Thanks for all the reviews first chapter, I promise to add all of you once I have my wifi, so if any of this comes off as typo=ed let me know cause it was writing on my phonE!
Also one of the scenes is from Doctor Who, and if anyone gets it, they earn major cool points!
As for the OC's I used two submited for this chapter and the other one will either be put into play next chapter or the one after.
Hopefully you enjoy, :D
"Dinner? At Trevor's house? Are you fucking insane Michael Townley?" Amanda shouted once she heard the news. She was obviously upset enough to use his real last name. She finished tying her hair up and glared at her husband. "How could you agree to something so careless?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "It's either that, or we risk him coming over here, berserk, and fuck up the whole house." He took a second to enjoy the night's breeze, from his position at the bedroom window, before pulling out a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in a while, but every time his mind wandered over to his recent heist he couldn't resist. He was getting too old for that shit.
Amanda scoffed before closing her bathrobe over her pregnant belly and stomping down the stairs. Michael sighed, running a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. Yep, a child on the way. He couldn't believe that at age forty-six he was going to have another kid, you can take away eighteen years of his retirement.
He had aged a lot in the past year. The bags under his eyes were almost permanent, etched into his features from all his sleepless nights. He never really slept at night, his paranoia usually kicked in and he would end up staying awake all night in case someone tried to sneak in. It had happened twice already, and both were caught by him.
His fading, yet shiny, brown hair had faded a dull, dark color and some patches of hair appeared white. He had gained a bit of a beer belly from all the countless drinks he had poured into his system, and he can honestly say he didn't like it. He thought retirement would have been a bit more... exciting. Guess he was wrong.
"Hey, dad..." His son's voice called from the doorway. He mentally cursed himself as he put out the cigarette and threw it out the window, letting the last puff of smoke escape his lips. A while back he had made a deal with Jimmy, that every time he caught him smoking, he would owe him a thousand dollars. Needless to say, it is clear where most of the De Santa money is kept.
"Y-yeah, Jim?" He coughed, trying to get the last of the smoke out of the system. No such luck.
"I heard you and mom... well mom, yelling and I wanted to know if we were going to Uncle T's house tomorrow?" His bloodshot eyes hinted something that Michael was in no position to think about, without snapping of course, so he let it go.
"Yeah, at least I am. Why?" Michael asked, suddenly curious in his son's interest.
Jimmy's face grew serious, almost as if his high had gone down the toilet in mere seconds. "No specific reason right now. I know a guy that I haven't talked to in a while and I would like to see again. Nothing shady at all, old man."
Michael rolled his eyes and mumbled an "Mmmhmm," before shooing Jimmy out of the room and grabbing a beer from the, newly installed, mini-fridge. He decided that nothing was better than a cold beer on a long day, and eventually passed out on his bed.
The next morning rolled by awfully slow for poor Trevor. He had spent the whole night wide awake trying to process the events of his day. By the time five -thirty am came by, Trevor had already knocked out on the couch with a bottle of beer in one hand as it hung off the edge of the couch, not to mention the pile of bottles stacked up on the floor beneath it, and the other stuffed inside the waistline of his dirty jeans.
At some point between pure insanity and wanting to jump off the edge of the earth, Trevor had also managed to, almost successfully, break his knuckles from how hard he had hit his Bidho earlier that morning. Needless to say, the dent on the passenger door was just about as fucked up as his knuckles were.
The moment the clock hit one in the afternoon, an annoying chime echoed throughout the trailer home, causing Trevor to stir slightly and mumble a series of drunken phrases before parting his lips and passing out once more. The chime continued periodically and Mrs. Phillips sat up from son's her semi-comfortable bed.
"Ugh..." She moaned as her tired, wrinkled eyes angrily met the clock. She threw one of the many shirts Trevor had scattered across the room over undergarments and cursed herself for forgetting to bring her clothes, she'd have to go buy some later. Upon trudging into the living room, her face shriveled up in disgust at her son. He was a mess of beer bottles held together by traces of drool.
She opened the door and rubbed her eyes, aiding them to adjust to the dry, desert sun. "Good morning," A six foot tall man greeted Mrs. Phillips as he adjusted himself into the door frame. The small traces of white hair in his abyss of black locks was enough to let Mrs. Phillips know that he was well over thirty.
"There is a strange man in my doorway." She said as calmly as possible as she ran a hand through her messy red hair. She fiddled with the hem of the shirt, that reached right down to just above her knees and giggled.
The man laughed, flashing a handsome smile toward the old woman. "Yes... Yes there is."
"And I'm in my pajamas." Her proximity to the man increased, causing him to shift and try to slowly back away from the awkward tension. He could see were Trevor got it from.
"Yes, yes you are-"
"Anything could happen..." She purred as her finger ran down his chest, crossing his comfort barrier. He gently pushed her finger aside and squeezed past her, not surprised at all at Trevor's shitfaced condition.
"Typical Trevor." He sighed as he climbed onto the counter of the small trailer home. He had to keep his back arched to avoid collision with the roof.
"Treeevooorr," his mom whinnied impenitently, causing the thirty-seven year old man to shoot up in his slumber.
"Fucking A." He hissed, dropping the beer bottle and having it shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces, then bringing a hand to his throbbing head. His vision blurred, and he had to blink a few times to refocus on his surroundings. After the room's spinning came to a halt, his eyes finally took note of the people in his home. "The fuck you want, Johnny?" he hissed as he removed his other hand from his pants and sat up.
Mrs. Phillips crossed her arms over her chest in disappointment. "Trevor Alexander Phillips, what have I told you about cursing in front of other people."
"I'll wait outside, Trevor." Johnny struggled to stifle a laugh as he removed himself from the countertop and walked towards the door. Trevor's glare hardened and he cursed the man for being here while his mom was home.
"Sorry, Ma." His body slumped in an almost tired manor as he attempted to hug his mother. She hissed and pushed him away.
"Don't fucking touch me, Trevor. I need a drink, do you have beer?" Completely shocked by the irony of the situation, he nodded mindlessly and pointed toward the fridge. She pushed past him and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, opened it with her teeth, and chugged half of the bottle down.
He shook his head, to snap out of his trance, as he walked into his room. He would definitely take out his anger on Johnny later. Pushing all his raging thoughts aside, he quickly changed into a plaid shirt and a pair or worn out jeans, grabbed a beer, and headed outside.
"Like I said earlier," Trevor started as he tipped the beer bottle toward his 'friend' and leaned on the wall of the house. "The fuck do you want?" He took a swing of his beer and raised his eyebrows.
Johnny, being one that got used to Trevor's rambunctious behavior fairly quickly, rolled his blue eyes. "You know why I'm here."
"Yes, I fucking do." He retorted, sarcasm soaking his every syllable. "Because I have the fucking ability to read your goddamn mind and know why the fuck you showed up to my house before I was even awake!" His rage suddenly overpowered his body as he flung his beer bottle in Johnny's general direction. Johnny swiftly dodged the bottle and silently sighed, knowing this was going nowhere fast.
Johnny's response overpowered Trevor's heavy breathing. "Look, T. We made a deal last week to sort out the details for our next customer down in Liberty City. If you're not sober enough to work through it right now then I'll come back another time."
Fuck... He had forgotten. He began pacing back and forth as he ran a hand through what one could consider was his hair, all sure signs of his break-down that included self-pity and intrapersonal outbursts. "Fucking shit, Trevor!" He argued with himself as his hand found his face repeatedly, each bow more and more painful. "You're an idiot, how can you not remember your biggest fucking deal yet!?"
As he continued his self conflict, Johnny waited patiently for him to finish. He had listened to this over a hundred times, just something you get used to when you've been in business with Trevor as long as he's had.
A few awkward minutes passed between the two before Trevor actually managed to calm down, and with a deep, shaky breath, he continued. "Okay, what about it?"
"He's going to call you as soon as his inspectors arrive, asking a few questions in the process. Then, if all goes well, you can take them up to LC in a week." Johnny was serious when it came to business, especially the illegal kind. He was careful with every step he took,unlike Trevor, which was probably the reason why he's kept him around all these years. That, and because he's the only person who deals with all his neurotic bullshit without complaining. "But there's one tiny problem..."
Trevor scoffed, tiny problems are things that can easily be dealt with, using hands. "What could it possibly be?"
"I want in." She demanded as her arms folded neatly across her chest, drawing his attention in for the tiniest second. His bushy eyebrows raised up at the girl in front of him with a hint of amusement.
"You'll have to excuse me, due to my old age my hearing is shit, can you repeat that?" Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows, she knew it was a long-shot, but it was truly worth it, she needed to get out of this shit town, even if it was for a day.
"You heard me, old man. I don't stutter." She tucked a flyaway piece of blonde hair behind her ear and forcefully stood her ground, not ready to give up her fight just left.
"And why the fuck would I let someone like you accompany me?"
The girl behind the glass counter chuckled lowly as she leaned her elbows on the counter and stared up at the lunatic in front of her. "Because, it just so happens, that your guns and dope that you need for this delivery are stored away safely in my shop to a place where only I have the key too." She pulled her key ring from her back pocket and smirked as he snatched the object from her hand.
"You do realize you are messing with someone who can easily snap your neck and have you paralyzed, with their bare hands, sweetheart." His teeth were gritted, his eyes and clenching fists angered, and Johnny watch the moments unfold with a look of amusement painted on his features.
She looked around, pointing at every gun that sat behind her, and chuckled. "You do realize you are standing in front of someone who knows how to operate every gun behind her."
He growled lowly, his as dirty, rough hands cupped her cheeks and his fingers gripped onto her jawline for dear life. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared straight into those dark, soulless eyes. She wasn't afraid, no. She had lost all fear for Trevor Phillips when she realized that he was not able to physically hurt women, no matter how hard he tried. She was just shocked on how fast he had gotten his grip on her.
"Drew, sweetie." The word spewed like poison from his mouth as he pulled her face closer to his so that it was only inches away, giving him a chance to finally notice her crooked nose after two years of partnership. "Open the fucking door for me before I-"
His threat was silenced by the steady beat that played as his ringtone. With a roll of the eyes, he let go of Drew's face, noticing his red-finger shaped marks that were left behind on her light skin. "'Hello?"
Drew rubbed her cheek as she observed Trevor's facial expressions as he silently mocked the man on the other side of the phone. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the immaturity, not to mention bipolarity, of the strange man. Johnny smiled at her from across the almost empty ammunition shop, but then continued to scroll through his phone.
"Well!" Trevor said as he rolled up his sleeves and and clapped his hands. "The people should arrive tomorrow morning, after that the deal is as good as ours!" Johnny hissed out a yes, but Drew returned to her previous position, the one that she held at the beginning of their encounter.
"If you help me sell these guns, there might just be an open seat available when I fly to LC. You in?"
"Thanks you soft old fuck." She said, lightly tapping his shoulder with her small, balled up fist. His face shadowed by a sudden wave of seriousness as he brutally pulled his arm away and headed toward the exit. Drew would never quite understand the mindset of that man.
nicoironfistsaintchapman I really like those ideas,thanks man! I'll probably end up using them(I will add you on PSN as soon as I get wifi)
Terquoise-Thank you for submitting a character, she will be put into play next chapter, or the one after :D (I will add you on PSN as soon as I get wifi)
Feel the Steel- 1. I just have to say, thnk you for submitting an OC, I hope she lived up to what you anted her to in this Chapter, if not let me know and I'll tweak a few things,, and 2. I really loved your story Sunsets and Skylines, like I am in love with it! Keep up the good work :D
ROC95-Thanks for the support, I hope johnny was as you pictured him to be! Let me knoew if you want anything fixed.