The Side Hustle

[Moonie]

Author's note:
Welcome back! Sorry in advance for any mistakes or awkward wording, I don't speak this language perfectly! This one’s gonna be in chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

- Chapter One -
The Encounter​

1985, California

On the streets of California on a hot summer day, a 23-year-old woman strummed the strings of her acoustic guitar while singing to passersby. At her feet, her treasure chest: her guitar case, wide open and ready to receive the coins generously donated by people. It was a tough economic time, and this woman had resigned herself to earning her own bread by wearing out her vocal cords to anyone who would listen. She wasn't the best, but she wasn't bad either. The wood of her trusty guitar, a gift from a loved one who was important to her, was well worn from many hours of practice, as was the leather of its case, but she had to wear it down again and again. She depended on her guitar. She had to eat and shelter. She had to build a future for herself. Move forward. Win against financial hardship. Every penny counted. Perhaps she could go do a little grocery shopping after her hours of singing in front of strangers? She was a proud and independent woman.

It was hot on that sunny afternoon. The young woman endured the sun's rays on her soft pale skin, but she mustn't run away. She couldn't. She had dressed for the weather: a black camisole, blue denim shorts, and a pair of sandals. Her tousled blond hair was long but tied back in a ponytail. She had already been performing for two hours, and her throat was aching. Luckily, she had brought a bottle of water with her. Initially, the water had been cold, but since the outside temperature was high, it was now hot. She grabbed the plastic container and winced at the touch of the hot water in her mouth. Her blue eyes then rested on her harvest in its case. She quickly calculated the coins in her head. "Four dollars and twenty-five cents," she told herself mentally. She sighed; the economic crisis wasn't just affecting her, but the other residents as well. Still, she remained positive and kept smiling. She was naturally optimistic.

The short hydration break ended immediately, and she resumed singing along to a popular song. A man walked toward her, keeping a certain distance. He was tall, dark-skinned, and wearing a blue shirt and jeans of the same color. He also wore a black cap and sunglasses. He had a fairly full, more or less well-groomed beard. He bobbed his head to the rhythm of the music emanating from the young woman. He noticed the empty water bottle and began to look around. He spotted a convenience store on the corner and began walking in that direction.

He opened the door and a doorbell rang. He nodded to the employee and headed towards the refrigerator doors at the back. He opened one of the doors and a freezing wind blew against him. He sighed with relief; he too wasn't immune to the summer heat. He grabbed a bottle of cold water and went to pay for it. He then left the store to return to see the young local artist. A few people had gathered to listen to her, but few left money. Despite this, she remained undeterred and kept in shape. The young man waited for her to finish her song before approaching her. He tucked the bottle of water under his arm to free his hands to applaud the young woman, which caught her attention. She looked at him, smiled, and leaned forward, like a true performer, miming a "thank you" with her lips.

It was time. The man stepped forward and handed her the bottle of water. Unsure at first, her eyes alternated between the bottle and the man. She pointed her index finger at herself and opened her mouth.

"For me?" she asked.
"Of course! It's important to stay hydrated when you're outside for so long in this heat."

A smile quickly spread across her face and she let out the cutest laugh. She grabbed the water bottle and broke the seal to drink. More. And more. The man watched the bottle empty its liquid. Surprised to see her sink half the bottle in one go, he laughed back, placing his hands on his hips.

"Well, you were thirsty!"

With her mouth full, she swallowed the water, holding back a laugh. Once done, she let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Yes, I was dying of thirst! Thank you for saving my life."

She placed the bottle at her feet and walked over to her case on the ground to dip into her money. She took a few coins and handed them to the stranger, still smiling. A smile so genuine that he froze for a split second. He turned his head from left to right, raising his hand.

"I give it to you, don't worry."
"Are you sure?" she asked, bringing the money back towards her.

He nodded affirmatively.

"Very sure. Take it as a gift."

She tried to control her smile as she returned the money to where it had been. She whispered a "thank you" with a little embarrassment. She wasn't used to being given things for free, even if it was just a simple bottle of water. She was happy and grateful. The two young adults shared a laugh, then the man took a brown wallet from his back pocket.

"Have you been playing for long?" he asked.
"Hmm... Ever since I was little. My dad showed me the basics!" she replied proudly, slapping the wood of the guitar lightly.
"Well, keep persevering!" he took out a bill and placed it in the case among the coins. "Don't forget to take breaks every now and then."

She nodded, and he waved goodbye. He turned on his heel to continue walking down the street. His soft, comforting voice gave her a boost of energy. She was determined to keep playing in the street for a good hour more. Afterward, she had to pick up her little brother from his summer tutoring classes for the ride home. However, her gaze wandered down to the bill. She raised an eyebrow and bent down to pick it up. It was crumpled, so she unfolded it and her mouth fell open. She was speechless. "A hundred dollars?" she thought. She looked up in the direction the man had left but no longer saw him. There were many people walking along the street. Quickly, she put her guitar in its case with the money and closed it, keeping the bill in her hand. She grabbed her water bottle as she went and began running among the pedestrians, looking for the generous man.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" she repeated, dodging everyone.

Arriving at the street corner, she turned her head from left to right, hoping to find the silhouette of the man she was looking for. Squinting, she recognized the man with the strange gait further down. She quickened her pace, continuing to apologize as she passed.

"Sir, excuse me! Sir!"

She spoke loudly, but he didn't turn around. She walked quickly, her arm outstretched. Her hand rested on his left shoulder, and she gently tugged at him. He turned, surprised by the contact, and with a sudden movement, he wandered to his right and bumped into a stranger. He lost his footing and fell to his knees, his glasses on the ground. The stranger he hit blurted out, "Be careful, damn it!" without stopping.

The two pairs of eyes met for a moment. The young man let out a "Oh my goodness" as he looked down in search of his glasses. Frozen, the young woman opened her mouth, but no sound came out. After a few seconds of silence, she shook her head and stammered "Sorry."

"I-It's nothing," he said. "Do you see my glasses?"

Nervously, he ran his hand over the boiling ground without looking up. He wouldn't look up. The blonde regained her composure and turned her gaze to the dark sunglasses that hadn't fallen far. She picked them up and bent down to the man's level, showing him his glasses.

"I..." she began. "I'm s-sorry."
"It's nothing."

He grabbed his glasses and immediately placed them on his nose to hide his eyes. "Did she notice?" he wondered. The two adults were crouching on the ground. He still didn't dare look up and was nervously biting his lower lip. As for her, she stared at him. Feeling her heavy gaze on him, he tried to change the focus.

"What did you want from me?" he asked, clearing his throat.

At this question, she snapped out of her thoughts and quickly turned her head. Her eyes fell on the bill, which she delicately held out to him.

"I-I just wanted to give you this bill back."

He arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"It's a lot of money, and I-I appreciate your generosity, I really do!" she said. "But... it's too much. I can't accept such a sum..."

He let out a soft laugh and scratched the tip of his nose, pushing his glasses back up.

"Keep it. It makes me happy."

"That smile... that look..." she thought. "I've seen them somewhere before." She bit her lower lip and looked down at her feet.

"Excuse me, sir, but..."

She hesitated for a moment, and he was completely attentive to her question.

"Are you..."

"Busted," he said to himself.

"Mich-
"Please," he interrupted. "Don't say it."

Surprised, her eyes widened as she looked at him.

"I don't want people throwing themselves at me. Please don't start yelling and saying who I am," he whispered so as not to be heard by the people passing by.

He was gentle yet firm in his request. She answered him confidently:

"Why would I do that?"

His eyes widened. She was sincere.

"I understand now that this hundred dollar bill doesn't have the same value for you as it does for me." She laughed lightly before continuing. "Thank you very much."

Relieved, his shoulders slumped. The tension dissipated from his body. He was reassured that she wasn't a raving fan.

"I'm the one who thanks you," he finally said. "Thank you for being understanding."

She put the money in her shorts pocket and then hesitated for a moment. He tilted his head, looking at her questioningly.

"Do you... really mean what you said?"

Embarrassed, she looked at the ground. For his part, he wasn't sure he understood.

"When you said I had to persevere. Did you really mean it? Do you think I have what it takes?" she looked deep into his eyes.

Even though she couldn't see his eyes because of his glasses, he felt her intense gaze fixed on him. As if she were piercing his soul. After a brief moment of silence, a passerby sighed and exclaimed:

"What are you doing on the ground? Move, you're cluttering up the street!"

Uncomfortable, the two adults stood up at the stranger's request and moved out of the way. Once they did, they looked at each other and burst out laughing like two children. Once he had calmed down, he smiled and asked the young blonde:

"What's your name?"
"Jasmine," she replied.
''Lovely!''
"And you?" she asked sarcastically.

He burst out laughing again then leaned towards her ear to whisper:

"Michael."

A big shiver ran through Jasmine's body. It was definitely him. He had a funny beard, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was fake. Michael became serious and said:

"The short answer to your question is: yes, I really meant it. But if you want the long answer, I invite you to discuss it over a meal or a coffee, if you're up for it, of course! I'd love to talk with you about your side hustle on the street."

She thought she was dreaming. Michael Jackson inviting her to dinner? She was surprised. Why would someone so rich and famous spend time with her? She was a poor girl, singing on the streets to survive. Why would he want to spend time with her? She stuttered as she tried to answer his question.

"I-I... Y-Yes! Yes, why not?"

She was trying to stay cool. He burst out laughing again.

"Relax!" he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. Another shiver ran through her.

"It's my way of thanking you for respecting my anonymity."

Her eyes fell on the ugly beard.

"Honestly, I think you could do better," she said, pinching the fake hair.

They laughed together again.

"Follow me, I'm hungry!" he said.

 

[Moonie]

- Chapter Two -
Getting To Know Each Other​

Sitting opposite each other on a burgundy-colored bench, Jasmine and Michael were preparing to order food. They were in a quiet local cafe. Michael preferred this type of place with fewer people to minimize the risk of being recognized. On the varnished brown table, there was nothing unusual: a salt and pepper shaker, napkins, two menus, and silver utensils. The rustic ambiance was soothing for the two hungry souls, and it was cooler inside, which was welcome for Jasmine, who had spent a few hours outside. To her left, her guitar case took up as much space on the seat as she did.

"What are you going to eat?" Michael asked, looking up at her.
"I don't know," she replied without looking up. ''I feel like I could devour everything on this menu!''

Michael let out a light laugh and placed his menu on the table. He waited a moment, staring at the singer in front of him, but she never took her eyes off the menu. After a moment, he raised his index finger to the item in question and gently pulled it down, catching the blonde's attention. Her blue eyes sought his, but the sunglasses prevented her from meeting his eyes.

"Feel free to take whatever you want, I'm the one who's inviting you!" he clarified.

Jasmine tried hard to hide her smile, but deep down, she was very happy to be treated so well. She hesitated for a moment and began listing different dishes, pointing to them with her finger on the menu.

"So, I'll have a portion of quinoa and mango salad, cream of asparagus soup, a spinach and feta puff pastry sandwich, a cinnamon brioche, and an iced salted caramel latte."

After all this, she looked at Michael, waiting for a reaction. He smiled, sighed, and turned his head slightly.

"Well, you have quite an appetite!" he said, laughing.
"I'm teasing you," she clarified. "But honestly, I don't know what to choose... And you?"

The man crossed his arms on the table and lowered his head to his menu. It was true that there were a lot of choices. He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger before making a decision.

"I think I'll go with a veggie panini and a lemonade."
"Are you vegetarian?" she asked.
"Mmm... I'm trying to cut down on my meat consumption."
"Really? That's cool! I'm doing the same thing!"

Excited to meet someone who was as careful about their food intake as she was, she raised her voice slightly. Realizing she'd gotten carried away, she quickly tried to regain her composure. The young man smiled, finding it cute to see her get excited over something so trivial.

"You're funny," he finally said.

Embarrassed, Jasmine began to nervously intertwine her fingers. Luckily, the waitress, wearing a dress the same color as the decor, appeared with her notebook and pencil. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her red lipstick accentuated her dazzling smile, which featured beautiful, straight, white teeth.

"Hello, are you ready to order?"

Michael turned to Jasmine and looked at her questioningly. She stuttered slightly before returning her gaze to the menu and hurried to give the waitress an answer.

"I'll have your spinach and feta puff pastry sandwich with an iced salted caramel latte."

The employee began to write quickly on one of her sheets, smiling and repeating the same words. Once done, her gaze returned to Michael.

"And for you, sir?"

He cleared his throat before speaking, then, in a serious tone and a deeper voice, he listed what he wanted to order.

"Your veggie panini and a lemonade."

Surprised to hear him speak without his soft voice, Jasmine looked away from the waitress to look at Michael with wide eyes. The waitress finished writing and took both menus before leaving. Once they were alone, Jasmine whispered to him:

"I didn't know you could modify your voice so much."

The pop singer shrugged.

"You learn to develop new skills when you have to be careful about who you are."

The young woman nodded, understanding his attention to detail. When you're Michael Jackson, you have to be careful. You never know who you'll meet. You never know how people will behave.

"Tell me, Jasmine," he began, resuming his usual voice, "do you sing on the streets to gain recognition?"

The blonde turned her head from side to side, looking down at the table. Nervously, she picked up her fork and twirled it between her fingers.

"No," she said. "Not particularly. I like to sing and... It's great if people like what I do." she lied.

She didn't want to tell him she was doing it for the money. She didn't want him to think she wanted him to feel sorry for her so he could give her money. Anyway, she was too proud. Accepting free gifts was difficult for her. Sensing the heavy silence, she wanted to change the focus.

"And you," she said, looking up, "what are you doing wandering around like... that?" she said, laughing and pointing up and down at his costume.
"I like to go incognito and live normally. At least... when the opportunity presents itself."

She tilted her head slightly, curious to know more.

"What do you mean, normally?"

Michael took a moment to think, looking up at the ceiling.

"You know, there are a lot of things I can't do like other people," he whispered. "I can't go to the park for a walk, go to the movies to see a film, take a stroll in the streets, or even go shopping by myself. If I do, I have to present myself like this," he said, putting his hand in front of his face.
"And you think it's... fun?" she asked, unsure of her understanding of his desire.
"I think... it makes me feel good to be able to do what everyone else does sometimes. Like right now. To take a break to eat with someone without having to constantly worry about who's there. Or without having to close the cafe to reserve it for myself. I'd like to have normal experiences, too. I want to be able to blend in with the crowd with strangers. Do you think that's weird?"

Before she could answer, the waitress arrived with the drinks. She set them down and said the food would be arriving soon. She greeted them after the two adults thanked her and left. Alone again, Jasmine resumed the interrupted conversation.

"Weird? I don't think so. Peculiar, maybe. I don't know.''

She shrugged, and Michael took a moment of silence to look at her.

''It's nice to be somewhere without all eyes on me. I like being surrounded by strangers without being constantly analyzed. Being able to walk, to pass by people without hearing my name. To listen to them. To know what they're talking about when Michael isn't around. Otherwise, as soon as people see me, the conversations aren't the same. Are you following me?''

Jasmine took a moment to think. She looked up at the sky in thought, swirling her latte around her fingers.

''It's true, I've never thought of it that way,'' she finally said.

At that moment, the waitress returned with the food in her hands. She dropped them off, asked if anything was missing, and left when they both thanked her and said no. Hungry, Jasmine looked at her meal longingly. Michael looked at his as well, pleased with his choice.

"Bon appétit, Jasmine," he said before taking his panini in his hands.
"You too!"

Her sandwich was cut in half. She picked up one half and smelled it. It made her mouth water. She dug in, taking the first bite, and couldn't help but make sounds of satisfaction.

"It's delicious!" she exclaimed.
"Glad you like it," he said, looking at her with a smile.

He loved seeing her so natural and sincere in her gestures. He was used to women who always paid attention to every detail. Jasmine didn't seem to mind. She was expressive, and he found it cute to see her act like that. After only two bites, she put down her sandwich and took one of the napkins to wipe her mouth because there was food on the edge of her lips.

"Excuse me, I was so hungry!" she finally said.
"Don't worry!" he replied, laughing.

She looked behind the singer and observed the wall clock. Seeing the time, she jumped but tried to remain calm. "Oh no," she thought. Michael, noticing her sudden attitude, questioned her.

"Is everything okay?"

She looked at him and nodded, feigning nervousness.

"Yes, yes, it's really good!"

She took a third bite and then drank a little of her latte. Without realizing it, her gaze wandered between the clock and Michael. Michael ignored her for the moment.

"Do you often play in the street?" he asked.

The question brought her gaze back to the present moment.

"Yes, a few times a week."
"What motivates you so much?"

She took a moment before answering, drinking her latte.

"I like to play. It's fun!"
"And the money is a bonus?"

She nodded again, drinking her drink.

"If people can give, great!" she said. "I adapt and make do. As long as my basic needs are met, then I'm happy!"
"Do you have a job that's off the street?"

Embarrassed, she turned her head from side to side. Despite her attempts at job searching, Jasmine couldn't find a job that fit her schedule and personal responsibilities. Employers often look for people who are very available, and that wasn't her reality. Frequent unforeseen events prevented her from finding a stable job.

"I'd like to, and I'm looking, but let's just say it's not easy."

Her eyes flicked up to the clock again. The hands were ticking ever closer. It was time for her to reluctantly leave.

"Mich—I mean... I have to go. Sorry, but I really enjoyed my time, and thank you for the meal."

Disappointed, she looked at her plate. She hadn't eaten much, while Michael had already finished his panini. He wondered why she had eaten so little.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked.

She nodded, disappointed to have to answer him that.

"Yes, I have to pick up my brother for the ride home."

She quickly drank her latte and stood up, putting her guitar case on her back.

"The ride home?" He arched an eyebrow.
"He has private lessons this summer and he's finishing soon. I have to hurry, time has passed so quickly!"
"Time flies in good company."

At this remark, she froze in her tracks. She let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Yes, it was very nice."
"When are we going to see each other again?"

Flushing as red as a tomato, Jasmine lost her bearings. She felt her cheeks get hotter and hotter. She took the plate with the remaining sandwich and gave Michael a gentle look.

"I'll probably play again tomorrow. Come say hi!"
"I won't miss the opportunity."

She looked at the clock again and sighed.

"I'm so sorry to leave like this," she said.
"Don't worry, Jasmine. I'll take care of the rest!" he affirmed, referring to the bill.
"It's much appreciated. I'll owe you something in return."
"Don't worry."

It was hard for her to accept this for free. Standing at the table with her plate in her hands, Jasmine looked at Michael, who continued to calmly drink his lemonade while remaining seated.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked, just to be sure.
"See you tomorrow," he smiled.

Excited, she smiled broadly at him and turned to find the waitress from earlier. Once there, she asked her for a container to bring her leftover sandwich. Once done, Jasmine hurried out of the cafe, walking briskly toward her destination. It was still hot, but it was less bad since it was late afternoon. With a happy, fast-paced heart, the young woman walked for about twenty minutes to a private residence owned by a retired elderly woman. The weight of her guitar didn't bother her. In fact, she kept thinking about her strange encounter with the pop singer, which made her forget the weight on her back. Arriving at the door, she knocked, still excited and thinking about the crazy day she'd had. When the door opened, she was greeted by an elderly woman with gray hair and strange round glasses.

"Hello, Jasmine!" she said.
"Mrs. Davies, hello!"

Mrs. Davies invited her inside, which she did. As soon as she entered the warm, colorful home, a young eight-year-old blond boy with the same eyes as the young woman started running.

"Yaz!" he yelled.
"Robin!"

She opened her arms to welcome the boy, who threw himself at her. He grimaced with his characteristic smile, and Mrs. Davies approached to stroke the child's hair.

"Robin did a good job today."
"I'm so glad to hear that!"
"Yaz!" he said.

He made signs with his hands that Jasmine recognized.

"Are you hungry? That's good, I have something for you!"

She opened the white container in her hands to show the sandwich to her little brother. Excited, he made noises by jumping up and down and waving his hands. Both women laughed at his excitement.

While Robin put on his shoes, Jasmine took a moment to chat with his teacher.

"Today I can pay full price, Ms. Davies!"
"Oh yeah? People gave a lot?"

She reached into the pocket of her denim shorts and proudly pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. The old woman exclaimed, pleased by the news.

"Oh my God, that's a lot!"
"I met a generous person," she said proudly.
"Someone who knows how to recognize talent!" she said with a wink before turning back to her purse on a small table.

Ms. Davies rummaged in her bag and pulled out several bills to make an exchange. Normally, Robin's private lessons cost fifteen dollars a day. Mrs. Davies is a retired teacher and occasionally does this odd job for a low fee. However, there are rare days when Jasmine can afford to pay for the full day's fare. Luckily, Mrs. Davies is a generous woman and always accepts whatever Jasmine has to offer. This time, the young artist was excited to be able to pay the full cost of the day.

Money in hand, the two women made an exchange. Jasmine found herself with eighty-five dollars in her pocket.

"Thanks again, Mrs. Davies, for teaching Robin."
"No problem. See you in the morning. Go on!"

The three said goodbye with smiles. Jasmine was pleased with her day and walked alongside her little brother to their home. To save as much money as possible, she avoided taking the bus. Sometimes she made an exception for Robin, but when she was alone, she never dared to pay for the bus. Walking is more economical! Today, Robin had good energy and was fit enough to walk. After about fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived at their apartment building. The singer unlocked the creaky door to her apartment, and Robin hurried inside to sit at the table. Upon returning home, Jasmine locked the door and took off her sandals. The apartment was very small, didn't smell particularly good, and wasn't perfectly insulated. It was hot, and they had only the bare minimum. The truth was, Jasmine was taking care of her little brother. Their mother rejected Robin when he was a toddler, and their father died several years ago. She then became the boy's legal guardian. Living with Robin's mental disability, Jasmine faced her share of challenges. No job, little money, but at least a lot of love. Robin spoke very little. He communicated mainly through sign language.

In the main room, there was the kitchen, a dining table with two chairs, a messy bed, and an old television. In an adjoining room, Robin's bedroom. He had his own space, his bed, and his toys, Jasmine having sacrificed herself by sleeping in the living room. The last remaining room was the bathroom. Nothing fancy, just a toilet, a small sink, and a shower. To clean clothes, Jasmine had to go to a shared laundry room.

At the table, Robin was excited and eager to eat. He was making signs to his big sister to let her know he was hungry. She gave him the sandwich, only one half of which had barely a few bites left, and the other half was untouched. She prioritized her brother and gave him everything. As for her, she made herself some buttered toast. Her stomach was rumbling, but at least her little brother's was going to be nice and full.

 

[Moonie]

- Chapter Three -
The New Diagnosis​

The next day was just as hot as the previous one. An unbearable heatwave that melted everyone. With an empty stomach, Jasmine continued to sing in the streets of California. She worked at her side job in the streets with the hopes of being able to buy herself something to eat. Robin, her little brother, had eaten breakfast that morning, but she hadn't. She wanted so much for her brother to have everything he needed that she deprived herself without hesitation.

In front of her, her guitar case was open and ready to receive donations. The young blonde artist was hot, and beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. Her voice was beginning to wear thin, as she had been singing for at least an hour. Excited, she couldn't wait for one thing: to see Michael again. During her performance, her eyes constantly wandered from one person to another, hoping to see the man in question again. Unfortunately, she didn't see him. Disappointment overwhelmed her every time. Her gaze fell to her feet where there was a bottle of water. The water was obviously no longer cold. She sighed before picking it up to drink the liquid. Her heart was pounding, what if he'd forgotten her?

Time passed and the end of the afternoon arrived. Disappointed, Jasmine put her guitar back in its case among the few dollars she'd collected. She would be able to buy bread, butter, and milk, but nothing more. At this thought, she sighed. She would have liked to relive a magical day like the day before. Guitar on her back, she set off towards her destination. She was to pick up her brother from Mrs. Davies's.

However, as she was about to begin her walk, she heard footsteps echoing behind her. The sound caught her attention, and she turned around. She recognized him. It was him. A big smile spread across her face as she crossed her arms over her chest to pretend to be angry. A disguised, breathless Michael stopped in front of her.

"Jas!" he cried.
"Well, well... Who's this? Mr. I'm-Late!"
"I'm so sorry..."

Michael caught his breath and approached the singer. She uncrossed her arms and gave him a light, friendly nudge on the forearm.

"I'm just kidding," she said. "I'm glad to see you again."

She gave him her most sincere smile. He was relieved that she wasn't actually angry with him. He smiled back and scratched the back of his head, embarrassed to have stood her up.

"Were you going home already?" he asked.

She nodded in response.

"I have to go pick up my little brother," she explained.
"Your little brother. Is it far?"

She shrugged.

"I'd say about a fifteen-minute walk. More or less."
"To make it up to you, can I come with you?"
"C-Come with me?" she stammered. "I mean..."

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She didn't like this situation. She didn't want to introduce strangers to Robin, even if it was Michael Jackson. She didn't know him well enough.

"I'm a little uncomfortable telling you this, but... I can't do this, it's too sudden. My brother is someone... different. I'm a little embarrassed."
"Different?" he arched an eyebrow.

She nodded again. She didn't want to reveal too much about his condition. Robin was autistic and had an intellectual disability. Meeting new people was difficult for him. He could have meltdowns and become anxious very quickly. She didn't want to impose a stranger on him.

"Let's just say he has special needs," she said.
"I see. Are you afraid I'll judge him?"

Surprised, her eyes widened. Like the day before, his soft voice calmed and reassured her. She knew deep down she could trust him. She thought of Robin. Would he be comfortable meeting a stranger?

"No, no, not at all!" she continued. "He just needs to be warned and prepared. He's not... a typical child."

Michael shrugged, still smiling.

"I completely respect your choice."

At these words, Jasmine's shoulders relaxed. She was reassured that he was so understanding of her situation.

"Can I at least pay for the taxi so you don't have to walk for a long time in this stifling heat?"

She sighed slightly and took a moment of silence to think. To say she didn't appreciate his generosity would be a lie. She smiled at him and replied,

"Are you sure?"
"You have nothing to worry about."

He reached into his back pocket to pull out a wallet. From the same wallet, he took out a few bills and gave them to the blonde. Hesitantly, her gaze flicked between him and the money. She slowly raised her hand to the money, still unsure.

"Come on!" he said. "It's to make up for today. Tomorrow, however, I promise to be there."

She let out a laugh, the same cute laugh that had frozen Michael for a moment when they met the previous day. She finally took the money. Embarrassment was evident on her face.

"I wish," she began, "that I could repay you for this. It's very much appreciated."
"Don't worry," he said, placing his hand on her arm.

A shiver ran through the young woman. She loved his gentleness and tenderness. She came to and thought about the time. She really had to hurry.

"I really have to go. Thank you so much."
"I'll see you tomorrow. I had a problem at the studio today."
"Tell me about it tomorrow! I trust you!''

She winked at him and turned away, laughing, heading further down the street. There were a few taxi drivers parked waiting for a customer. Jasmine knocked on the window of one, who turned around and gestured for her to get in. First, she turned her head toward the pop singer who was watching her in the distance. She greeted him and gave him a toothy smile before getting into the car. Michael copied her gesture. The driver then set off under the young woman's direction.

Arriving at Mrs. Davies's house, Jasmine paid the driver and got out of the car. Sitting on a comfortable bench felt good. Having been on her feet most of the day, she was exhausted and her feet were aching. She walked over to the retired woman's residence and knocked on the door. This time, it wasn't a happy, smiling woman who greeted her, but rather a dejected look on her face. Jasmine's smile disappeared immediately.

"M-Mrs. Davies, is everything okay?" she asked worriedly.
"Oh, Jasmine... I'm sorry, I didn't know how to reach you."
"Where's Robin?" she cried, craning her neck to see over the elderly woman's shoulder.
"Robin had a seizure. He was convulsing on the floor."
"Convulsing?"

Panicked, Jasmine imagined the worst-case scenarios in her head.

"Where is he? Is he okay?"
"I called an ambulance. He was drooling and... Oh, poor thing..."
"Is he in the hospital?"

The young woman felt her heart pounding in her chest. Worried, she asked a lot of questions. She feared for her brother.

"The paramedics arrived and took Robin with them. I don't know what happened."

Scared, Jasmine turned around and noticed the taxi driver was still there. He was probably counting his money. Without greeting the elderly woman, Jasmine ran towards the yellow car and almost lost her balance when she reached for the handle. She opened the door and got into the seat.

"Sir, to the hospital as quickly as possible, please!"

Without waiting, the man set off for his new destination.

In front of the hospital building, Jasmine got out of the car and left the man the rest of the money Michael had given her for the taxi. She ran through the center's doors and hurried to speak to the receptionist. Out of breath, it was difficult to understand what she was saying.

"Take your time, madam!" the receptionist told her.
"Is my brother, Robin Lewis, an eight-year-old boy here?"

Frightened, she tried to catch her breath while the receptionist checked a list of patients. The wait seemed interminable, when in reality, only a few seconds had passed before she received a response.

"Yes, Robin Lewis is here. And you are?"
"His sister, Jasmine Lewis. His legal guardian."

After receiving instructions on how to reach Robin's room, Jasmine hurried through the hospital's corridors. She opened a door leading to a stairwell, where she quickly climbed the stairs. On the second floor, she turned right to reach the pediatric section of the hospital. Once in front of her brother's door, she opened it without delay. She hurried inside and froze in place as two employees turned to look at her. Beside them, Robin was asleep in a bed.

"Robin!" Jasmine screamed.
"Good evening, who are you?" a woman asked her.
"I'm his sister! What's going on?"

The two individuals exchanged glances, then the woman walked over to the blonde. She had black hair, a thin face, and was wearing a white coat.

"I'm Doctor Allen. Robin had a seizure and is now stable, thanks to the quick response of the person who called the ambulance."
"A seizure?"

The woman nodded then looked at her notebook. With a pencil, she pointed to numerous notes written on the paper.

''Robin arrived here with the typical symptoms of an epileptic seizure. However, it wasn't recorded in his file that he was suffering from one. We still gave him antiepileptic medication, and his condition quickly stabilized.
''What do you mean he had a seizure? Robin has never had epilepsy!''
''I understand your confusion, but you should know that seizure disorder is something that can develop at any age. It's generally observed quite early in children, but genetic factors, brain damage, infections, or other factors can cause the disorder to develop.
''And... And you're sure that's it?''
"We're going to keep Robin under observation for a few more days to conduct more in-depth tests, and then we'll prescribe treatment to stabilize the disorder."

Jasmine felt like her world was falling apart. Her gaze flicked over the doctor's shoulder to look at her little brother, who was sleeping peacefully. She was still in shock and didn't know how to react. Hospital, tests, treatments, medication... these words echoed in her head. Very expensive words. Her stomach began to rumble at the same time. She was starving. She hadn't eaten anything all day. How was she going to pay for all this? How was she going to save her little brother?

After chatting with the staff for a while longer, Jasmine left the room. She needed a moment to herself. She walked with her head down through the building and made her way to the stairwell. She sat down on a step and stared at the white ceiling, which was too bright for her liking. Tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly, she began to cry her eyes out, clutching her head in both hands. She wondered how she would be able to save him and provide for him.

 

[Moonie]

- Chapter Four -
A Need For Comfort​

In the streets, the young artist strummed the strings of her guitar and sang. Feeling down, she lacked the energy to properly entertain her audience. Today, the harvest was much lower, even though she was already small to begin with, no doubt due to her poor performance. Despite the obstacles, she held on. She had to hold on. Her little brother depended on her. She had to raise money. Still empty, her stomach rumbled, but Jasmine didn't feel the pain caused by starvation. She was so depressed that she felt almost nothing. Her blond hair was disheveled, her clothes wrinkled, her eyes swollen from the many tears that had flowed down her cheeks during the night, and the dark circles under her eyes were visible.

The temperature was no longer as miserable as in previous days. Many passersby passed by and took a brief moment to listen to the young woman's melancholy voice. When she finished a song, she looked up sadly at her audience. Mingled in the crowd was a man in a strange disguise. It was him. She smiled at him and waved, and he did the same. From a distance, he frowned. He could see something was wrong. He could sense that her energy was different from previous days. With a determined step, he walked over to Jasmine to make conversation.

"Hey Jasmine, are you good?" he asked.

In response, the singer shrugged and then feigned a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired."

Her unconvincing answer left Michael perplexed. He watched her in silence. This heavy silence was becoming too much for the blonde. She could feel his gaze on her and wanted to break the awkwardness as quickly as possible. Looking down at the ground, she replied:

"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."

He answered so curtly that her eyes widened as she stared at him. Michael wanted more. He wanted to know the truth. He was trying to penetrate her soul. He wasn't fooled; he knew something was wrong. He moved a little closer to her face and whispered,

"Are you sure you're okay?"

At this question, asked so sincerely, Jasmine took a moment before answering. The young woman was doing her best to control her emotions. She couldn't help it; Michael's worry was affecting her. She burst into tears, putting her hands to her face to hide it. Suddenly, the pop singer took Jasmine by the shoulders and tried to comfort her immediately.

"It's okay, it's okay, everything's fine. We're going to a quiet corner.''

He closed the guitar case and put his arm over Jasmine's shoulder, leading her away from prying eyes. They walked for a short while, away from the sidewalk, and the whole time, Jasmine cried and sobbed. Michael felt helpless in the face of the singer's distress. Once they were isolated in a less crowded corner, Michael positioned himself in front of her, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

''Let your emotions out, what you're doing is perfect. Let yourself go. You have the right to be sad.''

His words made her feel good. Slowly, she began to regain control of her emotions. She sobbed less and less. Michael helped her breathe properly by asking her to copy his gestures.

''You breathe in,'' he said, ''and you breathe out. That's fine.''

His calmness helped Jasmine synchronize with his energy. She finally looked him in the eye. Her eyes were red, affected by the sadness that was overwhelming her. Once ready, she let out a deep sigh before speaking to him:

"Thank you..."
"It's fine."

Without realizing it, Michael was rubbing his hands on the young woman's arms to comfort her. A gesture she didn't mind.

"Thank you, Michael," she whispered, "but I really have to get back to work."
"And why is it so urgent? In your condition, it's not possible."

She looked down at the floor and began to cry again. Michael rubbed his hands against her arms again to help her feel better. When she calmed down again, she spoke again.

"It's... my brother. He's sick."
"What happened?" he asked worriedly.
"He's in the hospital. He had a seizure."

She crossed her arms, and Michael brought his hands back towards him.

"I... I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered.
"What do you mean?"

New tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip to try to control herself, but the emotions were too strong. She cried again and sobbed a lot. Michael, helpless, looked up at the sky, searching for a solution. He told her firmly:

"You can't stay here like this. It's out of the question, Jasmine. I'll take you home."
"No!" she cried.

Surprised, Michael sat up and froze. Jasmine tried to regain control.

"Excuse me," she began. "It's just... my place... isn't..."

She didn't finish her sentence. She just shrugged and looked to the side. She was embarrassed.

"Jas," Michael breathed, "you have nothing to fear with me. I don't mean you any harm."
"It's not that... I'm just... embarrassed."
"Embarrassed about what?"
"My place... it's not great."
"Jas, you don't know me, and it shows. I'm the last person who's going to judge someone else."

At this, she looked up at him. She still couldn't see his eyes because of his glasses, but she felt his honesty. A smile finally spread across her thin face.

"Ah, that's what I want to see. Your smile!" he said, pointing at her mouth.

She laughed lightly at his words and sniffed through her nose. She was calmer and more in control.

"Let me put my guitar in its case."

Michael gave her back her case. She placed her guitar inside along with the few coins she'd collected.

"We'll take a taxi," he said. "Come on!"

He tugged at her hand. Jasmine blushed immediately. The touch reassured her. His hand was warm, soft, and delicate, yet firm at the same time. She didn't want to let go. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. She prayed her hand wouldn't get clammy so as not to disgust him.

They walked for a few moments until they reached the street. There were several taxis parked. Michael flagged down a driver and they got into the car. In a deep voice, he greeted the driver. Jasmine, meanwhile, gave directions to her house. The entire way, Michael held her hand. She was still blushing. She felt like he didn't realize he was still holding her hand. She enjoyed the moment; the contact calmed her.

Arriving in front of the building, Michael paid the driver and they got out. Guitar on her back, Jasmine took the lead. From the outside, the building looked rather dilapidated and uninviting. However, the singer didn't comment. They entered the building and walked down the hallway to the door number corresponding to the blonde's apartment. Key in the lock, she turned to Michael one last time to warn him.

"Sorry in advance for the mess."

He laughed lightly, and she opened the door, which let out a loud creak. They entered together. Michael began to scan the apartment, and a damp smell was noticeable. The young woman closed the door behind her guest and stood in front of him, dropping her arms to her sides.

"Welcome home," she said. "Like I said, it's not super pre-
"You have nothing to worry about," he interrupted her. ''I'm not here to judge or anything.''

Michael kicked off his shoes and walked over to the dining table. He took off his cap to reveal his dark curls falling lightly over his forehead and temples, then placed his glasses on the table. He raised his piercing gaze to Jasmine, who felt herself melt. With his hands, he removed his fake beard and scratched his cheeks fiercely.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "That feels good! I was itching like crazy."

Hypnotized, Jasmine said nothing. Before him, without his disguise, was the King of Pop: Michael Jackson. She slowly advanced towards the young man. Closer and closer. Her sudden proximity alerted the man, who looked at her questioningly. With a slow gesture, she pinched her guest's arm.

"Ouch! Why are you pinching me?"

He laughed slightly.

"I wanted to check you were real," she replied.

They looked at each other seriously for a moment. The two adults seemed to be analyzing each other. A smirk appeared on Michael's face, and he rushed over to tickle Jasmine's ribs. She burst out laughing instantly.

"I also wanted to check if you were real!"

She begged him to stop, laughing, then Michael pulled away with a fit of laughter. They quickly became serious again but still looked at each other with smiles.

"So, this is where you live," he began.
"Yes, this is where I sleep."

She pointed to the mattress a few feet away on the floor opposite a television. Michael walked over and examined the walls. A few black and white photos were displayed. He wasn't looking at the mess; he didn't care.

"Does your brother sleep with you?"
"No," she said, turning her head. "He sleeps in the bedroom."

Curious, Michael walked towards one of the only rooms in the apartment.

"Can I?"

She nodded her head to give him permission. The singer walked over and opened the door. A very small room appeared before him. There was a single bed and a few toys on the floor.

"It's tiny, isn't it?"

He turned to the woman. She had read his thoughts.

"Are you taking care of him alone?"

He asked because he'd noticed the absence of any relatives. There's no way four people could live in this place. Jasmine nodded and looked down at the floor.

"But Jas," he said, "you have a big responsibility."
"I know..."
"Where are your parents?"

She looked him straight in the eyes.

"Our father died of pneumonia a few years ago."
"I'm so sorry to hear that... And your mother?"
"She's gone."
"Gone?"

She nodded again. She didn't like talking about her mother much. Jasmine felt a lot of anger toward the woman who carried her for nine months.

"Our mother didn't want to take responsibility for my little brother. She abandoned us."

Curious to know more, Michael approached and sat down at the table on one of the two available chairs. Jasmine did the same.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.
"My little brother... isn't a typical child. He's autistic and has an intellectual disability. He doesn't talk much and requires a lot of management."
"What's your brother's name?"
"Robin. When he was two, my parents noticed he was falling behind. They consulted a pediatrician. After a series of tests, the doctors diagnosed him with autism. My parents had never heard that word before."

Michael, all ears, paid attention to every detail of Jasmine's story. He let her flow and didn't interrupt her. He was entitled to a very personal slice of life, and he was honored.

"Robin will retain the cognitive abilities of a child his entire life. He will never be an independent adult. My mother was devastated by this news. She couldn't accept it. She packed her bags and abandoned us. My father was now a single parent with a disabled child. It was difficult to provide for us. He worked a lot, and I left school to take care of Robin. I was seventeen years old, finishing high school. I would have liked to go to college to study music, but alas..."

She paused for a moment. Her gaze was now blank. With a gentle gesture, Michael stretched out his arm to stroke Jasmine's with his fingers.

"My father has become ill. I found a small job at a grocery store. I stole from time to time because we had to choose between paying rent, medical bills, or eating. So I stole food from my job so we wouldn't starve. I got caught. I lost my job. In the meantime, my father died of his illness. I was left alone with Robin.''

Tears began to roll down the young woman's cheeks.

"I tried to get back in touch with my mother for help, but I could never find her. I didn't want to put Robin under the care of child protective services. I was so afraid of losing him... But maybe... I should have!"

She burst into tears and crossed her arms on the table, burying her head in them. She blamed herself for not being able to take care of Robin the way she wanted to. Michael, unsure of what to do at that moment, followed his instincts. He stood up and went to the side of the distressed woman. In a calm, gentle voice, he tried to comfort her. From behind, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the crying woman's head. These gestures helped calm her. Jasmine gripped his arms with her hands and squeezed tightly.

"Jasmine, you're a wonderful sister to Robin."

After calming down a little, Jasmine sniffed her nose and turned back to the one comforting her. Her swollen, red eyes stung. She rubbed them lightly before taking the singer's hands. Her palms were now sweating, but that was the least of her worries at that moment.

"Michael," she said, "the reason I play music on the street, my side hustle, is to support us. I can't get a job because unforeseen events with Robin prevent me from being able to commit to being at work all the time. And now he needs medication for his epilepsy. I don't know what to do anymore.''
"Jas..."

He moved closer to her face. They were very close. He was looking intensely into her big beautiful blue eyes.

"You are not alone. I'll help you."
"Michael..."
"I might have something to offer you. Remember when I was unavailable yesterday?"

She nodded impatiently, eager to hear the rest.

"One of my guitarists is often unavailable, and I find myself without him at the studio. How would you like to work for me?"

Jasmine's eyes widened. It was a golden offer. She thought she was dreaming. Suddenly, she pinched her arm.

"Ouch!"

Surprised, Michael laughed at this spontaneity.

"I wanted to know if it was real..." she whispered.

He looked at her tenderly.

"It's real. Everything will be fine," he murmured.

 

[Moonie]

- Chapter Five -
The First Day At Work​

The next day, Jasmine was getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror. The cracked mirror reflected her face, she rarely wore makeup, but for this occasion, she decided to apply mascara to her long eyelashes. A light touch of makeup to enhance her appearance on her first day at work. She looked at herself in silence and carefully examined the features of her delicate face. Her full lips, her straight teeth, her small nose, her large blue eyes, her perfectly arched eyebrows, her cheekbones... Jasmine thought she was pretty. She ruffled her blond hair lightly to give it more volume. She took a deep breath one last time to regulate her anxiety. Afterward, she smiled and encouraged herself with words.

"I can do this. I'm going to be good. He's going to be satisfied with my work!"

After these words of encouragement, she smiled to herself and left the bathroom. The apartment was silent without Robin. The thought made her heart ache. Her brother was still in the hospital under observation. She was eager for news. Her stomach rumbled, breaking her thoughts. Her stress prevented her from feeling hungry, but her body was still sending her signals. Despite her empty stomach, she felt she would feel sick if she ate. So she skipped breakfast and went at her door. She put on white shoes and an old black leather jacket that had once belonged to a family member. Underneath it, she wore a plain white sweater, and for pants, she wore blue jeans. Before leaving the building, she slung her guitar over her back and locked the door to her apartment. She then headed for the exit.

Once outside, a pleasant breeze tickled her cheeks. Her hair danced in the wind and Jasmine took a deep breath of fresh air before walking toward the luxurious black car waiting for her. Smiling, she got into the car and greeted the private driver, who returned her greetings and set off toward the studio where Michael was working with his team.

The drive was long and silent. The young woman stared out the window at the landscape passing before her. She didn't recognize where she was. It was a corner of California she had never visited. After a long journey, they arrived at their destination. Jasmine looked around and could read the name "Westlake Recording Studios" on the building's sign. Nervous, she felt her palms quickly become sweaty. The car stopped and Jasmine swallowed deeply before getting out. As she got out, she kept her hands on the car door and scanned her surroundings. The singer was excited but also very nervous about her first day at work. She finally closed the car door and walked quietly to the main doors. She tentatively placed her hand on the glass door to open it and stepped inside. She smelled a pleasant scent and a professional atmosphere reigned. She moved forward, unsure of where to go. As she observed the walls decorated with albums by famous artists who had recorded there, she heard rapid footsteps echoing to her left. She turned her head and saw a black man with short hair and a beard. He seemed nervous. When he saw Jasmine, he froze and stared at her.

"Hello, what are you doing here?"

Unnerved, Jasmine tried to remain calm, but she felt the pressure to look her best. She tried to speak but began to stutter, making her nervous.

"I, I... I'm here to see..."

Starting to lose patience and having seen all sorts of fans in the area, the man grew impatient, which didn't help Jasmine calm down.

"I'm here to see Michael," she said, "for my first day."

In a state of complete incomprehension, the man didn't respond, but behind him, a familiar voice spoke. Reassured, the blonde looked at the man who was arriving. It was Michael.

"Hey, Jas!"

Michael approached her, and the other man stepped back, still confused. Without warning, the pop singer quickly approached and placed his right hand on the guitarist's arm. He took her by surprise with a kiss on both cheeks, and she flushed instantly. Michael then turned to the other man.

"Quincy, this is Jasmine. She'll be working with me. Jas, this is Quincy, he's producing my third album."

She felt so small in this world. Big stars walked through these doors normally. She felt out of place and uncomfortable. Still, she tried to keep her composure and smiled at Quincy.

"Hello," she said.
"Will she be working here?" he asked, ignoring Jasmine.

Michael nodded affirmatively and put his hand behind the new employee's back so she would walk with him.

"Yes, she'll be playing guitar. You know, my other acoustic guitarist isn't always reliable, but I can count on Jas. Right?"

He asked his question, turning to her with a big smile. She was shy and unable to speak. She simply nodded her answer. He could see she was nervous, but Michael had an idea for how to lighten the mood.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the team."

Michael cheerfully walked, keeping his hand on the young woman's back. They passed Quincy and headed toward a long hallway containing numerous rooms. Once alone, Michael brought his mouth close to the singer's ear and whispered:

"Don't worry, Quincy's been a little on edge lately, but it has nothing to do with you."

Jasmine swallowed and let out a deep breath. She walked while looking at the ground, constantly fiddling with the hem of her leather jacket.

"I feel sick," she said. "I'm really stressed, sorry..."
"That's normal, but the worst is behind you."

He said, nodding his head back in reference to Quincy. At this, she smiled and laughed lightly. Michael smiled back at her and silently gazed into hers with a tender gaze. She raised her eyes to his and felt herself melt as she watched him.

"Thank you, I'll try my best."

Facing a brown wooden door bearing a number, Michael removed his hand from Jasmine's back and opened the door. They entered together, and Jasmine set foot in a professional studio for the first time. She was speechless, her gaze wandering from corner to corner. She wanted to see and touch everything, but she held herself back. Only two people, both women, were in the room, talking together. At the sound of their arrival, they turned to greet them.

"Listen," Michael began, "I want to introduce you to a new guitarist. Her name is Jasmine, and I expect you to treat her like family!"

The two stood up to shake the newcomer's hand and introduce themselves. Intimidated, Jasmine tried to act normal, but she felt so small in the big leagues. The first to introduce herself was a blonde with typical rocker hair.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer! I play electric guitar.
"And I'm Karen, a makeup artist."
"Nice to meet you..." Jasmine replied shyly.

The door opened again behind them and Quincy appeared. He nodded to everyone and sat down in a chair in front of what looked like a control panel. Something Jasmine wasn't familiar with. There were a lot of buttons she didn't know what they did.

"Mike," he said, "are you ready to work?"

He nodded and walked over to a glass door that led to the next room with the microphones. Jasmine quickly felt uneasy. The only person she knew was now on the other side of the wall. Even though they could see each other, since it was a large window, she didn't know what to do.

"Jas."

At the sound of her name, she snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at Michael, who was sitting behind a microphone.

"Take it easy, today. It's your first day. We're trying to come up with beats and lyrics for the next album. Your job today is to listen. Afterward, we'll work together to try to find chords, you understand?"

She nodded and smiled at him.

"Also, there are cameras all over the studio, but don't worry, they're there to document our work. We'll review them later to develop the songs. Is that okay with you?"
"No problem, Michael."

They exchanged smiles and everyone got to work, while Jasmine analyzed the vocals and the demo beats used. She could see how true professionals did it. She had the privilege of witnessing the birth of a new Michael album. Subtly, she pinched herself to make sure what she was experiencing was real.

After the day's work, it was late. Everyone left the studio. Jennifer and Karen said goodbye and left. Only Jasmine, Michael, and Quincy remained. The producer joined Michael on the other side of the wall and exchanged words that Jasmine couldn't hear. However, Michael's facial expression suggested that the two seemed to disagree on something. After a moment, Quincy left the studio and sighed.

"See you tomorrow."

He left the room without looking at Jasmine. Jasmine turned back to Michael, who smiled nervously. He walked over to her and rolled his eyes.

"That Quincy!" he let out a laugh.
"Is something wrong?"
"He and I don't have the same vision for this album. That's all. He'd like me to take an artistic direction that aligns with his vision, but I want my freedom of expression, you understand?"

She nodded.

"Anyway, it's nothing serious. Come on, it's late. I'll walk you to the car."

He put his hand over her shoulder, and they walked out of the studio together. Once outside, Jasmine glanced out of the corner of her eye at the pop singer, who had a dejected expression. She could see he wasn't particularly cheerful. She stopped, and he turned to look at her questioningly.

"Do you want to keep me company and walk together for a bit?"

She wanted to cheer him up. Surprised by her request, a smile appeared on Michael's face.

"I'd love to, but I don't have that freedom, you know."

Disappointed, her gaze dropped to the floor, and she remained silent. Seeing her disappointment, Michael approached her to suggest something else.

"Don't make that face!" he said. "Do you want to come over to my place? We could have a sleepover!"

Excited, he jumped up and down, and Jasmine's eyes widened at his joy. She burst out laughing.

"A sleepover? I haven't done that in ages!
"Nothing better than letting your inner child out after a day's work. Well?"

She hesitated for a moment. Robin wasn't home, so she could go, but she didn't want to get into a sensitive situation. It would be a lie to say she didn't want to spend more time with him, though. The young woman wanted to respect herself above all else.

"Maybe another time. I'm quite shy and reserved, so I'm embarrassed to spend the night elsewhere."

The singer remained silent in front of her and observed her. Still smiling, he leaned towards her and whispered in a soft voice:

"I love that you know how to set your boundaries. It's important. I really admire that."

Surprised, she looked into his eyes. A knot formed in her stomach and her heart began to beat rapidly. "He... loves it?" she thought. With a gentle gesture, he twirled one of her blond locks between his fingers.

"I thought you looked very pretty today."

Jasmine felt her cheeks burn. "Am I dreaming or is he flirting with me?" She didn't know how to react. His piercing gaze made her legs go weak. She almost lost her balance. He was so close to her that she could smell his perfume. A pleasant scent. Hypnotized, her gaze drifted down to the singer's full lips. She was slowly developing a desire to taste them. At that thought, she turned her head quickly to banish the images from her mind and took a step back. Michael looked at her and another smile appeared. The young blonde couldn't decipher his body language at that moment. Had she imagined this attraction? Was he disappointed? Did he want more? So many unanswered questions. He turned toward a parked car and gestured for her to follow him.

"Come on. The driver is waiting."

She tried to regain control of her thoughts and walked toward the car. How long had they been there, devouring each other with their eyes? One minute or thirty? She didn't know. She had lost track of time. Michael opened the door for her and she got in.

"Good night, Jas. We're not working tomorrow, but would you like to spend some time with me?"

Caught short, she replied, stammering.

"I would, yes!"

She surprised herself by having responded so quickly and enthusiastically. Michael didn't seem at all disappointed by the response.

"I'll knock on your door tomorrow. See you soon!"

He closed the door and the car drove off toward the young woman's apartment, her heart still pounding against her ribcage. "What an effect he has!" she thought.