HARDAWAY | trilogy

V2 - Chapter Twelve.

𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

               Two weeks — Two weeks my Mother has been buried in the ground at Riverside Gardens Cemetery and I woke another day alone in the townhouse I lived in with her and smelled her fragrance all around. Every day, every second, it pained me. Pained me to know there would be no other day I would hear her voice anymore or eat her breakfast in the mornings. Coping mechanism of liquor have become my best-friend. And money I've been missing out on. Keeping myself bonded in the house, helped none. So I had to grasp a way out of the townhouse and to the parking lot of the shop.

Legendary and Ink Tattoo — the tattoo shop I've working at for a while. My childhood love for drawing turned into engraving ink into human flesh. Sitting outside for about thirty minutes in my Dodge Charger Hellcat, raindrops tickled down on the windshield and bought a scene of calmness within me. My Mother enjoyed rainy days. It would be the day she would clean the house from top to bottom with every window and door open to allow in the breeze while she played her oldies.

Soulful musician Sam Cooke was her favorite. Every rainy day; sprinkle, or storming — "It's Alright" would be playing loudly around the townhouse. She disturbed the slumber of me and Camila, but she enjoyed herself. She was in her element and we allowed her to be. We would either learned to block out the noise with pillows or join the fun of my Mother's sanity.

"Dance with me, mijo!"

Sounds of her snickering echoed throughout my mind and had me chuckle, removing my hand from holding my head up and dropping it on my lap.

Soft knocks thumped the window as thunder rumbled. Turned my head in the direction when the door opened and climbing in is the female with cinnamon brown skin and a bold undercut with defined, blue coils. She quickly elaborated, "Nigga, I been sitting in there for damn near a hour for my tattoo. Why yo' punk-ass out here?"

"Hello to you to, Marissa." Raising upright, I replied to my paternal cousin; one year her Senior, "My bad doe. I just got stuck on sumthin. Let's go."

As we both got out of my car, we jogged towards the tattoo shop to get out the rushing rain and walked in with the bell alerting our entrance. Canvases hung around the waiting area and couches with hardwood floor and reception desk in the corner. One of the couches occupied a female with honey brown skin. She bounced her crossed leg and looking down at a magazine. Her face covered by her long and curly tresses.

"My homegirl who was supposed to get tatted with me chickened out. But my other homegirl tagged along — Asia..." She called the name of her friend and quickly she looked up. I recognized her. When her eyes landed on me, she smirked and sat down the magazine.

"We run into each other again. . ." Standing from the couch, she sauntered her slender body over to us in a windbreaker and tights with ankle boots, "However, you still look like your in need of another Amsterdam."

"Pause— y'all know each other?" Marissa asked, motioning between me and her friend in confusion.

"Na'," I smirked and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, "We ran into each other at a store one day; after my Mom's funeral."

"Guess we can formally meet, I'm Asia."

"Larenz," I nod my head with the introduction.