Girls On Fire (formerly known as Rebel Rebel)

Chapter 6 - The Party

“You know about cars?” she asked, admiring his rear end when he bent over the engine.

“Yeah, I work in my Dad’s garage from time to time.  Good way to save money for a place of my own.”

“Hmm.” Megan replied, interestedly.

“Where are you going dressed like that?”

“A party in Knoxville.”

“You travelled far?” he asked.

“Sw-Somewhere nearby.  I’ve been staying with family.”

“Sounds nice.  I’m from Memphis, originally, myself but we moved here almost three years ago.”

“In Knoxville?”

“Just outside it actually.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I’m Mason, by the way.”

“Megan.  So can you fix it?  I really need to get to this party.”

“I can fix it for now.  But it won’t be permanent, you’ll have to get it seen to right away.”

“How long do you think it’ll last?”

“May be for tonight.  I don’t know, it depends how far away you’re travelling after your party.”

“Not far.” She said, leaning against the car.

“Well, let’s see what I can do.”

He bent his head further over the engine, tinkering away at parts that Megan had no idea about or what they did.  She liked talking to Mason, not to mention watching him work after removing his tattered shirt to reveal a skimpy man’s vest beneath.  But all too soon he was handing her a card with directions to his fathers’ garage and driving off into the darkness.

Climbing back into her car she said, “I think I’m in love.”

Nikita was one of the few party attendees that arrived on time for it starting.  There was a red carpet lining the outer hall with all kinds of booths and stalls set up around the walls.  One had a table set up with name tags and gift bags.

“Invite number?” screeched a woman in red at Nikita from behind a table.

“Um… 473.” She said, handing the invite over.

“473, Hotshot.  Here you go, babe.”

“What’s this?” Nikita asked, taking the name tag dubbed ‘Hotshot’ along with a gift bag.

“It’s just something we do here.  Little nicknames.”

“I thought this was a charity benefit.”

The woman cackled loudly, “I like you, you’re funny.”

“So this isn’t a benefit.” Nikita muttered to herself.

“Oh, babe, wait!  You’re appointment with the woman in charge will be at 9:30.”

“Who?”

“You’ll see.” She winked.

“Did someone say Hotshot?” squealed an excited male voice.  “Hi I’m Anton, can I take your picture?”

“My picture?”

Anton rushed her over to a patch of wall covered with a green screen where he began rapidly snapping away with a camera shouting every now and then things like, ‘Oh my god, your dress is to die for!’ and ‘You have incredible bone structure.’

“Thank you.” she blushed.

“Here, doll,” he said handing her back her gift bag and name tag, “don’t forget to put that on and help yourself to a glass of bubbly on your way through.”