On a friday evening, three best friends were invited by their friend Kiki Hamilton to the 3rd Annual Charity Ball held in New York City. The three fabulous ladies were Scarlett Manson, Tara Wilson and none other than Rebecca Rancid. They were listed in a row for the VIP section - R-Rebecca, S-Scarlett and T-Tara, as was their seating. As they perused the area, they saw nothing but gaunt elderly folks with their noses too high in the air to see beneath them and of course, the Donald Trumps of the world waiting for their prey. The bar was a dank cellar built with circular booths supporting it's ceiling. Each booth was meant to give the guests their own privacy. The lighting was horrendous. It was so dark that only florescent lights and over whitened teeth of certain bar goers were visible. Ironically, it was built on one of the highest sky scrapers in New York.
"Charity? I don't believe in Charity!" spat the exasperated Scarlett Manson. Her dark jet black hair cascaded below her shoulders as she staggered around in her heels, on the brink of intoxication.
"Oh, trust me, honey," replied Rebecca Rancid, somewhat comforting. "None of us enjoy being charitable."
"But here we are!" Tara chimed in. "Surrounded by hypocrisy."
Shrugging her shoulders, Scarlett reached for another martini from the passing waiter. He stumbled on his feet and almost dropped the tray as he concentrated on the gorgeous brunette who barely noticed him.
"Are we hypocrites too?" implied Rebecca, leaning on the rail in front of her. They were on the terrace at this point, drenched in alcohol and cigarette smoke. The latter of which had Rebecca craving a cigarette. She looked at the city below her, lit with artificial lights. It overpowered the stars in the sky, which looked dimly lit.
"What makes you say that?" asks a perplexed Tara Wilson.
"I fancy myself quite charitable, even though I don't wish to be," Rebecca says, looking directly at the Goddess Tara Wilson now, a soft smile curling from the side of her lips. "Peons like Georgia James and Ciara Cage don't deserve my attention yet somehow manage to acquire this, not to mention 'CHARITY' Skye"
"Who?" quips Scarlett.
"My thoughts exactly!" Rebecca exclaims.
"LADIES!" The voice of an artistic junkie captured their attention. "May I get a few pictures of you?
"Sure!" Scarlett drunkenly agreed before shoving a long island iced tea she had snagged from another waiter into Rebecca's hands. The girls pose for a few pictures and then resume to their prior conversation before the random man cut them off. However, he still takes pictures of the three as they are the most gorgeous women present in the vicinity and five billion miles from it.
"I've come across one too many attention whores myself," Tara explains.
Rebecca smiles wryly. She knows just who Tara was talking about. "The funny thing is, none of these girls realize just how stupid they look. An good example of that would be my recent match in PWT. After Georgia James went on a loosing streak, she decided that it wasn't doing her dead career good and wanted to kick it back to life. So she chose to stand up against me," said Rebecca, trying not to burst into laughter. It was obvious that Tara was trying to hold her share of ridicule back as well. Scarlett Manson, however, laughed out loud at this point. Although she had downed six glasses of alcoholic drinks, her judgement wasn't impaired. "I know, right?" asked Rebecca cattily. "Although Georgia put up an optimistic front before the match, she was plotting with her loser friend Ciara backstage. It seems like during the match, while I was kicking the over glorified copycat's ass, the current unworthy holder took it upon herself to interfere, causing Georgia James to be disqualified and get this, added to the match to compete for the belt."
Co-incidentially, the girls all roll their eyes together.
"Georgia James must believe she is so smart after this cunning move on her part. I guess now once the match commences next week, these two bitches will try to tag team on me, take me out then have pure competition after I'm gone."
Tara nods her head, unwilling to believe that Georgia James is capable of independent thought. "You've got it all wrong, Rebecca," corrects the lustful blonde. "Georgia James here might try to act like she's a nun, she might be a slut but she sure as shit isn't Einstein. Ciara has all the motive in the world to want Georgia James at her side during the match."
Swilling the contents of her cosmopolitan in her glass, Rebecca ponders over Tara's advice.
"I guess you're right," she says. "Did you notice how easily she won the belt? Her claims to being eligible for the contendership match was because she never got pinned when she lost the Femme Fatal title. Why did I have to slap Georgia silly last week then? I don't remember losing the Femme Fatal title. I never even competed in a match in which it was handed to a new champion. In fact, I remember retiring the belt before I left."
"That is so unfair!" exclaims Scarlett Manson, before she took a big sip of her champagne.
"Clearly," agreed Tara.
"So if in this match next week, I pin Georgia James and end up the Femme Fatal Championship, she might come claiming for another shot at it. And what seems to be even more ridiculous is that Ciara is almost one foot out of PWT right now. Is this because she knows I'm going to be the Femme Fatal Championess in ten days. Is she really afraid?"
"The competition these days seems to be diminishing," Tara states.
"You're smart, Tara, that's why we're such good friends" says Rebecca, putting an arm around her friend. The two of them stroll away from Scarlett Manson who seems to be in a mild dalliance with this investment banker.
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