Prologue

Swipe. BEEP. “$1.79”
Swipe. BEEP. “$2.59”
Swipe ... swipe...
Evan picked up the can of sweet corn and studied it briefly before seeing that the bar-code was damaged. It didn’t help that the GC Supermart that he worked at had equipment from the 80s. He held it in his hand as he began to manually enter the number.

The female customer standing across the register from him was a woman in her late forties. She was slender with an angular jaw and opaque sunglasses obscuring her eyes and cheekbones. She wore a knee-length sleeveless floral print dress, sandals, and held a wide-brimmed straw hat for her long, bleach blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail; She looked attractive though Evan didn’t give it much thought.

As Evan held the can, she saw his revealed forearm and on it, the exposed the tribal tattoo encircling his wrist. Evan was startled as she brazenly reached across the register belt, grabbing his arm to examine it and nearly causing him to drop the can.

“My word,” she said, lifting her sunglasses with her free hand. “That work is exquisite. Where did you have it done?” she asked.

Evan was too taken aback to pull away. “Um, I did it myself, Ma’am.” He looked around to see if anyone else was watching but he was the only cashier on duty and there were no other customers in line.

“Really? It’s beautiful. Do you do them professionally?” she inquired. She finally released his hand.

“Uh, no, Ma’am, I have my own equipment, but I just do them on the side.”

“I’ve been looking to get a rose on my shoulder. Would you be interested in doing a paid job?”

Evan’s eyes brightened a bit. The twenty-three-year old struggled to make ends meet to pay for his classes at the local community college where he was working on his art degree. Paying for his portion of the crappy apartment he shared was difficult while working for minimum wage as a cashier.

“Yes, Ma’am, sure,” he said excitedly.

“Do you have a studio to do them at?” she inquired. His heart sank as he thought of bringing this woman to his dump of a pad, but she cut off his thoughts with a wave of her hand.

“Forgive me, what am I saying; of course, you don’t,” she said, turning away to root in her pocketbook before continuing. “Here, this is my card. I’m going to write my home address on the back. Come by tonight at 7:00pm with your equipment. Oh, unless you are busy tonight?”

“No!” he said, probably a bit too eagerly. “7 is fine, Ma’am.” He took the card which identified her as a real estate agent named Linda Andrews.

“Great,” she said with a giant smile. She pulled her sunglasses back down.

“See you then,” she said as she departed.

Chapter 1 »