Meeting The King

So...as you can tell by my name, I am obsessed with MJ, so in the fan fic, we get to know a little bit more about him.

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5. The Number

I stared at his number and just couldn't decide whether I should call him, I mean, he's probably busy and I don't wanna bother him. I couldn't take it anymore! I had his number right in front of my face, so I called it. It rang and rang and rang, and then it went to his voicemail. I started to cry again, and I just couldn't stop, until I heard my phone vibrate on my bed. I looked at my phone and I had gotten a text from Michael. It read, "Who's this?" I replied, "Megan...from last night?" "Megan! I'm sorry I didn't answer your call. Throat is a little sore from last night." He replied. "It's okay Michael. How's Cali?" I asked. "Not there yet. Flying by my jet. Prince, Paris, and Blanket say hi." He said. "OMJ TELL THEM I SAID HI!!!!" I replied. "You made them smile. They want to meet you. They don't meet a lot of children your age when they're on tour with me." He said. "Do you think I could meet them????" I asked. "Of course! We'll be back in Indiana next month, maybe you guys could meet." He said. "OMJ!!!!" I said. "What does that stand for?" He asked. ".....Oh My Jackson..." I replied. "Cute." He said.

He stopped texting me for a really long time. Then my phone buzzed, I was so excited! But I looked at the number and frowned, it wasn't his. But as I read the message, I started smiling again. "Hi Megan, it's Paris." "Hi Paris! I can't wait to meet you!" I replied. "I can't wait either! How old are you Megan?" "16." "Cool. I'm 14." We talked like that all day, then my mom came up to my room. "I just paid the cell phone bill from my phone, why do you have over 5,000 messages?" She asked. "Well, Mom, to my understanding we had unlimited text, do we not?" I asked. "Yes, but who are you texting???" "Michael and Paris Jackson." I said. "No you are not." She said. "Would you like to see???" I motioned for her to come further and I dialed his number and put him on speaker. "Hello?" He asked. "Hi Michael." "Hey Megan. What's up?" "Nothin. Your daughter is really nice." "Thank you. She seems to like you too." "Michael...?" "Yeah?" "Would you talk to my mom for me?" "Sure." "Hello Mr. Jackson!" My mom exclaimed. He laughed and said, "Please, please, call me Michael." "Michael, my daughter is absolutely crazy about you! Since she was three she has been trying to be like you, trying to perform like you, sing like you, dance like you, the whole nine yards." She said. "Mom!" I said. "Oh she has? Excuse me...? I'm sorry I don't recall your name." He said. "Please, call me Mariah." She said. "Mariah, do you think you'd let me take her to one of my concerts? As one of my backup dancers?" He asked. I screamed and fell on the floor fangirling, and I knew he could hear me. "Which concert?" She asked. "Maybe two or three. One there in Indiana, one in here in California, I could have one of my drivers come pick her up tonight, and then one in Denver." He said. "Mommy please??? Please please please please please????" I begged. "Megan, even if she says no, i'll still talk to you." He said. "I know! But ever since I was three I have been dreaming about performing in one of your concerts!" I said. "Well Mariah?" He asked. "....Megan start packing. You're going to California, and Denver, and if Michael wants to take you for the rest of his tour, he can." I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Thank you Mommy! Thank you! Thank you!" I told her. "Paris will be thrilled! She's never had a friend accompany her on tour." He said. I ran through my closet and threw every article of clothing I had in my suitcase.

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