tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

February 21ˢᵗ ─ 8:20 ᵃᵐ

"It's nice to know we stroll the same park so early in the day." James said, as we walked alongside each other down the long pathway.

I felt like my entire body was pounding along with my heart, because I was so shocked. So afraid, but the feeling of stupidity, because all of the signs were there.

 I unraveled everything. And it felt like soon it was coming to an end. "What a lie, we both know you weren't passing through by a coincidence." I replied, staring solemnly at my feet.

James Bartholomew, I used to think he was very cute. I was always running through people in my head thinking, who could be mask? But he was right up on my television screen.

I had actually slept with the man. 

"That is true, Diana. I came here because you were."

I stopped walking, running in front of him and lifting my hand. "You slept with me, letting me think you were some lousy reporter who'd forget my name and face in the morning." I hissed. "But you're the one, the one who forced Michael and I to break up, forced him to leave home. You nearly got him killed because of some test!" I raged.

James chuckled, placing both hands on my shoulders. "You should really calm down, Diana. You're beginning to attract bystanders." He twisted me back to my spot beside him and we continued walking. "And you were dumb enough to think I'd forget your name and face?" He chuckles again, as if I'd done something completely stupid. "You're basically on every daily tabloid, every newspaper, even articles online. You're the talk of the year, Diana. You just have to believe that."

"Shut up." I snapped in like a twig. "You're going to be the talk of the year when they find your purple, lifeless body."

James laughs. "Ooh, threats? Didn't you just mention everything I've done to ruin Michael and your appletree life."

"Ugh, why haven't you killed me yet?" I asked suddenly, it was a real question. What did he want from me, was it because I was close to Michael?

"That is something that doesn't concern you." He said slowly.

"Yes it is! My sister shot someone, you've ruined everything about my life. I was perfectly fine before-"

"You were perfectly fine before me?" James chuckled again, rubbing a thumb on his chin. "What about Richard, huh?"

I looked away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." He said, and I was glad he didn't drag out the question any longer. "Oh, look who decided to visit."

I looked up, chocolate skin, flaring brown eyes. Jermaine Jackson. He was dressed in a black trench coat over suit pants. His hair smoothed back.

"Guess that's my cue." James said, and I watched him walk off.