Chapter Eight

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Seven Years ago

It was a Sunday, the day of the market down by the beach in the little part of Florida that Amber Rose Beaton called home. She always came down to the market on Sundays to buy pastries and browse the stalls with their brightly decorated assortment of foods, clothes and collectors' items.

Amber had just finished a morning of tattoos and piercings at her locally run store. She was starting to become popular and well known with other artists. It had become a hub for local lesbians who hung around outside just to catch a glimpse of her, or to get an autograph. Amber was booked up for the next two years for tattoos. She knew she was damn lucky. Her appearance on a reality show when she was twenty one, nationwide, had meant she was now well known on the scene. She had fan girls all over social media, messaging her daily. It was a blessing that she had come across well on the show. She was loved for who she was, a gay girl. It had been the thing that she was most nervous of before appearing, as nobody back home knew about her sexuality, especially her mother. The girls flocked to the store as soon as it aired because everyone in the beach town knew Amber. She was fresh out of college when the show appeared. Everyone had admired her bravery coming out on TV, but mostly they admired her for her work as a tattoo artist. It had bumped her up on the radar to "Famous tattoo artist Amber Rose Beaton"

It was obvious though, even back then, that it was Ambers looks that had shocked people. How could a girl so beautiful be gay? When did gay girls look normal? It made her mad as hell that people still said that on a daily basis. It wasn't her intention to become famous, but it helped pay for her new little house by the beach, and her new tattoo place.

She picked up some strawberries in a little basket from the first stall. She handed the guy a couple dollars and picked a juicy one, putting it in her mouth. Red juices dripped onto her white summer dress, and she quickly tried to wipe it away, knowing it was a major fail on her part.

"Crap" she muttered under her breath. She pulled her shawl from around her neck and placed it around her shoulders covering her stained dress.

"There! Take that" she said, pleased with herself. She continued down to the busy crowded square. She knew most of the stall owners by now so they usually nodded or waved as she passed.

She came to a stall unattended. She looked for the owner but didn't see anyone. She slowly sifted through the different pieces on offer. She had never seen this stall before. It was so colourful. Homemade photo albums and purses, jewellery and scarfs. They all looked beautifully created by hand, and she could tell someone had spent a lot of time creating these. Behind the stall were paintings hanging from pegs along a string. They were enchanting pictures of the ocean, sunsets, a foreign country by the looks of it, very European looking. Italy at a guess. All painted with the most masterful stroke.

She picked up a photo album, it was green velvet. It felt soft to the touch, and inside was a few pages of small sketches and places to put your pictures.

Suddenly a head popped up from behind the stall. Amber leapt back in surprise, her hand covering her huge grin as she began to laugh. In front of her stood a young woman, she would guess that she was fresh out of high school. Eighteen, but twenty at a push. She had light green eyes that popped against the dark of her hair. Amber guessed maybe she was Italian or Greek. She had light olive skin and her smile was infectious.

She smiled at Amber's reaction. "Did I scare you" she teased. Her eyes creased up in a smile.

"I didn't see you back there I'm sorry. Did you make these" Amber pointed to the objects on the stalls table.

"Damn right I did, with these little old hands of mine" She raised her palms to Amber.

Amber gazed at her. Curiosity took over "I haven't seen you here before?" She said, wondering who this girl was. She thought she had met everyone in town.

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