Curious Hearts

by aboringday

When Tracey thought of Valentine's Day, she imagined flowers, chocolate and notes sealed with a kiss from a lover. However, her Valentine's Day was the exact opposite, lonely, dull and most of all, boring. Her day is turned around for the better when she encounters a handsome stranger with a dark past, who ultimately makes all her Valentine's Day dreams come true.

2. Chapter 2

So because of all the positive feedback I received, I decided to turn this one shot into a multi-chapter fic. It's a lot of work, but also a blast to write, and there simply just isn't enough lengthy Franklin/Tracey stories floating around to choose from, so I'm glad to be adding this to the pool. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

---

"Tracey," Franklin's voice whispered my name, his broad palm caressed my skin, rousing me from my slumber.

"Franklin?" I asked, my voice weak and groggy. Sunlight glinted off the excessively large, bedroom windows. I winced, blinded by the morning's luminous rays. "Holy crap, you need to invest in some curtains…"

"Rise and shine, girl." Franklin stood at the side of the bed and hovered over me, fully clothed in a white t-shirt, a pair of loose fitting, green camo-printed joggers, and black hi-tops. At least one of us was ready to take on the day, the fresh, clean scent of expensive body-wash mixed with his trademark woodsy cologne rose from his skin.

The last thing I remembered was cuddling with him until I drifted to sleep last night, he must had slipped away while I was knocked out to shower and dress himself.

"Your pops called," he murmured, his minty breath on my neck. "It's time to take you home, he's worried 'bout you, Trace. He thinks you might be in danger, or some shit."

"Five more minutes," I begged sleepily. "I'm perfectly fine, tell him to stop being so dramatic."

"Lazy ass," he teased.

I yawned, and reached out to him, my hand smoothed over the green fabric of his Los Santos snapback. "Frank, why do you always wear a hat?"

"Nah, not always. Why? Don't like it?"

I gazed into his dark brown eyes. "I like you."

"Mhmm, I'm feelin' you too." He smiled, and planted a gentle kiss on my temple. "Now stop with the mushy shit, and get that fine, lazy ass outta bed. We got shit to do, girl."

"Ugh, fine, and you say I'm bossy. Can you at least help me up?"

Franklin clasped my hands, and with a gentle tug, he pulled me to my feet. Arms raised high into the air, I stretched, my stomach grumbled. "Hey, can we get something to eat before we go?"

"I got you," he replied. "We'll make a stop for breakfast on the way there, a'ight?"

"Sounds good to me." As I slipped my feet into my sandals, Chop appeared, he ran into the bedroom and plopped down before me, panting with excitement. I crouched, and wrapped my arms around the warm, furry creature. He responded with a flurry of wet licks to my face. I smiled sadly. "I'm gonna miss you, boy."

"Ay," Franklin snapped his fingers for Chop's attention. "You wanna roll with us, little homie?"

Chop's tiny cropped tail wagged wildly in response, his hefty paws tapping against the hardwood floor.

"I think that means 'yes' in doggo language," I said.

"A'ight, cool, let's go," Franklin turned for the door, and beckoned us to follow.

I swiped up my panda bear from the nightstand, and Chop and I tailed after Franklin. We departed the bedroom, made a turn up a flight of stairs into the hall, and stepped out the front door, into the warm morning air. The sun's vibrant rays gleamed over Vinewood Hills, and illuminated the vivid green lawns surrounding us. A chorus of birdsong pierced through the noisy strangle of city traffic. The clean, earthy aroma of freshly mowed grass lingered in the air.

Franklin took the wheel of his white, sporty sedan parked outside his garage. I slipped into the back with Chop, just so I could sneak in some cuddles while on the road.

We pulled up to my house later than expected, considering I was super indecisive of which restaurant I wanted to eat at. I eventually settled with a glazed donut and a latte from Bean Machine. Franklin ordered a cream cheese bagel, which he shared more than half with Chop. He was too generous for his own good. It was cute.

Once we arrived at my home, Franklin cut his sedan's engine right beside Daddy's black Tailgater in the driveway. Dad and Uncle T stood before the front door of the house, they seemed to be engaged in a heated argument, as usual.

"You just had to go and fuck everything up, didn't ya?" A lit cigarette trapped between his trembling fingers, Dad paced back and forth around the driveway as he spoke, using dramatic, sweeping hand gestures. "After everything we did to settle our beef with Madrazo—"

"You mean, after everything I did?" Uncle T shouted, his voice harsh and grating. "Hijacking Merryweather's precious little choo-choo train was all my idea. If it weren't for my brilliant leadership and direction, you'd still be shacked up with me in Sandy Shores. I believe a thank you is in order."

"Un-fucking-believable," Dad shook his head. "If it weren't for your so-called 'brilliant leadership and direction', we wouldn't have been in that fucked-up situation in the first place—"

"Daddy!" I scrambled out of the car and ran into his arms, disrupting his tirade. I buried my face in his black suit jacket and sighed. With the amount of danger that followed him, each passing day he was still alive and breathing was a miracle.

He plucked his cigarette onto the ground and hugged me tight. "Hey princess, thank god you're okay. Frank told me what happened, you alright kiddo?"

"I'm fine. Where's Mom?"

"Your mom and your brother are in the Grand Senora desert, they're laying low at a safe house there for a couple days—"

"Why?" I pulled away from him. "What's going on?"

"Well…" Uncle T laid his tattooed hand on my shoulder. A foul stench rose from his body, he reeked of cat piss and beer. It didn't bother me however, I was used to it. "There's a small matter of a really pissed off Mexican drug cartel trying to kill all of us, for a totally unjustifiable reason, might I add."

My stomach dropped. "W-what?"

"Yeah, biting Madrazo's second ear off is a 'totally unjustifiable reason'," Dad said in finger quotes, "for the guy to put a hit out on us, huh?"

Uncle T reached into the pocket of his tan cargo pants, and whipped out what appeared to be a detached and fleshy, human ear. I cringed, my hand flew to my chest. It was shrunken and disgusting. I couldn't bear to look at it. "Cut it with the sarcasm, Mikey-boy," Uncle T grumbled between clenched teeth. "Before I bite your ear off next, and collect it as a trophy. I told Madrazo what would happen if he cheated on Patricia again. It's not like I didn't warn the guy. Look at the bright side, at least we can get out of this plastic city and lay low in Sandy Shores, right?"

Dad grimaced. "If you think I'm going to step one foot back in that death trap you call a trailer—"

Franklin appeared beside me, and winced at the sight of the bloody ear. "Damn T, what the fuck, man?"

"What?" Uncle T asked. "Don't recognize a wholesome, edible human organ when you see one? I'd share, but this baby right here has sentimental value."

"Yo' ass just keep gettin' crazier by the day, man-eatin' motherfucker," Franklin said. "What the fuck happened? How y'all manage to fuck shit up this time?"

"Not now, F." Dad gazed at me. "Tracey, baby, you're gonna be spending a few days with your mother and brother in Paleto Bay. Go inside and pack everything you'll need, okay?"

"No, I don't want to," I grumbled. "This is so friggin' random, and stupid! I have a life, and friends here. I don't want to go live in the middle of the desert, the Wi-Fi there sucks! How am I going to make it to my Pilate classes? And what about my daily pumpkin spice lattes—"

"Tracey!" Dad glared at me and clutched my shoulders, giving me a stern shake. "Listen to me, princess. Your life is more important than Wi-Fi, Pilate classes and pumpkin spice lattes, alright? Don't fight me on this. Just go in the house and pack your stuff."

"Whatever." I jerked myself from his grip and reluctantly stormed into the house. Chop followed at my heels as I stomped up the steps toward my room. Thankfully the place didn't stink of gunpowder anymore, but the bullet holes all over the walls were unnerving…

Once I reached my room, I slammed the door shut behind me and strolled over to my closet. Chop leapt onto my bed, and watched me claw through my wardrobe in a frenzy for suitable outfits to pack. Considering I had no choice but to live in the desert for a few days, I decided to change out of my jeans and into a short, pink pleaded skirt.

Ugh, my life seriously could not get any worse. I would give anything to be a normal girl, raised by sane, responsible parents, who's psychotic ways didn't put their children's lives at stake like every other week. As soon as I raised up the money, I'm moving out of this deranged city.

I packed up the necessities needed for the trip, including my skin care products, my makeup, my glamorous shoes and numerous outfits, and then made my way back downstairs with Chop. It was tough trying to tote all three of my fully packed, black polka dot suitcases to the front door, but I managed.

I packed light this time around. Usually when I traveled, I would take much more, but considering daddy was being so dramatic, I had to be quick.

There was a soft murmur of voices on the other side of the front door. I tip-toed close to the doorframe, quiet like a ninja, and focused in on the conversation.

"I swear Frank, there's just something about this city," my dad's voice seeped beneath the doorway. "It makes people crazy, it makes everything fucked. Those fucks who broke into the house left a note in Tracey's room, they threatened to come after my baby girl again."

My stomach dropped. Jeez, I just couldn't catch a break…

"Ay man, chill," Franklin responded. "We finna handle this shit, dog."

"Listen Frank," Dad said. "I appreciate what you did kid, not letting any harm come to my little girl."

"Yeah, no problem. I got you."

"Fuck—did you see what the fuck they did to my house? It looks like a fucking shooting range in there, those motherfuckers used my home as target practice! Do you have any idea how much it's gonna cost to replace all my shit?"

"Yeah, but its a'ight, ain't like you can't afford it. Be cool, man—"

"Be cool?" Dad snorted. "How the fuck can I be cool about this? They break into my house, and try to kidnap my little girl? Some fucking nerve—I want those motherfuckers dead, F. I gotta protect my baby girl. I'm not gonna let them get close to her again."

"A'ight, the fuck we waitin' for? Let's creep on them fools."

"Sure, that'd be easy, if we knew who the fuck they were. Look, me and Trev can handle this, alright? There's something I need you to do for me, kid. It's a huge favor, and you might not like it, but fuck, I'm running out of options here."

"Fo' sho' dog, anythin' you need."

"Amanda and Jimmy are at a safe house near Paleto Bay. It's off the grid, far out from the city, and secluded—the perfect place to lay low. I need you to take Tracey there, and stay with them for a while. It won't be easy, my family is nuts, but I need somebody I can trust to protect them while Trevor and I take care of things. Can you do that for me, kid? You're the only one who can do the job right, I don't trust no hired bodyguards or private security around my kids, and especially my wife. She's got a tendency to be a little loose when I ain't around."

Franklin sighed heavily before responding. "Okay… a'ight, man, it's cool. I got you."

"I'll be honest with you, F," Dad continued. "When you go to war with a Mexican drug cartel, things are bound to get messy, they don't fight clean. My family— my kids and my wife, they're in real danger. I'm relying on you kid."

"You talkin' like you know from experience, homie."

"I know a lot man, way more than I'm comfortable with."

"You ain't the only one. I know what Madrazo is capable of, I'll keep your family safe, a'ight? Don't even worry 'bout that shit."

"Thanks, F. I knew I could count on you."

"Whatever you and Trevor 'bout to do, be careful, a'ight? And keep me posted, dog."

"Will do kid. I'll text you the safe house address."

The door swung open, and the two men appeared, staring straight at me.

"Hi," I murmured, my cheeks burned with heat.

"Frank is gonna take care of you, alright?" Daddy planted a kiss on my cheek. "Try not to give my boy a hard time. And tell your mother I love her."

I nodded. "Okay. Be careful, Dad."

"I always am." Dad slipped past me, and disappeared into the house.

Franklin gaped at my three suitcases. "Damn, you sure you finna need all this shit? Your pops said you only gon' be gone for a couple days."

"Yeah, and this is all a couple days' worth of stuff," I replied. "It's seriously not much. I packed light this time around."

"Yeah a'ight, whatever you say."

Chop and I returned to the white sedan and reclaimed our seats in the back, while Franklin made trips back and forth to the house to tote all my stuff to the car. Uncle T was nowhere to be found. I guess he must had left while I was packing.

Once Franklin finished hauling my belongings into the trunk, he reclaimed his seat at the wheel. As if there were little time to waste, he quickly turned on the ignition. The car tires screeched, kicking up gravel within the driveway as we darted onto the road.

I leaned forward, and clutched Franklin's broad shoulders. "So let me get this straight," I muttered. "There's a Mexican drug cartel trying to kill us?"

"That's the gist of it, girl," he replied casually, his eyes glued to the road.

I frowned. "Um, mind if I ask why you're so calm about this? I feel like this is a big freaking deal."

"Might as well keep it cool, ain't no point in trippin' over it, ain't finna change shit anyhow—"

"Frank!" I yelled over him. "Why is a Mexican drug cartel trying to kill us?"

"Trevor's crazy ass pissed them off, that's why. You saw T carryin' 'round that fuckin' ear like a trophy, right? Can't say I'm surprised, that dude leaps at any opportunity to dig on some man meat. Anyway, the ear belongs to Martin Madrazo, our worst fuckin' nightmare."

I swallowed deeply. "Who's Martin Madrazo? What's so scary about him?"

"Well allegedly, he's a leader of a drug cartel, a real ruthless motherfucker, very wealthy and resourceful. All the witnesses who tried to testify against him in court turned up missin'. And unfortunately, me, Trevor and your pops—we all got some fucked up history with 'em."

I twirled a long strand of my hair around my finger, my leg wouldn't stop bouncing. This Madrazo maniac sounded like bad news. "How'd you guys get involved with him in the first place?"

"It all started when I helped your dramatic ass dad fuck up his property, literally broke the support beams and pulled his house off a fuckin' cliff. We ain't have much of a choice but to work for him and settle the debt we owed. We settled shit though, and I thought everythin' was over and done with, but apparently not. Trevor had to go and fuck shit up."

"This is insane! Why would Uncle T bite off his ear in the first place?"

"I ain't too sure. He ain't really get into the specifics, but what I do know is, y'all ain't safe. It's a'ight though, 'cause Paleto Bay should be secluded enough to keep y'all off Madrazo's radar."

"If that was the case, Dad wouldn't be making you stay with us," I pointed out. "I overheard you and Dad talking about a note he found in my room? Those guys who tried to kidnap me, they're still after me, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Franklin frowned. "It's cool though, I ain't leavin' your side. If some shit pops off, I'll be there."

"This sucks," I tumbled back into my seat. "I don't want to go to Paleto Bay, it's so hot, and dry, and empty in the desert. What if I get eaten by a coyote?"

"If anythin', you finna have Chop followin' you around everywhere," he said. "If a coyote rolls up, little homie got your back."

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my skirt. I didn't want Chop getting hurt trying to protect me. "But what if it hurts Chop?"

"Can't nobody hurt Chop. You shoulda saw little homie back in the hood, he a vicious motherfucker, had Balla OGs runnin' scared, shittin' themselves. He can handle a coyote no problem, ain't that right, Chop-Chop?"

"Woof," Chop barked in response.

"I hope you're right, Frank."

"Stop worryin' so much," Franklin said. "You ain't got enough meat on them bones for a coyote to come creepin' on yo' little ass in the first place. Actually, wait, my bad—dogs do like bones. A'ight, maybe you should be worried."

"Frank, you're such an ass," I snapped, and kicked the back of his seat.

"What? I was just playin'."

"You totally weren't." I kicked his seat again. "Do you have a problem with my weight? Is that what's going on here?"

He glared at me through the windshield mirror. "If yo' midget ass don't stop kickin' my fuckin' seat…"

"There you go again!" I cried, folding my arms over my chest. "So what if I'm short and skinny? I can't help it, I was born this way. I've been trying to gain weight, I eat like a total slob, okay? But I have a really fast metabolism, and when you say stuff like that, I feel like you're judging me, and it makes me feel super insecure—"

"Damn, calm the fuck down, a'ight? You givin' me a headache." Franklin patted the empty passenger seat beside him. "Now stop moanin', and come here."

I shook my head. "No. I'm quite comfortable back here, thank you."

"Don't be like that, babe. C'mon, girl. Bring yo' fine ass over here. You know I got too much pride to beg."

"Someone sounds like they miss me."

"Course I do."

"Fine." Reluctantly, I followed his command, climbing into the front seat next to him.

Leaving one hand on the steering wheel, his palm cupped my thigh, and fondled my bare skin. Although his touch was rough and calloused, his soothing caresses felt surprisingly good, and sensual. It seemed so unreal, the way his touch alone affected me. It was so easy to forget my problems and how much my life sucked whenever we were together.

"My bad if I hurt your feelings," he murmured. "I'm sorry, ain't nothin' wrong with your weight, or your height, a'ight? I'm just teasin', I don't mean nothin' by it, but I'll stop if it's botherin' you. It's all good."

"You promise?" I asked. "I don't need a fat booty, or a giant pair of boobies for you to like me?"

He grinned. "Nah, it ain't 'bout your body. Fuck that superficial shit."

"O-okay…" I fumbled. "Why are you interested in a spoiled, overemotional girly girl like me anyway?"

He stole a quick glance at me, and flashed a warm smile before returning his attention back to the road. "You're innocent, and sweet, and honest, and I'm hopin' some of that good inside you rubs off on me."

I chuckled, my stomach fluttered at the sight of his pearly white smile. "Well, I guess I can give you a pass for calling me small, or skinny, or whatever. So long as you're not trying to hint at something, or saying it out of spite like an asshat."

"Nah, when I call you small and shit, I'm just playin' with you, sweetie, a'ight? No shady shit, no ulterior motives—I don't roll like that."

It was good to know Franklin's affection for me stemmed from something deeper than what was on the surface. He wasn't like the usual shallow assholes I dated in the past, who were liars, and cheaters, they'd say and do anything to get in my pants. Franklin however, his words were genuine, brutally honest at times, but I appreciated them nonetheless. I rather be told the bitter truth than a sweet lie.

Although it was going to suck living in the boring, stupid desert, I was excited Franklin would be there with us, but also scared at the same time. My mom and Jimmy could be so embarrassing at times. I was a lot to deal with alone, and if I hadn't drove Franklin crazy yet, they certainly would, Jimmy especially. If my suspicious regarding the terrible internet service was correct, Jimmy wouldn't have his stupid online shooter game to keep him busy. He'll be bored out of his mind, and bothering us all day. Ugh, I had a feeling our trip out of the city was going to go horribly wrong.

I yawned, Franklin's soothing thigh caresses were putting me to sleep. "You think I can sneak in a catnap before we get there?" I asked.

"Yeah, go for it," he returned his grip to the steering wheel. "We got a long way to go."

I shivered, missing his touch. I lunged for his arm, clutched his wrist and settled his hand back on my leg. "Hey, I didn't say you could stop. Keep doing the rubbing thing, please and thank you."

"Bossy ass," he muttered with a smile, and resumed the thigh massage.

---

The sun had begun to set by the time we made it to Paleto Bay, painting the desert sky shades of red and pink. Franklin made a turn off the main road onto a bumpy dirt path. We drove for a good mile or so, leaving all signs of civilization behind us, before a modern, two-story home emerged in the distance.

The upscale, cobblestone house was situated on a small, sandy cliff bordering the ocean side, and appeared very much out of place to be in the middle of desert wasteland. Velvet drapes framed the wide, high arched windows, and the flat roof was adorned with pristine white, asphalt roof shingles. It looked a lot more like a vacation house than a safe house.

Without a garage in sight, Franklin parked the car on the side of the dirt road, and we stepped out into the hot, arid air. I stared across the broken waste of desert, observing the tumbleweeds rolling along in the wind. The dusty, rocky landscape, dotted with cactuses, seemed to be never-ending. Big birds circled around us overhead, their cawing and squawking echoed in the distance. I huddled close to Franklin, clenching his shirt. The desert's stillness was rather eerie, so empty and barren, no one to be seen for miles…

He gazed down at me, his brows furrowed. "You a'ight?"

"I'll feel much better once we're inside," I replied. "Let's go—"

The front door of the house abruptly swung open. Fabian appeared, sporting his trademark white see-through tights. Mom emerged from the house after him, her long, dark locks twisted into a bun, wearing her usual red tank top and black yoga pants. She seemed frustrated, her lips pressed into a fine line, and jaw tense.

"Please, Amanda," Fabian dropped onto one knee, and clutched Mom's hand. "Your chakra is blocked, we must resume practice—"

"Fabian, darling," Mom grimaced. "For the twentieth time, I'm in love with my husband. I can't see you anymore. Please, just go. Namaste—"

"Who's that French motherfucker with the manbun?" Franklin whispered.

"That's Mom's old yoga instructor," I grumbled, clutching Franklin's wrist and leading him toward the house. I spotted Chop in the corner of my eye as we made our advance. He rolled about in the hot sand playfully. At least one of us was having a good time.

"Tracey!" Mom beamed at the sight of me. She shuffled away from Fabian and embraced me. "Oh my god sweetie, I'm so glad you're alright."

"Hey Mom," I smiled. "What's the yoga douche doing here?"

"Well…" Mom paused to look back at Fabian. "I was feeling stressed and angry about your father making us drop everything and come out here, my chakra was really imbalanced, so I called Fabian for an emergency session. I thought he changed for the better after what your father did to him at Bean Machine, you know? But I was totally wrong." She gazed at Franklin, and preformed a small bow. "Namaste. Franklin, sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm good," he replied. "How you doin'?"

I furrowed my brows. "Wait, you two know each other?"

"Of course, honey. He's a good friend of your father's, and your brother talks about him all the time, they're really close."

I glared at Franklin. "Seriously? You and my idiot, homo brother are close?"

"Nah, not really," he muttered.

Mom cupped Franklin's stubbled cheek. "Michael told me what happened yesterday," she said. "Thank you so much for watching after Tracey. I know she's a handful. Did she have any temper tantrums or mental breakdowns? You know, when she curls up on the floor like a baby, and kicks and screams like a demon child?"

"Mom, seriously?" My cheeks grew hot. "You're embarrassing me."

"It's just a question, hun. So, did she?"

"Uh, nah, she ain't do nothin' demonic," Franklin feigned a smile. "At least, I don't think she did."

"Amanda," Fabian appeared behind Mom. "The downward dog, your favorite position, yes? Let us practice."

Mom sighed heavily. "Franklin, Tracey, why don't you two go inside? I need to have a talk with Fabian."

"You sure everythin' a'ight out here?" Franklin asked.

"It's fine," Mom replied. "Now go on, I won't be long."

Franklin and I slipped by Mom and Fabian, and approached the house. Although I didn't like the idea of leaving her alone with that dirty sleazeball of a yoga instructor, I knew Mom could handle herself. Besides, the farther away from him I was, the better. If I never heard his weirdly calm, stupid French accent again, it'd be too soon.

"The fuck is the deal with that dude?" Franklin asked as we ascended the porch steps.

"Don't ask," I muttered. "By the way, why the heck does everyone in my family seem to know you so well, except me? It's so weird."

Franklin merely shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, girl. Michael invited me to your crib multiple times, maybe you should come out of your room and socialize every now and then."

"F-Dog!" Jimmy appeared in the doorway, his fat, tattooed frame blocked the house's entrance, stopping our advance. He wore his usual black and red Fruntalot jersey, and baggy blue jeans. As if I didn't even exist, he beamed at Franklin, a big, goofy smile spread across his face. "My main dude, my brother from another mother! What's going on, homie?"

"Ay man, what's crackin'?" Franklin gave him a fist bump.

"Dude, you haven't been returning my calls, you never send any texts. Not cool, bro. You been dodging your boy Jizzle?"

"Nah, I've been busy, dog. Ain't nothin' personal."

"It's cool, I guess. So, Mom said you're gonna be staying with us for a while?"

"Yeah, I'ma be watchin' over y'all for a few days, while your pops is out handlin' business."

"Wow dude, you're gonna be like our replacement Dad, huh? Or like, the super cool big brother we never had? Either way, this is so fucking awesome, because I always wanted like, a black adopted brother. I tried to convince Mom and Dad into getting one, but they're lame sometimes. And I know you're only five years older than me, but I still look up to you dude, you're like my role model, even though you broke into my house and stole my whip."

My eyes widened. "W-what? You stole Jimmy's car?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that," Franklin muttered. "It's a long story."

I shook my head. Why did everyone insist on keeping things from me?

"If I lacked empathy altogether, and had little respect for human life like you and Michael do," Jimmy continued, "I'd totally be a gangbanger too, y'know—"

"Jimmy, man…" Franklin sighed. "It's only been a minute since we've been chillin', and you already pissin' me the fuck off."

"Jeez, relax homie. I'm just making conversation. Why do you have a stick up your ass?"

"It's fuckin' hot out here, dog."

"Are you gonna let us in the house or what, Jimmy?" I asked.

"Oh right, sorry guys." Jimmy stepped aside, allowing us entry. "Anyway, we're gonna have so much fun. The homies are back at it again! C'mon, come check out the crib, F-Dog."

We strolled into the house, a wave of cold air struck me once I laid foot on the beige carpeted floor, soothing my sweaty, flushed skin. Yes! The place had air-conditioning, thank goodness.

Jimmy took the lead. He guided us down a narrow white hall, past a flight of polished wood stairs, and a small yellow kitchen to the left. At the end of the hall was a living room. Although small, it was a cozy, colorful space, the walls were painted bright yellow, and the rustic furniture was embellished with vibrant red pillows and cushions.

There was a bulky air-conditioner in the corner window frame, humming lightly. I gravitated to it, and hovered over the contraption, basking in the cool air pouring from the vents.

Franklin slouched into the brown leather sofa, and Jimmy propped himself on armrest beside him.

"Man, is it good to see you, F-Dog," Jimmy said.

Franklin glared at him. "The fuck I tell you 'bout callin' me that?"

"Sorry, it's just been so long since we repped the set, y'know? When's the last time you and your boy Jizzle got crunk together?" He jabbed Franklin's broad shoulder playfully. "Dude, we should totally blow this joint and go do something fun. Please man, I'd do anything to get out of this shitty house, the internet here fucking sucks, I can barely get on Lifeinvader. I can't play Righteous Slaughter and troll nerds without internet! I feel like I'm living in the stone ages here."

Franklin scrubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. "Jimmy, homie, we in middle of the fuckin' desert, and the nearest town ain't for miles."

"You have a car, don't you? We can drive—"

"I ain't tryna waste gas just to entertain yo' big ass. Go find somethin' to do, get in touch with nature or some shit."

"Jesus!" Jimmy threw his pudgy arms into the air. "You are just like my dad, Franklin! You're like an old, disgruntled baby boomer in a millennial's body! People like you are the reason I can't find a job and start my life, your consistent bad mood just weighs everyone down, no wonder I'm a shut in with no friends. You know what? Fine, you don't have to take me anywhere, I'll go by myself—"

"Jimmy, don't be an idiot," I said. "You can't leave. There's a bunch of obsessed stalkers that are after me, and to make matters worse, there's like, a crazy Mexican guy in charge of a drug cartel who's really pissed off at us—Uncle T bit both his ears off."

Jimmy grimaced. "So? What does all of that have to do with me? That sounds like you, and Uncle T's problem, not mine."

"It's your problem too, man," Franklin retorted. "Y'all got the green light, dog, thanks to Trevor's ties with your family."

"This is such bullshit," Jimmy complained. "Trevor isn't even biologically related to us, and Tracey is the one with the desperate asshole stalkers, not me. Why am I getting punished because she's an internet slut?"

"Jimmy, you are such a dickweed!" I shouted, my hands balled into fists. "Do you even care that I almost died yesterday?"

"Of course I care, but dying and almost dying are two different things," Jimmy argued. "Your brush with death couldn't have been that bad, you look just fine. It's not fair that I have to suffer because of your stupid near-death experience. You ruined everything!"

Jimmy turned, and stormed out of the living room, leaving in a huff.

"Asshole!" I snapped.

"Bitch!" He retorted, skipping up the polished wood stairs.

"You homo!" I cried at the top of my lungs. Despite the cool circulation within the room, my blood was boiling. "Mom! Jimmy called me a bitch! Mom—"

"Trace," Franklin blurted out. "Will you stop fuckin' screamin'?"

"Franklin, he called me a bitch," I whined. "You're supposed to be on my side about this."

"I am on your side, girl, but you finna pop my motherfuckin' eardrums out—"

Mom forged into the living room with Fabian at her heels.

"Amanda, I beg of you, one more session," Fabian pleaded.

Mom about-faced, her fists clenched. She breathed in deep before responding, trying to quell her anger. "Fabian, get out of my house—" He latched onto her wrist. Mom gasped, swatting his hand away. "How dare you?"

"Ay man," Franklin sprang to his feet, and pushed his way between Fabian and Mom. "You heard the lady, bounce fool. Don't nobody want yo' tights wearin' ass here, thirsty motherfucker—"

"I'm not going anywhere, homie," Fabian mocked, glaring into Franklin's eyes. "Is this what has become of you, Amanda? Living in the middle of worthless wasteland, allowing filthy, hired thugs into your home?"

Franklin took a menacing step closer to him. "The fuck you just say?"

"Franklin, honey," Mom said, her tone soft and casual. "Can you please remove this narcissistic, piece of prima donna trash from our home? He's ruining our positive energy."

Without delay, Franklin's large mitts grappled onto Fabian's neck. He gasped, crumbling under Franklin's strength, his hands raised high in surrender. I grinned, clapping my hands together. Under normal circumstances, I wasn't an advocate for violence. I hated to witness people get bullied and manhandled, but Fabian was an exception, he was such a creep.

Franklin forcibly dragged him out of the living room, and through the hall. Mom and I followed behind them, both of us rooting Franklin on the entire way.

"That's right, get 'em out of here!" I cheered as Franklin threw Fabian out the door. It was a rough fall, his willowy body collided with the stone porch steps, and landed in the dirt.

Fabian groaned, and spit out a mouthful of blood and sand. "Y-you'll pay for this, you hoodlum…"

Mom took Franklin's side. "Come back here again, and I'll have this fine gentleman, who is not a hired thug mind you, permanently remove you from existence," Mom threatened. "Do you understand me? Come anywhere close to me, or my children again, and I'll have you killed. You will be dead."

"You'll be deader than dead!" I added. "You'll be the deadest person ever!"

"Come on, honey," she tapped Franklin's shoulder, and we about-faced, returning to the house, leaving Fabian lying in the dirt.

Chop sped through the entrance behind us. "Jesus, what a day…" Mom turned the locks on the door. "Do you think he'll okay? Did we overdo it?"

"Nah, he'll be a'ight," Franklin replied. "I think he got the message."

"I hope so. I'm so glad Michael isn't here, you know how angry he gets, he would have done much worse. Once he gets those crazy eyes, there's no stopping him." Mom sighed. "For all our sake, let's keep this whole messy situation with Fabian on the downlow, okay? Anyway, are you guys hungry?"

"Yeah, Mom," I nodded. "I'm starved."

"I was thinking beef and broccoli stir-fry, it's Tracey's favorite." She glanced at Franklin. "Does that sound good?"

"Fo' sho', sounds good to me," Franklin replied.

"Great, I'll get right to it then. How are you two planning on keeping yourselves entertained in the meantime? The internet is pretty shoddy, and there's no cable for god's sake. Can you believe it?"

"I'ma just chill on the couch and wait," Franklin formed a weak smile. "It's all good."

"Yeah, don't worry about us, Mom," I added.

Mom flashed us a smile, and turned away, making a left into the kitchen. I accompanied Franklin back into the living room, and squeezed next to him on the couch. Chop laid at our feet, panting heavily, his black fur speckled with sand.

"Gotta find little homie somethin' to snack on soon," Franklin muttered to himself. He pulled off his hat, revealing his dark hair. It had been cut short and styled into a clean fade, with a three-line pattern visible on the side, giving his haircut a unique, distinct look.

Eyelids heavy, he sagged into the leathery cushions, the veins in his forehead throbbed with frustration. Hoping to make him feel better, I reached up, my fingertips brushed through his short strands. The soft, curly texture of his hair was fun to play with. I pressed my lips to the smooth, neatly shaved side of his head. "I like your hair," I whispered.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice soft and subdued.

I wanted to pry him for information regarding the thing Jimmy mentioned about him stealing his car, but now wasn't a good time. He seemed stressed, and irritable enough already. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"You're lying, I can tell when you're mad. Tell me what's wrong." I poked his hard stomach with my index finger.

"Ay," he swatted my hand lightly. "Stop."

"Can't help it, I poke and prod people when I'm worried." I poked him yet again.

"Knock that shit off, girl."

"I will if you tell me what's wrong."

"Ain't nothin' wrong."

"Bullcrap. You know you can tell me anything, right Frank?"

He didn't respond. I reached out to poke him a third time, but he captured my hand. "If I tell you, you gotta keep them little ass hands to yourself, a'ight?"

"You have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you?" I teased. "But I'll try my best, no promises."

"A'ight." He scratched his stubbled cheek. "Sometimes that shit gets to me, girl, when motherfuckers stereotype my ass as a thug, or a gangbanger off first glance. Not that they're wrong, but that ain't the point. I could be a normal ass, law-abiding citizen for all they know, you feel me? But if you're dark, and your pants hang a little low, that's it—you ain't nothin' more than a fuckin' degenerate."

I frowned. "Not everyone thinks that way. Sure, Fabian and some other asswipes might think so, but those people are ignorant. You can't let stupidity like that rain on your parade."

"It's hard to tune that shit out when you gotta deal with it every fuckin' day. Usually, I don't even bother wastin' the energy moanin' 'bout that discrimination bullshit, it's like beatin' a dead horse. But I do get angry 'bout that shit, and I take it out on everybody else around me, even though it ain't fair to them." His pained, deep brown gaze settled on me. "Even though it ain't fair to you."

My stomach hardened. Although his heartfelt confession was difficult to hear, I was glad he let down his walls, and allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable in front of me. I embraced him, my arms tangled around his neck. It was risky to do so with my family nearby, but I didn't care. He needed a hug, and I was determined to supply it.

"You're not a degenerate," I rubbed his strong back. "At least, you aren't to me."

Franklin smiled, his powerful arms drew me close.

The comforting hug was short and fleeting, and I immediately missed Franklin's warmth the moment he pulled away. Despite the sentimental moment we shared, he still seemed a little down in the dumps, despite his efforts to hide it, lips pressed into a fine line, and large body angled away from me.

With no reason other than my motivation to console him, I slipped my hand underneath his white shirt and tickled his hard, sculpted tummy. My impulsiveness was rewarded with a tight grin gracing his handsome face, and lots of squirming.

"Quit playin'," he choked out between a laugh, and shuffled out of my reach, scooting to the other end of the sofa.

"I didn't know you were so ticklish," I climbed on top of the cushions, and slowly crawled toward him on all fours, chuckling.

"Aw shit," he snorted. "You gone and found out my weakness."

"Yep, and I'm so gonna tickle you to death now."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, baby. I'm warnin' you, my reflexes are unpredictable, I might knock yo' little ass out by mistake—"

I lunged at Franklin, assaulting his powerful body with a barrage of tickles. His muscles tensed, and a big, goofy laugh escaped him. It was so adorable and contagious that I started cracking up too, a bubbly sensation filled my heart. He didn't make the tickle assault easy for me however, his grip settled around my wrists to keep me at bay.

His grasp was far too gentle to constrain me, however. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I picked up the pace, my frenzy of tickles gravitated to his sides. Cackling, and flustered, his arm locked around me, and he stood, lifting me into the air, and threw my upper body over his shoulder with little effort.

"Mhmm, I got yo' little narrow ass now," he playfully smacked my behind.

"Oww," I whimpered, still grinning. It kinda hurt, but in a good way. Jeez, I was too kinky for my own good. "Get off! This is like the textbook definition of domestic violence."

"Uh-huh, you ain't gotta lie, girl. I know you like this shit." Pow! He slapped my ass again, much harder this time around.

"Franklin!" I squealed and shuddered, kicking my legs and waving my arms through the air helplessly. My butt was practically on fire. I was trapped in his grasp, weak and vulnerable like an insect snared in a spider's web. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn't free myself. I loved his strength, and hated it at the same time. "I'm totally gonna file a restraining order against you, spanking is a criminal offense, you know. I'm a privileged white girl, you can't manhandle me like this. Unlike you, I have the authorities on my side."

"Fuck the police, I ain't scared."

His hand hovered over my behind once again. I squeezed my eyes closed, and winced, preparing for the slap.

Butt cheeks clenched, I waited, and counted five long, tedious seconds to feel the pain, but nothing happened. Curious, I opened my eyes, and spotted Mom standing in the doorway, gaping at us incredulously.

I swallowed deeply, my cheeks burned. No words could describe how embarrassing it was to be caught hanging helplessly over Franklin's broad shoulders, in the process of being spanked like cheap whore with a submission fetish. Although it was a blast, we really got carried away…

"H-hey Mom," I mumbled as Franklin set me down to my feet. "It's uh, not what it looks like…"

"D-dinner's ready," Mom stammered, and took off in a hurry.

Franklin and I exchanged wary glances at one another. A moment later, suddenly, and simultaneously, we broke out into laughter once again. I wasn't even sure why I was giggling, because in truth, I was crying on the inside. We were royally screwed if Mom told Daddy anything, but at least we'd suffer together, and that made reality slightly easier to cope with.

Franklin, Chop and I ate dinner together on the couch. Mom's beef and broccoli stir-fry was bombtastic as always. By the time we finished chowing down, the shadows of the night had fallen over the desert, sparing the land of the scorching heat. Franklin volunteered to wash the dishes, and promised to fetch my bags from the car afterwards, bless his selfless heart.

While Frank was busy with chores, Chop and I set off to explore the house.

We ascended the stairs, and found ourselves within a short, dimly lit hallway. There were three hardwood doors, one on the right, and two on the left. The door on the right had a sticky note attached to it. 'GO AWAY' was etched across it in black ink, the penmanship so crooked and wobbly, it couldn't had been written by anyone else other than Jimmy.

"Looks like this room is already taken, Chop," I muttered.

Chop scampered to the nearest door on the left, and clawed the wood, requesting access. I twisted the gold knob, and eased it open. It was a small room, silent and dusty, a huge change of scenery compared to the homey, vibrant colored living room. The space was mostly empty, except for the wooden nightstand, and the full-sized bed hugging the bare, white walls. Despite the lack of personality, or distinct features, I had no choice but to settle there for the night. Jimmy had already claimed his room, and the other probably belonged to Mom.

Chop hopped onto the mattress, and plopped down at the foot of the bed. I flicked the light switch on the wall, and the bare bulb on the ceiling came to life, and brightened the space. The bedroom reeked of dust, and a strange thickness. The dust caked floorboards creaking with every step, I strolled to the window. I brushed some cobwebs off the glass, and tugged it open. A cool breeze seeped into the room, it was so much easier to breathe now that there was fresh air circulating through the space.

I collapsed onto the springy bed, and combed my fingers through Chop's shiny coat, occasionally plucking away small grains of sand from his fur. I absentmindedly pet the creature for a long while, drifting in and out of sleep due to the silence. There was nothing else to do anyhow, I didn't have a phone, no television, no nothing…

The roar of a car engine from outside my window roused me from my slumber.

"Motherfucker!" Franklin's booming shout echoed through the air, disrupting the desert's wildlife, birds squawked and cawed, coyotes howled in the distance.

I shuddered, and jerked to my feet. Chop's floppy ears rose, high and alert, and he darted off the bed and sped out the room. My stomach churned. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I sprinted after Chop, quickly descending the stairs. I followed him through the wide open front door and into the night. He guided me to his master's location, right outside the house on the side of the shadowy dirt road.

Nostrils flaring, Franklin turned, and silently brushed past me, storming toward the house.

"F-Franklin?" I jogged to his side and clutched his arm. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Jimmy happened." He glared at me, his eyes intense and protruding. "That whiny, bitch ass motherfucker stole my fuckin' car."

I glanced behind me at the dirt road. There was no car in sight, I didn't even realize it was gone. "Holy crap…"

Franklin whipped out his green smartphone, his twitchy fingers scrolled through his contacts. "Fat motherfucker must think this shit is funny," Franklin grumbled to himself. "Leavin' our asses stranded in the middle of fuckin' nowhere. Shit, Madrazo's goons probably creepin' on his punk ass as we speak." He tapped on the name 'Lamar', and pressed his phone to his ear. A moment later, the call was answered by a deep voice, but it was too muffled for me to make out the words. "Ay homie, I need you to pull up to Paleto Bay, it's an emergency, dog—"

"Tracey!" Mom raced to me, her slender face red and flustered. Her trembling hands cupped my cheek. "Are you okay, honey? What's going on?"

"I'm fine," I feigned a smile. "Are you okay? You don't look so good, Mom."

"James is gone, he sent me an email saying he took Franklin's car, and that he was sorry—"

Franklin lowered his phone slightly. "Yo, you know where he went?"

"Vanilla Unicorn," Mom answered. "That filthy gentleman's club in south LS, full of strippers and prostitutes with their fake tits, and their used goods." She gazed at me, tears swelling in her eyes. "Your whore-mongering father used to love that place. And now my baby boy is there. Oh god, what if one of those whores give him a STD? James isn't smart enough to use protection, he isn't even old enough to drink yet…"

"Strippers should be the least of your worries, Mom," I said. "Remember the reason we're out here in the first place? We're being hunted by stalkers and Mexican drug dealers. Jimmy is in danger."

"What does the Mexicans, or stalkers matter if he dies of a sexually transmitted disease, Tracey?"

Franklin slipped his green smartphone back into his pocket. "My boy is on his way here, he finna give me a lift to the skin joint so I can get Jimmy back, a'ight?"

"Please, tell him to hurry, Franklin," Mom begged. "If Michael finds out about this, he'll have a heart attack. He's driving me nuts about this drug cartel nonsense. All of it sounds like a load of bullshit to me."

"I'm coming too," I said.

"Tracey, no, you can't go," Mom demanded. "I don't want you getting in Franklin's way, and if your father's crazy talk about the drug cartel is true, it'll be too dangerous."

"I know me and Jimmy rarely ever get along, and yes, I do think he's a pathetic idiot, but he's still my brother," I argued. "I have to help Franklin get him back."

"It's cool, I don't mind Trace rollin' with me," Franklin said. "I'll protect her."

"You better." She narrowed her eyes, and pointed a finger at both of us. "When you two get back, hopefully safe and sound with James, we need to have a talk—a long one. Namaste."

Mom turned away, and forged back to the house, slamming the door behind her.

"The fuck was that all about?" Franklin asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "If I were to take an educated guess, it probably has something to do with earlier today, before dinner, when she, y'know…"

"What? When she caught us play fightin'?"

"I'm like, one-hundred percent sure spanking and play fighting are two totally different things. I guarantee your hand print is still visible on my ass cheek as we speak, it's probably never going to go away."

"Nah, play fightin' and spankin' go hand in hand. It's just a slap that happened to land on your booty instead of somewhere else."

"The difference between the two is, play fighting is supposed to be gentle, no one gets hurt. Getting spanked is painful, and I can't help but question if you're just fooling around, or actually trying to kill me."

"You'll know I ain't playin' no more when I tear the meat off yo' ass, girl," he grumbled. "All that damn poking and tickling, you know I wasn't in the mood for that soft, high school romance ass bullshit."

If he didn't have such nice, soft lips, I probably would had slapped his rude, insensitive mouth right then and there. He had no appreciation for how much pain and effort it took to make him smile. I deserved a thank you.

"You're such a fucking fuck sometimes," I muttered.

"Girl, don't be like that." He reached out to me, but I quickly shoved him away. "Damn, you need to chill the fuck out, and learn how to take a joke. And you say I'm the grumpy one."

"You are the grumpy one! You're like the ultimate killjoy, and it's super hard to tell when you're joking or not. Seriously, are you ever in the mood for anything besides brooding, Franklin? Or arguing, or hurting people, and making terrible, vulgar jokes?"

"Maybe if everythin' wasn't so fucked up, I'd be in a better mood," he snapped. "I'm stranded in the desert, my car's gone, I'm stuck babysittin' grown ass adults that act like goddamn kids. I ain't particularly enjoyin' my fuckin' self, this ain't no paradise resort. There's plenty of other shit I rather be doin' right now—"

"Yeah, like what, huh?" I shouted over him, my voice echoed through the desert air. "You rather lay around in your big, empty house, feeling miserable and alone instead? It's so sad and pathetic the way you push people away and cry about it afterwards, it's almost like you don't know any better."

Franklin stalked close to me, his glare hard and flinty. "You think you know me so fuckin' well, but you don't know shit."

"It's your fault if I don't," I retorted. "Because you won't give me a chance to get to know you. Stop making things so friggin' difficult. You need to get in touch with your sensitive side, Frank. Listen to your heart for once. Let people in, you won't regret it—"

"Yeah, a'ight," he shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Bein' sensitive, listenin' to your heart and all that soft, naive ass shit—it doesn't end well, I know from experience. It's a quick way to get fucked." He sighed, lowering his head. "I don't know why the fuck we're wastin' our time, we ain't gon' work out anyway. If you really got to know me, you'd realize I ain't exactly boyfriend material, unless you got a thing for gangbanging motherfuckers who don't got shit to lose."

I swallowed deeply, my chest ached. The hulking man was intimidating, but I wasn't afraid of him. His anger, intimidation tactics and jeers were just a defense mechanism to keep others from getting close, but I wasn't giving up on him, not yet.

"Everyone that I love does terrible things," I said. "My dad, and Uncle T are probably the biggest criminals in Los Santos, and my mom and brother are literal kleptomaniacs, but I was conditioned to turn a blind eye to it, conditioned to sympathize and understand it, and maybe that makes me crazy just like them but…" I cupped his rugged cheeks, and stared into his smoldering eyes. "I want to know you so bad, Franklin," I pleaded softly. "Maybe I am silly and naïve, but that doesn't mean I don't deserve a chance. Why won't you let me? Why won't you let me in? I promise you won't scare me away. I'm stronger than I look."

Franklin grew silent, brows furrowed, his gaze softening. Although his beautiful brown eyes glanced my way, he seemed to be staring straight through me, lost in thought. He was a hard man to read. What was he thinking?

"Say something," I said, my voice cracked, choked with emotion.

He took a step back, a snort of dismissive laughter escaped him. "Look Trace, I'm a nigga who boosts cars, and occasionally, I pop motherfuckers, that's who the fuck I am, and I'm real good at that shit. I'm a walkin' red flag—a disaster barely bein' held together by flesh and motherfuckin' bone. Everybody else with half a fuckin' brain can see that shit, why the fuck can't you?" He scrubbed his unsteady hand over his face. "I don't want to hurt you, a'ight? I'm depressed enough as it is, I got enough guilt eatin' away at me already."

Tears sting my eyes and I sniffle, wiping my runny nose with my forearm. "If you don't want to hurt me, then why are you doing it right now? Why are you making me feel so unwanted?"

"Trace, baby…" He grimaced, his voice softened, losing its power. "Don't cry, I ain't mean to—"

"Screw you," I snapped, turning my back to him. "I know what you're doing, I'm not as dumb as you think I am. You're trying to make this about me, but it's all a front."

"Tracey—"

"Shut up already!" Heat flushed through me. "You're a coward, Franklin—a selfish, insecure asshole who's scared shitless of real intimacy. You push everyone away because you're the one who's scared of getting hurt. I thought you were different, but you're not. You're a fucking fuck, just like everyone else..."

I took in a deep breath, and exhaled slow, trying to control my tearful tone, and relax my quaking limbs. "I feel so bad for you," I mumbled. "I don't know why you're so cold, and cruel. It's hard to make sense of it. Maybe some horrible person you loved took you for granted and treated you like crap, maybe they made you feel like you weren't good enough and deserted you. And now you think that love and intimacy is some terrible thing that only leads to hurt in the end. But it's not fair when you take it out on the people around you. I just want to help you—to make you realize that intimacy isn't as bad as you think it is. You deserve that much, even though you can't see it…"

Franklin gravitated close, his bulky arms locked around my waist from behind. I wanted to stick to my guns and stay pissed at him, I wanted to push him away, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I adored his warmth far too much. My heart skipped a beat, his strong embrace warded my petite body from the night's chilly temperature. His face nuzzled against mine, the sweet gesture, and the ticklish stubble on his cheek forced a giggle out of me as always.

His warm breath on my neck sent a shiver down my spine. With a soft brush of his full lips, he kissed my skin, his touch so featherlike I could barely feel it. I could had sworn he used every ounce of his strength just to be tender. Maybe his attentive, delicate caresses was his way of apologizing for being so cold, he was much better at showing his affection through physicality, rather than spoken words anyhow.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I know I ain't right for you, but that don't mean I don't want you. You look at the world through rose-colored glasses, and I love that 'bout you, girl. You're so good, and innocent. I wish someone like you came around sooner, maybe I'd be more open to this kind of shit. Maybe I wouldn't be so fucked up."

"You're too hard on yourself," I replied. "Sure, you're far from perfect, but I like this side of you. It makes all your flaws worthwhile. So, will you please just stop pushing me away? I know you don't want to be alone, no one does."

"Damn, you stubborn as shit, you know that?" He sighed. "I should be alone, I'm used to it, you feel me? But do I like it? Nah, I chill by myself, away from motherfuckers, 'cause there's less stress that way. Everythin' you do in life is easier when the only person around for you to let down is yourself."

I frowned. "That's so…"

"Fuckin' pathetic, right?" He grinned. "My bad, I was thinkin' out loud, or maybe I've been thinkin' too much, not sure."

"Whatever you're doing, you need to stop. Think happy thoughts, try visualizing stuff in your head that makes you feel good. Like um, guns and dirty money, dead cops, stolen cars, drugs and prostitutes…"

Franklin narrowed his eyes. "For real? That's some real ignorant, stereotypical bullshit right there, yo' shallow ass should be ashamed."

"Because you're such a beacon of morality, right?"

"Blame poverty, I'm a product of my environment. I act in accordance with nature, girl. But you ain't gotta rub it in."

"You're so sensitive," I teased, giggling.

He smirked. "Fuck you."

Quietly, Franklin held me close to his powerful body for quite some time. I didn't mind it, I enjoyed the comfortable silence.

The bright headlights of an incoming car illuminated the dark dirt path. I winced, it was practically blinding. Franklin pulled away, and peered out at the road. "That's my boy, Lamar."

I nodded weakly, and sniffed. I didn't realize how emotionally drained I was after the heated argument we had, but I had to be strong for Jimmy.

A white cargo van came to a hasty stop before us. A black dude stepped out, his green, baggy shirt and tan, sagging cargos blew loosely in the strong, desert wind.

"What's good, nigga?" The man's tall, lanky body gravitated to Franklin. The guy was literally covered in tattoos from the neck down. Although it all looked like chicken scratch to me, I had a hunch it was gang affiliated. "Gimme dap dog, it's been a minute."

"What's crackin', my nig'?" Franklin greeted his friend with a fist bump and handshake, and then the two men pulled one another into a loose hug. Once the short-lived embrace was over, Franklin turned away, opening truck's wide backdoors. Chop wasted little time hopping inside. "Trace," Franklin beckoned me over. "If you comin', you gon' have to get in the back. Might be a bumpy ride though."

I stared into the empty, spacious van. "Um…" I fumbled. There wasn't much to hang onto if things got bumpy…

"You don't have to come. Lamar and I can handle it—"

"No, it's fine." I swallowed deeply, and climbed inside with Chop. There was a strong, musty odor in here, a mixture of stinky arm-pits and smoke.

Franklin shut the double doors behind me, and appeared a moment later at the wheel, with his friend sitting beside him. I stood and held onto the back of Franklin's beige leather seat for support. From this angle, I could easily gaze over his broad shoulder and through the windshield into the night.

We pulled off onto the empty, shadowy dirt road. The desert sand proved to be even more bumpy than I originally thought, but it was easy to keep my balance so long as my grip remained tight on Franklin's seat. Poor Chop on the other hand, rocked back and forth with every shake and thud.

"How the fuck you get here so fast, dog?" Franklin stole a quick glance at his friend. "Not that I ain't glad, but damn, you usually always late."

"I was in Sandy Shores, handlin' some business when yo' boujiee, Vinewood ass hit me up," Lamar said. "I was surprised as a motherfucker too, 'cause you don't be callin', or textin', well unless you need somethin'. You ain't been reppin' the set either, out here thinkin' you special." He turned around, and gazed at me, brows furrowed. "Ay, who the white girl?"

"I'm Tracey," I murmured. There was something about him that made me nervous, but I did my best to choke it down.

"She's Michael's daughter man," Franklin added.

"Oh, you that old white dude's daughter huh?" Lamar asked. "The irritable dude that be creepin' on fools, right? That's cool. Sup girl, I'm Lamar, but fine ladies like yourself call me LD—that stands for lanky dick, case you were wonderin'."

"More like lanky dumb ass," Franklin muttered.

Lamar shook his head. "Whatever nigga, that joke gettin' old. And I peep you still be hanging out with them old dudes. Ain't got no time for your day one niggas no more, huh? Ay, why yo' fat ass always hoggin' the wheel? What if I wanna drive the whip, nigga?"

"You talk too damn much to be drivin', fool."

"Excuse me, Frank totally isn't fat," I caressed his broad chest. "This is all muscle."

Franklin smiled. "Chill babe, I'm tryna drive."

Lamar's hazel eyes widened. "Nuh-uh, my boy Franklin fuckin' a white girl? Awh hell nah, nigga, I didn't know you rolled like that."

"Nigga, that ain't a surprise. You don't be knowin' much," Franklin retorted.

"Shoulda known you was fuckin' with white girls now, boujiee Vinewood ass. Once a nigga get a couple dollars in his pocket, he think he too good for hood bitches. I see you nigga, snake ass bitch. Turned your back on the homies, the sistas—"

"Man, you a sensitive little ol' bitch, ain't you? If you wanted to chill so fuckin' bad, why don't yo' clingy ass ever pull up to the crib?"

"Niggas like me can't pull up to no Vinewood, I be scaring them prestigious motherfuckers, they know a real ass nigga when they see one. I'm like a wild cat nigga, I'm always on the prowl homie, anybody can get it, y'know what I'm talkin' 'bout? Ay, how much dick you had to suck to set up shop over there anyway? I know they ain't let your big, scary, toaster strudel looking ass in the legit way, down payments and all that shit. Wait until I tell your aunt you've been swallowing old, saggy white dude balls just to pay the rent, she gonna have a good laugh, you yes-master ass nigga."

"Yeah a'ight, why don't you take a lesson from my book and step your shit up, instead of whinin' day in and day out like a fuckin' female? Credit fraud and slingin' dope clearly ain't workin' out too well for you, but you too much of a dog ass nigga to change shit up. Learn some new tricks, you fuckin' moron."

I swallowed deeply. To be friends, they sure were mean to one another.

We made a turn off the bumpy dirt path, and onto the smooth, empty main street of Paleto Bay. It was only a matter of time before we reached the freeway. With little traffic to compete with, we'd make it back to the city in no time.

"Uh-huh, I see you," Lamar glared at Franklin, and shook his head. "This is how you treat your boy after ghostin' him for weeks. You ain't shit nigga, I shouldn't have wasted the gas comin' out here for your ass."

Franklin grinned. "Man, chill. You know I ain't got nothin' but love for yo' silly ass, dog."

"You so full of shit, it's leakin' through your nose and teeth, nigga. The only fools you got love for is them old white dudes, and maybe that little white bitch in the back." Lamar glanced at me. "Yo, word of warning, baby girl, this nigga Franklin a snake, he be changin' up on the daily, you can't trust his ass. You know he used to work for the feds?"

"Ignore this clown, girl," Franklin said. "He get real petty when he jealous, sensitive motherfucker."

"I dunno, Lamar kinda has a point," I replied. "You do go from happy to cranky in like a matter of seconds. If that's not the definition of changing up, then I don't know what is."

"See, white girl knows what's up. You a crabby, snake ass motherfucker, Frank." Lamar took my hand, and leaned in close, his hot breath on my shoulder. "Yo, I know this nigga be wildin' sometimes," he whispered. "It's gotta be a scary thing, fuckin' with this big, cranky motherfucker, 'cause you like a delicate flower, y'know what I'm talkin' about? Like a daffodil, them pretty yellow ones. He ain't hurt you, did he, baby?"

"N-no," I fumbled, my chest caving in. Lamar had a natural silly, playful demeanor about him, but still, I wasn't one-hundred percent sure if he was joking or not. Stranger danger! I wanted to run for the hills, but there was nowhere to go…

"You need a man who's gonna be soft and gentle with them delicate pedals of yours," Lamar continued. "'Cause you know, this nigga Frank, he ain't the one. He'd probably beat a bitch over a french fry, you see how big he is, you can tell this no neck motherfucker love food—"

"Nigga," Franklin glared at Lamar, his hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, nails digging into the leather fabric. "The only bitch up in here I'm 'bout to beat is you, fool. Get yo' crusty ass hands off her, man. Fall back, creep motherfucker."

"Alright nigga, chill, damn," Lamar released me. "That's real childish, dog—threatenin' your homies like that. I was makin' sure the white girl was alright, you coulda kidnapped her ass for all I know. It is kinda suspicious, y'all being this far out in the desert, ain't got no whip or nothing. But don't trip, I'm just a concerned citizen, dog."

I sighed heavily, and huddled closer to Franklin, clenching his shoulders. He glanced at me through the windshield mirror, his gaze soft, and laced with concern. I formed a weak smile, hoping the gesture alone would be enough to communicate I was okay. He lifted a hand from the wheel, and opened his palm to me. I happily took his hand, I missed his touch, our fingers intertwined.

"So what y'all doing out here in the first place with Chop?" Lamar asked.

"Michael and Trevor gone and fucked with Madrazo again, now they got a green light on their ass," Franklin explained. "Michael thinks they're after his family too, so he made 'em come out here to lay low, dog, asked me to watch after 'em until shit blows over."

"Damn homie, them old dudes always got some drama goin' on, especially the crazy dude, but he pretty cool, we straight. Real recognize real, you feel me? If y'all tryin' to lay low, why we driving back to LS then?"

"Because my idiot baby brother stole Franklin's car to go throw one-dollar bills on strippers," I answered.

"For real?" Lamar smirked. "I guess he don't give a fuck about Madrazo, he gonna get his dick wet tonight whether it's the last thing he do. I respect that, little homie a soldier for the pussy. Alright so, what the nigga look like? Vanilla Unicorn be lit this time of night, I'ma need an accurate description to help y'all find him."

"Just look for a wankster," I said. "Lots of tattoos, red hair, big gold chain, fat—and I don't mean Franklin's type of fat, I mean like, bordering on morbidly obese. And if push comes to shove, just follow the stench of stale Cheetos, failure, and broken dreams. That'll lead us straight to him."

Lamar snickered. "Damn, white girl cold. I like her."

---

We swerved into the Vanilla Unicorn parking lot. Lamar was right, it was a busy night at the club, there was long line of people waiting outside the establishment to be let in by the muscled bouncer, while others lingered on the sidewalk in groups, either drunk or smoking cigarettes, chatting loudly over the booming music coming from inside. The vicinity stunk of beer and vomit.

"Stay in the car with Chop, girl," Franklin demanded. "Keep a look-out, a'ight? We'll be right back."

I nodded. "Be careful guys."

Franklin and Lamar exited the vehicle, leaving the motor running. Chop and I climbed into the front seat and gaped out the window. Instead of waiting in line, the two men skipped to the front, and exchanged a few words with the bouncer. Apparently, they had pull around here, the bouncer stepped aside without much of a fuss, and they disappeared into the popular club.

"See anything suspicious, Chop?" I asked, my eyes swept over the area. There were a couple of rowdy drunk people limping around, one intoxicated guy wouldn't stop tripping over his own shoestrings, which was kinda funny, but besides that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was no sign of Jimmy anywhere. Crap, that dweeb better be alright…

Five long, miserable minutes had past, and the boys still hadn't returned. My leg wouldn't stop bouncing. My body tensed, a bizarre sensation overwhelmed me, my womanly intuition reared its ugly head, stomach churning with dread. What the heck was taking so long? Franklin, where are you?

Chop licked my face, his big, slimy tongue moistened my cheek. He made for a good distraction from my worrisome thoughts. I hugged him close.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The earsplitting stutter of rapid gunfire echoed through the city's night air. I yelped, my pulse roared in my ears. The herd of people surrounding the area scattered like flies, while dozen's more poured from the club's narrow entrance in masses, dashing into the street, fleeing for cover and screaming at the top of their lungs.

A large white truck pulled up from the busy road and steered to the curb, right outside the club's entrance. At the honk of the driver's horn, two tanned, skinny men with pony-tails peeled off from the fleeing horde emptying the club. Guns in their hands, they dragged Jimmy's pudgy frame across the pavement, yanking him toward the truck.

"Jimmy!" I cried. A weight pressed against my chest, robbing me of breath. He struggled to break free from their grasp, kicking and punching, but to no avail. They opened the truck doors and tossed him into the back, closing him in. It all happened so fast. Chop barked viciously at them, sharp teeth bared, globs of spit oozed down his lips as he savagely snarled.

The van's doors flung open just as the truck began to pull off, and Franklin and Lamar appeared. I latched onto Chop's collar, and scrambled to the back of the van, clearing the way for the men to reclaim their seats.

"Step on it, nigga!" Lamar demanded, he pulled up his baggy shirt, revealing an Uzi strapped to the waistband of his cargos.

Franklin flattened the gas pedal. Smoke pouring from the van's tires, we surged out of the parking lot and into traffic, speeding after the truck. Zooming over potholes and speed bumps, the van jerked and shook like crazy, knocking me over onto cold, metal floor.

"Franklin!" I wailed, clinging to the leg of his seat. My body ached, my grip on Chop's collar slipped, and the dog flopped and skid about the space helplessly, repeatedly colliding with the walls with a loud thump.

"The fuck is goin' on back there?" Franklin shouted.

"You're going to kill us!" I cried, the disgusting taste of vomit on my tongue. I was gonna hurl any moment now.

"Hang in there, girl, we gainin' on them!"

"I'ma clip these motherfuckers!" Lamar poked his head out the window, pointed his Uzi at the truck, and squeezed the trigger. Bullets sprayed from the barrel, I shuddered with every booming shot, the gunfire was so monstrously loud, I thought I was going to go deaf.

Crash! Soaring projectiles penetrated our vehicle's windshield, zipping through the air and puncturing the solid metal doors behind me. They were shooting back at us!

"Oh fuck!" Franklin cranked the wheel to the left, and we swerved, my back crashed into the steel wall. An excruciating pain gripped my spine, my eyes blurred with tears. Chop's big, muscular body tumbled into me. I fought through the pain, and threw my arms around his furry frame. Like a human shield, I smothered the animal to shield him from the gunfire, taking on the full extent of each collision, as we were thrown and tossed around the bottom of the speeding van like rag-dolls.

I became woozy after some time, Franklin and Lamar were shouting at one another, but I couldn't make out their words. My eyelids grew heavy.

I wasn't sure how many times I had blacked out before the car came to an abrupt stop. It was cold, my arms empty, I didn't feel Chop's presence anymore. Everything was a blur, my limbs were weak and boneless like jello. I blinked the tears from my eyes, struggling to regain my focus. There was barking, lots of it, as well as heavy footsteps shuffling through dirt.

A bruising grasp tightened around my bare ankle, and yanked me from the van. I cried out, my screams split the night air as I was tossed onto the cold, sandy ground. Heart beating at a dizzying pace, my sight began to sharpen, and the shadowy desert came forth, spiked cactuses and tumbleweed surrounded me, no road in sight. I cursed my shit luck, not this place again…

A strange man entered my field of vision, hovering over me. His beady eyes stared down at me, his ugly, tattooed face twisted into a menacing smirk. I trembled violently, breathless and frozen, the reality of the dire situation sunk in like a boulder, the heavy weight of despair pressed on my chest. I couldn't bring myself to move no matter how hard I tried. I wasn't ready to die, I had so much more to live for…

The man opened his palm, revealing a pocket knife. With a flick of his wrist, he freed the sharp blade from the handle. My paralyzing terror seemed to amuse him, his creepy grin grew more and more obnoxious as he casually flipped the knife into the air and captured it tauntingly.

Franklin suddenly appeared behind the strange man, wielding a crowbar high in his grasp. "Surprise, motherfucker."

In an instant, the metal, guided by Franklin's hand, collided with the back of the man's head. Crack! The strange man's skull shattered from the impact, blood and gooey brain matter splattered onto the sand, the mighty blow sent him face first to the ground. My stomach churned at the sight of his bloody insides. Gross…

"Goddamn!" Lamar's voice echoed in the distance. "You clocked the shit out of that generic goon ass motherfucker, that nigga dead, dog—lights out boy, that fool ain't never comin' back."

"Shut yo' hype man ass up, and go get Jimmy," Franklin demanded.

The big storage truck we chased through the city was visible a short distance away from Franklin and I, the motor still running. The giant wheels were deflated with bullet holes. Lamar stood at the rear of the vehicle, alongside Chop. There were a few motionless bodies lying on the ground nearby, the broken corpses half buried in the sand, their deathly pale skin riddled with lead.

I burped, my stomach grew queasy. After all the Merryweather soldiers my dad killed to protect us, I figured I'd be used to the sight of dead bodies by now…

Lamar yanked opened the truck's heavy-duty doors, and Jimmy wobbled out, dropping onto the ground.

"I'm alive!" Jimmy cried, panting heavily, his face as red as a tomato. My heart swelled with relief at the sight of him. Although startled, his blue eyes bloodshot and his double chin drenched with sweat, he survived the terrifying ordeal without a scratch.

Franklin tossed the bloody crowbar aside, and knelt before me. There was a small cut on his right cheekbone, a tiny trail of blood ran down his face from the wound. I reached out to him, my trembling fingers clung to his shirt, his rich, beautiful brown skin glistened with sweat, and glimmered under the ominous moonlight, and countless stars above. "Can you walk?" He asked softly, his calloused fingertips smoothed over my wet cheeks.

I couldn't muster the strength to speak, tears choked my sore throat. Despite my attempts to maintain my composure, my willpower faltered, and I broke out into hysterical crying, plump tears spilled from my eyes, snot running down my trembling chin like a baby.

Franklin winced. His massive, muscle rippled arms locked around me, and I was swept into the air. Nestled in his strong embrace, he skipped into the rear of the van, pressed his back to the wall, and sunk to the floor, cradling me in his lap, my head propped on his shoulder.

"It's over now, sweetie," Franklin mumbled, his tender words and gentle tone made my heart swell with warmth. "It's all good, I'm with you, baby. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you. I'm so sorry, baby…" His full lips brushed over my sweaty forehead. He planted a slow trail of light pecks down to my flustered cheeks, kissing away my salty tears. I smiled, the sensation of his soft lips caressing my skin soothed me.

I trembled, startled by the thud of the car's front doors opening, and then slamming closed. Lamar took the wheel, with Jimmy sitting beside him. Chop appeared soon after, his furry head nuzzled my arm. He had a limp in his step however, his limbs probably ached just as badly as mine after that agonizingly bumpy, high speed chase we endured.

"Everything all good back there?" Lamar asked. "Y'all ready to bounce?"

"Please, get us the hell out of here, dude," Jimmy exclaimed.

The van's motor purred, and the vehicle strolled forward, thankfully at a steady, smooth pace. Maybe everything was going to be alright after all.

It was a miracle the car was still running at all, considering the exterior was laced with bullet holes. The windshield was cracked, headlights broken, and hood dented.

A tense silence filled the air. Franklin studied me with a thoughtful expression, thick brows furrowed as he stroked his fingers through my hair, caressing my scalp. It took some time, but my sobs eventually ceased. Our gazes locked, the inner glow of amber within his warm brown stare was enchanting—hypnotizing almost. I found myself lost in them, refusing to look away, his eyes were gorgeous, breathtaking even. My stomach fluttered. I couldn't control it, I had lost the reigns over my own emotions. It was a scary thing, falling for someone so quickly.

My limbs were achy, but his delicate caresses worked wonders to ease the pain. How did someone so powerful, and so deadly, manage to have such a tender, therapeutic touch? It was surreal honestly, he could be cruel and cold one moment, and the next, like a flick of a switch, he was loving, and compassionate. I didn't know the direct cause for his sudden sweetness, most likely it was pity, but whatever the reason, I hoped his affectionate mood lasted.

"Thank you," I mouthed noiselessly, my throat far too sore to produce a sound.

Franklin nodded weakly, successfully reading my lips. He pressed his forehead against mine, eyes closed, his sweat, and the fresh, intoxicating scent of his earthy cologne invaded my senses. I inhaled deeply, breathing in his masculine aroma, there was nothing in the world quite like it.

"S-so yeah…" Jimmy broke the silence. "Holy shit, that just happened. Thanks guys, for you know, saving my ass back there. That was dope of you, I thought I was a goner for sure. But nope, the homies came through. You guys are the realest. J-Dog is back in business, bitches!"

"Ain't no big deal, little man," Lamar responded casually. "My van is totaled, me and Franklin almost got clipped by crazy, gun slingin' Mexicans, Chop can barely walk, and white girl was a second away from gettin' shanked to death, but you know, it's cool. Ain't no big deal at all. It's been trill, dog. Yo, Frank, you know where the fuck we at?"

"Just keep drivin'." Franklin's forehead remained glued to mine as he spoke, his warm breath on my lips. "We'll find a road eventually, I hope. Ay, Jimmy, where my whip at, homie? I ain't see it outside the skin joint."

"O-oh, yeah, about that…" Jimmy fumbled, chuckling awkwardly. "So, I was really low on cash, my bank account was literally empty dude, like negative balance empty, because I like to live dangerously every now and then, y'know? I mean, who doesn't right? Anyway, I couldn't get crunk at the titty joint without money, so I uh… I sold your car to a buddy of mine."

The soothing scalp massage I was receiving ended abruptly as Franklin's posture grew rigid and tense, the veins in his powerful arms strained against his flushed skin. He glared at Jimmy, his hard stare so intense and piercing, I feared it was going to burn a hole straight through my brother's back.

Lamar stole a peek at Franklin through the windshield mirror, and winced. "Aw, shit, this motherfucker mad as hell. Man, you better run little homie, before my boy stomps a mudhole in yo' ass."

"What?" Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "The guy gave me three G's for it in cold, hard cash, I couldn't pass up on a deal like that. Besides, you can always just buy a new one. You live in Vinewood Hills for fuck's sake, you're loaded with dough. What's the big deal, F-Dog?"

"Man, are you fuckin' retarded?" Franklin lashed out, his voice booming. "I should kill yo' bitch ass, I've buried fools for much fuckin' less."

"J-Jesus, F-Dog, I'm sorry!" Jimmy's short, pudgy arms shot into the air defensively. "Calm down, homie. I'm sorry I stole your wheels and sold it, okay? I was pissed Dad said I couldn't leave the safe house, it's his fault I stole it in the first place, if he gave me money, I could buy my own car, and I wouldn't need to steal things from my homies just to get around. It's his fault I don't have any friends!"

"You don't have any friends because you a fuckin' idiot, and you always stink like old gym socks, stank ass motherfucker."

"I knew it!" Jimmy cried, his dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears. "The cat's finally out of the bag, the naked truth exposed—you hate me! You're a douche and an asshole, just like my drunk, lame dad! You murderers have so much in common, all you care about is yourselves, and your stupid material possessions! You don't even care that I almost died!"

"Man, you too damn old to be cryin' like a bitch. Man up, pussy. You have any idea how pathetic that shit make you look?"

"Frank got a point though, won't get no bitches on your dick actin' like that, little nigga," Lamar added.

"Screw you guys!" Jimmy blurted out tearfully, lips quivering, his flared nostrils formed a cluster of watery snot bubbles. "You're just a bunch of low-life delinquents anyway."

"Fuck you," Franklin retorted, unfazed by Jimmy's pitiful, grief-stricken appearance.

"Chill, FC," Lamar said. "Give the little fat, smurf lookin' motherfucker a break, you got enough bread to buy that whip five times over."

"That ain't the fuckin' point, man," Franklin grumbled. "I love that fuckin' car, dog, that shit had sentimental value, motherfucker."

"Yo, c'mon dude, look at the boy man, sobbin' and shit, nose runnin' like a faucet." Lamar shook his head. "This nigga nasty."

"Man, I don't give a shit," Franklin sneered. "Can't believe we almost our asses smoked over this whiny fuck. This shit ain't worth it, dog. The fuck did I sign up for?"

I frowned. Even though Jimmy was a total jackass for selling Franklin's car, it was hard to stand idly by while he bawled his eyes out. Franklin was being too hard on him. I cleared my throat, and cupped Franklin's chin, forcing him to look at me.

"Breathe," I mumbled, tangling my arms around his corded neck. "You're doing this for my dad, remember? Jimmy needs us right now, he almost died, Frank."

"Yo, Frank," Lamar mumbled. "Real talk though—this whole situation type funny to me. After all the cars we jacked in the past, dog, I'm surprised this shit ain't happen sooner. Remember that job Simeon sent you on? The day you got fired, nigga? You boosted Jimmy's whip, and now he did the same shit back to you. Karma's a real bitch, huh?"

"Hypocritical fuck," Jimmy sniffed.

Franklin responded with a heavy, dejected sigh, his shoulders slumped. I kissed the tip of his nose. He feigned a smile at me.

The van's engine made a sudden harsh, coughing noise. With a loud fart, a cloud of black smoke spat into the air from the hood. The vehicle's wheels came to an abrupt halt, all movement had ceased completely.

"H-hey, what's going on, homies?" Jimmy frowned. "Why'd the car stop?"

"The fuck just happened, Lamar?" Franklin asked, brows furrowed.

"Fuck if I know, nigga." Lamar attempted to power on the ignition multiple times. The motor would sputter to life for an only fleeting moment, producing a rough, grating whine. "Goddamn, this shit won't fucking start, homie. We fucked, dog."

My stomach hardened. Just our luck…

"Motherfucker…" Franklin grumbled under his breath. "Me and LD finna check shit out, y'all sit tight." He kissed my cheek, and pulled away, departing the van with Lamar.

I sat up, and peered through the cracked windshield. Franklin and Lamar stood before the open hood of the car, black smoke still rising from within. The trackless, evening desert was a vast, hazy sea of emptiness and lanky cactuses, small shadowy figures skittered along the rolling, dusty hills. There was a stillness in the bitter cold air, the dead silence sent a shiver down my spine. I huddled close to Chop, and hugged my bare legs to my chest. Jeez, it was freezing.

Franklin returned a moment later, stepping through the rear double doors. He withdrew to the darkest corner of the van, his gaze lowered to his feet. "Y'all might as well get comfortable, 'cause we stranded out here. The engine's shot, this bitch ass whip ain't going nowhere."

I swallowed deeply. "W-what do you mean we're stranded? Can't you fix the engine, or something?"

"Nah," he mumbled. "The whip got real fucked up tryna get Jimmy back, had to chase them angry cartel motherfuckers all through Los Santos, into fuckin' hillbilly land, with heat from the Five-O on our tail the entire time—"

"Fuck, I can't get a signal," Jimmy grumbled, holding his phone high in the air. "Jesus, I can't die a fucking virgin. This is bullshit!"

"Ain't nobody here a mechanic," Franklin continued. "I don't know where the fuck we at, ain't got no food, no water…"

"We're so screwed," Jimmy mumbled. "Well, at least I'll freeze to death before Dad gets a chance to lecture me about stealing Franklin's piece of shit car. Silver linings, y'know?"

"Shut up, Jimmy," I grumbled. "If you weren't such a thieving jackass, we wouldn't be in this stupid situation in the first place."

"If you weren't such an attention whore, internet slut, our house wouldn't have been ransacked by your crazy, obsessed stalkers. Finally, your skanky behavior, and Uncle T's cannibalistic tendencies have successfully ruined our lives. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"You're such a dick!" I kicked the back of his leather seat roughly.

"Bitch," Jimmy retorted. He slipped off the heavy gold chain from his neck, and tossed it at me.

"Hey!" I ducked, the bulky chain missed my head by inches. "Asshole!"

"Slut! I'm gonna tell Dad you're sucking Franklin's dick!"

Heat licked my skin, my muscles twitched.

That's it. He's dead meat.

I sprang to my feet, and lunged at him, my nails clawed at his dumb, fat baby face. "This is all your fault!"

He let out a high-pitched shriek, his tattooed arms shielded his face. "Help! Someone get this psycho tramp off me!"

A strong arm locked around my waist from behind, and yanked me back, saving Jimmy from my ruthless assault. My sight clouded with swarms of red, I wriggled and fought, struggling to break free of the tight grasp. I was determined to tear Jimmy a new asshole, he fucking deserved it, the little prick.

A large hand seized my tiny wrists, and with bruising strength, I was thrown against the wall and pinned down by Franklin, the enormous weight of his bulky, muscular body restricted my movement.

"Did you see that F-Dog? She tried to eat my face!" Jimmy pointed his meaty finger at me. "She's gone fucking insane!"

"Turd," I murmured with a sneer.

"When the fuck y'all two finna grow up?" Franklin asked. He clutched my chin roughly, and jerked my face toward him, forcibly breaking my tunnel vision off Jimmy. Our eyes met, my heart pounded so hard against my chest, I thought it was going to burst. "I ain't go through all this shit to save Jimmy just so you can kill his ass. Chill the fuck out, girl."

Franklin had a point. Despite how badly I wanted to gut him like a fish, it'd be a waste after everything we've been through.

"Fine," a sigh crept past my lips.

Franklin released me, and returned to his dark corner. He shivered. Muscles tensed and beautiful brown skin layered with goosebumps, his powerfully built arms crossed over his broad chest.

"You look cold," I pointed out.

"I'm good," he lied, chiseled jaw clenched, trying to suppress the chattering of his teeth.

I inched close to him. His skin was uncomfortably cold to the touch. "Frank, your freezing." I threw my arms around his neck, and clung to him.

He clasped my hips, and squeezed me against him tightly, our thighs snuggling. I stood on the tip of my toes, and kissed his chin. He nuzzled his face against my cheek, the heat of his slow, shallow breathing warmed my skin.

"I'm so gonna tell Dad," Jimmy grumbled, glaring at us.

"You're not gonna tell Dad anything, you shitstick," I grumbled.

"No offense, but Franklin is way out of your lead anyway, Sis. I know he's a bit of a raging psychopath, he kills people and doesn't bat an eye about it, much like our dad, but look at him—he's a walking chick magnet. He's got the whole bad boy persona going on, girls love reckless, dangerous assholes with bad tempers and daddy issues. And he's rich, he can get any girl he wants. Maybe even guys too, if he rolled like that."

"So? What's your point?"

"All I'm saying is, you should really reconsider your options—"

Franklin cleared his throat. "Y'all know I'm standin' right here, right?"

"Tracey, listen to me," Jimmy continued. "I'm telling you this as your brother, out of love, even though you treat me like fucking shit, that my boy F-Dog is only using you for the sex."

"Jimmy!" I shuddered, my cheeks were on fire. "You idiot, we haven't even had sex yet, even though I really want to, because he's hot, but unlike you, I have class."

"Damn girl, you for real?" Franklin's brows raised, a slight rosiness crept across his cheeks. "I didn't know you was feelin' a nigga like that."

"Knowing Tracey, she probably feels every N-word like that," Jimmy rolled his eyes.

Trying my best ignore my idiot brother, I focused my attention on Franklin. I couldn't bear to make eye contact with him, my face still burning with heat. "Y-you know I like you," I mumbled, gazing at our feet. "Like, a lot…"

"Damn, what it do then, baby?" A smirk tugged at his full lips. "Gimme some of that ass girl, you ain't gotta be shy." He reached a hand under my skirt and pinched my thigh lightly.

"Ow," I giggled, swatting at his hand. "Stop it, you freak."

Franklin grinned, his face inched closer, the tip of his nose brushed mine. Our lips touched, just barely, so faint and innocently tender, our hot, shallow breaths intermingled. He held me close to his body, his stout frame chiseled to perfection, brown skin firm and unblemished—why must he be so flawless? The beat of his racing heart pounded against my chest, the tantalizing aroma of his cologne flooding my senses.

My mouth watered, heat flushing through me, warding off the bitter cold. I stared into his eyes as he studied me with silent, contemplative intensity, slight hues of gold danced and flickered within the smoldering depths of his warm brown gaze.

He had this irresistible charm about him, the danger and mystery surrounding the beautiful man captivated me. It was wondrously peculiar, that the strong, protective arms of a man I barely knew, caused time itself to come to a halt, and the rest of the world to melt away. My countless problems and worries dissolved into nothingness. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't care. Why should I? The only person who mattered was right there with me, holding me tight, shielding me from harm. His touch comforted me in ways words never could, and at that very moment, nestled in his embrace, everything felt right. Everything was perfect.

"All jokes aside…" Franklin spoke low, his tone little more than a whisper. "The feelings are mutual, sweetheart. Since we probably gon' die of hypothermia, I figured you should know—it's fuckin' crazy the way you make me feel, I ain't used to all these damn emotions. It's like you know me so well, you can see straight through my bullshit and I don't know how you do it but I'm…" He frowned, his words trailed off.

"But what?" I skimmed my fingers along his stubbled, sculpted jawline. "Talk to me."

"I'm torn, baby. I'm fallin' faster and faster, and I want you to fall with me, and stay down for me, but I know that's crazy. It's all happenin' so fast, and I'm tryin' to slow shit down before I crash—"

"Hey, I won't let you crash," I planted a kiss on his cheek. "I promise I'll be around to catch you, Frank."

He smiled. "You're real sweet, girl. But I know better than to get attached too fast. Shit, I know better than to get attached to anybody ever—at least I thought I did. I don't know what I know, or what I want anymore. I think I'm goin' crazy, crazier than I already am, and your dad finna kill my ass when he finds out 'bout us, considerin' Jimmy's a snitch ass bitch, but fuck it, I guess it's worth it. For you, it's worth it."

I beamed, my insides tingled, my heart was literally doing cartwheels. "Frank, I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me—"

"Homie, I'd be careful around that white girl if I were you." Lamar slipped into the van, reclaiming his front seat. Ugh, he just had to ruin the moment. "You saw the way she pounced on her own flesh and blood, dog? Probably got bit by a raccoon or some shit while we weren't lookin', bitch could have rabies. Good thing we strapped though. Worst come to worst, we can put her flat ass out of her misery. Don't worry nigga, the moment she starts foaming at the mouth—bam! No hesitation nigga, I'm a fucking soldier, a merciless motherfucker, I ain't got no conscience—"

"Nigga," Franklin grimaced, his face pressed against my cheek for warmth, voice muffled. "Shut the fuck up, this shit is serious, fool. Why don't you take yo' wannabe Rambo ass outside and find us help, nigga? Make yourself useful man, instead of talkin' shit all day."

"Fuck outta here, Frank, it's cold as a motherfucker out there," Lamar tucked his hands deep into his cargo pockets. "As a matter of fact, it's cold as a motherfucker in here too. Yo, Chop, come to poppa." Chop shot up into a stance, and leapt into Lamar's lap.

"M-my ass is numb, homies," Jimmy stammered, his arms were tucked within his jersey. "What are we gonna do? Just sit here and freeze to death?"

"Real talk, homie, if we take our chances outside, we'll freeze to death even faster, man," Franklin said. "At least in here, we got shelter. Just try and stay warm, dog. Maybe some hillbillies might come along and help us out."

"Easy for you to say," Lamar muttered. "We ain't got no bitches to snuggle up with. Enjoy that shit while it lasts white girl, it's only a matter of time before you realize that motherfucker Frank ain't shit."

Franklin snorted. "You soundin' like a real hatin' ass nigga, Lamar. Chill homie, I know you mad, salty motherfucker, but that petty, jealousy shit ain't a good look for you."

"Call it what you want, fool. I'm just tellin' it how it is, I know you better than you know yourself, homie. For real though, nigga—you tellin' me our only chance at surviving this shit is if hillbillies, friendly ones at that, decide to rescue our asses?"

Franklin nodded. "Unless any of y'all got a better plan…"

"We fucked." Lamar muttered. "Even if hillbillies do come through, they probably gonna think we kidnapped these two prestigious motherfuckers and pop our black asses."

"That's if the drug cartel assholes don't find us first," Jimmy said.

"Or the coyotes," I added. "Coyotes kill people like, all the time. Snakes too."

"Nah, we should be worried about hippos," Lamar said. "Them some nasty, plump ass motherfuckers, they be dropping fools like flies."

"Lamar, homie, we ain't in Africa, dumb ass motherfucker," Franklin snapped. "Ain't no damn hippos out here."

He glared at Franklin. "Sure there is, I'm looking at one right now, fat fuck."

"Real funny, lanky ass bitch."

"Nah, you a bitch. You the reason I'm out here about to freeze to death, I can't even feel my lips, motherfucker. I shoulda let yo' trifling ass go to voicemail."

"Man, fuck you. Where the loyalty at, dog?"

"Fuck loyalty, and fuck you too, motherfucker…"

Franklin and Lamar continued to spit vulgar insults at one another. I sighed, trying to tune out them out. It was going to be a long, cold night.

---

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review, let me know what you think! Do you find the direction the fic is going interesting? Or would it had been better off just a one-shot lol? Regardless, your honest feedback inspires me to write more, and also helps me become a better writer. Thank you so much for reading!