Dreammaker Part 1 - Boy or Girl?

~ Luke ~

The skyrail zoomed over the top of the city, its engines whirring smoothly and quietly. I sat up against the window, my sunglasses keeping out the worst of the glare bouncing off the towering glass and steel buildings. Of course, sunglasses serve a double purpose. They gave me a bit of peace from my adoring public when I wasn't in the mood for a fan club.

Which, I'll admit, I usually am. In the mood for a fan club, I mean. It's a good way to get a hot date.

But not today. I was in a foul mood; my parents, who are unfortunately highly influential and disapprove of my career as a movie star, had managed to gain control of my assets again. Basically, I was mega-grounded despite being twenty-three already. They'd frozen my options, threatened and bribed until they got me to take a job as manager for one of the shops they owned. It wasn't even glamourous; it was a mechanic shop. A lowly little repair shop.

Anyway, that's where I was headed. Since they'd taken my car too, I was stuck on the skyrail.

It was pretty much empty. There was a goth couple in the back making out and a little old lady in a cap with a lapful of knitting up in front. To be perfectly honest, I was drifting off when the sky rail eased to a stop and a boy got on. I didn't notice him until he sat down in the seat on the opposite side of mine.

I guess I was more assuming he was a boy, because girls just didn't dress like that anymore. The style was too late twentieth century, early twenty-first and utterly unattractive. He wore a baseball cap (on backwards) and an extremely baggy sweatshirt. Baggy camouflage pants with a couple of paint stains were draped over massive combat boots--these were resting on the seat in front of the kid as he slouched down, fiddling with a laser phone. Large sunglasses obscured his face and he wore a single fang earring, and he seemed busy chewing gum.

He noticed me from the corner of his eye, his head tipping in my direction ever so slightly. "You staring at something?" he asked rudely. I guessed he was probably about fifteen; his voice hadn't lost its musical boyhood lightness.

"I'm sorry," I said, not really meaning it. "I was wondering where you're from. People...people don't dress like that anymore."

"People are idiots," he replied, still not looking at me. "Did you know there's only two hundred and thirty-three women in America above the age of sixteen who haven't had plastic surgery to alter themselves cosmetically? Out of those, twenty-four are scheduled to get surgeries within the next year. See? People are stupid."

I was startled by the impressive information and the acid in the kid's voice. "How on Earth would you know that?" I asked.

He shrugged, still fiddling with his phone. "I'm good with machines."

"As in a hacker?"

"I prefer to call it research." He twisted the frame of his phone back into a bracelet and looked at me for the first time. "Will you bug off?"

I took off my sunglasses, expecting some kind of reaction when he saw my face. None. "Umm...do you think you could get something back for me?"

"Dude, I don't do bank transfers or anything like that. I'm only interested in the info."

Yeah, right. No one was that innocent. I refused to be put off by his rude manner. "My name is Luke Augustine." Still no reaction. Did this kid not watch TV? "What's yours?"

"None of your concern." He reached up and pushed the "request stop" button. Moments later, the skyrail had come to a complete and smooth halt. The boy stood up, slinging a duffle bag over one shoulder, and tipped his cap to me patronizingly. "Nice to meet you, Luke Skywalker." As he turned and walked away, I noticed two things; his hips seemed to swing a little more than a boy's, and one curl of red hair had escaped the hat to bounce against his long, slender neck.

~

"Hey, boss, don't we have a new employee starting today?"

Richard's voice was loud and grating as he yelled over the sound of roaring engines. I held a glass soda bottle against my forehead to fend off the heat. Sure, wearing suit pants and vest over a long-sleeved shirt might be my traditional look, but I was starting to think it would have to go if the air-conditioning wasn't fixed soon. For heaven's sake, wasn't I running a repair shop? Shouldn't the mechanics here be good for something?

"Yeah, I think there's someone starting today," I said, hardly loud enough for Richard to hear. I'd forgotten until he mentioned it. Some eighteen-year-old country kid had applied and had glowing references about their skill. I couldn't remember anything else about it, though. I figured I ought to review the folder before he turned up.

"Hey, Mr. Augustine?" The secretary, Lilian, stuck her head into the shop. "Shouldn't you be in your office? There's someone waiting to start work in here."

Too late. Whoops. "Oh, the new employee?" I asked, striding to her immediately and putting on my best winning smile. She blushed a little. "By all means, send him in here. I'll skip to the tour."

Lilian nodded and withdrew her head. Seconds later, the door from the customer and office area opened again, and--well, look who it was. Mr. Little Rude Boy from this morning. I saw a red eyebrow raise over the top of the sunglasses when he saw me.

"Well well. Looks like I should choose my conversations more carefully." Just as quickly, I was disregarded. "It's hot in here. Anywhere I can put my stuff?"

Oh, this was precious. I smirked at him. "Yes indeed, Mr. None-of-your-concern. There's a locker over there in the back." I pointed. The kid shook his head at me slightly then swaggered on by, opening the locker and proceeding to remove the baggy sweater and cap.

Whoa. Not a guy. Definitely not a guy. Shoulder-length curls bobbed down the kid's neck as she took off her cap, and the lack of the sweater revealed a powder blue tanktop hugging a very curvaceous form. She left her sunglasses in the locker too, holding a pair of mechanic gloves, goggles, and a kerchief in one of her hands. She turned back to me, revealing startlingly deep green eyes and a pale, flawless complexion and very pretty face. I realized my jaw was hanging open and I shut it promptly. Work stopped as our ten other employees also turned to stare.

"I'm Meg," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

Go on a date with me, I thought, but restrained myself. Flirting with a girl like this would not go over well. I'd never even met a girl like this! "Umm, yeah," I said, finding it difficult to start talking again. "Actually the air conditioning has been out of order this week and no one can figure out what's wrong. How about you start by taking a look at that?"

She looked up at the ceiling. "I'm in a mechanic shop full of mechanics and the air-conditioning doesn't work. Okay, let's see the notorious air-conditioning."

I led her back into the office area, then to the storage closet where the interface was for the building's climate settings. She tapped at the screen, but it didn't respond. "Oh, this should be simple. Let's see..." She brushed her fingers lightly over the glass touch-screen, pursing her lips. Then she knelt down, reached beneath it, and popped the panel off the wall, revealing wires and switches galore. I knew nothing about this kind of thing. Why did my parents choose to make me manager of a mechanic shop anyway?

Meg's fingers deftly traced their way up a wire. To me, it seemed like a perfectly random one. She eased it out, baring the copper end. "It's frayed," she said. "I need a pair of clippers. Then I can reconnect it and all should be good!"

I ran all the way out to the shop and back to Meg before I realized she had just sent me on an errand. I never run errands! I handed her the clippers, frowning, but she payed me no mind. She trimmed the frayed end and then carefully reconnected it. She closed the panel, went back to the screen, tapped a few things--and then the air-conditioning was on.

"Hallelujah," I said, looking at the air vent now pumping cold air into my face. I grinned at Meg. "Well, if there was any doubt before, you're hired. You made that look easy."

She shrugged again. "I told you, I'm good with machines." She brushed her deep red hair away from her face and looked up at me. "Well, put me to work, boss."

I shook my head slightly as I led her back to the garage. I could not believe a girl like this existed this late in the twenty-first century.