After they arrived in one of Michael's mansion's many rooms, they are interrupted by 'Friend' and 'Flower' who willingly walk inside, holding the door ajar. He was quite annoyed that they followed him instead of giving him the space he wanted.

He lets go of Krystal's wrist and crosses his arms in defiance. "Well?" 

"Weren't we going The Emerson Theatre?" 'Flower' enquires. She was referring to one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Los Angeles. They loved the fine wines and spirits they would get spoiled with when they went. 

Krystal found it quite surprising to hear the mention of a club concerned with Michael Jackson going to one. He was always portrayed as someone that avoided mainstream Hollywood culture. Nonetheless, it wasn't like the press were always right, she internally thought. She knew nothing about The Emerson Theatre or it's eminent reputation for the wealthy.

"Not tonight, can we leave it for another time? I need to get this one settled in before the rest of my staff start striking up something I don't have the patience to deal with." Michael runs a hand through his hair, tiredly. His patience was running dry today. Today's twist of events made him want to call everything off so that he could just spend it alone in his room. 

"8pm tomorrow night. Pronto, Michael." They take their leave, letting the door swing shut with a loud thud. 

"Nice ladies you have." 

Michael folds his arms as he smiles, sensing her sarcasm. 

"Well I really like her-- the one with the light brown hair. Don't pay attention to them that much, they're nice people. You'd get along with them too if you got to know them."

"Right. They seem like they hate me." Krystal re-plays the scene with Grace in the room in her mind. 

Michael sighs, not wanting to bring their personalities into question. 
"No they don't. Like I said, they're really nice. They bring really nice chocolates and. . .and they're. . .very interesting. But I digress." It was obvious that he wasn't even sure of what he knew. The atmosphere quickly turns from tense to awkward. Krystal shakes her head letting a small smile play on her lips. 

"Okay Mr Jackson, why did you bring me here?" She had to admit that it was funny seeing the King of Pop become so agitated over the secrecy of his two dates. He was pretty apprehensive. . .Nothing like any stranger would expect him to be. It was like he had two sides; one of sheer confidence and one where he reminded her of a very shy boy. And bear in mind that it hadn't even been two days since they'd met.

"Right. Well-- I was just thinking that you should leave the children to Grace. I mean, you've gotten in so much trouble because of them," he says, trying to sound lighthearted. Krystal frowns. "I know," he chuckles, "I know how fun it is to play with them and how nervous you must be since you're new, but once you get to know the team, you'll fit in like a glove. I just think that you would settle in sooner without them having to pester you."

The Korean-American enjoyed spending time with Michael's children and secretly hoped that she could get to see more of them. Before working here, Krystal had practically forgotten what it was like to really let herself go without having a single care in the world about her image. It was as though she had been reborn without the fame she had in Korea. And as a child again. She really didn't want to let go of this security blanket.

"Don't worry, you'll see them around," he reassures her when he felt like she had stopped listening to gaze out of the window.

"Whatever you say, Mr Jackson." 

Michael looks away to the side for a second and releases a quiet laugh. "You can call me Michael." 

Krystal nods her head. She watches him walk to the door and hold it open for her, but she doesn't flinch. 

"You know, since I'll be here for quite a while, I was wondering if you had a piano I could play on around here." Figuring that her playing could keep her occupied with something fun if it weren't Michael's children, she found no harm in asking such. She really owed it to her mother for being strict about her piano classes because they would come so in-handy at times like this. Michael's face lights up at the mention. 

"I do!" He gestures for the younger girl to follow him. It doesn't take long before they've passed at least eight rooms. "You play often?"

"Sometimes. A bit." 

He slaps his hands together making Krystal jolt. "Excellent. I have a lot of respect for people that can play instruments. Where did you learn how to play?"

They stop outside two double doors in front of a large venue-like room with a stage and a few chairs that were set out in no particular pattern, but to simply fill out the space. 

"A piano teacher," answers Krystal, bluntly. Seeing the room had cut off her train of thought as she marvelled at some of the art on the walls and then at the shiny, black grand piano that complimented everything else. "Wowwww. . .a Steinway & Sons grand piano." She runs towards it, making herself comfortable on the black leather seat. She had to adjust it to her height because it was too high up for her petite 5'5" stature. 

Michael snickers, not phased in the slightest at her sudden speechlessness.

"So what d'ya know?" 

Krystal takes a finger and points at herself to make sure that Michael Jackson was really implying that he wanted to hear her showcase a talent.

"Yes, I don't see anyone else here. Play me something, if you will."

"Oh. Sure. Don't blame me if I mess it up. I think you will like this one though." 

She positions her fingers on the freshly polished keys and begins to play as Michael froze, captivated by the unexpected; he enjoyed inspecting her hands that danced-- so pretty and small, creating something equally as beautiful from black and white. He notices that her eyes only look up once as she gazes right back at the piano keys straight away. Up and down, side ways to left-ways; she was definitely no novice. Her playing was elegant and graceful; in Michael's opinion, she looked even more pretty when she was making music than when she was playing. If that was possible.

The song completes and Michael claps his hands, ecstatically.

"Thank you, thank you." Krystal bows her head, pretending she was in an orchestra and Michael was her audience. 

"That was amazing. You're fantastic. You're too good. Do you know any of my songs?" He suddenly asks, slightly bashful." He definitely wanted to hear more of what she had.

"Well. . .not yet. I've always wanted to play Human Nature, though. That is my absolute favourite song of all time. Whenever I listen to it, I'm transported to this realm of complete peace and quiet aside from the sound of music, of course. The instrumental is peace while the lyrics are growth. I've never felt so paradox about a song before that wasn't classical. I mean, is it suppose to make me feel euphoric or despair? I don't know, but it's spiritually awakening for me in a sense, imagining myself walking alone in a city as electric and bright as New York while I reflect on life." She snickers and looks down feeling shy after having divulged into talking about something she loved so much. "I don't even know if that made sense."

"No, no, it made perfect sense. And I bet you would make it sound amazing. With that much thought and emotion into it, you can really bring a string of notes to life without a vocal singer's voice. It's interesting how many people have told me Human Nature reminded them of New York and not the way Steve intended for people to get it. It use to be about bullying until John Bettis rewrote the verse lyrics." He stands up and offers Krystal his pinky to lock with. "You got to promise me." He was beginning to show more of himself around her.

Krystal couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear and doesn't decline, locking her pinky-finger and pressing her thumb into his own. "Consider it a favour for your hard work. You have a deal, mister."

He chortles and shakes his head at Krystal's cuteness. None of his staff members had ever dedicated anything to him before. That being said, neither had any of his "closer" circle of friends. It was a strange and new gesture of kindness and he would cherish it. Krystal would be the first person to return his gift of music back to him. 

"I can hardly wait."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, all smiles, looking quite reticent in front of one another as if they still had a lot to learn about each other and wouldn't mind to.  Before long, the silence is broken by Krystal's sweet laughter. She had noticed that Michael didn't like to stare into people's eyes for too long. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Just that I never imagined doing this. I feel like I haven't been this productive in a while."

"And why is that?" Michael pulls up a chair, sitting on it backwards. He leans in attentively and waits for her to answer.  

"I guess you can say that I was a little down in the dumps before coming to work here. Things happened back at home and I--. . .I came to America to gain some clarity of mind. I was also job-searching. Turned out I landed the one I wanted, which was this one."

Michael nods, understandingly. "So you were depressed." He crosses his arms and looks away from her. 

"And here I am. When I was a little girl, I always convinced myself that I'd somehow see you in Neverland. I'm sorry you had to lose it because of--" She stops speaking at the mention of Michael's old home after remembering that he probably would rather forget anything associated with that place. He eventually sold it to pay off the debt he was in just to settle the 2003 lawsuit. She knew a lot of the details because of media coverage at the time and regretted bringing it up. Indeed, Neverland no longer brought pleasant memories to Michael, but only pain and aversion to it's 2,700 acre land; what Michael himself called, the 'darkest day'. Within months of the trials, it's image of happiness, light, and love were tarnished after it was raided by armed police, and all because of false-accuser, thirteen-year-old, Gavin Arvizo. 

"Ah. Neverland. No, I'm sorry you never got to see it," was all that he could muster as a response. He remained quite poised and professional even though thinking about it made his skin crawl. 

There is a split moment of silence between them as Krystal looks falters with the words in her mind, playing with the tip of her hair with her fingers. She knew she shouldn't have brought it up. She felt stupid. 

"You know, if you like I could take you to another theme park, someday. I know one that is really similar to Neverland. It'd be like re-living your childhood. Like, you know, only at a different place and with me and Prince, Paris, and Blanket."

Her face lights up. She was so used to being an idol herself, that she had forgotten what it was like to be impressed by someone that she truly admired. 

"Would I?" She lowers her voice after her own, loud one had taken her by surprise. "I mean, I would love to go with you, Mr Jackson."

The sudden change in her pitch made Michael laugh at her bad attempt to be serious. He still couldn't wrap his head around how cute she was. 

"Great. I swear you're going to love it. But theres one catch." 

"What's that?" 

"That you teach Paris how to play one solo."

Krystal didn't even have to think about agreeing. 

*****

Krystal

I let myself fall backwards onto the crispy white, frilly bed sheets that adorn the huge bed in my room. I completely let myself go, using the spare time I had to text Sulli, my best friend and confidant; the one person I am happy to update about everything that has happened so far without the fear of her telling anyone. 

I sit up after hearing a few knocks on my door and open it to find Michael's three children standing in the door way, each wearing a different expression on their face.

"Hey! did you finally find Moonwalk's real owner?"

Prince despondently nods his head. "Yeah, he turned out to be Consuela's son's chinchilla. We had to give him back."

"--Kryssie, please take us outside." 

"Whoa, Paris. What makes you think I could do that? I'm afraid I can't play with you anymore. Duty calls, remember?" Truth be told, I would have loved to join them had Mr Jackson not asked me to leave them to Grace. And he only just trusted me to teach his daughter. "Can't Grace go with you?" 

"Wait, what?" Paris retorts. She perches on my bed. I repeat what their father told me, trying to explain why I couldn't see them so much anymore and how the first time we met was a one off encounter.  "And that's why. But I'll see you around, won't I? I don't have to agree with all of his decisions but I really must follow them. You guys understand." 

"But you said yourself you disagree."

Blanket's eyes fill with tears and I don't know what to do. Yes, I was the youngest in my brood and so I didn't know how to console any upset child because I was usually it. What was a girl to do?

"You know I love all of you. But--"

"You can't say no."

His voice cracked, breaking my heart even more. Why were they doing this to me?

"You were our only real friend. We had so much fun yesterday," said Paris. "It's true. . .I'd do anything to get you to come out with us. Prince, Blanket and I. We were hoping you would take us to this arcade. We even wrote the address down. Please, Kryssie? we talked about this for hours and we are 100% this is the right thing to do." So they planned this whole thing. Hm. 

Paris jumps off of my bed and places a note with very fancy hand writing inside my hands. 

Oh-- I'd be a terrible nanny. But. . .no. I should stand my ground and not give in to how adorable they were.

"I'm sorry Paris, I can't risk upsetting your dad again." I remember my promise to Mr Jackson when I swore that I wouldn't get myself into trouble again. And this situation was beyond risky. A twenty year old foreigner with three celebrity-children seemed impossible to go down well in any circumstance, at least in my head. "I mean, your dad-- you don't want him to get upset with us, right?" I try to reason again, thinking back at how well me and Michael had bonded. I didn't want to destroy the little I'd made. 

The hope on the children's faces disappears.

"Dad loves anyone that treats us nicely. And we like you. We'll get a taxi, play around this arcade place for a while, and then head home before daddy even knows. The fire exit is easy to sneak out from, actually." Prince flashes me a cheesy smile with his teeth and I playfully roll my eyes, out of both dismay and how cheeky they were. 

"Shush!" His siblings scold, knowing I might snitch on them.

What should I do? My inner rebellion told me to go. Me and my sister used to do shenanigans like this quite a lot when we were little. Of course, they always ended with omma yelling at us but we lived to tell the tale of what I can hand-on-heart claim was one of the best childhoods. These children were sheltered their entire lives. And realistically, what bad could taking them outside do? At their age, they are made to roam the outdoors; not stay cooped up inside four walls almost all of the time. I could only hope I was right, now.

"Well, fine. But we're going to have to make it quick. I'm gone for if anything happens to you three. And-you'll-have-to-listen-to-everything-I-say."

They give me a tight group hug and I feel more genuinely loved than I did in a long while. When I try to think rationally, I didn't see how the chances of anything going wrong were that big. My decision was that we were going and that was that!

*

We waited until Joanne was off duty and made sure that Ms Dubois had definitely gone to pick up the weekly groceries. I made sure the children were dressed warm enough then let them give me the all-clear when Grace was using the shower before we were off on our way through one of the fire exits. So, operation-camp escapee was way under order until--

*

5:30pm

"Prince, are you sure this is the right address?" 

We did exactly what Prince said, which was to sneak out of the fire exit by the back door and hitch a taxi ride from a rank that wasn't too far away from Holmby Hills. We've been on our way for just over half an hour now and I swear, I could feel my stomach turn because of all of the potential walls we could hit trying to lie this low. It was safe to say that we all felt like delinquents and still jittery excitement for doing the forbidden which stopped us from telling the driver to turn back around (if he could even understand).

I bent over towards him, his huge and round cowboy hat stopping me from catching what he looked like.

"Excuse me, but long is left?"

He opened his mouth and croaked "que acabas de decir?" in a raspy voice that sounded like he had smoked for 200 years. He didn't know a spit of English and the last time I took a Spanish class was in 7th grade. So much for that. 

Leaning back into my seat, I tried to take my mind off of the fact I was in the middle of an estranged motorway with three of possibly the most prized children in the world, and a cab driver that could barely communicate in anything other than Spanish. Once again, the adult in me tries to persuade me that this is wrong and to turn back around before anything could happen. But when I looked at the children, they all looked like they had just woken up to christmas morning. Needless to say, I gave up on 'giving up'.

We finally arrived and they went wild. Machines, rides, bowling. . .it was a big place full of old-school arcade games that, thankfully, wasn't very busy. 

"Paris come and play this game with me?" 

"WHAAAAT?" 

"I said come over hereeee." 

I had to laugh at their eagerness to try almost everything at once. They couldn't stay at one booth before jumping to the next.

"Slow down! Stay where I could see you! Don't wonder off too far from where I'm standing!" were only some of the commands I had to bellow even though the likelihood of them being calm enough to listen was probably near to none. Did I just upgrade my job status to nanny? Maybe for a day. But it was worth seeing them this happy. And I believe it would be for anyone else too. 

"Ping ping ping ping ping. NYAAAAH NYAH."

"Hey." 

Huh? Was someone talking to me?

"Pst, over here!" 

A man with a bushy dark beard who appeared to be in his mid to late 30s approached me and asked me whether I wanted to rival him on a game of table hockey. Hey, I didn't have anything to lose. 

*

"WOOPIEEE. You lose!!!!" 

My win was not surprising. This was my eighth win, in fact. But my partner was good. Real good. I had to give him credit for giving me such a good game.

"You're better than I thought." He panted.

Just as I bent down to fix the laces on my shoes, my eyes scan over my watch. We had been here for almost three hours when we were only supposed to be here for one! Less than one! 

"Look, I got to go-- it was nice!" 

"Where're you?--" 

"Prince? Paris? We have to go," I semi-shouted, hoping that no one could hear us. Where were these kids? I couldn't see them anywhere! 

"Here!" They shout in unison as they ran over to where I was stood in a corner. Nobody could no we were here, not even the people that worked here. Nobody.

But where was Blanket?

I held my chest, feeling my fear sink in even further. Oh no. Please don't let this happen. 

"Didn't I tell you guys to meet me here in half an hour after we got here?" 

"B-but-- we didn't want to go home, right Paris?" 

Paris nods and I hold my temples, massaging them with my fingers. If I needed to leave now, I had to think fast. 

"We'll find him and be back in five minutes, Kryssie." 

I gave Prince and Paris a meeting spot and made sure that they knew to come back as soon as those five minutes were up.

I looked around again. I couldn't see him anywhere. 

Hyperventilating was becoming an easier task for me with every passing second. Taking deep breaths from my stomach helped. I reminded myself of going through worse in the past and actually living through it! But for crying out loud, this was the King of Pop's children. Nothing is worse than losing somebody's child! and especially when they banned you to spend time with them too-- in their own home!

I was on the brink of a mental breakdown. The only thing helping me keep my composure were the passers by who I relentlessly asked if they'd seen a six year old boy with long, dark hair and a bunch of raffle tickets which I'd spotted in his hands before he plain disappeared. 

Prince and Paris came back shortly. "Did you find him?!" 

They paused for a minute and then shook their heads 'no.'

I held their hands and thought of what I could do to help the situation stay as discrete as possible without Michael or any one else knowing about this. Maybe if I could call Joanne-- or even maybe Ms Dubois--. No, I don't even know them that well. But anything would be better than to face Mr Jackson, himself. Okay, Krystal, stop panicking and start to think, think, think-- breath.

"Excuse me, miss."

The small and frail woman standing behind me almost gave me a heart attack. I did my best to keep it together and look into her grayish blue eyes which made me strangely feel a little less afraid. 

"I'm sorry if I scared you my dear, but I saw a little boy with long brown hair-- about six, walk out through a door at the back. I think it leads into some kind of woods with a playground. There's a park there with a river so that could have been where he was headed. Does he belong to you?" 

"Thank you!" I bow repeatedly, forgetting that I wasn't in Korea anymore. If she was right, I owe her my life!

We take off running to the back and open the only door that was there. She was right. It did led out to acres of land and a very rusty-looking playground set that had to be decades old. We paced the area,  calling "Blanket" in a half-yell again to avoid getting too much attention from the few passers by and stomped through the lumps and stones to where our instincts tell us where he might be. 

"Here he is!" Prince calls as I'm pulled to a bank where Blanket is crouched beside. He is looking lost into his own reflection, staring at himself as if he'd seen a ghost and was too startled to move.

I mentally thanked God above and asked myself how this was all happening in a matter of two days since I started worked for Michael Jackson, and how I'd managed to slip into trouble not once, not twice, but three times in one damn day. 

"Blanket! I've been looking everywhere for you! Don't you dare leave my sight again. I almost passed out because of you! Are you okay?! are you hurt?" I reached for his wrist but he pulls away. That took me by surprise.

"Not without my prize!" As it turned out, the boat he had won had fallen into the creek in front of us.

"It was my first prize. . ." He exclaimed. 

I sighed, knowing I couldn't ruin his day by dragging him away, now. It was already a blessing that I'd found him. Doing the next thing was the least I could do. 

"Right, hold my bag. I'll go and get it." 

The familiar light in his face sprung to motion again as mine died down knowing I was about to step into dirty, cold water. 

"There!" He points. 

I take off my shoes and squirm as I close my eyes in disgust. Ugh-- I feel the seaweed and filth beneath my feet and wince. The things I do with my life-- It didn't help that the floor was so slippy, either.

I placed a firm hand onto a rock until I was stretched out far enough to cover the distance to the floating toy that moved with the ripples of the water. The wind helped with this, causing me to shiver. 

"This it?"

"My boat! Yep thats the one!" 

I was just about to manoeuvre my body out of the creek until an excruciating pain coming from one of my ankles stops me straight. Somehow, I manage to coax my body to sit onto the ledge and hand Blanket his toy back. 

"Can you move?" Paris wondered why I wasn't standing up to leave with them.

I try again, sitting back down right away after grimacing at the shot of pain that penetrated into my bones. "I think I slipped on some moss and it hurts too much to stand."

"We have to tell dad," Prince chimes in.

"Prince! No! What about Krystal?" 

"Well, I can't carry her, can you? Who knows how long a taxi service is away from here, anyway."

Knowing my luck, I was forced to agree and hand Prince my cellphone. It was inevitable for Michael to find out and there was no way I could stand or trust the children to get someone to help. Why on earth did I think it wasn't? In half an hour, I was going to be fired. I had betrayed his trust and it only made sense that I paid the price. I'd be in luck if anything worse didn't happen. What have I done? 

For the rest of the time before my boss and his entourage arrive, the children and I stay in utter silence, afraid of what is to come.