Saving Michael Jackson

Betrayed and Captured

"Act like a married couple," she said flatly.

"What?" I whispered, confused, then turned toward Michael.

He was giggling. Giggling.
I blinked at him slowly. Is he enjoying this?
I was having a full internal breakdown and he looked like this was some kind of light afternoon theatre exercise.

I lowered my voice again.
"Won't you at least tell us your name?" I whispered toward her. "So we don't screw up your weird game?"

Without even turning around properly, she answered, "Crystal. Now move."

We walked up to the front of the house. The scale of it hit me immediately. Three tall, sharply dressed men stood at the entrance like statues that had learned how to breathe. They blocked the way without saying a word at first, just observing us.

"Hello," crystal said politely, adjusting her posture instantly. "Uhm... me and my parents have a meeting with Mr. Lopez?"

One of the men stepped forward.
"Name?" he asked, voice cold.

Crystal didn't hesitate.
"Just tell him I have his present. He'll know who I am."

A pause.
The man's eyes moved slowly over all of us—too slowly. Like he was peeling layers off our faces. I felt it immediately: suspicion.
Crystal met his stare without blinking. Then, after a long second, he gave a subtle nod to someone inside.

He went in.
My throat tightened.
"Is this going to work?" I whispered under my breath.

"Stop talking," she said instantly.

A few seconds later, the man returned and opened the door wider, gesturing for us to enter.
The man starts analyzing me and Michael from up until down. I can see he is suspecting something by the look of his eyes.

We stepped inside. And I immediately forgot how to breathe properly. The house wasn't just rich. It was absurd. Gold stairs curved upward like something out of a dream someone had too much money to finish properly. Gold statues lined the hallway like silent guards. Even the couch—the couch—looked like it belonged in a museum instead of somewhere people actually sat. Paintings covered the walls, each one more expensive-looking than the last. Everything shimmered. Everything watched.

"Well, won't you look at that," a voice said.

We all froze. A man came down the stairs slowly, arms open like he was greeting guests at a celebration only he understood.
I looked up at him. He wore large rings on nearly every finger, a blue-and-white striped suit that was far too confident for its own good, and a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. Balding slightly, heavier in build, his presence filled the room in a way that made the air feel tighter.
He looked amused. Too amused.

"You even brought me two," he said, rubbing his hands together as his eyes landed on me.

Crystal glanced around the room.
"Dang," she muttered under her breath, barely audible. "You don't celebrate Christmas?" Then added, quieter, "stupid."

I looked at her, confused. Then back at the man.
What was happening right now? Is this still acting? I wasn't ready for any of this.

"Now," he said smoothly, "I will let John lead you to the office room. He'll tell you about your sister."

Crystal smiled instantly.
"Thank you so much. I will forever be grateful for this."

"Sister?" I repeated, forcing a smile that felt completely disconnected from my brain. Crystal didn't even look at me.

"I'm sorry, girl," she said lightly, already turning away with the men. "But family is important."

And just like that, she walked off. With them.
Leaving us. My stomach dropped.