Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
She had no clue what the door was, but she knew about the area now. 1952, and the Cuban Revolution was just a few months away across the water. Batista's followers had brought their money to Miami that year, afraid of a democracy turned dictatorship, and they'd set up business and life, all waiting for the exodus that would bring half a million people across the water to the city in the following months. Miami was a drive away, and Sam hadn't found it right off. No, it had take one good fucking high, and she'd woken up in some apartment on the beach, palm trees and food that smelled like Jersey in the kitchen, and she'd gone back a lot since then. Yeah, so she was a white girl, but she missed home cooking. Her childhood had been trash, but it had been happy. Which no one could fucking understand, but there it was.
But, yeah, things were off. The music that blared from the tents was Lana Del Ray, just slower and more '52, and a boy had his hand up a girl's poodle skirt a few feet away. It was almost right, but it was all wrong, and Sam didn't care much. It was a good hiding place, one where no one looked at her like china that was about to shatter without anyone even touching it. Everyone was shattering under these striped tents, and she only stood out because she wasn't missing any body parts.
She watched him drag on the clove, and she smiled that gap-toothed grin when he said he drove. "Keys are in the ignition."
Which they were, and she moved past him in black and white and thighs peeking through the black fabric. She moved close enough to smell, clove sweet and citrus and saltwater, and she opened the passenger's side door of the car and climbed in like a girl who really didn't give a shit how she was supposed to move in that skirt. Bare feet on the dash, and she looked out the rolled-down window. "Just get on the highway and drive south."
There was absolutely fucking nothing in the swamp around them. It was one road, the I, heading south, and rich fucking houses on the intercoastal. Miami was like a blinking fucking oasis, and there was no way he could miss it, even without her as navigation.