Short Story: Pure Haze Beach
Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Quinn darted up the escalator, pushing shoppers aside to get to the top. Her mind raced. She looked in every direction. North was plus size, east was designer wear, West children and baby, South intimates and maternity. Plus size seemed obvious so she went north.
Quinn tried to be inconspicuous, but the looks directed her way told her she had failed. Quinn found her target by a checkout counter in front of the fitting rooms. She dived behind a circular rack of fifty percent off jeans. The sizes ran clockwise from small to extra-large.
“Do you have this in turquoise? What about this one and this one? And this?” said the middle aged customer.
The sales clerk told the woman …show more content…
It was 1:45 am. Pure Haze nightclub was packed. People wavered like clusters of sea anemone. Women in short skirts and bedazzled tops rubbed against men in T-shirts and jeans. The music was turned up to eardrum popping levels. Quinn felt the base rattle her bones.
Quinn wanted to loose herself in this strange ocean. To become Jacques Cousteau and study these brightly colored, picture taking creatures. She had not gone to clubs in her teens or twenties. She was a virgin to this scene at forty-seven. Quinn stood as close to the roped off VIP section as she could get. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would pay extra to sit in a roped off corner of a nightclub. Kirsten had bought a table. Quinn watched as she ground her backside into Russell’s crotch, out of sync to the music.
The best thing Quinn thought she had gotten from her stake out was a tour of Las Vegas. She had trailed the couple to several jewelry stores, high end boutiques and restaurants. Kristen had maxed out one credit card after another. She had consumed her body weight in food and alcohol at four different restaurants. Nothing seemed to fill her. After an hour at their hotel, Quinn followed the couple into Pure Haze. Sneakers, jeans and a button down polo shirt was hardly club wear, but the doorman did not look down on a $100
Quinn tried to be inconspicuous, but the looks directed her way told her she had failed. Quinn found her target by a checkout counter in front of the fitting rooms. She dived behind a circular rack of fifty percent off jeans. The sizes ran clockwise from small to extra-large.
“Do you have this in turquoise? What about this one and this one? And this?” said the middle aged customer.
The sales clerk told the woman …show more content…
It was 1:45 am. Pure Haze nightclub was packed. People wavered like clusters of sea anemone. Women in short skirts and bedazzled tops rubbed against men in T-shirts and jeans. The music was turned up to eardrum popping levels. Quinn felt the base rattle her bones.
Quinn wanted to loose herself in this strange ocean. To become Jacques Cousteau and study these brightly colored, picture taking creatures. She had not gone to clubs in her teens or twenties. She was a virgin to this scene at forty-seven. Quinn stood as close to the roped off VIP section as she could get. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would pay extra to sit in a roped off corner of a nightclub. Kirsten had bought a table. Quinn watched as she ground her backside into Russell’s crotch, out of sync to the music.
The best thing Quinn thought she had gotten from her stake out was a tour of Las Vegas. She had trailed the couple to several jewelry stores, high end boutiques and restaurants. Kristen had maxed out one credit card after another. She had consumed her body weight in food and alcohol at four different restaurants. Nothing seemed to fill her. After an hour at their hotel, Quinn followed the couple into Pure Haze. Sneakers, jeans and a button down polo shirt was hardly club wear, but the doorman did not look down on a $100