Michael Jackson's Phone Number Novels & Stories

he said. "Good. I'll see him soon. What's the update with Jackson's phone?" They entered the elevator, heading for the last floor where the voice actor was practicing. "Sir, we've checked his phone but his contact list is clear." Jackson was smart enough to erase his call and chat histories. There was nothing on his phone that could point at his partners and bosses. "However, there's been a couple of voice notes and texts from this contact," Arrow's tone was suggestive. The corners of his eyes slanted as he smirked. "I think you should see them."

In Jackson’s words, Nathan was just a big old teddy bear and Saint was like a cat when it came to his mood swings. Luca closed his eyes as he felt Jackson’s fingers run through his hair and be buried his face in the base of his neck. “I’m okay,” he said, “I think.” Jackson nodded and pulled away slightly. “Okay,” he said softly. Reaching into his pocket he handed Luca his cell phone. “Take my phone for today in case you need anything. Nathan is speed dial number two, Saint three, Harry four, Jedidiah five, and Williams, six. Don’t answer any calls unless they are from us, okay?”.

I suggested. "Mummy? Can I talk to her?" I was surprised at the spontaneous change in her mood. "Sure...I mean, of course. Do you know her number? I don't have it." "Yes, 1-406-772-5932. That's it." She recited brightly.

I had ignored every single attempt because I was too busy carrying sodas at a campus party. "Axel?" Miller asked, and he stopped walking toward the kitchen. "What is wrong? You look very pale." "He called me," I whispered, and my hands started to shake while I held the device. "Michael called me three times from the secret phone, and I missed all of them because the music was too loud." Carter dropped his keys onto the counter, and he walked fast to look at the screen. "Call him back right now. Maybe he is still awake, and maybe he is still hiding the phone from his security team."

“Michael Bonell hates me. He’ll spend the week avoiding me. It will be the easiest fifty grand I’ve ever made.” I sink deeper into the pillows on my bed and open Michael's profile on my phone. I still have his cell phone number, email, address, even his birthday. If I dig into my old college email, I'd find stupid memes, plans for Montauk trips, and old photos from beach outings. Before I can lose my nerve, I dial his number. The phone rings, and my stomach twists nervously. Maybe those two glasses of wine were a mistake. Two rings, three. Maybe he won't pick up. A mix of relief and disappointment floods me when he finally does.

Jonathan didn't finish his words and ended the call. "Jonathan? Are you still there? Shit!" Diana was startled to hear me shouting. She asked about Jonathan, but I ran out and checked outside. The phone number he used was registered in Thailand's country code. He's here.

As he was pacing around the reception, the buzzing of his phone in his trouser pocket interrupted his trail of thought. Michael was surprised to see a call from a private number. He was skeptical to pick up the call at first but eventually answered after much contemplation, and his phone rang again from the same number. “Hello.” He said in a low voice, trying to depict who the caller might be. “This is Estefan Salvatore.” The name instantly sent a chill down his spine. “Good morning, Sir. I am sorry I was unable to extend my congratulations to you yesterday during the party.”

At that moment, Chiara knew nothing. She may find the answer in the company. It was very late at night. Michael had not gone to bed. He was inside his room and had just taken his shower. He looked grim. Apparently, he was still angry with Ivanka. His phone rang. It only showed the numbers without the caller’s name. Michael and Ivanka shared the same habit of not saving anyone’s phone number. They all had good memories. The phone number was Evan’s. Michael picked up the call.

" Cindy inquired. "Umm give me a minute," he responded while running off to pick up a small stick. "Ok, I'm back. Tell me her number." He added. "It's 6662-1111. That's her local cell number. Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked. Michael utilizes the stick to write the phone number on the sand. "No thanks, you are such a darling." He let out a grin. "Michael, if you don't mind me asking, where are you?" She raised a question.

Michael Jackson Third Person POV "I took care of that bad wolf," Michael Jackson says into his phone as he stops his car right in front of his big stone house. His clothes and hands have red blood all over them. It is not his own blood. His mind feels totally blank and numb. "You made a very big mess," Jackie Jackson complains on the other side of the phone. Michael can hear the sound of clicking buttons on a screen. Jackie is already cleaning up the trouble. "Why could you not handle this pack business in a much cleaner way?"