"Alright sweet cheeks, let me know one thing. You ever shot a gun before?"
"Have you?" Sandra responded back, arms crossed as her and her new "partner" walked through the now grainy colored, dying grass, crunching underneath her beat up dirty sneakers. They stopped a few feet away from an old, broken down fence, where cans and broken bottles littered underneath it. The sun hitting her eyes, making her squint towards the tall, rugged man next to her.
Bottles clinking as he turned to face her, he downs a whole bottle of what the six-pack contained and responds, "I know my way around a gun, honey. Are you gonna drink some or what?" Sandra looked at Trevor with some annoyance on her face as she snatched the new bottle out of his hands. She wouldn't be here if he didn't propose a great way of her making money, if he didn't have that on her, she would've left that bar and disappear without a trace. With his wallet. After finishing the entire pack, they picked up all the empty bottles and cans and lined them up on the fence.
Moving his olive green jacket and lifting his red tattered shirt, he took out the gun that was tucked snugly into his hip bone and jeans. "Safety's off. Just aim and pull the trigger. All there is too it." Handing Sandra the gun with the handle to her, she looked at him and the gun reluctantly takes it from his hands. She was surprised as to how much heavier it was than how Trevor made it look like it was. Getting a feel of the cool metal, Sandra stood there looking at the gun as her fingers glided against it. "Are you gonna admire it or are you gonna shoot?" Trevor shouts at her as he leans against the hood of the small car.
"Shut up." Sandra fired back. I can do this. Just like in the movies. Just get the stance right, have both hands on it...You'll be fine. She thought as her heart beaten a little more harshly than before. She didn't want to show him how nervous she was with it and then get tormented about it on their ride back to wherever they needed to go. Spreading her legs apart and both her hands on the handle of the gun, she rose it up to her face, closing one eye to get a good aim at the bottle in front of her. Taking some deep breaths, she tried to keep her hand steady as she finally pulled the trigger. The loud popping sound was enough to startle her as well as the kick it gave, making her catch her footing before she fell on her ass. With wide eyes and heavy breathing, she lowered the gun and viewed the result in front of her.
"Ha! Darling, I think you need a hell of a lot more practice if that's the best you can do!" He mocked.
Face getting hot and red, her brows furrowed into annoyance once more as she snapped at him and shouted back, "Shut the fuck up! I bet you can't even do better!"
"Oh please, sweetheart-"
"Sandra!"
"Alright! Shit, Sandra...Gimme the gun." He rosed from his spot on the car hood and motioned his fingers for Sandra to place the gun in his large hand. With a huff of annoyance, she dragged her feet to him and roughly handed the gun over, taking a spot next to the car with crossed arms. Trevor got up with the demeanor of not having a care in the world as if people have challenged him so many times before and this was nothing of importance. Taking a quick look back at Sandra, Trevor placed both his hands on the gun and just like that, popping noises went off as well as the sound of glass shattering. Even more frustrated than before, Sandra looked away from him as he finished up and went back towards her. "How was that, Sandra?" he mocked her once more, tucking the gun back to where it once belonged.
"Shut up." Sandra stood back up while Trevor snaked his arm over her shoulders, a smug grin to annoy her even further.
"Don't worry sweet cheeks, with more practice and you'll be quite the femme fatale." Opening the passenger door, he bowed before her saying "After you m'lady!" She wanted to scoff at him but couldn't help but have a small smile on her face. Why couldn't he be less of an agonizing person and be more….like that? A goof.
.~.~.~.~.~.~.
"T-Trev…?" Disbelief could be heard from Sandra's voice as she tried to mentally collect herself in the situation.
"Yeah, who else?" Trevor scoffed at her questioning his identity. Sandra couldn't believe he was hearing him, after nine long years and he's decided to make contact with her. After the shock wore off, lasting only a few seconds, anger flooded her mind as she decided to give Trevor the greeting he well deserved.
"You fuckin' asshole! You fuckin' prick! Now you wanna talk to me?! Now!?" What suddenly gave him the gall to ring her up. Sandra thought up of every scenario of this exact occurrence, whether it be seeing him on the streets in person or her actually going out of her way to actually find him, either way, they all end badly for him in her mind. If she were to be completely honest with herself, any situation with him might actually end up with her forgiving the bastard because that's what friends do. Friends who have too much history, she couldn't throw that away, she missed him. Sandra knew how Trevor was. He was an unpredictable fellow and it was part of the reason that she was of two moods with him: worrisome or gleeful. Nothing was set in stone whenever she use to work with him and it always frightened her if he would ever take matters in own hands, deviating from the plan and end being in jail or dead. It was alright if it was just them hanging out, where he can say and do anything he wanted. It made the night even more fun. But his unpredictability came from trauma filled experiences, having the belief that the reasoning for any of the things he did could be complete logic to him but complete confusion to someone else and because of that, Sandra knew she couldn't leave him out, not when she finally has him back under her radar.
"Woah Woah Woah sugar, what's the matter? Of course I'm talking to you now. That's what friends do."
"That's what friends do?! Are you serious?! Friends don't decide to completely leave without a trace and leave their friend slash partner behind. Friends don't disappear like ghosts and leave them struggling, wonderin' if their friend was actually their friend, wonderin' if they're alive or not and then constantly worry till they gone crazy!" All of it came out. All the thoughts and feelings that she had from the days she would spend waiting on Trevor and see if he would come back and share on how much life was total and utter shit while drinking away their problems. It was true though. Sandra did worry if he was alive or not, although she told herself she had no reason to. He was fine on his own way before he met her but she just couldn't help it, she even remembers the last text she sent him after numerous amounts of trying to contact him with no response. She remembered how she told him that she'd tried to keep the same number in case he needed anything at all because back then, she was so alone she'd forgive him in an instant.
"Okay… I can see what the problem is. Didn't think much of it-"
"Course you didn't, you never do, ya prick, now what do you want?" Sandra retaliated. She was beginning to get defensive. Sandra didn't want him to mock her feelings, think of her as some typical overly sensitive woman, although that thought was far from Trevor's mind.
"Michael's alive."
"..."
"Sandra…" Trevor pulled his phone away from his ear, seeing if the line went dead or not but only to find that she was still on with the seconds ticking away. With a frown, he pulled the phone back to his ear and waited to see if she would say anything but with the little patience the man had, he only barked out, "Hey! Sandy! Did you hear what I said?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" She said in a deadpanned tone. Sandra was bewildered. After all this time and this is what he wanted to say? If this was some sort of strange way to start a conversation, then he was a bigger asshole than she remembered. "What? Like he came out of his grave and started chompin' on brains, huh?" she laughed in a mocking tone. Her heart was beating fast, her breathing started to sound out of pace. She planned on breaking down today but over some memories and alcohol, not at her friend playing some joke on her.
"What? No, stupid! That slimy, slithering bastard's alive! I saw him on TV and-and-fuck!" Trevor shouted on the other side, letting out his frustration and anger. For years, he viewed Michael as one of his greatest friends, one of the best he's ever had and he died trying to save him, telling him that he needed to make a run for it. And for so long, he lived with the guilt of leaving him behind along with Brad, having nights where he would get so blacked-out drunk just so he didn't have to think about him but now the truth is out and truth is that his once beloved friend was now a lying, scheming, shit-eating snake and with all the dedication he put into their partnership, Trevor wouldn't allow him to slip by.
All Trevor saw was red. From the moment he heard those words, death was to follow him like his own trail. At the moment, he didn't know what to do, all he wanted was to break and smash someone's head in multiple times until he could no longer feel the betrayal and anger that loomed over him. Then Sandra popped into his mind. He knew she'd wanted a piece of this but he was reluctant on calling her. Pacing back and forth in his junkyard of a trailer, he contemplated on the decision. He believed she had every right to know that her other partner was alive with the hope that she might go along and join him on his vendetta against that fuck face but he knew that there would be unresolved wounds open. It might come as a shocker to anyone that didn't know him all too well, but he felt like absolute shit whenever he thought of his leaving. That was his first partner-turned-friend and besides Michael, Sandra was his best friend. It was a shitty thing to do, leave her while she was still grieving. Hard. They were both in an equal amount of pain but he believed that if he left, he could sort things out on his own. Think for a bit and maybe if they were apart, they could learn not depend on each other anymore. Not watch each other die. That was the thought that pushed him. If they kept at what they were doing, one of them was going to die and he believe it would be Sandra first because of his erratic behavior. He didn't want that. Be the reason for another downfall and then finally be completely alone. So it was best if he was alone on his own free will then under upsetting circumstances. But he wouldn't tell her that. Sounded too much of a pussy if he did. Maybe when he's drunk, he will.
Having the belief that she would help, he sat on his dilapidated couch with his chin on his hand and stared at her number. At his first attempt at calling her, he was a bit anxious but eager to give the delicious news. After that failure, he tried again and then again, but after having his call rejected instantly, he only became frustrated as he was now determine to annoy the hell out of her until she picked up and fortunately it worked...
It was quiet. Sandra knew he wasn't lying and at the moment, she felt out of breath. She couldn't really process the information given but only repeated it in her mind and then let out a breathy "Holy fuck…" onto the receiver. She felt for the counter to lean on as she only repeated the words once more as more silence followed. "Where the hell is he?"
"I don't know, somewhere in Los Santos, hiding…I sent someone to look for him."
"That fucking asshole…" Her heart was beating at an extraordinary pace from both anxiety and anger. The fucker was alive and didn't say anything. Why the fuck do I have such assholes as friends?
"I'm gonna rip his fucking head from his neck…" Sandra said more to herself than to Trevor.
"I'll help…" Trevor growled.
"Text me where you are. I'm headin' there now." Fueled with determination, Sandra hanged up on Trevor, and set herself for the trip of her life.