Give It to Me

“Shut up.”

“I won’t, Violet.”

“Who’s Violet? Who’s that, Gar?” Kennedy questioned, stopped playing the guitar.

John was beginning to crack up. “Oh. My. Gosh. Mauve, your real name is Violet? That is just gold!”

“Ugh, Garretttttt!” She whined and craned her neck to the vocalist was. “As a matter of fact, John. It’s Violet May.”

Despite the heavy touring schedule, the whole crew still had its endearing moments. Mauve easily adapted and by the middle of the tour, she was used to it. Four to five hours of sleep, not-so-clean bathrooms, and anticipating the few days off – the other face of touring, she gladly embraced.
It was still a few hours before the second show in New York, they were all hanging out at John, Kennedy, and Jared’s room. The guys decided to grab a bite at a fastfood chain nearby. She had other plans and skipped. Only the three of them, Pat, Garrett, and her, were left for the time being.

“Pat.”

The drummer’s eyes left his laptop and focused on her.

“You’re not going with them?” She asked and he shook his head as an answer.

Her eyes lit up.“Yay! Wanna go somewhere?”

“Too tired.”

“Hmm,” she pursed her lips and made a decision in her head. “then I guess I’ll go alone.”

She gave Pat who was editing a tour update a squeeze and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?!”

“I’m getting something done. Be back soon.”

Mauve went back to the room she conveniently shared with Pat and Garrett, took her backpack, slinging it onto her back. She was already out of the hotel and already crossed the street when she sensed someone was following her.

“Didn’t ask you to come, Gar.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want a roadie wandering off and getting lost.”

She stopped walking and turned around to face the bassist. “See, you’re doing it again.” He threw her a look as if saying “Doing what?”

“That attitude of yours.” She spat. “One second, you’re this mysterious and reserved guy. Then, you shift radically, become concerned and… oh, never mind.”

New York in the afternoon was a hectic scene. People went in every direction. Pacing faster, Mauve searched for landmarks. Garrett kept up with her, almost tripping. “Where are you going?” She doesn't give a reply and instead she stopped at the tattoo parlor she saw the other night when they went out.

“You’re getting a tattoo?”

“No, I’m getting a haircut.” She rolled her eyes, full of sarcasm. “Yes, I am going to get a tattoo. Something I should’ve done before.”

He kept asking her questions. “Why now?”

“Look, I didn’t ask you to come here with me.”

Their not-so-fun Q&A was interrupted by an old man. He was donning a wife beater and faded denim jeans, both of his arms fully inked. “G’afternoon. How may I help you?” Of course, he knew what they wanted. “Sorry, it’s a habit. So, who’s going to get something done?”

Mauve stepped forward. “Me. I’d like to have the phrase ‘alis volat propriis’ on my wrist.”

“Come with me and let's talk about the details so I can do the stencil.”

When she was a teenager and had a mind of her own, she thought understood the essence of freedom more than anyone else because she felt denied of it. At present, she was a Business major and in a scholarship which paid half of her tuition. Her parents were naturally proud of her. “You’re our achievement, honey. Our best one.” That’s what they always said. They were so happy they raised the cookie-cutter smart daughter, planning her future down to the last details. She was fine with it but somehow she knew if she didn’t do something out of the ordinary while she was young, she’ll never get a chance again.

Alis volat propriis. It meant “own wings” in Latin, a phrase she came across years ago. She wanted a personal reminder that she had her own pair of wings to use to fly wherever she wanted to be. Branding herself with the phrase on her birthday was the perfect way to go. Pain was momentarily there, but the ink was permanent.

The session was done after almost an hour. Mauve was surprised the old man was also the tattoo artist. He was jolly and he reminded her of her late grandfather. What she didn’t know was Garrett overheard her sharing to the elder that it was her birthday, the reason behind her bold move.

“Let’s go have lunch. My treat again.” Garrett announced.

Looking around aimlessly for what seemed like ten minutes, the two happened upon a 60’s-themed diner. They walked inside and Garrett instantly knew this was the right place. He locked eyes with her and the sparkle in hers was the affirmation.

They picked out a booth on the left side of the diner. Mauve let the bassist order for her; all she asked for was a chocolate milkshake. He ordered two burgers with fries on the side and the milkshake she wanted. They talked casually while eating. Their topics were safe and nothing special, tour and Pioneer. In the middle of their conversation, Garrett spotted a jukebox conveniently juxtaposing their booth.

“You almost finished?” He asked her, pretending to be minding the time.

She made the last sip of her drink and grinned. “Done!”

He then stood up and dropped a quarter in the jukebox. He pushed the button that referred to the song he chose. It was the classic The Beatles song, Strawberry Fields Forever.

“Dance with me?” He offered his hand to her. She looked at him incredulously at first, her cheeks turning crimson.

The other customers noticed them and admired the lovely sight. Garrett’s hands placed carefully on her waist, Mauve’s hands loosely locked around his neck. Both swaying slightly and in sync with each other. He did not know why he was so caring towards the girl in front of him. She didn’t mind being with him.

“Thank you, Garrett Daniel Nickelsen.” She whispered while she laid her head on his chest. “We look ridiculous.”

He laughed. “I know.”

The bassist held her tighter. He lowered his head, his lips near her ear. “Happy 21st birthday, Violet May.”

“How did you?” She questioned.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Garrett made her look straight into his eyes. “This was a date.”