Michael; Behind the Glass

Chapter 1: A Break in the Peace

Michaela's POV

I slowly wake up from my long slumber, adjusting my eyes to the sunlight that is now streaming through the gap in my blinds, I squint being blinded by such bright natural occurrences. My eyes suddenly shut once again, hoping that I would with some reluctance be able to get back to sleep. Around two seconds pass by before I hear that all familiar screech from the telephone on the nightstand beside my bed. I sigh, thinking I'd never get any peace, I was supposed to be on a break after all; entitled to some kind of decorum you would think. I guess not. I roll my eyes before picking up the phone and putting on a pleasantly, well mannered tone of voice. Hiding all elements of annoyance.

"Hello?" I say, wondering what could possibly be needed of me now.

"Michaela, you're never going to guess what I've got you!" The voice of my manager; Dave speaks in an excited shout. That was the thing about Dave, he never really understood the joys of solitary silence or being quiet. It was either shout or even worse; scream.

I take a deep sigh, hoping that he hadn't heard me. I mean, I was supposed to be relaxing, I didn't really want any more work at the moment. "What have you got me, Dave?" I ask, trying to sound excited, even though the feeling clearly was not mutual.

"You're going to a concert, and not just any old concert, Michaela!" He says in a tone that represented the cat that had got the cream.

"A concert?" I reply, wondering why on earth he would have booked me to go to a concert. After all, a concert was supposed to be recreational, and he was my business manager.

"That's right. You're going to see MJ" He says down the phone.

"Michael Jackson?" I start laughing as the whole situation seemed utterly ridiculous. I mean what relevance had Michael Jackson got to do with anything. I was a writer and movie star, not a musician.

"Yes, Michael Jackson. You didn't think Michael Jordan did you?" He says, trying to crack a joke but miserably failing, I was glad that he couldn't see my face because I was rolling my eyes at this point.

"Dave, why on earth are you sending me to see Michael Jackson?" I asked, completely confused at his decision making.

"Come on, Michaela. It'll be fun, you'll have a great time." He says, trying to convince me.

"Dave, what has this got to do with business?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, I was thinking that you could get some inspiration from him, I mean he's the biggest selling artist of all time, you're bound to learn something from him! Plus it'll look really good in the media, people like to see celebrities doing normal things!" He exclaims, finally the truth was coming out. I always cringed when he used the word celebrities, as I wasn't all that well known yet and it always made you sound like you had an ego.

I take a deep sigh. "Fine, Dave. I'll go, but i swear if this isn't worth it!" I protest.

"Good, I've arranged for you to be picked up at 7. And wear something hot" he says, making me roll my eyes once again.

"Okay, Dave. I'll be ready" I say before putting the phone down and playing with the ringlets in the cord.