Author's Note: I've been working on this story for the longest, and I'm glad I've gotten it posted. I might not have the speech and characteristics for Luis, Franklin, Mike, or Trevor perfect yet, because I haven't played TBOGT or GTA V. I based their characteristics off Youtube clips of missions and cutscenes. Please review and let me know if they're a little bit OC.

These characters (Franklin, Lamar, CJ, Cesar, Kendl, Trevor, Michael, Luis Lopez, and Wu Xi Mu) are not my property. They belong to Rockstar Games. I make no money off this story, so don't sue me.

Warnings: This chapter contains violence and vulgar language. If you don't like, don't read. The story is rated M for a reason.

Chapter 1: The Good Life

Labor Day, 2012

Vank Hoff Algonquin, Algonquin, Liberty City

Xander's POV:

"Leave me alone!" the girl I was chasing shrieked.

I caught up to her easily and encircled her waist with my tatted arms. My cross rested against her belly, and my Psalm 141 ink pressed against her tits in their tight pink bikini top. She batted futilely at my hands but I lifted her up anyway. "Girl, where you goin'?"

"Stop!" she shrieked. "Put me down!"

"Put you down?" I repeated. I backed toward the edge of the crystal clear pool's waters. "A'ight, I'm gonna do exactly that." With a grunt, I tossed the chick into the pool. She thrashed around and returned to the surface.

Gasping for air, she brushed back her soaked blonde microbraids. The chick looked ten times better in the pool than she did outside of it. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how much my hair costs?"

"I hope it was more than your boob job, stupid bitch. They look like balloons with no air!" I yelled back.

She shrieked ferociously and splashed me. I flipped her a middle finger and walked off. I was lying about the tits; they were like soft bowling balls in that top. She was just the type to walk around a party like my uncle's with a teeny tiny outfit and not even give a dude so much as a handjob. Girls like that need stamps on their foreheads: looking for sucker, will not suck ya. Bitches like her always complained that men just wanted one thing from them, but they after only one thing too—a free ride.

Nicki Minaj's "Beez in the Trap" was flowing from the speakers at the DJ table, and I was most definitely in too good a mood to let some stank irk me. Fine girls were everywhere and in every color—caramel Latina chicks, pretty yellow Asian girls, redbones, brown-skinned chicks who could've been Mexican or Black, and girls so dark they looked like East African imports. I definitely wasn't going to my hotel room alone that night.

Rather than scoping out a honeydip, I made my way to one of the tables near the grills. Four grills—and no, not a single Harvey Electrician—were operating at the same time around the pool under the supervision of my uncle's homies from the hood, OG's who could throw down with some meat and a hot grill! At the grill I rolled up to, a couple of Uncle Sweet's boys were grilling ribs, chicken, and burgers. Some of the OG's had vegetables; a few even had shrimp and fish on their grills. The aroma was drawing the girlies better than a shower in Sword bodywash.

I'll be honest with you though: I'm not slick like my pops. Back before me and my twin bro Xavier were born, he had six girls all at once. Moms was kind of the lucky draw because she got to have us and Pops married her. She just didn't win in the long term.

By the way, I'm Xander S. Johnson, elder son of Helena Wankstein and CJ Johnson. Yeah, they're that Helena Wankstein and the CJ Johnson. When your parents are rich and famous, the up side is, you get pretty much whatever you want, whenever you want. Down side is, there's nothing Xavier or I can do that's worthwhile to our folks. Xavier and I graduated first and second (yeah, in that exact order, and he never lets me forget it) from our high school; played four years of varsity football and varsity basketball; won a state championship in each sport; and got into San Andreas Tech on academic and athletic scholarships (and some peons launched a blog war about it too), where we had made Dean's List in our freshman year.

All Moms—San Andreas' best A.D.A.—said: "Let's see if you can sustain that for the next three years."

Pops said, "I won two Moomys this year, and helped two artists get their first platinum albums. But I ain't stoppin' there, and you don't need to either."

I'm not being another emo rich boy, I promise. Far from it: What my parents lack in the ability to praise an accomplishment, they compensate with gifts for me and Xavier. We got nearly identical twin Banshees for our sixteenth birthdays, and classic Infernuses for our nineteenth birthdays, fully restored! And we've got friends, money, and Xavier's got girls for almost every day of the week.

I know I've got good looks: 6'4", about 228 with a combination of Pops' kinky black hair, Moms' cold blue eyes, and the combination of their brains. But even if that stuck-up user bitch with the fake tits did give me the time of day that I deserved, I still ain't got game like that. I just do my best to keep up with my little bro and my pops!

More on that later.

I gave my boy Rocks a pound as I pulled up to his gas-powered grill. Rocks was closer to my Pops' age and a big dude with inks on his arms, neck, and back from the family he had lost over the years he was in the game. But he had a personality that was closer to my age. A gorgeous chicana with shoulder-length black hair clung to one of Rocks' arms: his girlfriend Rosalina. From what I had heard, before Rosalina, Rocks was deep into robbery and burglary to get his paper. She had helped him to get off the street, into my pops' corporation as they were all GSF, and had helped him start his own restaurant.

"What's good, X?" Rocks said by way of greeting. Rosalina gave me a kind but not flirtatious smile. She was too respectable for that shit that the girls my age did. Both Rocks and Rosalina were all about the other one, and no one else got between them in the years they'd been together. I had mad love for both of them because of that.

"I'm just chillin' man," I answered. "How about you and the fam?"

"The kids are good. Hey, Javier just got all A's at that school your mom recommended."

"No lie?" Rocks shook his large, buzz cut head. "That's awesome man!"

Rosalina and Rocks both smiled with pride in their eldest son. "Speaking of the kids," Rosalina said to her man, "I'm going to call the babysitter and check on them."

"Alright, baby." Rocks and Rosalina exchanged a quick peck on the lips. They were together over fifteen years, but still had crazy love for each other. I saw it in the unhindered way that Rocks deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around Rosalina's waist before sending her off with a tap on her booty. "You need to get yourself a woman like that, X."

"Maybe one of these days, Rocks. But right now, I'm sampling all the ice cream I can, feel me?"

"You eating ice cream samples. Women like Rosalina, that's breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

The way the burgers sizzled on the grill had my stomach talking to me in three languages. "Aye Rocks, hook me up with some food, since you wanna keep talkin' about it."

Rocks laughed and flipped a thick, juicy burger onto the plastic plate in my hand. "Aye, before anything pops off, I gotta let you know: Your cousin Franklin is here with a few of the GSF crew."

"Cool, thanks for looking out man." I snatched a bun from the plastic sack beside the grill and arranged my ketchup and mustard on it. All the while I was scoping out the party for Franklin's easily recognizable face. Franklin had beef with my whole family. As long as he stayed wherever he was and away from me, Pops' party would be cool.

I spotted him on the other side of the pool, glaring at me. We stared each other down. Then Franklin's boys rolled up on him with a plate, and a fly White chick modeling a striped white-and-red bikini walked by me.

Franklin's POV:

I watched Xander turn and follow the White chick in the too-little bikini. She had a pretty face with a stripper's body, but I still shook my head at his obviously desperate pursuit of the girl. That nigga tried too hard to act like he had some swagger and always had, even when he was a little kid. He was a damn embarrassment to niggas everywhere.

I turned to my boys Genius and Lamar. Both were close friends of mine, even though they were polar opposites. Lamar had been my boy since junior high and became GSF a year later. We were about the same height, but I was bigger than he was and a better driver. He had respect for all the OG's like my pops and my uncle. While we chilled at poolside, Lamar was killing burgers and steaks like a dog. Lamar was ruthless about getting his paper but lacked the sense God gave a fool. It wasn't a pretty combination. I'd spent most of my life getting his ass out of bad situations.

Genius carefully bit into and chewed his food. He was a graduate of MIT at 21 with a doctorate at 25. Dude had just come up to Liberty for the party. I hadn't seen the homie in about a year. Anything Genius wanted to know, he knew. He wasn't just another Filipino computer whiz nigga either; he had skills on the mic. More than once, it had put his life on the line, but Genius always knew how to fight back. That was actually how I met the dude: He was throwing down with some African-looking niggas dudes and I decided to help out the short dude with the big ole faux-hawk.

"Life is good man! Can you believe this shit? GSF is dominating! I'm gettin' paid crazy. The food is good, and I'm feelin' I'ma meet my wifey tonight, ya heard?" Lamar bragged. "Ain't nobody strong enough to take this down."

"Bullshit, bra," Genius said. "Did you forget the sets GSF took down to get where they are, bra? Yardies, the Italian families, Ballas, and Vagos all still got beef with us. Those sets have been quiet for too long. When they come up again, they're coming for blood."

"Genius, I'm here to enjoy myself at my uncle's birthday party. This ain't the time to talk Families' business," I interrupted.

"You always say that, Franklin, but you never do want to talk about it. You're about to take the reins, bra."

I couldn't believe Genius was bringing it up again. My pops—Sweet Johnson, older brother to X's dad CJ—had run GSF over 20 years, and was one of the most respected men in Los Santos, even if he was a gangbanger. He was always seen with the mayor and with the rich and famous in magazines. The FIB and IAA weren't even trying to touch him, he had so much power.

Just two months ago, I had done something unbelievable: I had pulled off a series of multimillion dollar bank heists. With a series of wise investments, my share of those investments had made me a man of substance and helped out GSF from one of its lowest cash deficits since the early 1990s. People were starting to talk about a new leader, about Sweet stepping down.

The DJ spun Kelis' "Milkshake" into the middle of Usher's "OMG." Everybody around the pool started wildin' out to the almost-classic party mix. A couple of real crazy fine girls started twerking on chairs beside the pool like professional strippers.

"Damn, did you see that bra?" Genius exclaimed as a girl in a white string bikini made the booty clap. My nigga might've had a doctorate degree, but he was a straight man too.

"Yeeeaaahhhh, this party's gonna be a straight twerk contest!" Lamar exclaimed, rubbing his hands together greedily.

Almost everyone else was focused on the group of girls working for some money, but I noticed the girl who stepped out from the DJ's booth. She had long reddish-brown hair straightened and falling to her back. Her skin had that exotic light brown color like Tiana Sax with curves like Nicollette and a cute innocent looking face like Julianna Baggio. Her tight body was squeezed into a tiny turquoise bikini. 'Damn, my cousin is growing up too fast,' I thought.

Marisol's POV:

If a man wasn't lookin' at me when I made my entrance into my uncle CJ's party, I knew he was a dick eater immediately. The weak bitches twerking on the side of the pool had nothing on me. That's why the hoes had to show off all their asses for free. Call me overconfident if you want to, but I was lookin' sexy and I knew it.

I got it from both parents. Papi gave me his skin complexion—that beautiful brown chicano glow—and his naturally slim body type. From Mami, I got the killer curves and the style of a grown woman. When I wore Li'l Obese or Church 8 Jeans, I literally could stop traffic. Mami also passed on her hair to me, but that was easy to tame with a hot iron and plenty of patience.

Me llamo Marisol Kendl Vialpando, oldest child of Cesar and Kendl Vialpando. If you think any puta is badder than me, just remember my Papi is the king of street racing and my Mami shut it down with her own chain of auto detailing and repair shops before she started designing for C. John. That's right, I got brains to go with all these sexy curves.

When I said every guy had his eyes on me, I meant every guy. That included Papi, who I literally ran into while I was strolling the poolside.

"What the…"

"Baby girl, don't finish that sentence." Papi scowled at me with his arms folded his chest. He was 6'2" and in his mid-forties with gray hairs showing in his mustache and goatee, but Papi still went to the gym every other day. It showed. I'd seen guys come off doing hard time, bigger and taller than Papi, who backed down when he gave them the look he was giving me now.

"Sorry, Papi, but I…"

Just then, my uncle CJ—whose birthday we were celebrating—ran up to me with a dark blue towel in his hands. Before I could react, he threw it around my body and steered me into Papi's arms. "Marisol, I can't have my favorite niece showing off her body at this party! Where do you think you are?"

"What?!" I batted at my dad's arms and let the towel drop to the concrete floor.

"CJ, I got this." Papi picked up the towel and tried to wrap me into it again, but I frowned and rejected it. "Marisol, put this towel around you."

I put my right hand on my hip and used the other to talk, the way I had seen Mami do when she let someone have it. "That is some hypocritical bullshit, Uncle CJ!"

"Marisol," Papi said in his deadly cold voice, "you know better than to speak to your uncle like that."

"Papi, I'm old enough to speak my mind!"

"Little girl, you don't even know what your mind is yet."

Mami strolled into the conversation, lookin' fly and perfect like she always did. With her perfect copper-colored skin, posture like an African queen, and the impeccable sense of style, Mami owned that party without a doubt. She even rocked her pregnant belly like it was the sexiest thing ever in a gauzy sarong draped over her two-piece bikini. I was hoping for another girl because I was tired of being the only other girl in a family of six.

"Mami, you're starting to sound like him!" I protested and pointed at my father. Mami had to see my point of view. She was always talking about how I had to be a strong, independent woman. "Papi wants me to dress like the girls at Our Lady and I hated it there. Please, help me!"

For freshman year of high school, my parents sent me to Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception High School in Los Santos. Ugh! It was the most horrible three weeks ever. Half the girls there were conceiving but it wasn't immaculate. The nuns made us wear plaid skirts and white blouses with argyle vests and Mary Jane shoes, the type of Catholic school uniforms guys fantasize about. I felt like a slut, and what was worse, it was an all-girls' school.

Mami rubbed her belly and grimaced. Even at six months, the new baby was more active than any of us, Mami said. Papi was hoping for another boy, but a soccer star this time. "Marisol, look at what you got on! Your father is right, I see way too much of you right now, little girl!"

I stomped my left foot. "Mami!"

She opened her clutch and pulled out our hotel room key card. Even though Uncle CJ was hosting his birthday celebration at his penthouse apartment atop the Vank Hoff Algonquin, none of us were allowed to stay overnight in his penthouse. He'd convinced everyone to get hotel rooms. "Go to the room and change clothes. And while you're there, check on your brothers."

"Mami!" I whined again. Papi flung the towel around me again and gave me a rebuking glare. 'I'm too pretty to be treated like this!'

I stormed out the party and down the hall to the elevators. Just as I got there, six men stepped off the only one that reached the penthouse floor. They had no fashion sense at all because they wore all black outfits with one or two splashes of purple, like a bandana or a pair of purple socks under their shorts. I felt their eyes graze over me, and held the towel tighter around my body before rushing onto the vacant elevator. Something about those guys didn't look right, like they didn't belong at the party.

When I got to the room, I was going to call hotel security. After I changed into something more "appropriate."

Franklin's POV:

I laughed to myself as Marisol's parents and my uncle sent her away. Lamar followed my gaze. "Shit dawg, isn't that your cousin in that towel?"

"Yeah, Lamar, but she ain't for you. So check yourself nigga."

"Fuck that, nigga, your cousin's tryin' to get some dick, walking around here dressed like that. And she over sixteen, so if she wanna take a ride on the Long Dick Express, ain't no fat ass motherfucker like you gonna be to stop her, so don't be hatin' because your fat ass still ain't moved on from Tanisha, ya heard?"

"She eighteen man, but you still better keep your dick away from her."

"Aye man, I ain't gonna stop her if she come askin' for it."

I shook my head. Lamar had no sense of family loyalty. He was all out for himself. I decided to change the subject. "So Genius, you think I'm next in line, no lie?"

"That's just what people been saying," Lamar objected. "Everybody know I'm the best man to take over from Sweet's old ass."

"Man, don't talk about Sweet like that."

"Sweet only upped your respect with GSF. That's all. He never bought you diapers or clothes or shoes when you was a kid. And you had to stay with your dumbass pothead auntie. Did he ever come and visit you?" Genius added.

"You know what niggas? Y'all say one more fuckin' word about how fucked up my life used to be, and I'm going to spray your asses all over this party."

Lamar laughed. "Alright, Franklin, chill, we good. So can we get back to business now?"

That's when I heard the first gunshots pop off.

Author's Note: Ok, a quick list of a couple of things I spoofed or parodied in this chapter. The Harvey Electrician grill is a parody of the George Foreman grill; Sword bodywash is a spoof of Axe bodywash and other products. CJ's Moomy awards are parodies of Grammys. I know GTA V had the Pop Music Awards, or something like that, but just like Grammys are supposed to be, Moomys are a step higher and more elite. Tiana Sax is a reference to Alicia Keys, who I used to have a mad crush on; Nicollette is a replacement for Beyoncé; Julianna Baggio is a reference to Ariana Grande, who is one very beautiful woman. I started to use their actual names, but hey, this is a lot more fun with substitutes. Li'l Obese is a reference to Baby Phat; Church 8 is a substitute for True Religion and 7 Jeans brands. I used San Andreas Tech to stand in for Cal Tech. The "peons' war" that Xavier is talking about refers to the backlash Diddy got when his oldest son Justin was accepted into USC on a football scholarship; obviously he doesn't need it.