Carolina [h.s]

thirty one

south carolina
november 1988

***

Zayn
//

I fucking hate America.

All that freedom rings bullshit, all the rude people and the cold ass weather. This isn't the shit I signed up for. I signed up for this country's endless opportunities and left home for the harsh reality of what life actually is.

Life isn't supposed to be barely making ends meet and sleeping in a fucking car. Life isn't playing gigs where the crowds could care less about the performance we give our everything to.

But we are young and my boys and I are freshly legal with only each other to lean on.

Our expectations for the world were higher than they should have been. We were dreamers, and damned determined ones at that, no one could tell us otherwise. Especially when it came to what we loved to do.

New York was the first state we flew to in this God awful country three months ago. But it was just a dead end. Although it was supposed to be the place where lights shined and people never slept, it was vastly overrated.

Because living out of a car in the winter just wasn't cutting it. The gigs, no matter how big they were, just weren't worth it anymore. And just as we were about to give up and pack it up to go back home, Ray found us.

Ray doesn't have a last name on his business card. He's the skinniest motherfucker I've ever met with a tacky mullet and wore those big round glasses that were popular in the 70's. But when he saw one of our gigs, he insisted we make it down south where he promised money and a real guide in the music industry.

So with nothing to lose and no other option, because there's no way we were going home just yet, we got in the car for our trip to none other than South Carolina.

"Where the fuck are we?" I hear Harry groan from the back seat. He leans up from the window, always the last one awake.

The sun cracked through the opened windows and the heat felt good on my skin. The open road ahead of us kept going for miles and miles and I felt like we never would get to our destination.

"South Carolina," Louis calls from next to me just as we pass the state sign.

We all watch out the windows, driving down the streets of a small town and it's nothing impressive like New York. There's no tall buildings or crowds of people, lights didn't shine and things weren't even close to chaotic.

Instead there were small business shops, a few gas stops and a grocery store. Cars drive the speed limit, and families walk up and down the side walks and sit on benches.

"Jesus Christ," Harry mutters, looking out the back window.

"Not what I really had in mind to put it lightly," Louis speaks again from the passenger's side.