Gods & Monsters [mj]

VI

She blinked at the headline twice, sure that her eyes had conjured the image out of thin air.

But even as she did so, the image remained. Grainy yet clear. There was herself, dressed in her black tight dress, her hands on his arm as she grinned. And there was he allowing himself to be dragged, a smirk on those stupid lips of his.

When did she start to panic?

Panic.

What did this mean? Had they been caught then? Was she going to be attacked by millions of fangirls? Was her life over? Would she need to change her name to Garcia and move to Mexico?

She breathed out, suddenly more awake and alert than ever. Feeling weird about the blinds being open, she rushed over to close them and then sank to the floor with the newspaper in hand.

She scanned through the article cautiously and with trepidation.

Last night, Michael Jackson was spotted with a mysterious, dark skinned lady. Far from his type! It appears everyone, even dark skins, are under the impression that they have a chance to be with Michael Jackson. The mania continues..

She couldn't read anymore and tossed the paper to the side. The writers weren't subtle at all with their distaste for her skin colour.

Jocelyn had never felt bad about having darkskin, and she never would feel bad about it, she was just incredibly annoyed that it was made to be such a big deal. She was under the impression that times were changing.

For God's sake some of the most iconic pop stars of the decade were black, such as Prince and Whitney and though she would never utter it to his face, Michael too. Or maybe it wasn't just black people in general, perhaps it was just dark skinned black people.

Her blood boiled and she silently clenched her fists. Her mood had done a complete 360.

A knock sounded at her door softly.

She begrudgingly went to open it, not caring if her facial expression resembled a storm.

Ana, her neighbour, stood outside in her pyjamas, her blonde hair uncombed, eyes wide and her mouth too to the point where she'd catch flies.

''What?'' Jocelyn demanded.

''You're- you'' Ana stammered. ''You were with M-Michael Jack-Jackson.''

''If that's all you came to say, then go away. I'm not in the mood right now, Ana.'' Jocelyn sighed.

Ana stared at her with disbelief. ''I just can't believe you were brave enough to launch yourself at him.''

''I'm really not-'' Jocelyn paused hearing the latter part of the sentence. ''Sorry, what? Did you just say I launched myself at him? Like some kind of desperate whore?''

Ana held her hands up. ''Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm just repeating what I heard.''

Jocelyn frowned at her and folded her arms. ''Heard from who?''

''Michael Jackson said it himself.''

''What?No he never...''

Ana gave her a look. ''You haven't turned on the news yet, have you?'' Ana strode straight past her and into her living room, grabbing the remote and switching channels.

The TV cackled to life and Michael appeared looking incredibly reserved, black shades masking his eyes from the world, speaking in that fake voice of his that made Jocelyn cringe.

There were five different microphones from every  and each angle jostling, desperately trying to latch on to every single word he said. His arm was slung over Tatiana who looked annoyed by all the people surrounded around them.