Was this normal? Being normal?
Not perfectly normal. Franklin grabbed some more beer from his fridge, and the bottle of whiskey. Juggling those and a glass for Michael, he went back into the spacious living room and set everything down in front of his friends. Some action comedy was playing on the large new TV and Trevor was going off about some nonsense, and finding the movie a lot more fun than it actually was. Chop was gnawing a squeaky toy of Lambchop T got him as a gag gift. It was unmanly and ridiculous but Chop kept it with him all the time now.
Michael sat back and drank another shot. Trevor elbowed him while in the middle of a rant, so Michael calmly poured out another shot, and spilled it on Trevor.
"My couch dawg!" Franklin threw a pillow at Michael's face.
"Sorry F" Michael laughed.
"Now I got T stank dripping all on it"
"Hey" Trevor said "I washed yester- uh-"
"Yeah 'UH'" Frankin gave him his sweater to dry himself and the couch. "Like, you washed the UH-ther month"
"It's alcohol T" Michael smiled. "Kills germs, you know."
There was a strangeness between them all. Trevor might have been oblivious actually, but not entirely. The last heist was great and exciting and for better or for worse, they'd agreed to stay together. All friends. Friends with nothing to do anymore except… be friends. There was a giant elephant in the room- a feeling of awkwardness about just how to continue on as friends. With no insane jobs to do, were they just too mismatched? A thug, a living Casablanca dvd, and a rabid possum.
Nah. The elephant got smaller everyday. The creases in Michael's and Trevor's faces seemed to have faded a little. Franklin had started to see Mike be a little more humorous and not just sarcastic. Trevor started to fill his time with mindless enjoyment and not just random violence. Well, kinda. He was still running TPE, but he was quieter about it. He was spending a little more time at the Vanilla Unicorn. At first they thought he was fucking the girls. Nope. He was pimping them. But it was kind of nice seeing T not get his hands too dirty for once.
Michael had resigned to the fact that his marriage wasn't going to work. They tried for so long, and tried one last time to give it their best shot. It didn't work though. Amanda and him just weren't happy as a couple, and they were too tired to fight anymore. They still argued but this was the closest they ever were to being actually friends. The pressure was off now, that fake life and blaming and wanting more, trying to squeeze blood out of stone. It was done. They actually laughed about most of their problems, most of them. They tried and failed and that was that, but as just two adults, they got along pretty well.
And Franklin had stopped giving a damn about what people thought of him. His old friends and family were never going to be happy with him. When he was broke, he was always gonna be broke and talked down to. When he was rich, they wanted handouts and for him to save them, all the while being put down for having money, a home, a life. Fuck them. When they got over themselves they could come over, but when they wanted to throw their tantrums, they could stay the fuck in the hood.
It was actually nice getting to know each other. The little crap. Franklin could hold a handstand for five minutes, even walking on his hands. Michael could do Peter Griffin impressions, and Stan Smith impressions. It was rare, but it was funny. Trevor liked two scoops of vanilla ice cream in his coffee, and would actually brush his teeth if you got him vanilla toothpaste. In fact, his teeth were amazing for all the shit he's been into. He hadn't had marks from picking his face in months and Michael couldn't remember the last time T had blood on his clothes.
Michael tugged at Trevor's damp sleeve. "Say, let's get you some new clothes, business man."
"Only if you put them on me, sugarti-"
There was a fast and hard knocking at the door. Not expecting any more company, Franklin walked to the door and called "Who?"
The knocks came again. Franklin opened the door. An old, gaudy women well passed her prime stood in the door. Her pumps were scuffed and her ridiculously bright leggings were clashing with her animal print top. She reeked of something, a chemical kind of smell and pharmacy perfume.
"Bring Trevor" she said through her cigarette.
"He ain't here" Franklin shot.
"That whole Sandy Shores place says he's over here. I need to stay at his place for a few months- what the hell am I telling you for? Let me in."
"That's very interesting. You should go back and wait for him." Franklin was closing the door on her before he heard a voice say "Mom?"
The woman pushed her way in. Chop growled with the toy in his mouth.
"Mother," Trevor said, sounding very unlike himself. Nervous and anxious, his movements were shaky and hyper. "Where'd you go? I-I got the stuff- I still have it-"
"No drink?"
"You can't just walk-" Franklin started but Michael gestured for him to stop. The woman choked on her smoky inhale and started to cough. Trevor tried to help but was pushed off.
Her cough cleared and she rubbed at her sagging neck, before pointing her cigarette at Michael. "Townley?"
"De Santa, Miss Betty." He said from his seat.
"I thought you were-" she paused, and her surprised turned into an eye roll. "Trevor…" She turned to her son. "Why did you lie to me? Why would you say you're not gay?"
He shook his head and placed a hand on her arm. "Mom, no, I-"
"Up here alone with men. With him. After he took another guy's name-"
Franklin and Mike looked at each other, in a mix of surprise at her assumption and worry about Trevor.
Trevor managed to open a beer and hold it out to his mother, but his hands were shaking violently and the liquid was jumping out of the bottle. "N-No, no, I'm not! We did jobs together, we- we did a great job, you'll be so proud! We-we-we-"
"Hand jobs ain't a thing to be proud of." She said, looking away and snubbing him.
"Mrs. Phillps!" Michael said sternly. "I think you should just take the beer, and listen for a sec-"
"You always were a shitty influence on my son." She dropped the cigarette on the floor and crushed it.
Franklin looked around and the room seemed to be on pause. Michael looked as thought he was reading a very boring book as he looked into the woman's sagging face. She looked cheap and just had this gross vibe about her, manipulating and entitled. But it was Trevor that made him feel sick. He was meek and had an expression he'd never had before - Guilt. Terror. That, and something close to what addicts had when they saw him, this begging needing look. Like a child lost in a store.
The room started moving again and before Franklin could go off on her, she was bitching again.
"You, always you he was following. Michael this, Michael that. Following you around leaving his poor old mother alone!"
"Mom no, Im sor-"
"Ryan was right, trying to tell me his brother was gay but I didn't believe it. Bet you manipulated him, Michael, tried to make it look like you were the one who cared for him, so he would stop seeing me!" She turned quickly. "This is why you didn't visit, why you didn't break me out?! I was rotting away in there-" She was stomping around now and smacked the drink from Trevor's hand "While you were here doing NOTHING and waiting on a guy who doesn't CARE bout you! Not you or me or-"
"Michael's my frie-"
"I'm your friend! I'm your mother and I'm old! And you picked him over me, over family! Nine months I carried you and you betray me like the snake you are!" She turned back to Michael "I'm taking back my boy, I need him!" She pretended to sob but her face was dry. She continued her tirade as Chop barked at her, offended at the loud stranger. She smacked Michael hard across the face, and to everyone's surprise was knocked to the floor by Trevor. Trevor was trying to hold her still, apologizing and begging her to stop. There was a different look in his face and as Franklin glanced at Michael, he was sure he'd seen it too. Trevor was stuck somewhere in his mind, somewhere between whatever had gone on in the past, and Tornado Trevor, and this new Trevor who just wanted vanilla coffee.
Michael tried to help restrain and separate, but her arms and legs had gotten loose and she swung and kicked at Michael. In quick succession, she clawed Michael's face, kicked him somewhere on the leg, and landed a punch aimed at his heart.
What happened then seemed to all happen in the same moment. Writhing on the floor with his friend and this crazy woman, Michael felt something move through Trevor, a shiver, a compulsion. There was that shake his body did before going on a rampage, almost a seizure.
The noise her head made when the bottle smacked smacked smacked against it was disgusting. The glass broke and was forced into her skin over and over until Trevor started smashing it again. The bits of glass chipped and broke off until he was only holding the neck of the bottle and hitting her more with his fist.
Franklin grabbed Trevor's wrist and forced him into sitting between his legs on the floor, one arm wrapped around to hold him close, the other squeezing to try and make Trevor drop the glass.
Michael moved away just a little from the body. Still sideways on the floor he lifted his head and stared unblinking at Trevor. Franklin didn't know what to be worried about more, the deer-in-headlights stare from Michael or the inhuman stillness of Trevor.
Another shiver from Trevor, and the glass fell against the floor. He made noises as if in pain, trying to choke something back, and then let out a loud, anguished wail. It rang and echoed off the walls of the house, and haunted it. It was scary, an exorcism of something that had been rotting in Trevor and poisoned the air until the sound faded.
"Car" Michael finally wheezed. Franklin nodded, relieved to have something to do besides watch helplessly. He had to hoist Trevor up and practically carry him out.
"Take Chop."
He was going to turn and ask why but Michael stopped him. "JUST FUCKING TAKE CHOP AND GET IN THE BACK SEAT!" It wasn't bossy, but it was almost panicked. He managed to get Trevor into the Escalade and sat in the middle. Chop whined, unsure about Trevor's blankness and Franklin's speedy muttering. "C'mon man, look at me. T, T, man, look. It's ok, look at me. Look, it's cool, I got you." He had a hand on T's shoulder, the other on his cheek trying to get him to turn his head. "Trev, man…ok, ok, ok-ok-ok, don't say nuthin, just… just… we got you, man."
Sometime later Franklin heard the back of the car open, a dragging noise, shoving. He didn't look back. Michael got in the front and drove.
"How is he?" He said softly.
"He's fine," Franklin squeezed Trevor's shoulder. "Cause we're here."
That was a lie, but Trevor needed it. Maybe. Franklin couldn't read Trevor now. Trevor wasn't even present.