I glanced down at the clock on my dash. 9:45 A.M. God dammit. Damn it all the hell. I'm gonna be late and have to deal with all the other stuck up people judging me when I walk in the door. I'll miss the boring opening ceremony. I'm sure someone will bring up my tardiness. With a deep sigh, I pulled down the visor and tucked back a loose strand of ginger hair that fell from my neat bun. I reached down to grab a bobby pin from my center console.

With a jolt, my steering wheel jerked violently to the right. My hands grasped the wheel, turning into the skid. I pulled the car into the shoulder of the road. I turned it off and shoved the door open. My black stilettos clicked against the faded pavement. I walked to the back of the car, spying the passenger side rear tire was completely flat. Blown tire. Fantastic. Fucking fantastic. I pulled open the trunk and shoved my duffle bag out of the way. The floor pulled up to expose my spare tire. After wrestling the jack out of its mold, I kneeled beside the tire and found the dock for the jack and set it in place with a few turns, not yet lifting the wheel. I undid the tool box screw on the trunk and pulled out the tire iron. I put it on the bolt and used my foot to kick it loose. One down, four to go. I wiped my forehead. It was really fucking hot. The sun was unsheltered in the California sky, as if mocking me. Glancing down, I saw dirt on my cream dress. Fuck. I might as well get this tire on and go home. I put the iron on the next bolt and kicked it as hard I could.

In the distance, I heard the exhaust of a motorcycle. I kept my head down and lined up to loosen the next bolt as it neared. The exhaust cut off. I turned to look behind me. A sturdy man with a stubbly face and shoulder length blonde hair removed his helmet and got off the bike. His leather jacket had patches on it. A pair of white sneakers were peeking out under his faded blue jeans. One patch on the chest caught my attention.

Men of Mayhem. What the hell does that mean?

"Nice car," he said in friendly voice.

"Thanks," I huffed.

He took a step forward, "You know, these BMW wheels can be a real pain to get off the axel."

I stood back up and glared at him, "I know how to change a tire. I've done it plenty of times on this car. Thank you, but I'm fine."

He smirked on one side of his mouth. "I just think it would be a shame for you to get that nice dress all dirty with tire grease and road grime."

"Well thank you for your consideration but I'm just fine."

"You already said that," he chuckled.

I dropped the tire iron, the rod clanging to the pavement. "I don't need help. I'm not some helpless, clueless chick who doesn't know how to take care of herself or her car."

"I can see that."

I rolled my eyes and leaned down to turn the jack handle.

"You forgot a bolt," he grinned.

I looked down, seeing one of them I didn't loosen. I grumbled under my breath and put the iron on the bolt. I kicked it. No budge. I kicked it again. Nothing.

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Can I at least get that lug for you?"

I put on a fed up smile and glared at him, "Be my guest."

He walked up and with one pull the bolt loosened. He reached over and turned the handle, raising the car off the concrete. With no hesitation, he got the tire from the back and leaned it against the rear quarter panel. His hands, covered by open finger leather gloves, removed the lugs one by one. With the old wheel pulled off, he leaned under the car and looked around. He reached in and pulled at something.

"What are you doing," I demanded.

"I think you need some new brakes. Pretty soon too. Your pads are really worn down."

"I'll get them fixed when I get back."

"Where are you headed?" he mused.

I was so tired. "To a vet seminar."

"Oh, you're a tech?"

I almost growled. "No, I am not a tech. I'm a student who is almost about to qualify for my doctoral."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he said as he reached for the new rim. With a grunt he placed the tire and adjusted it on the axel. "What brings you through Charming?"

"Charming? Is that what that little town I just passed was?"

He smiled and tilted his head with a laugh. He shook his head and put the lugs back in place.

"It's just on the way my phone told me to go."

"You would have been better off just sticking with the interstate about five miles north. Would have saved you about twenty minutes of driving," he said.

"I'll remember that on the way back," I grumbled.

He shook the wheel once and stood up. "All good."

I gave him a forced smile, "Thank you, uhh…"

"Jax," he said with a big grin.

Smug ass pretty boy. "Jax. Thank you."

I walked around and opened the driver's door.

He followed and held the door open by leaning between it and the car frame. "What? I don't get to know your name?"

I smiled and kept my grip on the door handle. "Thanks for your help." I swiftly closed it and turned the car on. I pulled onto the road, glancing at him in my rearview. He turned to return to his Harley, and glanced back over his shoulder.

I shook my head and glared straight forward on the road. My knuckles tightened and I slammed the volume button with my thumb. The sounds of Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" filled the small space. That was weird. He was so fucking smug and full of himself. Ohh don't wanna get that dress dirty. Pig. I mean he didn't have to stop and help me. Probably does that anytime he sees any semi attractive girl on the side of the road. Probably looking for a pump and dump. That town was so fucking small. It was a lot like home.

I stopped myself. I turned the radio up even more.

In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more! With a rebel yell she cries more, more, more! More! More! More!