BAD {Michael Jackson}

{BAD...8}

Wednesday Afternoon~

Alexis's POV:

We stopped in front of a mansion much like the last one. It looked a little older, and not as modern. We all got out of the car.

This time. Carlos put in the code. The heavy double doors opened to let us inside. This house was just as breathtaking as the last!

"How do you guys have two places like this?!" I asked in awe.

Andre chuckled. "You know, money."

"Where are we?" I asked. "Mexico!" Carlos said excitedly. "Feels good to be back."

By the looks of Carlos, I can tell this is is home land.

"Since Rio's dumbass spent all my money, I have to hope that Frank was smart enough to keep my money safe while I was locked up. I put him in charge for a reason." Michael said. "We're going to the club again."

"You have a club down here in Mexico?" I inquired. He smirked. "The Jackson Elite doesn't have any boarders. Or as they call it down here, El élite de Jackson." He said.

I wondered why he had so many locations and what they were for.

Michael cleared his throat. "I need all of you to look as best as you can tonight. Now that we're out of the states, we can go back to our high profile status. That's all they've ever seen me as down here, and that's all they ever will see."

~

We walked into El élite de Jackson. It looked just like the one in Texas, except everything was in Spanish.

This was a big time club! I looked around and saw many Mexican celebrities such as Becky G, and Dulce María.

"Hola Señor!" One of the dancers greeted. She was dressed just as skimpy as the ones in the U.S. possibly even more.

He smirked as she continued to charm him with her dancing and seductive accent.

"Gracias, Melanie." He said. "But I have somewhere to be. Get back to your pole. Time is money."

She frowned before trudging back up onto the stage and swirling her body around the pole.

We followed Michael to the back of the club. He stopped in front of a door with a labeling that said. "Oficina."

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. A man sat behind the desk with a cigar in his mouth. In the corner sat a girl with blonde hair. Her eyes sparkled with lust as she looked at Michael in his white suit.

I didn't blame her at all, but she didn't have to stare so hard.

" Michael!" The man said, getting up from his seat. "It's me." Michael answered.

"How was the slammer?" Frank asked with a laugh. Michael only raised a brow. He held his stone face.

Frank grew uneasy by his silence and began blabbering.

"Business has been booming since you were gone. Didn't you see how crowded it was out there? People love this place!"

Michael nodded. "Great! So that must mean you have quite a bit of my money to hand over."

Frank nodded. "Sure do!"

Frank opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of Mexican currency. He plopped it on the desk and gestured toward Michael. "All yours."

Michael stepped toward the desk and began counting the money under his breath.

When he finished, it totaled half a million.