{A Michael Jackson Story}
He was broken glass, and she was untouchable. She thought she could read people, but he was a book without words. She held him in her hands, but she could not trust his actions, or even her own perceptions. After all, some...
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{ M A U R A}
I could hardly sleep, and I couldn't eat.
All I could think about was Jax, and figuring out who the hell he was.
I got a decent description from Macy's colorful storytelling, but that wasn't enough. The girl was my bestfriend, but sometimes she could be more than a little useless.
I laid staring up at the canopy of my bed the entire night. By the time grey early morning light was pouring through my window, I'd come to the conclusion that there was only one way to dig deeper: my father.
Robert Vanderbilt was an unusually normal man.
He was the majority shareholder in Vanderbilt Industries, he owned property in four of the seven continents. He married Melissa Fitzgerald, of one of the most noble families in Chicago. Yet every morning (assuming he's in the country at the time), he would be sitting at the kitchen table with nothing but a newspaper, a cup of coffee, and a pleasant smile for me.
Both my parents were normal by the standards of the time. Of course, I had a curfew, we had family dinners as often as we could. That being said, they did spoil the crap out of me- but that's a different story.
That morning, when I emerged from my bedroom in a silk bathrobe and slippers, my father smiled up at me from the dining room table. He folded his newspaper gently and cleared his throat expecantly- he could already tell I wanted something.
"Hi, daddy," I said sweetly.
"What is it, and how much does it cost?"
"Oh daddy," I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Is that what you really think of me?"
"Yes. Who are you trying to fool, darling? I raised my girl with expensive tastes. Now, is it Tiffany's this time? Or Harry Winston?"
"Neither," I said gently, crossing my arms and sitting down beside him. "What I want doesn't cost money."
Mom walked into the room a few seconds later, holding her very own cup of coffee. Her dark blue eyes narrowed with amusement after she saw the look on my dad's face. They could always communicate without words- I never knew how.
"What did she ask for this time, Rob? The key to the city?"
"No, apparently it doesn't cost money this time."
I sighed. "It doesn't. I just want permission to use daddy's computer-thingy to look up a few files, that's all. There's an elusive person I'm trying to find."
Mom came around and started petting my hair, I cringed when her fingers inevitably got caught in the unkempt curls. I looked at my dad's neat afro with hidden envy- his hair never seemed to get caught on anything.
