The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..23..

I stop dancing and blink twice.

I had to make sure it wasn't the liquor playing tricks with my eyes and mind.

Is Michael really standing here?

I blink an extra three times and he, in fact, is standing here.

Michael Jackson is standing before me, looking sexy as fuck, in a black Armani button down (rolled up to his elbows), comfortable fitting black jeans, and black Cole Haan loafers.

He really likes wearing black. I think to myself as my eyes, inadvertently, trail up and down his lean body twice.

"What are you doing here, Tamera?" Michael asks, frowning, before looking me over.

His eyes linger at my cleavage, my hips, then exposed legs.

Hmmm, he seems to enjoy what he's seeing.

I smirk and go to turn my back to him.

However, he grabs my elbow and turns me back to face him.

"What are you doing here?" He repeats and I step back from his hold.

"Minding my business." I retort, feeling Andrew at my back. "What are you doing here?"

Andrew wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder in a deliberate taunt at Michael.

"Hello, Mr. Jackson." Andrew smiles. "You clean up nice after hours. And so does Tamera." He kisses my cheek. "Don't you agree?"

Michael stares at Andrew's hands, disapprovingly, before opening his mouth to speak.

"Michael, babe, our table is read--" Britta stops speaking when she sees me and Andrew. "what are you two doing here?"

I narrow my eyes at Michael as she entwines their fingers and he looks away.

"Dancing." Andrew speaks before I can reply or claw Britta's eyes out. "What does it look like, Britt? What are you doing here? You know, besides bucking for a raise... on them rusty knees."

Britta glares at Andrew then smacks her crimson lips. "I'm here to have fun, Drew."

Andrew cocks a brow and deadpans. "I'm sure I know the kind."

"How did you two get in?" Britta asks and her tone is accusatory. "This is an exclusive, invitation only club, you know?"

"We have our connections, Britt. Now to you, how did you get in? This is an exclusive, invitation only, guests-must-have-cuteness, only club, you know?"

"I have my connections too, Drew." Britta smirks at me then looks at Michael, who's looking at me.

"Ohhhhh," Andrew smirks, preparing to go in for the ultimate kill. "did this place all of a sudden become a breeding barn for desperate, thirsty women?"

"Your present company included?" Britta shoots, looking at me, and I arch a brow.

No, this bitch didn't.

"Tamera ain't even in that category, Britt, and cousin, she never will be." Andrew chuckles and I frown. Cousin? "You're trying real hard to possess something she could easily take with one bat of those lovely God given lashes of hers. So who's really thirsty in this desert?"

Britta scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, Drew. Let's go, Michael." She cuts her eyes at me and Andrew. "It's too crowded over here."

With a condescending look, thrown my way, Britta leads Michael away from me, Andrew, and the dance floor.

So much for me having fun tonight.

"She's your cousin?" I ask Andrew over my shoulder.

"Yes," He sighs, rolling his eyes. "but don't hold that against me."

"I won't. It makes sense why she just let you call her a skanky bitch the day we met."

"She knows her names. She better keep her distance if she wants to keep those pretty collagen filled lips." Andrew turns me back around to face him and smiles. "Forget about them. Dance with me, baby."

"He broke our date to go out with her." I speak louder as Andrew pulls me closer to him.

"It doesn't even matter, Tammy." Andrew scoffs as the music changes. "Forget Michael Jackson, because, Tam, there are puh-lenty more fish in the sea. God did not stop making men when he made Michael Jackson. Believe me." Andrew twirls me around twice and holds me from behind. "I belong with you. You belong with me. You're my sweetheart! Smile, love!" I laugh as Andrew twirls me around again, still singing. On the second, twirl around mine and Michael's eyes lock. "Make him regret breaking your date, Tamera." Andrew whispers in my ear from behind. "Make him eat it, baby! Make him wish he could... eat it!! Come on!!"

I giggle, pushing back from Andrew, as upbeat house music comes on.

Taking Andrew's advice, I forget about Michael Jackson's existence as we dance to the next three songs without a care in the world.

**

Eric's sitting at the bar watching Tamera and Andrew dancing when a perky blonde woman walks up to him.

"Not into the club scene?" She smiles, taking the stool beside him.

"Pardon?"

"You're not into the club scene?"

"Am I so obvious?" Eric smiles back, tucking his phone into his pocket.

"You've been sitting here drinking water, watching your girlfriend and her friend dance, since you got here."

"She's not my girlfriend." Eric corrects, looking across the dance floor at Tamera. "She's just a good friend."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed she was your girlfriend. From the way you've been staring at her, it just seemed--"

"I know, but we're not."

"So since she's not your girlfriend... would it be too much for me to ask you to dance?"

Eric breathes in. "I would love to, Miss, but I'm not really much of a dancer."

The woman stands from the stool and holds her hand out to Eric. "It doesn't matter. I'm a great teacher. All you have to do is follow my lead and you'll be fine. What do you say?"

With one more glance in Tamera's direction, Eric smiles, taking the blonde woman's hand, and allows her to lead him to the dance floor.

"By the way," Eric begins as she leads him onto the dance floor. "my name is Eric. What's yours?"

Looking over her shoulder, the woman smiles, catching a wink from Jermaine at the bar, before she answers. "My name is Mika, Eric. Mika Menkina."