leather jacket free from slashes and cuts. Zoey couldn't help but watch the way Ola's face lit up when she saw him.

This was torture. She refused to do this to herself. She began to shuffle over to collect Maddie and leave since it was nearly 4am in the morning, when she felt a tiny tap on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, did you make the cupcakes?"

Zoey slowly turned around, as Ola's lovely scented perfume permeated her senses. 'She's pretty and she smells good. Just perfect.'

"Yes, yes I did, " Zoey replied politely. No sense in being a jerk.

"They were wonderful," Ola gushed. "I adored the pumpkin spice one. Pretty appropriate, considering..." she motioned to the decidedly Halloween-y environment.

"Thank you," Zoey said, suddenly ashamed to have had mean thoughts towards her only moments ago, before even meeting the poor girl.

"Isn't the dancing incredible?" Ola asked, making conversation. "Michael is so amazing!"

"It's all amazing, I can't wait to see how it'll look. And yes, he's very," she cleared her throat, "very incredible."

Ola took in and released a dreamy breath, as she stared on at Michael in the distance, dancing and lip-synching along to the track. "I've had such a good time with him."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. I can't believe he's single. I wish I had the nerve to ask him out! He's just so famous. I'd just die if he turned me down!" She laughed.

"How do you know he's single?" Zoey asked, sussing out the situation, trying to see how Michael covered up their relationship, coming straight from the mouth of a girl who had no idea who she was.

Ola just shrugged. "He told me so. I asked if he had a special someone, and he just giggled and said 'no', all shy and boyish. How sweet is he? Gosh."

Secret relationship aside, privacy aside, their pact to keep their love only between the two of them aside, hearing someone say that Michael said he had no one special? Hurt like hell.

"I don't think he'd turn me down...I mean heck, he's already seen me naked!" She added, laughing a high pitched cackle.

"WHAT?!" Zoey blurted out, her heart dropping into her stomach.

"Well, almost naked. He walked in on me with the wardrobe lady, and I only had a small shirt to cover up with. He didn't seem to mind though," she added in a sing-song voice, which made the blood in Zoey's veins run cold. "Plus, we've hung out together in his trailer a lot. Alone. I think he feels comfortable around me, you know?"

"Ola to the set, please. Ola....to the set." The voice blared out over the speaker system.

"Oopsies, that's me! It was nice talking to you! Great cupcakes!!" Ola chirped, before trotting off in her red high heels, leaving a very confused and hurt/upset/angry Zoey in her wake.

Michael looked across the set for Zoey, wanting to see her once last time before she had to take off. If he was lucky, he'd make it home not much after she did, and maybe they'd have some time together before she headed off to another long day at work. Scanning the sea of people, his eyes finally landed on her. She was staring straight at him with a confused expression. Her mouth held slightly agape, as the downturn in her eyes was the exact look she had when she was upset or sad. Her eyes seemed to narrow at him, quizzical, begging him to give her answers from twenty yards away. Her body posture was just...wrong. All wrong. Immediately sensing something 'not right', he nearly rushed off the set and over towards her, when he felt the tickle of Ola's fingernails on the bare skin of his forearm. Breaking Zoey's gaze, he looked down at Ola as she stared up at him all googly eyed, clutching to his arm, (which—why was she doing that? The cameras aren't rolling). When he looked back to Zoey....

...she wasn't there.

_________________________________________


Michael slinked into the bed later that morning, and when Zoey awoke only a couple hours later, she was mindful of not waking him, thereby giving her the chance to escape from the house without having to face him. She stewed in misery at work, replaying her conversation with Ola over and over in her mind. She didn't know what to think. Could Ola just be an aspiring starlet, desperate to latch onto her leading man in hopes of their 'relationship' trickling over into the real world? Telling lies about how close they really were? Imagining any intimacy that was merely Michael simply being a nice guy?

She was distracted all day, and it shows in her work—something she vowed to never let happen. Maddie had come to her concerned, asking if something had happened that led to her sour mood. She told her of the conversation with Ola, to which Maddie just scoffed at.

"You're going to get your panties all bunched up over some stuff that girl told you? Geez, you haven't even heard his side yet! Have a little faith in him." And she was right. She was totally right, and Zoey knew it. Had a private pity party for herself all day, when the side that really mattered, Michael's side, had yet to even be addressed, though she most definitely had questions for him that begged to be answered.

Last night had been the final night of principle filming for the shoot, and she had figured he would be there when she got home. Of course, he was.

She walked in through the back door to the succulent smells of spaghetti sauce boiling away on the stovetop. During her week of ineptness, Michael had figured out that making noodles and heating up canned spaghetti sauce was something he could handle, and had obviously decided to cook it again. A regular househusband.

"Hi," Zoey said, strolling into the kitchen and tossing her purse atop a bar stool at the breakfast counter.

"Hey," Michael answered back, lifting a wooden spoon up to her mouth to taste his sauce. "Good?"

"Mmm hmm," she agreed—and it was. He had doctored it up a bit. Sweet boy.

"Thank you for bringing all the cupcakes. The crew loved them. Everybody was asking about your shop and where to get more. I was bummed I couldn't say too much." He looked genuinely enthused for her.

"That's nice. So, Mike—"

"Why did you leave so suddenly last night? Or this morning, rather." He cut her off, sounding hurt. "You looked upset."

Taking a deep breath, she wanted to enter this conversation as civilly as possible. "I talked to Ola."

He looked at her with wide eyes, perhaps a little too quickly, tensed up and took a hard gulp. "Oh, really?" This didn't help to calm her nerves. Instead, it triggered her female instincts.

"Yeah, really. She's very nice, don't you think?"

"Yes, she's a nice girl, I suppose." He said nervously. 'Where is she going with this?'

"Why are you spending time with her alone in your trailer?" The question seemed to blurt itself out, before Zoey even had a chance to decide to say it.

"Did she say that?"

"Yes." She said, her arms folded across her chest. Not a good sign.

"We were going over lines. Rehearsing."

"Rehearsing?" She echoed.

"Yes, rehearsing. What did she tell you?"

"She said you saw her naked and that you were acting like you wanted to ask her out."

Michael let out a little laugh. "Zo...you can't listen to things like that. You can't."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why would you?" He asked, his frustrations now surfacing that she was acting so suspicious.

"Because I'm not there, and I don't know what goes on on those sets. And...Ola is...a very pretty girl, and it's tough for me to hear things like that without wondering whether or not she's making them up. And why exactly did you see her naked?"

"I walked in on her in her dressing room, that's all."

"She made it seem like you liked what you saw."

Michael paused and shook his head quickly before putting his hands up in front of him. "I can't believe you're acting like this. You've been fine all week, and now on the last night suddenly I've been up to no good the whole time!"

"Like this? What am I acting like?" She knew exactly what she was acting like, there was no reason for her to ask.

"Like a jealous madwoman!"

"I. Am. Not. Jealous." Liar. Total liar.

"Please, Zoey! You're acting insanely jealous. Over something as silly as me rehearsing lines with a co-star. Someone I'm paying to be in my short film."

"You're not paying her to walk around naked."

"Oh, good grief. Where is this coming from? You're not a jealous person. You weren't like this with Brooke, and I admitted to you how BIG of a crush I used to have on her," Michael said, referring to the time they got together with his friend Brooke Shields for dinner. Zoey adored her, thought she was smart and funny and sweet and a wonderful friend to Michael.

"That was different!"

"How so?"

"It....it just is!"

"How? Brooke is a successful model and actress, I was nuts about her, and I used to have her photos all over my bedroom walls, and we're still friends to this day. That doesn't bother you, yet someone I've known for four days tells you I accidentally walked in on her undressing, and you go off the deep end? What the heck, Zoey?!"

"She---she was very convincing..." she stuttered, knowing she was losing this fight and losing it badly.

"Look," Michael said, rubbing his tired eyes. "You want to know about Ola? Fine. She's a nice girl. I went to introduce myself to her, and...Zo, c'mon. You know how bad I am about knocking. I barged in and she was half undressed. I was mortified. Later, she came to my trailer asking me to go over lines with her. I did. We acted in the video, acted like boyfriend and girlfriend. Acted. That's it!"

"You told her you didn't have anyone special in your life," Zoey mumbled meekly, more and more humiliated at her jealous overreaction.

"That's the plan, isn't it? To keep you and me secret? To keep our life together as normal as it can be? I haven't told some of the closet people to me about you, why would I talk to a video co-star I've known for 5 seconds? I'm sorry if she exaggerated details to you, but I'm more upset you chose to believe them."

He was right. Every thing he had just said to her, was completely right. She was acting like a jealous child. The green monster she had so deftly avoided most of her life had finally caught up with her in a big way.

"It still hurts, you know. To hear someone say you told them you don't have anyone special." She whispered, turning around so that he couldn't see her pained expression. "It hurts a lot. Even though I know it's just a coverup." She felt Michael move in behind her, as he placed his hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. He buried his lips in her soft hair.

"I know, babe. I'm sure it stung."

She leaned back into him, letting his arms wrap completely around her torso as he rocked their bodies from side to side. "Can you appreciate how it is for me sometimes? You're surrounded by all these....pretty girls. Models. Singers, actresses." She sighed deeply. "I try to put on a good face, make it seem like they don't bother me, but...they do. I know I don't measure up to them. I am plain."

"You're not pl—" he began to argue.

"In comparison to them, I'm plain Mike. I am. I'm ordinary. And boring."

"No one compares to you." He squeezed her body tighter, as tight as she was squeezing his aching heart. She wriggled free, just enough to turn around and face him, though unable to match his gaze. "It kills me to hear you say stuff like this, Zo. I don't know where it's coming from. It sort of even makes me feel like I've failed at showing you how special you are to me."

"You haven't failed, Mike. These are my issues."

"You've never talked like this. Never put yourself down like this. You're breaking my heart." He kissed her forehead. "I don't even know how this started."

She shrugged, defeated. "I'm sorry. It all just caught up to me." She buried her face into his chest. There was no other feeling in the world as good as being in his arms.

"You're the love of my life. I don't care that you're not 5'11", and not a supermodel, and that you can't sing for anything. Or that now I know you can get emotional over silly stuff like this and I have to calm you down before you throw my clothes out on the front patio like all them other crazy women do," he said, earning a small giggle from her. "No joke, I'm pretty sure Enid did that to Jackie once."

Zoey felt so foolish. "So, you don't care that you love a short, non-singing, non-acting, non-model, ginger-headed baker with a slightly soft tummy and a pet pig?"

Michael pressed his lips upon hers in a hungry kiss, then cupped her face in his large, soft hands and held it close to his own. "I'm honored to love a short, non-singing, non-acting, non-model, ginger-headed baker with a slightly soft tummy and a pet pig. Do you care that you love a skinny, lanky, painfully shy, weird-animal loving, curly headed singer-dancer that burns your food, bleaches your clothes, and who might give you giraffe-legged babies?"

"No. Never," she laughed.

"I know it's not easy, with me being who I am, getting the attention I get. But you gotta toughen up and trust me, Zo. We've got a long way to go to forever."

__________________________________________________ ______

Four days later

The pudgy, older man cleared his throat, and reached for the phone on his desktop that had rudely interrupted his study session. "Kingdom Hall. This is Elder Errol," he said.

"I have some information on one of your church members I think you'd like to be made aware of."

"To whom am I speaking to?"

"Someone in the know, let's just say that."

"If you choose to not identify yourself, I may have to hang up sir."

"Michael Jackson."

Elder Errol paused. "I am very close with Brother Jackson, and I can tell you with 100% confidence that you, sir, are not Michael Jackson."

"No, that's who I have information about. I know you people have been unhappy with him. I am, too."

"I'm sorry sir, I cannot discuss any of these matters with you. Good night—"

"He's made a music video about the occult."

"What?!"

"Do I have your attention now?"

Joseph stared out of the large, spotless window panes from the living room of his 15th story condominium. The decorum was very masculine, lush black leather furniture filled the rooms that glowed under the dim nighttime lighting. The bright, twinkling neon lights of Vegas beckoned him to come back out and bask in all they had to offer. The women, the gambling, the fancy cars, the furs, the entertainment.

But first things first. No son of his was going to ban him from the set of some silly video they were making, especially after they way he'd handled such an innocent misunderstanding of weeks earlier. He hadn't hurt her that much. B*tch cut her own damn foot. But nonetheless, Michael refused to listen to anything he had to say aboutanything.

But Joseph knew a group of people who could get through to him no matter what.