Playboy (I Wanna Be Yours) (A Michael Jackson Love Story) Part 1

"Jess," I called, annoyed. "You are set up over at room 33." Jess gave me another one of those diva looks; her eyes rolled at me so many times I thought that her eyes would pop out of her head. She flaunted off, with guys trailing behind her. Men were everywhere; drooling, having hard-ons, obsessing over these "goddesses." But hey, what else would you expect at Playboy Mansion. That was simply the way of life over here. I was the desk person. The secretary, so to speak. I didn't like my job; I had no where else to go. I was up bright and early at 5 in the morning. The morning rush was coming at 8 and I needed to be ready. I was not a model; and I didnt want to be. I found it truly
disgracful. It is one thing to be a model, but another to be a playmate. "Kendra...you forgot.. your..." I pointed to the toy on the ground. She nodded. I shivered. That was truly repulsing. How could anyone watch these unhuman videos? Lowlifes, I thought to myself. Hugh walked over to me. I was surprised to see that he was awake. It was quite early for him. "Hi, Sammi," he said cheerfully, hugging me close. I returned the hug. He gave me a peck on the cheek and turned to look at me. "Look at you, becoming more Playboy material each day." I rolled my eyes, a slight smile on my face. Hugh was always cracking jokes. He gave me a quick kiss. "If only all the other girls here could be as sweet as you." He smiled and walked off. Hugh had been like a father to me since...the accident. My father had been murdered 13 years ago and my mom was killed in a car crash earlier this year. I had no one else. Hugh heard of the tradegy and contacted me, offering this position. Since then, any person that made fun of me-which happened alot- or picked on me, he would show them off. And although he is 84 years old, he is one heck of a fighter. I picked up the photograph on my desk. My father smiled at me with thoughtful eyes. I wish I could have known them longer. My hand-radio went off. "Hello..Samantha here..How may I be of service?" "Hi..uh...Yeah..this is Anthony Van Herg I work for Epic Records...we have someone who wishes to enter the building." "Very well...open the door to your left." I dropped the radio carefully on my desk. Hugh ran out. He clutched my hand. "Sammi....please do not scream. I forgot to tell you about this..a celebrity is coming..please keep yourself under control." He hurried off, breathless as he ran. I did not see what the big deal was. I had met hundreds of celebrities that had stopped by to see the models. Johnny Depp, Marc Anthony, Lamar Odam. I was used to them. Thousands of men had flocked here to see these women. Not me of course. A tall, chubby man approached my desk. He was dressed in a dark brown suit, a bluetooth in his ear, and a .22 rifle in his pocket. "You Samantha," he asked in a deep, rumbling voice. "Indeed, sir," I said, extending my hand to shake his. He returned the gesture and said, "I am Anthony Van Herg. I contacted you earlier." Remembering, I replied, "Oh, yes, you did sir. How may I be of any help?" With a tight line on his face, he replied, "Mr. Jackson needs an escort to the main lobby. Could you do this favor?" I dropped the papers in my hands. "Did you say Mr. Jackson, sir?" With a confused look on his face, he answered, "Yes, m'ame. Will this be possible?" I nodded, trying to look professionl again. "Not a problem, Mr. Van Herg." He thanked me and walked off to where he had entered. Suddenly, Michael appeared. He was wearing a simple striped collar-necked shirt with jeans. I hadn't seen him so casual before this. I turned my back, pretending to be organizing papers, and nearly screamed. I had been a fan of Michael since I was a baby. He was my escape; and I turned to his interviews for support after the deaths of my parents. "Excuse me," he called, politely. "Is now a bad time?" I turned around clumsily, and replied, "Not at all, Michael..I mean, Mr. Jackson." He laughed, a chiming sound that echoed down the long halls. "You can call me Michael," he clarfied. "Michael.." It felt good to call him that. "You wanted to arrive at the lobby?" He nodded, curls of his hair falling as he made the movement. We walked for three minutes to the lobby, where some of the models were posing. I had hoped he would visit, for years. I had a card made and flowers...I knew this seemed tacky, and desperate. I couldnt help it. The sweet, gentle man had disappeared. The man I stood before was not the Michael I knew. "I want a tall one..blonde...big boobs." I gaped at him. What about all he had said in his interviews? That looks were a mask? I took his hand-dangerous- and carefully said... "Do you have time to talk?" He glared at me angrily. "No. Not for you, you flat-chested giant." I felt tears welling into my eyes. Hugh walked into the room. He saw my expression and froze. "Michael-I-i-i I got you flowers." He took the red roses and threw them onto the marbled floors. "Not from you..." I began to cry, and ran. Taking the nearest elevator, I hurried to my room. I collapsed onto my bed in tears. Downstairs, Hugh pulled Michael aside. "Do you know what you just did," he questioned. Michael sighed. "No, but I have been waiting to see these pretty models for years. I didnt have time to talk to her." He was anxious. Hugh glared. "DONT HAVE TIME for your biggest fan?" Michael's eyes got big and softened. "Oh no. I didnt know that she was..." his voice trailed off. "Oh, poor little sweetie." Hugh nodded. "She has loved you all of her life. Her parents are dead and you are the only one that she has ever loved. She got you flowers and had faith in you throughout the trial. She's gone to every concert..and you called her these awful things." Michael looked as if he had been hit by a train. "Oh no..I never am that rude..I love my fans." "Fix it," Hugh retorted. Michael walked over to my desk. Hugh followed. "See that," he motioned towards the picture frames that lined the desk. "Ten of them are you." Michael had tears flowing down his cheeks. "Where is her room?" "Room 143" Michael quickly, wandered the halls, searching for the right room. He found it and stood, silent for a few minutes outside of it. He knocked. A choked up voice from inside replied "Come in." Michael did so lovingly. He swung open the door and paced himself quickly over to my bed. "Sammi...baby...I am so sorry." He grabbed me closely. He stroked my blonde hair and placed me on his lap. "I was stupid and rude and obnoxious..I had no idea that you were a fan." I smiled through my tears. I hugged him back. "Sweetie how can I make it up to you?" "Just be nice to me okay...I have loved you since I was a baby." He nodded. I stared at his eyes, longing for forgiveness. "I'm not mad. I understand that these models are gorgeous. It just made me sad because I thought that looks didnt matter to you." He sighed. "They dont sweet pea..." I shook my head. "Yes they do. They always do...." He squeezed my hand. The sky was clear, clouds floating mindlessly above us. "I love you," he whispered. "I always dreamed of you saying that to me." He looked at me, concerned. I giggled. "When I was little I used to be pretend that I was your wife. It was foolish. I knew that it could never happen." He shook his head once more. "You never know," he said, rubbing my arm. "It could happen." His voice was unknowingly doubtful. "No, Mike. It cant." The sadness in my voice overwhelmed him. "Sam..we can be friends. You are a sweetheart." "Your just being nice." "No." We sat silently for a moment. "Michael...do you think that tonight you are going to the bikini 'fashion' show?" He was careful with his response. "I am..why?" "Well, Hugh lets me enter too...even though I am not a model..so I can feel better about myself. Will you cheer for me?" "Aww..baby...absoultely." HE KISSED my forehead. I cuddled closer. "Thank-you so much, Mikey." He lifted me up. "You are beautiful....I was so mean to say that about your..." I looked at my chest. "It's true." He disagreed. "No...I was anxious and ready to see the models. They aren't prettier than you....they are different." "I've always wanted to be pretty..but playmating is not my thing even if I was." Michael asked thoughtfully, "Why?" "If i were to get married, I wouldnt want the entire world seeing me naked just as much as my husband. It is unloyal and disgraceful to womankind." Michael was taken aback by my intelligence. "You are so correct, Sammi." "I agree." "But I wont get married with friends like Tamika and Jess. They are my only friends...and they dont even consider me one with guys and other playmates around them>"