October 2nd 1996, 6:36pm.

Lola's P.O.V

I get up out of bed from my nap and walk over to a mirror and pull my hair out from its bun. I take a shower, not washing my hair so I can make it to the Amsterdam Arena in time. I get dressed up in my favorite outfit – a short tight black leather skirt and a white professional button up shirt that exposes my cleavage, and finishing off with my favorite black stilettos. I top the outfit off with a red lipstick, smacking them together and grabbing my purse, catching the next taxi and away I go.

I arrive at the arena and show my backstage pass to the security guards wondering around. Michael left it on my nightstand before he left with Carmella to visit the children's hospital, still inviting me to go even though I kind of admit I was acting a little bitchy earlier. I sigh, thinking he was actually nice to still let me go.

I make a left and see a row of doors, finding one that says his name outside of it; damn these different stadiums always changing dressing room locations. I pop a mint in my mouth and spritz my favorite flower perfume scent, making sure I have the durex condoms on me; he'll be sure to forgive me now.

I knock on the door and Michael answers it, "Hello," is all he says. He's half dressed in his performing outfit, holding a makeup sponge in his right hand.

"Hey, can I come in?"

"Sure." He steps out of the way and I walk inside, admiring yet again what another lovely dressing room this is.

"So you're not going to break in this time?" he asks with a smirk and closes the door behind him.

I giggle, "Nope, I'm over that."

"Well I'm glad." He chuckles.

"So, where is everyone?" I ask, looking around the room. "I thought you had a makeup artist to do that."

"She normally would, but I'm just touching up a half hour before the show. Early, but it helps."

"Do you want me to help you with that? I did do makeup when I was in college."

He touches up more on his nose. "I think I got it."

"Come on, I wanna do my perfect contouring technique on you."

"Perfect, huh?" He smirks.

"Uh huh, here let me try." I walk over to his chair and grab an angled brush and some bronzer. I mix it in and blow on it a little and stroke the brush on the perfect natural symmetrical areas of his face, making him stand out, looking even more beautiful. As I'm doing his temples, I feel his eyes on my cleavage, feeling glad I wore this shirt. I finish doing his makeup a little while longer, and he looks in the mirror, nodding his head in satisfactory.

"I love it, it looks really great on me," he says. "How in the world did you do that?"

"Took a bit of time, but I told you I was perfect."

He licks his lips as he eyes me from head to toe, and I can feel myself blushing knowing that this'll be more fun than anyone I've ever experienced with.

"Yeah?" he walks closer to me, about as close to where I can feel his warm, sexy smelling breath on my neck.

"Uh, huh." I smile, knowing this is going to work out all too well.

♔

Carmella's P.O.V

"Excuse me, have you seen Michael?" I ask random people running around the place.

"No sweetheart I'm sorry, I haven't."

I sigh and walk away, then bumping into Kenny Ortega. "Excuse me Mr, uh..."

"You can just call me Kenny, kiddo," he says, writing something down on a clipboard.

"Have you seen Michael?"

"No, but he should be here soon, the show starts in less than twenty minutes, I don't know where he could be." He lifts his glasses up, examining the place. "Check in his dressing room," he motions his head to the left.

"Thank you," I say and run off to the other side of the stadium.

As I'm coming closer down the hallway, I hear strange noises. I can't recall exactly what they sound like, but it sure doesn't sound right. I keep walking further down, the sounds becoming clearer with each step. I spot Michael's door and knock, but no one answers, continuing to hear the rough moaning noises. I feel grossed out and wonder who is in there, so I look through the keyhole, but can't see anything but this black lace material covering the view. I twist the knob and it then falls off, shocked to what I'm looking at.

I see Michael – well three quarters of him – naked on a couch with a blanket covering the bottom half of him, with two long legs spread out on both sides of his waist, as he's bobbing in and out at a fast pace.

"Oh yeah, Michael, oh I'm gonna-" I hear a feminine voice yell. I laugh and stare with my mouth agape, wondering what woman this is. I don't ever remember Michael mentioning he had a girlfriend. Although why would he? He already impregnated Debbie.

Just when they finish up, he turns to his side, revealing the woman who was under him just a moment ago – and I can't breathe when I see her. I am now more than shocked than I've ever been. I walk away slowly, passing people walking by getting more things set up for the show, passing the double doors to the huge building outside, ignoring all the fans I hear screaming from the back door, ready to get their seats to see Michael; ignoring everything and everyone.

I replay what I saw in my mind over and over again. All I could think about is what a hypocrite Lola is. I couldn't be angrier. And I don't know exactly which one of them I'm angrier at. Michael, for even going that far with Lola, or Lola, for telling me to stay out of situations that'll influence the past – yeah, right.