August 30, 1987

Nevada, Las Vegas, USA

The venue started to get more and more packed as the music got louder. An endless list of names from the guest list has been crossed out, people were dancing their life away, and the strobe lights were zigzagging all across the dance floor, flashing every color of the rainbow onto the people's faces. The DJ spun nothing but Michael Jackson's music for the entire duration of the event. The speakers were currently booming "The Way You Make Me Feel", the third single from Michael's new album. Everyone was being carefree on the dance floor, dancing and feeling the music to the smash hit.

The music kept on playing, but the man behind the music, Michael Jackson stood alone in the massive sea of people. He was truly dressed like a king with his buckles and an immaculate black military jacket. 

In his own album release party for Bad, it's most expected to find him mingling with all the guests, but surprisingly he wasn't. He wasn't on the dance floor either, moonwalking and all that. He was standing near the edge of it, just watching the people and not even speaking a word. He smiled and waved, but when he wasn't, he looked like a lost boy.

Although with being known as a global pop superstar, he was never the type of guy who parties and acts all wild. His manager Frank Dileo, suggested this idea to promote his new album, so he agreed although he hated the idea. Anything to top Thriller, he'd say.

He paced back and forth around the dance floor, constantly being stopped by his guests and having one-minute conversations with each of them. However, being surrounded by lots of faces still made him lonely. Walking made his feet grow a little sore, and all the talking made his mouth feel dry so he needed a quick refreshment.

He decided to make a stop to a nearby buffet table. Assortments of different types of hors-d'oeuvres, trail mix, red cups and a big bowl of fruit punch were laid on the table. He scooped up some punch into his cup, not forgetting the little-chopped pieces of fruit. He took a sip and loved the strong flavor of the ginger ale and it made him crave for more.

What was planned to be a quick one-minute stop to the buffet table turned out to last roughly five minutes. He repetitively drank and refilled his fruit punch. It was so refreshing to his taste buds. Scoop, drink, repeat –. That was his motto for the night.

Once he felt he had enough, he decided to go sit on one of the chairs near the corner of the room. Luckily that area wasn't so crowded so he got some time to himself, bobbing his head and tapping his foot to the music once in a while.

As he took a sip of his punch, he saw his close friend and a legendary actor, George Jensen walk up to him. He was wearing his trademark black tuxedo jacket with a red handkerchief tucked into its pocket over a white shirt, and his short black-almost gray hair was gelled to perfection.

"Hey Mike!" George said with a huge grin, getting closer to him. "How ya doin' buddy?"

Michael stood up from the chair and went to go give him a warm handshake and George gladly accepted it, adding in an earthy hug. "Hey, I'm great. How are you?"

"I'm grand! Just came over here to congratulate you on the album. Every song is a masterpiece," he complimented, patting Michael on the back.

"Thank you, George. Glad to hear that," he replied with a grin plastered on his face.

George nudged him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here alone? Not going to dance?"

"No, I don't think so tonight," Michael chuckled then took a sip of his drink.

"Well, at least you're drinking," he joked and Michael laughed along.

Their conversation was flowing well until Michael spotted a young looking lady standing by his left. She seemed to look like she was in her early 20s and had the most amazing features Michael had ever seen on a woman.

"By the way, where is Violet? Is she here?" he wondered aloud, referring to George's wife, Violetta Jean-Jensen, also an A-list celebrity and well-awarded actress. She's known to be the 'Hollywood Queen' by the public, but is also known to have a slightly bad reputation.

"Aaah, no.... She's at home, she wasn't able to come..." he said cheerlessly, rubbing his temples with his hands.

"Why not?" Michael inquired.

"She's sick. It's really just a minor cold but she couldn't get herself to get out of bed. Coming to Vegas would just make it worse."

"That's a bummer. I'll pray she feels better soon."

"Thanks buddy, she'll appreciate that," he replied with a small smile.

Even though it seemed that Michael was giving all his attention to George, he really wasn't. He couldn't help but wonder who the beautiful young lady was standing beside him. He has never seen her before, maybe somewhere but he couldn't lay his finger on it.

Her looks were breathtakingly gorgeous.

She had slightly curly brown hair that looked like milk chocolate strands falling behind her shoulders, and baby hairs covering her face. Michael couldn't determine how long they were since she was facing towards him. She wore a string-strap peach silk slip-on dress that went down to just below her knees. She was quite tall, probably an inch shorter than him without the heels.

She shared a remarkable resemblance to George, they even had the same shade of dark brown eyes and toffee skin color. She might just be his female doppelgänger.

George noticed Michael staring at her, so he spoke up to introduce her.

"Oh, Michael! How could I forget to mention? This is my daughter, Camila! Hope you don't mind me bringing her, she just had to get out of the house. All she does is read and read for hours on end," he spoke teasingly.

Camila's cheeks turned a faint shade of red as she heard her father embarrassing her in front of the most popular superstar at the time. Instead of retorting, she gave a curt nod to be polite. "Sorry, but... Uh– It's nice to meet you, Michael Jackson. I'm a big fan."

"There is nothing to be sorry for! T-thank you for coming, Ca-mee-la," he said a little nervously. Somehow he stumbled saying her name, even though it only contained three simple syllables. "You could just call me by Michael, you know. Or Mike like how your Dad does."

"Okay, then... it's nice to meet you, Michael," she said.

"As to you too, Camila."

After that, George kept on talking and discussing stuff to Michael about life and whatnot, and Camilla felt a little left out because she shared no interests with the two men.

"I'm going to get myself a drink," she told them.

They both paid her no mind so she decided to just leave them. Even the clicks of her heels on the hard floor didn't seem to disturb them.

She walked towards the buffet table and prepared herself some fruit punch. She scooped up the juice along with some fruits. She took a sip and winced, realizing it had some type of alcohol, most likely vodka. She went along with it and drank some more, with no intentions of getting drunk.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you have a hard time imagining what Camila looks like, picture her as a young Cindy Crawford-looking type of girl.

Don't forget to vote and comment (I'll reply back!), it's always really highly appreciated :)

-Mia