The Caged Passion ( A Michael Jackson Fanfic)

Chapter V

Saturday August 1, 2009 9:30PM

Michael

I pushed my fake mustache down on my top lip, letting the adhesive take effect. I glued on a short beard that went just right with my mustache. Hah! She may not even recognize me... I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I stashed all my hair up into a backwards black baseball cap and wore different style of shades.

I wouldn't survive another hot summer night under that same black hoodie, so I traded it for a simple red, white, and a grey plaid long sleeved shirt. I had a pair of normal jeans and just a plain pair of white sneakers.

Even without the shades I'd probably be unrecognizable. My eyes were dark with such terrible bags underneath of them. I was running on pure adrenaline and boy... every time I thought of getting to see Vivian again I felt a new surge of it.

Nothing could stop me from getting out of this hotel.

10:00PM

Vivian

"....bastard said he was working overtime... Well where's that overtime pay?! We're damn near bout to have our electric cut off..." Mrs. Elliot took another sip of her vodka on the rocks. When she ordered that instead of her usual Sex on the Beach, I knew it must have been a rough night.

"Uh huh... God that's awful, Mrs. Elliot." I was wiping the bar top down in the area near her, just humoring her as she went on and on.

"When I find this bitch he's been cheatin' on me with... I swear it... Im'ma gonna kill her." She spoke pointing her finger at me threateningly as if I was the one. She was plastered. I just smirked at her and shook my head. It was pretty dead tonight. It wasn't uncommon for the younger people to migrate to Vegas instead of sticking around here being that we were only twenty minutes away, but it wasn't like this every weekend. Something huge must be going on.

Movement at the end of the bar caught my eye and I saw a strange fella with weird facial hair sitting there in a red plain shirt and a cap on backwards. He lifted his large hand and wiggled his fingers at me. Michael... "Excuse me, Mrs. Elliot, I've got to go take this guy's order."

"Oh all right dear... I'll just sit here and..." her voice faded out as I moved away from her and towards my new favorite regular.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" I leaned forward on the bar and tickled his fake beard lightly with my fingertips. "Barely recognized you, thriller boy." I whispered his nickname. His light brown cheeks darkened to a shade of pink and he shook his head. It was fun making him uncomfortable. I never expected Michael Jackson to be such a bashful character... It's cute. I stared at him for a while and he hesitantly took a glance at my face.

"So...how are you?" he asked quietly looking down at his hands that were up on the bar top fiddling with each other. Hell, he was making me nervous. I grabbed one of his hands, flipped it over and began randomly tracing the patterns on his palm as I answered him.

"Oh, you know... same shit different day..." I said vaguely, studying his palm remembering a funny little reading my friends and I used to do in junior high. "You're going to have three children." I said randomly counting the three lines on the side of his palm.

He pulled his hand away from me and looked at the lines. "Girl, are you for real?" And that seemed to break the ice!

I snickered at him, sticking my tongue out through my teeth. His eyes widened when he saw my tongue ring.

"Wha...why... ouch..."

I laughed at his reaction. "Maybe someday you'll get to see what it's for..."