Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
Teenagers got it on. That was just how shit was, and that had always been how shit was. Back home, it was behind dumpsters, in hallways and alleys. And that shit came even younger now, yeah? Sam didn't live any of that shit, married too young, but she'd seen it when she went home. Fuck, she saw it everywhere. Malls, movies, Adventuredome. It was part of being a teenager, heavy fucking petty behind some building or another. It was one of the awesome things about youth. First kisses, first gropes, all that. So, yeah, no, teenagers ran around the carnival all day. Ferris wheel, carousel, and their parents looking for them all the fuck over. They always made her smile, those kids, because they were so fucking happy. Life hadn't screwed them yet or whatever, and she envied them.
She didn't chatter on the ride. The windows open, and her blonde hair in her face, and fuck headscarves. She was tangles by the time they got off the highway, but she liked the feel of the road, the breeze that smelled like salt, and the illusion of fucking escape.
But the city was different. It was a city, yeah, one palm-tree lined strip leading to the water, little house, squat and concrete and cheerfully colored. Defiant of strong winds, and she knew they were built to look like the houses on that island that you could see on clear nights. She liked it. It was so fucking simple, and that made it appealing.
She pointed. This way. That way. Until the squat little building that was Club Bali came into view. It was on the beach, open to the sand and blue beyond. Music carried through the front doors, and it was another song out of time.
Sam spilled out of the car before it even stopped rolling, laughter and feet on pebbles and sand. She wound around the front of the car, expecting him to roll to a stop, and she went around to the driver's door with a grin, quirked brow, and extended hand.