Blogbuster - A comedy-laced blogger sci-fi thriller

7 - Model on fire

“You just ruined my show. Two years of work. I hope you feel pretty special now.”

Violet’s fists pulsated with fury. She wanted to unleash that raw energy, wanted to make her fists ‘meet’ the girl’s face with endless fire inside. 

On the ground, the girl wiped the foam from her face and mustered a squint at Violet.

“Are you crazy ? Your stupid techwear almost killed me.”

“No, you almost killed yourself. You were supposed to throw the flare grenade away, not hold it tight to your armor and let it explode.”

The girl hissed, tried to get up but slipped on the foam on the ground and hit the dark soil with her pretty face. It looked like a slapstick video from the 20th century and it put a smile on Violet’s face. For a nanosecond, she was satisfied.

“I told you to be more careful. You are not wearing rags, lady, you wearing sensitive technology.”

“I’m a model, not a Marine. I run on catwalks, not on battle scenarios.”

“You seemed pretty cool about it when you accepted the gig. Especially after I transferred the generous payment.”

Violet’s assistant helped the girl up and calmed her down. Or tried to. The girl pulled her body away from the assistant’s grip and stomped towards Violet. She held up her torched shirt and unveiled her injuries.

“You see this ?”

A crusted layer of burned skin became visible.

“Those are at least 3rd degree burns stretching over my beautiful body. I’m a model, I make money because my skin is impeccable.”

Violet shrugged.

“So what ? Take nanomed and you’ll be well before the weekend. Not a scratch will remain.”

“Do you know how much that will cost ?”

“You could pay it with the overpriced fees you received from my gig.”

The model groaned and clinched her teeth. 

“I’m going to sue you.”

“Don’t wussy out now,” Violet said.

The model took some of the foam, formed it into a creamball and lunged it at Violet’s face. No reaction. She wiped the cream off her face and slapped it on the floor — as if it happened every other day. Violet was in control now.

“You’re alive, I’m alive, we’re all good.”

The model moaned one last time and pointed her index finger at Violet.

“Nothing’s all good. I’m done with you. I’d watch your inbox if I were you. My lawyers will be in touch.”

“Come on, now.”

The model flipped her off and cursed till her voice disappeared into the distance.

Violet suppressed a hiss.

“Mental note to myself : don’t hire models that can’t take pressure.”

She heard her assistant X sighing. Violet frowned.

“Why ? Was that too harsh ?”

“Let’s say you’re as subtle as a fist to the face.”

Violet whistled.

“It’s not my fault she can’t handle techwear. If she stuck to my instructions, she’d would have left this show perfectly fine and free of injuries.”

The assistant shrug.

“Maybe you should ditch the explosives in the next show.”

“They’re not explosives, they are fireworks. It’s not even a real flare grenade.”

She picked up the empty shell and held it for everyone to see.

“Look, it’s movie equipment.”

Every other model stood around and got undressed. Within seconds, Violet’s Urban Wearfare was thrown to the ground, piled in a heap on top of each other. It made Violet fume.

“Wow, what are bunch of professionals you are. When it comes to money, you all hold up your hands and gleam. But once a problem occurs, you run like scared rats. Little tip for the future, if you can’t deal with danger, don’t work in this industry.”

One Asian model spoke up.

“Violet, we’re all models. And we don’t want to blow up.”

Yadda yadda, she thought. Didn’t they just listen to what she said ? Movie equipment, hello.

But when you work with pretentious brainturds, logic didn’t seem to matter. 

“Leave my show, you faux pas fakes. You don’t deserve to wear my collection.”

Violet waved them off and watched them go, model by model. One of them said,

“I’m going to sue you, too.”

By that time Violet was ready to jump him and land a fist on his impeccable face, but assistant X held her back.

“Let’s not make this any worse, Violet.”

She sighed.

“Two years of preparation, X, and now a massive failure thanks to a model who’s too dumb to use a fake grenade.”

“I know,” X said.

“It’s unfair,” Violet said.

“I know.”

Mmmm, Violet said. A dog-like groan.

“Let’s go home.”

“I agree,” X said. 

He collected the techwear from the ground, jammed it into the rental car’s trunk. Violet rode shotgun, she was too fired up to drive. One casualty was enough, she didn’t want anymore trouble today. The assistant closed the trunk and took command of the car. He snuck a peek at her.

“Don’t say a word,” Violet said.

The assistant roared up the motor while Violet tried to cool hers. X kept his mouth shut. Violet peered out the windows and watched the industrial complex vanishing in the distance. What a location, what a beautiful show it could have been. It could have been magnificent. It could have been Violet crazy-colossal. 

Could have

should have

must have

She leaned closer into her soft, fake cotton-candy seat. What else was going to happen on this disastrous day ?