Young Writers Society

"Places, staff, places, Mr. Jackson will be here any minute!"

When the last name, Jackson, pops up in our studio, everyone goes ballistic, me especially. It's hard to get a job in the ninties, and I can't screw this news recording up. My boss is keeping a close eye on me today. I'm the biggest Michael Jackson fan in New York. All my life, I've wanted to work in show biz. For now, I'm just an intern for a New York news studio. I'm in charge of everyone's happiness. If they aren't happy, I'm gone.

The King of Pop, Michael Jackson is supposed to perform in our studio for a live show today to promote his new album, Dangerous. I've listened to Black or White on the radio, and I haven't stopped listening to it since. Now, Michael's going to announce that his album is selling in stores today. I'm so excited, but I can't be too excited or else I'd embarrass Michael and the studio cast. The last thing I want to do is that.

What I love about Michael the most, besides his singing and sexy dancing, is his eyes. His eyes are brown like bear fur and dark oak tree trunks. His eyes remind me of the season of summer in a way. Whenever he performs, he performs without the glasses, but I still don't see his eyes as well as I should becuase he's always moving around. When paparazzi snaps pictures of him, he's always wearing sunglasses or a cap to hide his eyes. I admit, he pisses me off when he does that, but at the same time, I want to solve the mystery for myself.

"Linda, we need you in Studio B, stat!" calls one of my co-workers through the walkie talkie.

I take it from my pocket holder and press on the contact button. At the same time, I'm trying to balance a coffee for a camera guy. "I'm on my way." I dash down the hall and turn right. I almost trip, but I save myself and the coffee. "Phew, that was close," I say to myself as I put the walkie-talkie away, "If I spill this, I'm dead." At that exact moment, I crash into somebody. The coffee goes flying and spilling. The other person and I are on the ground, covered in caffine drink liquid. "Holy crap!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I push my seeing glasses back on my face. "I am so sorry. Are you okay?"

From my panicked mind, I can hear the other person saying, "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I am a smidge." I freeze. I look up at the person I crashed into. The person I crash into is the black haired, six foot, sexy hunk that I have fallen for when I was ten years old. "Oh my god."

Michael sits up, losing focus from his coffee ruined jacket, protecting his white t-shirt. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks.

I don't answer to that. "You're Muh muh muh muh muh muh muh."

Michael snickers. He shakes my shivering hand and says calmly, "Yes, I'm Michael. Nice to meet you."

My stammering stops, and I go to rambling. "Holy cow, it is such an honor to meet you. I have been a fan of yours ever since I was a little girl. It has been my dream to finally meet you for the first time in my existence. Did I mention that I'm excited for your new album? I mean..."

"Okay okay," he says to me, "Calm down." He laughs, fixing his sunglasses. "I have to say, you are so cute."

I blush pink. "My name's Linda."

Michael smiles widely. "Pleasure to meet you, too, Linda."

"Again, I'm so sorry about the jacket." I frown again. "Oh crap, my boss is going to kill me."

"Relax." Michael takes off his jacket. "I'll go jacketless for the show. You work here?"

"Half yes, half no," I reply, "I'm an intern."

"Ah. You look kinda young to be an intern."

"Not really. I'm in my sophomore year of college."

Michael shrugs. "Then, that makes sense. You did say something about my new album, right?"

I nod quickly.

"You must've heard my song."

"Black or White? Of course!" I exclaim. I cover my mouth quickly after shouting. "I'm sorry. I'm just very excited."

"Not a problem." Michael takes out something from his ruined jacket. It looks like a CD album. Michael hands it over to me. "A gift from me to you."

I flip over the CD case from top to bottom. Then, I open it up. The CD itself is signatured with Michael's name. My heart flutters around in my chest. "My gosh, thank you so much." I swear, I can feel sweat on my forehead. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't." Michael pats my head and starts walking away. "See you after the show."

I'm about to leave myself, but I remember that I forgot something. "Michael!" I call, turning around like a flick of a whip.

Michael stops and turns his head. "Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something weird?"

"Depends on what's weird." He grins.

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "Can I see your eyes?"

Michael short laughs. "What?"

"Can I see your eyes? They are always covered by your glasses every time your fans and the paparazzi see you. I want to see your eyes for the first time ever."

"Get out." Michael's body goes facing me. "You mean to tell me that you haven't seen my eyes before, not even on screen?"

"Well..." I'm embarrassed now. "Take off your glasses, please? I want to see your eyes."

"All right." Michael walks towards me. "I can't disappoint my fans." Michael pulls his bangs back. He carefully removes his sunglasses from his face. His brown eyes have finally been revealed.

I can't help but stare. They are hypnotizing me. His eyes could be dark as night. I still see the brownness of them, so they aren't night like. In a way, these eyes glow like his smile.

"They are amazing as I pictured in my head."

Michael reaches for my glasses and removes them from my face. "Not as amazing as yours." He folds my glasses and places them in my hand. "Thank you." Michael kisses my cheek softly and walks away.

My heart beats fast. Michael is the hopeless romantic I always thought. I can't stop smiling. At this point, I don't care if I am fired. I met Michael Jackson, saw his eyes, and got a kiss.