The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..27..

"So what's going on with you and "the boss" these days, cousin?" Andrew asks Britta as she leans against his counter. "You still getting semen samples in the bathroom?"

Britta rolls her eyes at Andrew as she says, "Unfortunately, no."

"No? Really?"

"Yes. It's just professional between us now, Drew." Britta puffs, staring at the split ends of her hair. "We're not doing anything. It's not like I don't want to. It's him."

"Oh?" Andrew sighs and for no particular reason.

"Since that altercation, at the club, with that bitc--" Andrew gives her a warning look and she, stopping short of calling Tamera a bitch, clears her throat. "The day after that night at the club, Mr. Jackson told me he couldn't "do it anymore". He just wants me to be his assistant and that's it."

"You're not much of an assistant, Britt. Honestly, he should have fired you." Andrew smiles and Britta arches a brow.

"I'm good at what I do, assisting that is, Andrew. That's why he didn't fire me." Britta states, proudly.

"Or maybe he didn't want you turning your firing into some sexual harassment suit."

"I wouldn't do that, Drew." Britta gasps, and it's obviously fake.

Andrew scoffs, smiling sweetly at his cousin. "Yeah, right. Remember, Britta, I know you for the whore you've been since age fifteen."

Britta rolls her eyes, smiling. "Anyways, I still have my job and things between Mr. Jackson and I are strictly professional. There are no hard feelings. I'm his assistant and he is my boss."

"Are you okay with that though?"

"Of course, I am. Why would I not be?"

"Seriously, Britt, the way you loved swallowing that man, do you really think you can handle just being his assistant and not his strumpet du jour?"

"Overlooking that last jest..." Britta glares as Andrew giggles. "I've been handling it for almost a month now, Drew."

"Can you handle it, Britta?" Andrew repeats, enunciating.

Britta sighs heavily, pondering his question. "Yes, I can handle it." She assures, staring into space. "Just as long as Tamera's not in the picture. If she's not involved, I can handle just about anything concerning Michael Jackson."

**

"Bunny!" Malcolm cheers as he walks up to me, arms stretched wide, to pull me into a hug.

Michael shakes Eric's hand as I, clutching my notepad to the front of my body, hug my father with one arm.

"How are you today, Michael?" Eric asks as mine and Michael's eyes meet again.

"I'm good." Michael replies, staring at me discreetly. "How are you, Eric?"

"The same." He smiles, brushing his suit jacket sleeves. "Just eager to start this meeting with you and Mr. Stewart."

"How is my baby girl?" Malcolm asks, cupping my face, and that brings my eyes from Michael.

"I'm well, Daddy." I smile, softly and shyly. "You?"

"Great, now that I'm seeing you." Malcolm kisses my forehead before hugging me again. "We haven't talked in almost a month. What's going on?"

"Sorry about that, Daddy." I apologize, sincerely, feeling Michael's piercing eyes on me. "I've just been really busy. I haven't really talked to anyone to be honest."