Promise Me

Prologue

Prologue

Violet

One Year Ago

I inhale deeply through my nose as I step off the Greyhound bus onto the pavement. Newburgh is wet this evening, and the smell of fresh rain invades my nostrils. It's as somber as I feel right now. All my worldly belongings are currently either in the hot pink backpack slung over my shoulder, in the black garbage bag that I'm clutching with tired fingers, or already in the small apartment above Dad's tattoo parlor. A long sigh escapes my lips as soon as I let myself think about him. I was just here a week ago for the funeral, and staring at the darkened shop across from me makes my chest ache.

Altered Ego was Dad's pride and joy - besides me, he'd always tell me. I spent all of my time here. We lived in the apartment above, and worked in the shop below. Altered was my church; my school; my safe place; my home. He made it a home, and his regular clients became family. He had some shadier people come in as well - don't get me wrong; but it didn't take long for me to learn who I should steer clear of. Who I shouldn't ask questions or stare at for too long. It was the best childhood I could have ever asked for. Then, when I was old enough, Dad decided it was time for me to learn the family business.

I'd always loved to draw. I'd watch him in the shop as he painted beautiful pictures on strangers. I'd stare and get lost in the colors, the patterns, the way he would focus so intently on the task at hand... everything. He caught sight of one of my floral designs one night after school while I was doodling at the table, and that was the night he decided it was time I started learning how to take over for him. I was... rough, to say the least - when I first started.

It took a few weeks for me to figure out how much pressure to apply while I held the gun. Then another few weeks until I perfected my line work. I nailed shading in a day or so, and then from there it was smooth sailing. I had my first client a few days after that - the old man himself.

One night, he flipped the closed sign over, tore his shirt from his shoulders, plopped into the chair and pointed to an empty spot on his back.

"You're ready, Rockstar. Show me what you got."

I remember how he smiled at me when he said those words. Then he turned around, rested his arms on the back of the chair... and fell asleep while I painted my flowers into his skin. I swear, that man could sleep through a hurricane.

We ran the shop together after that. We each had clients, and we were doing better than ever while I worked my way towards graduation. To my utter surprise, Dad practically shoved me out the door right after they handed me my diploma. I told him I didn't care about college. I wanted to be here. The shop was my life; my family; my future - and I didn't need a degree to get it. He kept telling me that I needed to get out though; to see the world.

"New York is just one piece, Rockstar. It's just one small piece in the whole grand scheme of things. There's so much more out there for you to see; to experience; to enjoy. You deserve a chance to bloom, Vi. To let your petals blossom. The shop and I will still be here when you come home to visit. Then when you've finally seen it all - I'll hand you the keys to this place myself."

Well Pops, looks like that didn't work out quite the way you wanted. A lawyer handed me keys to this place. Three weeks ago... yesterday - to be exact. A man in a suit showed up to my hotel room in New Orleans and told me that my father had been in an accident; and that I had just inherited everything through his death. To say I was in shock would have been an understatement, considering I had just talked to my father three days prior to the man knocking on my door.