Author's Note:
My last fanfiction was inspired by a piece of artwork and this one was inspired by a song. From the title, it's pretty obvious which song it was too. My last fanfiction was written in the first person, which is not something I normally do. But I liked the whole stream of consciousness feel it had, so I wanted to do that again for this one. I wanted to tell the story through two different perspectives too.
After I wrote the last chapter, for my previous fanfiction, I decided I wanted to explore Trevor in a family dynamic a bit and a little less heavy on the romance but, being the sap I am it's in this one too. I'm hoping to keep the tone of this on the lighter side too. Let's see how that works out for me though.
His tattoo clad hand jerks with the ferocity of a tiger as the veins in his wrist bulge. The hairs on the back of his neck start to rise and his heart hammers in his broad chest. Sweat drips down his strong brow as moans of pleasure escape from his thick pink lips. He braces himself against the wall with his free hand. He digs his fingernails into the piss stained wallpaper of the cramped bathroom. The rosy flush of arousal clings to his scarred face. He tilts his balding head back as he feels the divine sensation of his self induced climax rising up within him. He hears Wade's voice calling his name from outside the trailer. He's so close to finishing that he doesn't care.
Trevor's right on the edge. Just let him have this one fucking thing and then he'll address whatever pathetic fucking issue the sad little worm is trying to bring to his attention. He can feel it starting to slip away from him though. The sound of Wade's voice is just too much of a fucking turn off for him to cling on to this. God fucking damn it. Trevor's cock starts to go limp in his hand despite his desperate attempts to hang on to his arousal. Whatever Wade needs better be fucking important or else he's going to castrate that useless fuck for interrupting his private time.
Trevor Philips has been slowly going insane from the boredom he's been plagued by lately. Admittedly, things had gotten rather exciting there for a while. It was the greatest ride of his life and now it was fucking over. Jesus fucking Christ was he bored. Michael was too busy trying to be a good father. What a pile of shit. That pussy ass shit was enough to make Trevor vomit right here all over his cock. He couldn't fucking deny it though, Michael seemed a lot happier now that he was fucking investing time with his whiney fucking family. If that wasn't bad enough, it seemed like Franklin didn't have time for him anymore either.
It was always obvious to him that Franklin and Michael shared a special bond. 'Special' as in he suspected they might be giving it to each other up the ass when Amanda wasn't around. Franklin was a good kid though. He was a little rough around the edges when Trevor first met him but, shit, they got him whipped into tip top fucking shape. If Trevor ever needed a getaway driver again, Franklin was going to be the first fucking person he called. But for being such a good driver, Franklin couldn't bother to make the drive out to Sandy fucking Shores.
So he might be dealing with some fucking separation anxiety. Trevor's a man with lots of needs and lately, they hadn't exactly been fucking met. So he's jerking off into his toilet to the memory of the Union Depository. How can he have pulled off the greatest score of all time and be reduced to this? He didn't understand how Michael could be satisfied sitting on his fat ass all day sipping on fruity cocktails by the pool. Trevor needed excitement. He needed to be working all the time and feel that blessed fucking thrill. The problem was he had been fucking working lately. He'd been working a lot but, something still felt wrong.
Trevor has a legitimate fucking business to run and it takes up a good fucking chunk of his time. He spent years pouring everything he had into making a name for himself out here in Sandy Shores. He was damn fucking proud of everything he'd accomplished. Trevor Philips Industries was his fucking baby. He used to be able to lay his head down at night with a deep fucking sense of satisfaction. Now he had this nagging fucking feeling in his gut that he just couldn't shake. He felt like he was missing something. Trevor didn't fucking understand it but it was fucking there. Every goddamn day it was there just like a rash on his dick.
Trevor slams his fist into the wall out of frustration. He steps away from his abysmal toilet and shouts at Wade to get the ratty headed fuck to stop pounding on the door. As he zips up his fly, he makes a silent vow to finish this endeavor later. He storms across the trash littered floor of his trailer. He's half tempted to punch that little fuck in the face. Trevor flings open the door and feels the hot summer air come rushing into his face. Wade is already trembling like the pathetic fucking insect he is. The way the white sunlight make's the piercings in his face glisten makes Trevor want to rip them out one by one with his bare hands.
"This better be a matter of life and death, Wade," Trevor says. "Because if it's not, I am going to carve the nipples off of your concave fucking chest and staple them to your shriveled nut sack."
Wade trembles and shifts his weight nervously. He is so disgusted by this spineless maggot that Trevor is close to retching.
"Well, you see Trevor—I've been hearing rumors—"
He did not have time for this. He had a million fucking things in the world that he rather be doing than listening to this horseshit.
"Rumors are not news, Wade, get the fuck off my porch!" Trevor roars.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Wade pleads.
If his wiener was still rock hard instead of limp as a dead fish, Trevor would be tempted to slam the door in Wade's face. Any and all desire for a good wank had vanished as soon as he laid eyes on this ugly little prick.
"Fine, fucking spill." Trevor relents. "Just hurry the fuck up, okay?"
Knowing Wade, this is going to be something that has absolutely no relevance what so fucking ever to Trevor.
"I was conversing with a good buddy of mine," Wade explains. "And well, we were fixing to enjoy ourselves some crystal and he pulls out the biggest rock I have ever seen, Trevor! Like this sucker is-"
He doesn't care how fucking big it was. What he cares about is where this product fucking came from. No one smokes up in Sandy Shores unless it came from Chef's fucking kitchen.
"Wade," Trevor growls. "Please fucking tell me that your ignorant, pizza faced friend bought that shit from me."
Wade tugs on his oversized gothic shirt nervously.
"Well apparently there is some pirate woman at a Twenty-four seven that's been selling it—"
"Pirate woman? What the fuck does that mean!?" Trevor says.
Wade just shrugs. Trevor can tell he's still mildly terrified. He's probably going to receive a savage beating for delivering this news. Trevor used to surprise him with those all the fucking time but after a while they stopped being a surprise. Wade just kind of expects them now.
"I drove by, she doesn't look like a pirate to me," Wade explains.
He fucking drove by? Why didn't he fucking deal with this him fucking self? Is he that fucking dumb that he couldn't deal with some punk drug dealer on his fucking own?
"Would you mind explaining something to me, Wade?" Trevor asks. "Why in the fucking hell did you not fucking kill her when you drove by? I mean how fucking difficult would it be for you to just run her over? Problem fucking solved."
Wade takes a step back. The boards of Trevor's porch creek beneath his black sneakers. Wade is well aware now that he has not handled this situation properly and there are going to be consequences.
"She looked mean, Trevor!" Wade says. "If you had seen her, you'd understand! She was really scary! That's why I came to get you—"
He can't stand the sight of this child. That's what he fucking is: a goddamn child. Jesus, how did he end up with idiots like this in his employ? Trevor pops him in the face. Wade tumbles down onto the porch and groans.
"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Trevor roars. "Are you that much of a goddamn chicken shit that you can't deal with a fucking girl!?"
Wade pushes himself off the splintering planks.
"I'm sorry, Trevor!" Wade says as he braces himself on the rickety railing. "You just have to see her for yourself!"
He doesn't fucking need to see her at fucking all. This is micromanagement shit right here. Trevor could be happily choking the shit out of his chicken right now but instead he gets to deal with this kindergarten horseshit.
"Fine, fucking fine!" Trevor growls. "Take me to her because I am so fucking pissed right now I need to fucking kill something!"
It will also give him something to whack off to later. At least he'll get a little bit of murdering in today. That'll add some spice to the old fucking routine. Maybe that's what's been bothering him lately. He hasn't had a nice dose of violence in quite some fucking time. And a man can go only so long without feeling the hot blood of his enemy splashing on his face.
This pisspot of a town is hotter than fucking hell. She hates the feeling of the sweat rolling down her greasy forehead. It doesn't help that she feels like she's dying of thirst and she's so fucking hungry that it feels like her stomach is eating itself from the inside. The only thing between her and the large sprawl of desert is the black asphalt of the two lane highway. Heat makes the air undulate in serpentine waves above the road. She turns her head to the side and spits the wad of shit colored saliva on the white concrete. She's got the last of her dip in her mouth and she relishes the meaty flavor rolling across her tongue. The door from the 24/7 mart dings as another obese woman in overalls leaves with a fist full of groceries. She can't deny the fact that this place feels a bit like home.
Her good leg is starting to ache from supporting all of her weight. She wouldn't mind a good fucking sit. She doesn't have anywhere to plant her candy ass tonight though. She broke into an RV the night before but she rather have a real roof over her head. All this sweat dripping down her legs is making the straps of her prosthetic leg come loose. She jerks up her filthy pant leg and exposes the flesh colored plastic contraption to all of Sandy Shores. She tugs on the black straps to readjust them. She gets a good fucking whiff of herself while she's bent over. It's been a long fucking time since she bathed. Not that it matters, she was never one for bathing on a regular basis.
She's starting to doubt that this was a good spot to unload her shit. How the fuck is she supposed to know where all the druggies hang out? She's never been here before. She tries to force out the memory of what she's lost and why she's here. Shit, she's got a fat wad of cash in her pocket though so she's already gained a hell of lot from the residents of Sandy Shores. She's still expecting an unsatisfied customer to show up. Once that occurs she'll have to move on again. That tends to happen though when running a hustle like this.
Word of mouth has traveled around a bit. She's had a good number of suckers come by. She really had to work over the first few but she knew in a town like this it would be easy as fucking pie to find some meth heads. They all have that same fucking look to them. It's a hard look to pull off though. Most of them were uglier than sin but a couple of the one's that have come creeping by caught her eye enough that she jerked them off by the dumpster behind the 24/7.
The appeal of hard drugs never really made sense to her. That shit fucked you up in so many different ways. Look at her fucking judging them though. She's been dipping since she was sixteen. She's probably already got cancer in her nasty fucking mouth. She scratches her head and flicks the dandruff flakes off her nails into the wind. She watches the beat up cars fly by, leaving a plume of smog in their wake. It's nice to see that the rednecks in San Andreas are just like the rednecks everywhere fucking else.
An abomination of a truck comes barreling down the road. She does a double take because the red paint is so faded it looks fucking pink. It's decked out in every conceivable fucking way imaginable. This guy is definitely the fucking king of white trash. That's fucking alright because she is the goddamn goddess of garbage. Loud, angry music blares from the truck's speakers as it swerves into the parking lot. Shit, this motherfucker must really need some fucking booze. She watches the two occupants talking. One of them looks like a rat. He's one of those motherfucking Juggalo cunts too. His pasty face is full of metal and he's wearing a pussy ass Fatal Incursion shirt. And with those auburn dreadlocks, he looks like every other cliché poser that waltzes around listening to that garbage music. The other guy though, he's something special.
He's just the right kind of trashy for her. He's got a pretty face. Well, she thinks it's pretty. She has a tendency to bang guys like this. He's certainly a fine one too. She can tell he's got a little more meat on his bones than she's used to. He's definitely got a taste for crystal too because he's got those tell tale scabs plastered on his face. Shit though he's got a mean fucking look to him. It goes nicely with the strong jaw line he's rocking and chiseled facial features. He certainly is the finest meth head she has ever laid eyes on. She doesn't give two fucks that he's balding either. He wears it well.
Just looking at him has her damper than two rabbits fucking in a burlap sack. She is not letting this sucker walk away. No fucking way. She'll get some cash from him and get a little something-something too. Shit, he'll get more than a hand job from her. He's got a pretty mouth and she wants to feel it all fucking over her body. She whistles to get his attention and waves. When those brown eyes fall on her she can't help but smile. He don't seem too keen on her though. He looks all kinds of pissed off.
"Hey there, cutie!" She calls. "Why don't you bring your fine ass over here and say hello."
She watches them climb out of the truck and make their way over to her. The Juggalo looks like he's about to shit his fucking pants but hot piss, that meth head. She's not sure if he wants to break her neck or shove his dick down her throat.
"What's your name, sweet thing?" She says.
The meth head's brown eyes look her up and down and he sneers. She gets a glimpse of his yellowing teeth when he does it.
"You don't look like a pirate," he says.
Now that's a voice that makes a lady feel sticky in all that right places. He sounds Canadian. The accent is faint but it's fucking there. Shit, she's never had that flavor of spunk before. This'll be exciting.
"Pirate?" She says. "If that's what you're looking for I can make that happen. Anything to get those pants of yours off."
He seems to be pleased with her flirtation. She figured as much. She's never seen a man like this turn pussy down. It's just not in their nature. It works out nice for her too. They don't give two fucks that one of her legs ends in a stump. He flashes her a grin and circles her like a fucking vulture. Oh yeah, she's got him where she wants him.
"The name's Trevor," the meth head says. "And how may I address this fine lady?"
She loves it when trashy folk try to act all proper. She bats her eyelashes and flips her hair. That's how the ladies on fucking TV always do it. Seems to work out well for her on occasion too.
"I'm Earline," she declares.
Trevor is absolutely fine with the idea of fucking Earline before he kills her. He can't for the fucking life of him figure out why Wade thought she was scary looking. She barely looks old enough to drink. He doesn't find her spitting that fucking charming though. Whoever fucking got her hooked on dip was the cruelest son of a bitch on the face of the earth because that is the biggest boner killer he has ever encountered. Her face isn't really anything special, it's just like every other pasty freckle faced girl. She has thin pink lips and a delicate pointed chin. Her nose seems a bit too small for her face and her eyebrows are thick and unkempt. He likes that massive, frizzy mane of sandy blonde hair she has though. That's shit he could grab onto while she's sucking him off. Too bad she has to die.
Trevor wants to toy with her first. He gets the feeling she's a drifter. She's filthy and he can smell her unwashed cunt in the summer air. He still wants to make sure though. He's not a fan of competition and if some other dealer is moving into Sandy Shores they've gotten themselves into a giant fucking heap of trouble.
"My spineless friend over here tells me you've got some shit that I might be interested in," Trevor says. "Is that true?"
She twirls her fingers in her mass of hair. Her eyes keep falling over every inch of him. She's certainly fucking thirsty for him. This will make things a piece of fucking cake.
"That depends," Earline says. "You got the green for Earline?"
Oh shit, if that isn't the worst fucking line he's ever heard in his whole fucking life. Jesus and her thick ass Texan accent does nothing to help with that. She obviously thinks she's the shit but that is clearly not the case.
"Oh yeah," Trevor assures. "But I'm the type of man who likes to negotiate. Can I see the shit first?'
He is interested in seeing these giant fucking rocks. He'll be sure to snatch them off of her corpse for his own personal use.
"I'll give you a sneak peek if you show me your pecker," Earline says.
She turns her head and spits. Jesus, she's nasty but she's probably a goddess in the sack. The weird ones always are. Wade covers his eyes as Trevor unzips his fly. He whips that fucker out in the broad daylight. There's nothing to be ashamed of and he loves to watch Wade squirming over the affair. Earline certainly likes what she sees too. The site of his pink one-eyed monster is enough to bring a big fucking smile to her face. Christ though he's old enough to be her fucking father. That never stopped him before, he's not sure why it's bothering him now. He's getting soft like Michael. Trevor might as well walk off into the desert and put himself down if that's the fucking case.
"If you let me take a closer look at Trevor Junior later, I'll give you a discount," Earline proposes.
He zips up his fly as her gaze remains fixed at his crotch.
"You gonna let me see the shit now?" Trevor presses.
She digs into her pocket. As she tugs on her jeans, he catches a glimpse of the flesh colored plastic from her prosthetic limb. Well, the pirate shit makes a bit more fucking sense to him now. He's never fucked a girl with a stump before. Shit but there's a first time for everything. She pulls out the tiny plastic bag. Fuck, Wade wasn't kidding that's a huge fucking rock.
"Take a look, sugar," Earline says, handing him the baggie.
It takes him about two fucking seconds to see that there is something seriously fucking wrong with this chunk of crystal. The color is off. That's not really a major fucking deal. Different recipes produce different looking results. What's really odd is the sticky residue that seems to be clinging to the inside of the bag. He rubs his thick fingers along the bag and watches the sticky substance ooze along the surface of the rock. Trevor already knows what's going down. He's actually pretty fucking impressed with Earline. Impressed enough that he's not sure he still wants to kill her. But he's not going to let the opportunity slip away. He wants to fuck with this kid.
He starts to rip open the bag.
"Hey now—" Earline protests.
She reaches for the bag and Trevor slaps her hands away. Shit, she's really fucking starting to sweat. That only confirms his suspicions.
"What's the matter?" Trevor teases. "Why so jumpy, huh? If this shit is really as fucking stellar as my compadre says it is, you should have nothing to fucking worry about."
She narrows her gaze. She's trying to get a fix on him. Nice fucking try, sweet cheeks. She's a little too fucking cocky for her own good and it's about to bite her in the ass. He tears open the bag. He feels the sticky residue coating his fingers as he brings the rock up to his lips. He can already smell the sugary flavor. Trevor flicks his slick tongue across the rough surface of the rock. Absolutely fucking hysterical.
"Wow, Wade, you and your butt buddy must be absolutely fucking stupid," Trevor laughs. "Because you guys smoked up fucking rock candy!"
Earline starts to retreat. She's got a look of absolute fucking frustration plastered on her freckled face. Wade's hatchet face is flushing from embarrassment too.
"Trevor—" Wade begins.
"Now, now Wade, you're an idiot, it's not your fault," Trevor says. "I'm sure a lot of stupid fucks fell for your hustle, didn't they darling?"
Earline tries to limp away but Trevor grabs her by the arm and yanks her right fucking back. She tries to squirm her way out of his grasp but she's not as strong as he is.
"You son of a bitch!" Earline growls. "Like you give two fucks! Just let me go! I ain't hurt you none!"
She keeps on thrashing and he's impressed with her spirit. Too bad she doesn't have the brawn to really back it up. He kicks out her prosthetic leg and watches the plastic contraption bounce across the asphalt. She lets out a gasp as her ass slams into the concrete sidewalk.
"Now you listen the fuck up," Trevor growls. "I fucking run this county, so yes, you did fucking hurt me. You stole customers from me with your pathetic fucking hustle and I'm not fucking pleased about that. You also had the indecency to make me look like a complete fucking idiot!"
Wade seems very pleased with the outcome of this situation thus far, that little imp has no idea what's coming does he? Trevor wants to scare the piss out of this girl but he has no intention of ending her life now.
"However," Trevor goes on. "That's some pretty slick shit you pulled. I have to say, you've got some potential."
"Trevor, what're you doing?" Wade asks.
He whirls around and slaps Wade up the side of his ugly fucking head. That kid doesn't know when to shut the fuck up. Earline tries to crawl towards her prosthetic leg. Now, now, he can't have that now can he? He slams his boot onto her hand. She lets out a curse as he grinds his boot into her knuckles. The bones in her hand snap and crack in the most delightful fucking way.
"I'm not fucking done with you yet," Trevor seethes.
He lets her slip away. She rolls onto her side, cradling her hand.
"Fucking bastard!" Earline snaps. "When I get my goddamn leg. I'm gonna gut you like a fucking pig!"
Holy piss she's feisty. She fucked him over. He can't deny that but he kind of likes her. He already made up his mind but she's certainly fucking reassuring him that it was the right decision.
"I like the way you think, sweetheart," Trevor says. "How'd you like to work for Trevor Philips Enterprises?"
Earline cannot fucking believe this asshole. Is he absolutely fucking off his rocker? Shit, he saw right through her fucking scheme. She's never had that happen, not until the dumb fucks tried to smoke up and couldn't get high. He's smart and he certainly has her in a tight fucking spot. Shit, if he wanted he could kill her right fucking here. It feels like her leg is a thousand miles away. She can feel the rough texture of her jeans brushing against the soft surface of her stub.
She has a million fucking reasons to not trust him. He's got a mean streak but if he really runs the drug racket in Sandy Shores, he's got the resources she desperately needs.
"Well?" Trevor presses. "You either die here like a piece of fucking road kill or you work for me. It's your fucking choice."
The one called Wade tries to protest again but after Trevor shoots him a mean glare he has nothing to say. Shit, those aren't exactly the best options but it's all she has.
"I suppose I best start calling you boss now," Earline says.
Trevor's face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. She has to admit she kind of likes that he can morph between terrifying psychopath and charming redneck in the blink of an eye.
"Wade, retrieve the young lady's uh—peg leg? Is that what you call that shit?" Trevor says.
She doubts Trevor is really that fucking ignorant. He's just trying to push her buttons. She watches the hook-nosed Juggalo carry her leg back over to her. It's all scratched up from its adventure across the parking lot. She's a little banged up too. She feels pain shooting up her tail bone. Wade holds out her leg to her and Earline snatches it from his spindly fucking fingers.
"Welcome to the family," Trevor says, flashing his yellow smile.
She tugs up her pant leg. She watches Wade's eyes grow wide as he gazes at her stump. The lumpy flesh looks like a dried up piece of carrion in the sunlight.
"Why you staring boy?" Earline growls. "You ain't never seen this much of a woman before?"
Trevor slaps Wade across the face again, this time he draws a little blood. Now ain't that just the most gentlemanly thing you ever did see?
"Don't be fucking rude, Wade! That's sexual fucking harassment!" Trevor roars.
She adjusts the straps as quickly as she can and holds out her hand. Trevor interlocks his fingers with hers and the muscles in his forearm bulge as he helps her to her feet. She staggers a bit and braces herself on his broad shoulders. She lets her hands linger on the surface of his biceps. Hot damn, her new boss is fucking cut. What the fuck has she just gotten herself into?
Trevor feels a wave of heat wash over him as Earline braces herself against him. When she pulls away after getting her balance back, his skin still feels on fire from her touch.
"Now where is the little lady laying her head down at night?" Trevor asks.
Earline shrugs and hocks another loogie onto the pavement. She aims it precariously close to Wade's sneakers and the kid jumps away when it lands near him. If she keeps that shit up, Trevor might be tempted to keep her around forever.
"I'm sort of homeless at the moment," Earline admits.
He figured as much. Well, that works out just fine for him. Trevor didn't feel like jerking himself off again tonight anyway.
"You can crash with me," Trevor suggests. "That's until you uh—get back on your feet."
Oh man, that was probably the best fucking joke he's ever made. When she laughs at the pun, he feels a deep sense of satisfaction.
"Sounds fine to me, hot stuff," Earline says.
Trevor hasn't had guests since Patricia was around. It'll be a nice fucking change that's for fucking sure. They start to make their way back to his truck. Earline's limps along behind them just like a duckling. As he drives them back to his trailer he thinks about all the ways he can get her to repay him for his hospitality. The occasional clink from her spit entering the empty beer can is driving him up the fucking wall though. He has got to nip that fucking shit in the bud. It's not fucking lady like and he doesn't plan on cleaning up her fucking cans of spit all over his goddamn house. Of course, Trevor never really cleans so it's a nonexistent issue.
Earline has her artificial leg propped up over the door of the truck. She watches Trevor cup his balls as he steers the behemoth vehicle down the highway. The flavor of her dip is starting to weaken much to her disappointment. She's not so sure about this Wade guy. He keeps asking her questions, trying to make friendly conversation and, she gives no fucks. He's like a goddamn horse fly buzzing around her ear. These two, as nasty as they are, seem like stand up guys. This Trevor guy certainly has a good head on his shoulders. He's easy on the eyes too. After all the shit she's been through, she's eager to begin again. Maybe this is her chance to.
He expected her to be more talkative. She certainly had a lot to fucking say when she was trying to hustle him in the parking lot. She responds to every one of Wade's questions with some short, meaningless answer. It's obvious to Trevor that she's got shit to hide. All he knows is she doesn't have a gun but she's been dipping her toes into the hustling game. She's got a lot to learn if she expects to make it in this business. Her attitude is perfect though and that's the shit that can really take a person far in this life. If the rest of her skills catch up with that, goddamn, she'll be unstoppable. Shit, is this how Michael felt when he first met Franklin?
Fuck, Michael got himself a protégé. Why not Trevor? He'd been around the block a few times. He was a smart fucking guy and he had valuable skills. It's not like he has any kids to pass them onto. He was also willing to admit that Wade and Ron were too fucking spineless to be even half the man that he was. What's the worst that could go wrong? So maybe she turns out to be a fuck up. Big deal. He can just kill her. Besides, he might get a good screw out of the whole thing.