Smile (a Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

(83)

Evan's POV

I sit quietly in the corner of the bar as I watch drug trades, private meetings and everything in between going on around me. I look to the door to see a large, stalky man who has just walked in and he nods before walking towards me.

"Been a long time, eh Evan?" he smirks, pulling a cigarette from his chest pocket as he sits in the small, unstable chair that could break under him at any minute.

"What do you want?" I grin with annoyance. This idiot always comes to me for the dumbest reasons.

"I'm not here for the money or drugs this time," he breathes, knowing that's exactly what I'm thinking, "I just want something that I think you'd be interested in as well."

"Well maybe if you'd stop beating around the bush and fucking tell me, I could tell you whether I want it or not." I snap, folding my arms.

"Damn, something's up your ass," he chuckles as the waitress comes around with two glasses of whiskey, "I want revenge on Emma Abella." he smirks and my brows shoot up.

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, making him chuckle because he knows he has me.

"Well," he begins, sucking back the whole glass of whiskey, "It has something to do with that pretty boy, Jackson," he smirks, shaking his head, "He means everything to her, and vice versa. It's disgusting," he sneers, "But it could work if we are trying to get revenge."

I smile, tapping my fingers against the arm of the wooden chair, as I finish my whiskey and the two shots in front of me before sucking a lime.

"You're right about them depending on each other," I murmur, throwing the peel in the glass, "When I was dating her friend, she looked at him with love in her eyes and all that shit," I shake my head. That should be me. Her love should be for me, not him.

"You were with that stupid blonde bitch?!" he glares at me, and I smirk, not letting him have the satisfaction of knowing I fucked Sophie.

"No, I was with the fag, Brady," I chuckle, shaking my head, as he laughs cruelly, "Oh shut up, man. I did what I had to do to try and get Emma back for myself." I grumble, finishing the other glass of scotch in front of me before taking a hit of the joint that I've left in the ash tray.

"You're not going to get her back until we get rid of that bitch, Jackson," he smirks, showing his crooked, yellow teeth, "I don't know how we are going to do it, but I know we have to in order to make her life a living hell."

I smile, partially agreeing, but I don't want to make her life a living hell. I just want her all to myself. If making her life a living hell is what I have to do for her to be mind, I'll do it, but I'd rather she'd just submit easily. Maybe she'll come crying to me if I get rid of Michael.

"Okay, then what are we going to do to get rid of the pop star?" I ask smugly and he shrugs stupidly before looking away.

"Just give him a shot to the head, heart, or stomach I guess. I don't give as fuck, we just need to make sure whatever we do tears Emma to pieces. Then she'll finally pay for being the bastard child that she's always been." he mumbles the last part and I feel my blood start to boil as my temper rises.

Emma is no bastard child. We have two completely different motives, obviously. Getting rid of Jackson is for both of us, but I don't know how much I'll tolerate the way he's talking about my girl.

"It's gone be that quick?" I scoff, tapping the side of my glass with my ring.

"Of course," he smirks, resting his arm on the back of the chair, "This isn't some movie where it takes forever to kill the good guys," he sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands from his chair and looks down to me, "Either you kill him, or I will. If you get to it first, good for you, but otherwise, I'll do it for myself. Just do whatever you can when you have the chance."

I nod slowly, standing to face him as I hold my hand out to shake his.

"Until next time, Evan," he smirks, gripping my hand firmly.

"Until next time, Daniel."