Bound By Contract

Chapter Three

Christina's P.O.V.

Two weeks go by and I have finally set for myself a work rhythm that is manageable. I think Luisa is just ticked off that I am able to adjust so quickly. Who knows what her problem is. Maybe it's that I still sing and dance while I work, but I can't help it. For me, music makes the time fly by and makes it fun. It doesn't give you a chance to think that you're too tired or you're too lazy to do something. While listening to music, you just do it. 

I've noticed Mr. Jackson around the house as well. He is always serious though. I wonder what he is thinking. Poor man has gone through so much.

I arrive ten minutes early for my shift today and it's exceptionally hot outside. It's not supposed to be so warm up here in Santa Maria, but today seems like it is as bad as Los Angeles in July. I take off my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist, leaving me in my white fitted tank top, almost bumping into Luisa in the process. The breeze felt so good against my skin. "Oh, sorry," I apologize, brushing by Luisa. "Good morning."

She looks at me with what seemed like disgust. "Good morning, Christina," she says forcing the words out of her mouth and rushing past me with her broom in her hand as if she couldn't bear to see me a second more. I turn to Rachel and we both laugh out loud, which causes Luisa to turn around in the distance. She probably thinks we're laughing at her, which we are.

Rachel cups her hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Man, Luisa really doesn't like you, does she."

"No, I guess not," I agree, rolling my eyes and we both laugh again.

"Hey, Christina," Rachel calls as we head towards the main house together. "You know something? I've seen Michael check you out."

My eyes widen. "No you haven't," I exclaim punching her playfully in the arm. I can't say I don't get excited at that thought. Michael Jackson checking me out? I know that I am considered by many people to be pretty, although not exceptionally beautiful like you would expect someone like him to be checking out.

"I'm serious," she repeats.

"Well he is a man, Rachel. Men do that. I don't think anything of it," I lie. I really do want to think something of it. I think Mr. Jackson is extremely sexy.

Later on, as I am cleaning in his study, I can't get Rachel's comment out of my head. I have noticed him looking at me once or twice, but then again I am new, and I do sing and dance a lot, so it would be kind of hard not to notice me. But Rachel noticed it too, and she didn't say that he was looking at me. She said 'checking me out'. But I shouldn't get my hopes up. I wish I could stop thinking about this, one, because it's a stupid thought, and two, it's also slowing me down, so I turn up the volume of my iPOD, but not even Kanye West's 'Electric Relaxation' blaring in my ears can take out the incessant thoughts that are swarming around in my head.

A light touch to my left arm startles me so much that I jump. To my horror I see Mr. Jackson's face close to mine when I finally turn around. I can't back away because his desk is directly behind me. I take out my earphones and put my hand to my heart as if I were to slow it down that way. "Mr. Jackson, you scared me."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Christina."

"No, no," I say trying to breathe because I am still quite shaken. "It's okay. Can I do anything for you, sir?"

"Yes, I was looking for you, actually. I couldn't find you, you're always all over the place," he says, looking a bit nervous, glancing over his shoulder to the open study door as if he is worried someone would see him. "Um, are you busy tonight?" I shake my head. Even if I was busy, I wouldn't be busy for him. I'd cancel dinner with the Queen of England if Mr. Jackson asked me to. "Can you come over around eight, then?"