Earlier this year (pre-COVID or so we think), I took a creative writing class. The following is a short story that I wrote for this class. Let me know if you’d like me to share more of this type of content. Enjoy!
“I’ll have a rum and Coke”, says The Girl to the stranger who just offered to buy her a drink. The place was called Roxie’s, a pub-like club with a lounge area in the front and dance floor in the back. Roxie’s was one of the few night clubs in the city that hosted “college night”, blessing college students (albeit underaged), aspiring club-goers, with the opportunity to party among the young and hippest adults in the city.
Truth be told, The Girl was actually in the club legitimately. She had a valid college I.D., that belonged to her, thus certifying her eligibility to be in the club. The list of club rules did not specifically state that said college student should refrain from voluntary underaged drinking. No harm, no foul; she could pass for 21 (or some thought.) Besides, The Guy was being polite and most likely was not trying to get into her pants. The two of them danced to a series of Crystal Waters, C&C Music Factory, and Deee-Lite songs, which were being churned out by a hyped DJ who was dancing, fist-pumping, and gyrating to the music along with the crowd.
And then it happened. “Deep Inside” by Hardrive came on.
The song pulsates throughout the club from the substantial speakers that were strategically staged around the dance floor. The Guy continues dancing as he slides and shimmies to the bar to secure refills of The Girl’s rum and Coke, and whatever he was drinking. The Girl continues dancing by herself, rocking her hips upward left, and then to the right, “Deep inside, deep inside,” she sings as she twirls around. As she continues to dance to the beat and musical movements of the song, she proclaims this as her “club song.” Meaning that anytime this song comes on, it is mandatory that she dance to it. It is settled.
The Guy returns with The Girl’s drink. The Girl doesn’t particularly like rum, although she enjoys Coca-Cola. She takes a sip and starts to wonder how this combination became a thing in the first place. The Girl had been coming to Roxie’s for a few weeks and actually began detesting the taste of rum and Coke together. However, because she was an underaged-you-have-no-business-drinking-in-the-first-place minor, this was the only alcoholic drink she knew to ask for. The Girl was an amateur who was afraid of getting exposed and thrown out of the club for being…well, a kid. Think about it. If a guy asked her what she wanted to drink, and all she said was “Coke”, or “Sprite”, he might detect her teenaged status, blowing her cover.
The Girl finally sits down to relax and cool off when she glances at her colorful, Picssso-esque Swatch watch. It’s 9PM on a Thursday (also known as a school night.) The Girl jumps up, grabs her jacket and scurries out of the club. The Girl is panicked by the hour-long train ride that awaits her. Her Mom would be home from work at 11PM. The Girl knew better to show up home after her mom and smelling of alcohol. The Girl makes a frantic stop at a McDonald’s across the street from the club before boarding the train. It was a refuge for club goers, commuters, locals, and underage minors who need to sober up before making their way back home.