The tour

Chapter 1

It was a good day to stand on the corner of Venice Beach in Los Angeles. Fridays usually were. There were many tourists in the city passing the place, and they always threw coins in the bucket.

Kristina was happy with the earnings of the day, and planning to pack up and go back to her shared apartment in the downtown centre within minutes. Her fingers were aching from the hard metalstrings on her black guitar, but she couldn't seem to stop. She was in the zone with her music, and had gathered a small listening and watching crowd in spite of the slowly starting rain and the wind from the ocean. Ignoring the pain in her fingers on the right hand, she started playing the intro to her own version of Michael Jacksons 'Stranger in Moscow'. It was the same lyrics, but she had switched up the melody and the tune a bit. She liked it, and people passing by always gave her a buck or two when playing it.

'I was wandering in the rain

Mask of life, feeling insane'

she started, but she soon got distracted by someone in the corner of her eye. An old man it looked like, had joined her watching crowd, and he was staring at her intently. It kinda creeped Kristina out. He looked to be having an entourage of very big men wearing black suits and constantly talking into cellphones. The old man was conversing intensely with one of them, and he kept pointing towards Kristina. She started to get nervous. Was he from the IRS or something?

Being that Kristina was an exchange student, she wasn't allowed to play music for money in the streets. Actually, she wasn't allowed to earn money at all in the states. She was in California on a scholarship as part of her candidate-studies in journalism at UCLA, but the scholarship only paid the tuition fee, and she wasn't getting financial aid from the school or her parents back in Denmark. So if she wanted to make a living, she would have to play in the streets. Not that she minded that at all. Kristina had always had a secret dream of becoming a musician, but had gone the more secure way by studying journalism. She'd always been told she was good at playing guitar, which she had done for the past ten years or so, and she loved taking well known songs, such as Stranger in Moscow, and mixing them up a bit. Still recognizable, but definitely her own version.

'Swift and sudden fall from grace

Sunny days seem far away'

she continued, trying to ignore the creepy old guy, who was now seeking intense eye contact with her.

'Ugh,' she thought. This wasn't the first time guys became attracted to her solely from her looks. The 24 year old Kristina had very blonde, short hair, cut completely short in one side, and big blue eyes. Very scandinavian. She wasn't very tall, but she was quite slim and had a smile, that made your heart skip a beat, and eyes, that could melt you with their stare. And that was usually an advantage, especially being a journalist, but it did have disadvantages. As now, where an old creepy man thought she was interested in him. It sure looked like that was what he thought, the way he was starring at her.

'Could you just leave a buck and move on?' she thought to herself. At that moment one of the big muscular guys came towards her bucket and left something in it. She couldn't see exactly what it was, but it wasn't green, so it wasn't a note.

'Seriously, you're throwing garbage in my bucket?' she thought angrily to herself, rolling her eyes and facing the other side of the crowd. Now she just wanted to finish the song and get away from the old guy.

'Stranger in Moscow...' she finished with her high soprano-voice. People started clapping.

'Thank you so much! I will be here again on monday from 4 o'clock, don't miss it!' she said and bowed to the people who started walking away. She tried not to face the old man, thinking he might still be there, and collected the bucket to start counting the money. 57 dollars. Not bad for a three hour-round, she thought to herself. Then she noticed the paper that the bodyguard-looking dude had put in the basket. But why would he be a bodyguard for that old man? He didn't look famous or rich to Kristina. She unfolded the paper, and immediately had a shock when she saw, what it said:

'You're an amazing guitarist and I would love to hear you play more. I'm holding auditions for my next world tour tomorrow. Please consider it.' The note also had a number on it.

It wasn't so much the message that had Kristina holding her breath. It was the name of the man, who had signed it. She had seen that autograph a million times before and she recognized it instantly.

Michael Jackson.