|A dramatic ex-wife, a world renowned super star, and an alluring lady...What could possibly go wrong?|
After being divorced from the King of Pop, Naya Bronwyn never believed there would be any chance of repairing her relationship with Michael. She...
Even after I woke up, the feeling of exhaustion overwhelmed me. I restlessly sprawled out on my bed, having no intentions of getting up. My time of relaxation was cut far too short when I heard a pounding knock on the hotel door.
*knock knock*
"Mike you need to get up. We've got some issues." Said the figure from the hallway.
I let out an unwilling grunt and rolled over to my other side. After a couple more minutes, the figure knocked even louder, signaling his short temper.
"Now Michael! We need to get these solved pronto!" Barked the individual.
I use my tired arms to prop myself up and get out of bed. Rambling over to the door, I peer through the small peephole. There I view that it is my manager Frank, smoking a cigar.
Oh shit...
I open the door to expose Frank and his distressed face. I could tell this little conversation would most likely not end on a positive note. After gesturing for him to enter, he came in and pulled out numerous tabloids. He forcefully slapped them on the nearby table to get my full attention.
I pick one up and examine the cover.
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I give a flabbergasted look to Frank who is still holding a cold expression.
"Oh come on Frank, you know none of this is true. It's all just garbage." I say to try to appease him.
"Oh I know it isn't true, but it doesn't matter what I think. It matters what the people think and they're thinking it's true. That's where the problems start, Michael." He scolds me.
"Well she's gone now. The problems should end right?" I asked.
"Not quite. We only have one day to hire another girl for that part. That also includes teaching choreography and rehearsal. You can thank your little girlfriend for that." He remarks.
"Frank, she is not my girlfriend! We're friends! Good friends! She has done a lot of work for me and I really appreciated that." I defended Tatiana.
"Yeah a lot of work. You know I hear she works for you at least three times a week in your hotel room during the tour. A lot of loud work that includes you, her, and your bed." He snaps and lifts from his seat.
I sat there mouth opened in shock. No words came to my mind to defend myself.
"And you wonder why the press is on your ass with the relationship between you and her. Quit lying to yourself, Mike." He finishes and slams the door shut.
