Violets

Bobbie passes the one-time speakeasy on her way to and from an endless series of pointless job interviews that go nowhere. It's the mid-1960's, she's out of work and fellows seem to get all the 'real' jobs. Bobbie's degree doesn't count for much when all that's available is a waitress' uniform or carting a cocktail tray around a bar...a very peculiar bar.

In a decaying old nightclub on a deserted block, the lights fade into deep purple shadows to hide decades of secrets. There's a whiff of something lavender in the smoky haze, glasses clinking at empty tables and a beautiful face staring back at her from the mirror behind the bar...with violet eyes.

Figures emerge from the lilac fog: A man in black at a piano, a woman in orchid at a microphone, so real that Bobbie can almost hear them beckoning for her to join them. It's said that some have done just that. But some have vanished, some have even died...and Bobbie may be next.

Welcome to Violet's.