The Con Artist (A Michael Jackson fanfiction) (Completed)

Prologue

No one ever tells you how fun it really is to run a con. Running cons was such a fun lifestyle, really.

Assuming different identities and separating suckers from their money, sometimes all of it.

That is, until I got caught. An awful shame, really.

This all started three years ago, 1984, I was young, nineteen to be exact. I was fresh out of high school and moving into the big city New York for college. I'd been mostly sheltered my entire life because my intelligence had been higher than most. It was always good to be smart but it could be dangerous as well.

My parents were hesitant, insisting that there was nothing for a girl like me in the big city. That I'd learned all there is to learn about the world from my studies. But they didn't understand.

Knowledge was a never ending thing, I needed to grow and learn more about the world outside of studies. So, here I am.

Anyways, my first day in New York is where all this madness started. I was going to see my apartment for the first time and well, I didn't exactly have a car so I had to walk and eventually take the ferry.

Honestly, had I been a tad more patriotic, the sight of the Statue of Liberty nearby would've had me tickled. But, my apartment was more important.

Carrying my bags onto a ferry full of disrespectful and judging eyes wasn't all that great; all the people weren't exactly eye catching except one guy. He had jet black hair, hazel eyes, and caramel skin. His arms were covered in tattoos since he was wearing a muscle tank I could see them clearly. There were no other seats on the ferry and the only one happened to be by him so I tried to kindly ask him.

"Excuse me." I poke his shoulder and he doesn't even look up in my direction.

"Yes?"

"Is this seat taken?"

"No," He replies with a thick accent I can't recognize, refusing to look at me and keeping his sole attention on the phone in his hands.

"Do you mind if I sit here then?"

"Yes," he sneered, still not paying attention to my attempts at being friendly and break the ice. I nodded and noticed another seat across from him that had become vacant. I had become way too interested in him to notice or really acknowledge his obvious disinterest in me. After a few moments of writing in a well-worn journal, his expression became even more annoyed than when I spoke to him. He began rummaging through a bag by his feet that I just now noticed.

"Are you looking for something?" I started again in another attempt to get him talking. He finally flicked his stare up and looked directly at me, his daunting hazel eyes quickly looking away.

He looked like he was going to say something in response but he quickly stopped himself and went back to rummaging through his bag, obviously realizing that he was wasting his time talking to me. I began to notice he was searching through his wallet for something, some cash for a cab perhaps?

"Do you need some cash for a cab? I have some spare, I think." I started digging into my purse as well scourging up any money I could find in there, he got up to protest, but I denied him the chance as I held out a crisp fifty dollar bill. Courtesy of my grandmother's never ending pocketbook.

"I couldn't-"

"It's okay," I smile, putting my palm out further.

"Sorry about that. Girls can be a little hard sometimes, you know?"

"Are you okay?" I questioned, not very interested in learning his problems.

"Well she's an ex now," he smirked, collecting his belongings and rising to his feet in front of me as the ferry began its opening process, "I'll come back with your change."

As he walked away, realization hit me that he had taken his bag with him. I hopped to my feet with my bags and chased after him.

He took my money, fifty dollars, and walked off the ferry as if I was dumb enough to fall for his petty scam. I wasn't just going to let him get away with it.

"Hey!" I ran as fast I could to catch up to him, bobbing and weaving through the small ramp of passengers. "Hey, wait a minute!"

He turned just as I stopped, and lunged at me and kissed me.

Kissed me.

Naturally, my instinct was to kiss back. It was quite the scene. People getting off the ferry stopped and clutched their hearts, clearly thinking this guy was some hopeless romantic who was kissing a passionate kiss to his lover. His hands clasped my cheeks after slipping my money back into my jacket pocket. My arms found their way around onto his shoulders, pulling him as close as I could get him to me. He smelled like cologne and a mint flavored gum, and his lips were very soft. Somebody cheered us on.

"I'm Nathan," he panted between hasty kisses.

"Stella," I replied just as breathlessly. "Thanks for your attempt at scamming me."

"I do it to everyone," he whispered, pulling a small box from his pocket and holding it between us. "I'm going to get down on one knee and open this so act surprised."

I look at the velvety surface of the box he showed me. Shit.

Not really sure what came over me, but, I actually listened to him. A shock, really. I barely listened to anyone before.

Once he got down on his knee, the crowd that formed around us roared with excitement- some clapping, others whistling. I paint a big smile on my face and nod my head yes before leaning down to hug him.

"Sell it," he whispers in my ear, and I obey. He lifts me up and twirls me in a circle, kissing me as dearly as he did our first kiss (which, yes I'm aware, was almost about a minute ago.) After he put me down, I grinned widely at him and hugged him again. People began coming up to me and put money in my pockets and congratulated me no matter how I much refused. I'm guessing this was his whole plan? To get some vulnerable girl to succumb to his fancy scam?

We began walking down the street hand in hand for a few blocks, and when we arrived at my apartment I quickly set my stuff down beside the entrance.

"You're quite good at this, Stella," he complimented as he stuck all the money he earned (or actually stolen to be honest I couldn't tell) in his bag.

"I could say the same about you," I started carefully, "Why are you even conning people on a ferry?"

"A good show is a good show, no matter where it takes place. Besides, it helps if it's something straight out a cheesy cheap romantic comedy," he states plainly, as if it should've been obvious. "Why did you help me?"

"I-....well...I haven't got the slightest idea...honestly. You're a tad intimidating, since we're being honest," I stammered. He laughed and rested his head on my shoulder. I realized that he hadn't let go of my hand since we got to my apartment building.

"You know I wasn't lying about being available."

"But you're lying to everybody else that you're getting married," I scoffed, "To me, might I add."

"It wouldn't suck," Nathan reasoned. "You're kind of hot."

I learned a few things that day:

One: Nathan was only a year older than me. He originally lived in Arizona, and his favorite food was authentic Italian pizza.

Two: I fell in love for the first time and probably the last time.

Three: Conning pays. And it's fun.

I clenched my fists in order to stop thinking about our first meeting. Back in the jail cell where I sat, scolding myself for letting the memory of how we met come back into my mind. Now I sat thinking only one thing.

I'm getting back to you, Nathan.

My OGs, do you remember this one? Thought I'd revamp this one and republish it! For now, I wanted to rewrite some parts of this story and its sequel. I've been thinking about this for a while. Should I continue? Let me know!