Sequel to the Wattpad novel The Age of Aquarius
E.J. Thompson, a reclusive author and former journalist, recalls the tales of four teenage criminals as Brooke King, Caleb Wolfe, and Nessa and Johnny Phoenix had exposed a corrupt billionaire for ille...
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When I was in my late-50s, I found a small diner to order myself a vanilla milkshake, a large cheeseburger, and a box of salty French fries.
But as I sat down at the lunch counter, an unusual tattoo caught my eye: two pairs of bright yellow scales stretched across a woman's bare arm.
Her red hair is fashioned into a wild mohawk.
Her ink-black tank top exposed her slightly hair arms, frayed jeans masked her bare legs, and to top it all off, the goth woman wore this enormous pair of black, clunky boots.
After I had given the young waiter my order, my impatient feet danced across the teal blue tiles. The customers sat in luxurious chairs and devoured everything off their plates.
Scraping forks, casual words, and bittersweet 60s music tumbled inside my ears.
Lifting the wrinkled newspaper in front of me, I began reading the New York Times when the mohawk woman plopped on an empty seat beside me.
I remembered the smell of her strawberry perfume, washing away the rancid odors in the greasy kitchen.
Bold amber eyes examined my gray business clothes. Intricate tattoos paint her porcelain skin like an empty canvas.
Graceful, black cursive paraded across her exposed stomach while two black dragons blossomed on her two shoulders.
My eyes began to wander at her tattoos until the waiter handed me my meal, causing me to jump in my seat. The punk female laughed; I started eating my fries, feeling the fire burn on my cheeks.
At first, I thought the woman hated me. But when I detect a mysterious smile appearing on her oil black lips, I begin to relax a little.
She told me that her name is Ruby then asks how got my facial scars. I told her about my years serving in World War II and the stories my friends and I had shared.
In response, the woman showed me the golden scales tattooed on her right arm. When she was eighteen, the woman had gotten accepted as a lawyer-her former lifelong dream.
Now, Ruby used to be idealistic; bright-eyed, and full of hope. She had established helpful strategies to help rejuvenate her city and regain her community's former glory.
So, to commemorate her talents, Ruby heads over to a tattoo parlor and selected a pair of luminous yellow scales. To her, the scales had reminded her about her determination to repair the failed court system.
But over time, her bright yellow tattoo turned dull. Ideas turn into doubts as no one—not even her employer-took her seriously.
Virtuous people were still in lockup, several missing persons' cases have been rejected, and when it comes to race, black males were often wrongfully incarcerated and sentenced to death.
