Michael Jackson's Secret.

Pilot.

You have had an absolute disaster of a day.
Getting kicked out, broken up with, and to top it all off - you just got fired.
You're not usually one to drink, but this feels justified.
You sit at the bar - sipping on some vodka. You're already 4 shots deep.
After the 6th shot, the bartender turns you down.
"I don't know what the hell went so wrong for you today, but you should probably go home. You'll regret this tomorrow."
Home.
If only he knew what all went wrong.
You walk through the streets. This isn't the nicest area in the city, but the drinks are cheaper - and so are the smokes.
You stop at the drugstore in hopes of buying a pack of cigarettes. You're only 17 so it's hard to find places that will sell to you.
However, with enough makeup, you can definitely make yourself look older - and that's what you did tonight.
You've done this a countless amount of times.
Truthfully - it doesn't matter how old you look, if you walk into the shop nervous as hell - you're not getting shit.
You walk in with full confidence - making your way straight to the counter.
"I'd like a pack of Marlboro Red Label Shorts please."
The man looks you up and down.
"I need your ID."
You start scavenging through your bag. Digging through it. Looking for your 'Id.'
"Shit! I must've dropped it down at the bar."
The cashier is very unamused.
"Sorry girl, no ID, no smokes."
You step up your game. This is a last resort.
You get onto your knees and begin pouring the contents of your bag onto the floor.
All your shit is lying around as you pretend to dig for an ID that doesn't exist.
"Alright, alright. I'll let it slide this time."
You gather up your things - which are completely scattered around on the floor at this point.
You notice the other customers staring.
Whatever.
You pay and leave the shop. You sit down on the curb outside.
You light a cigarette - breathing in the relief.
This has been a night from hell.
Suddenly, you hear footsteps. Before you know it, a man sits down next to you.
This is the last thing you need. For a horny, old ass man to bug you.
"Can I help you?"
You don't have the patience right now. You are drunk, tired, and homeless.
"Sorry, I saw you inside - thought maybe you needed someone to talk to?"
You turn to look at him.
Damn.
He looks good.
He has curly hair, brown skin, and eyes that could kill.
You didn't need to talk, but you did have something else in mind.
"Sorry, it's been quite the night. You see, my boyfriend of 3 years broke up with me, I got kicked out of my house, and on top of all that - I got fired."
His eyes widen. I don't think he expected to sign up for all this.
"You can go, really. I'm a drunk mess."
He looks at you for a little longer.
"If you want, we can drive around for a bit? I'm assuming you don't have anywhere to go?"
This is good. A nice, late-night drive. Exactly what you need to clear your mind.
You agree.
After hoping into his car - which is a polished BMW convertible - he switches the gear to drive and starts to make his way onto the road.
Holy shit - this guy is terrible at driving.
You get honked at 3 times at the least. He's lucky that you're drunk.
Any and all stress is nonexistent.
"Sorry, I'm not usually the one behind the wheel."
He plays it off with a small chuckle.
"I could kinda tell."
You tease.
The two of you make it onto a hill, looking over the city. He parks the car.
Is it showtime?
"So, why'd you and your boyfriend break up?"
Dammit. Here he comes with the questions.
All you need right now is some drunk sex.
You and your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend, have been together for 3 years.
High school sweethearts. He's your first, and who were hoping for to be your last.
"If I were to tell you why we broke up, we would be here for hours."
He starts to talk again. You interrupt.
"Look - I know my first impression is probably in the gutters already, but all I want right now is sex. Lots of it."
That definitely shut him up.
It looks as though he's thinking about it. Doesn't take him too long to decide.
Before you know it, the two of you are in the backseat.
Let's just say, you make love till the break of dawn.
Good sex - really good.
Comparing this to your ex is like comparing apples and oranges.
It's a little past sunrise. You two nodded off for a bit after last night.
"So, where do I take you?"
Good question. You genuinely have nowhere to go.
"Just take me to my mom's house."
You give him the address.
You don't expect her to let you back in - but it would be absolutely humiliating for him to drop you off at a random street.
"I hate to do this, but can you promise not to tell anyone about last night? If people find out, it could cause some serious trouble for me."
Who the hell is this guy? Why is he talking as if he's famous?
Of course you chose an egoistic bastard.
"Yeah, sure."
He's pulls up in front of your mom's house - she's sitting in the porch.
When she sees you - her mouth drops.
"Bye, and thanks."
He drives off.
"Jeez mom, don't tell me you weren't expecting me to come home."
She's still in shock. I guess it wasn't you that she was shocked at?
"Why the hell did Michael Jackson just drop you off?"
You know who Michael Jackson is - well, you know his music. Nice songs. You've never seen his face though.
He's always just been a name that you heard buzzing around you.
"That was Michal Jackson?"
Holy shit. He wasn't egoistic. If anything - he was humble as hell.
Surprisingly, she lets you back into the house.
Chances are, the whole Michael Jackson situation made her forget why she kicked you out in the first place.
"So, what'd you two do?"
Obviously there's no way you can tell her the truth. You think of something on the spot. You're a good liar.
"I spent the night outside, he saw me walking around and offered a ride. Nice guy honestly."
Your mother remained amused.
After some more questions, you run off into your room.
The first thing you do is look up Michael Jackson on your computer.
A picture comes up - it's definitely him.
You start digging - deep.
You read about his childhood - a sad one at that, his music, his relationships. All of it.
By the end of the morning, you could pass for one of his biggest fans.
The thing that intrigued you the most was his relationships.
The first things that popped up when you even searched his name:
'Diana Moss and Michael Jackson together at award show.'
'Diana Moss and Michael Jackson rumored to have slept together.'
'Diana Moss and Michael Jackson announce romantic relationship.'
All the articles were recent - too recent.
If the articles are telling the truth, that would mean he totally cheated on her.
No wonder he wanted to keep it a secret.
You spend the rest of the day hungover as hell.
All this and you still have school in the morning.
After taking a long shower and doing your night routine, you lay in bed.
Your mom walks into your room.
"Goodnight sweetheart. I'm really glad you're home. Don't stay up too late okay? School tomorrow."
Your mother shuts the door behind her.
As you lay in the dark, you begin hearing footsteps outside.
They creep closer and closer to your room.
Suddenly you see a shadow outside your window.
Your bed is right next to the window. You glance up to see Michael.
Why is he back?