Reading week had come. I will not be reading! I will be writing! Again, thanks for the kind reviews!
Eris was ready to pull into the Lucky Motel 7 before seeing the smoky bar it was nuzzled beside. She nabbed a room from the sweaty, fat clerk. Room fourteen, upper floor, right beside the main staircase. She left her truck parked in the lot and made the short walk into the bar.
It was dark and smoky, Life on Mars? playing on the jukebox; where people go to forget who they are. She loved it. She lit up a smoke and sat in the corner booth and snuggled herself in the corner, lifting her legs onto the booth. She ordered a margarita; not usually the best of drinks, but this bar was generous with their tequila.
Three drinks and six cigarettes in, her head already starting to slowly hum, she felt someone watching her. She considered ignoring it, but she heard footsteps begin to approach her and knew she couldn't avoid it much longer. Lifting her gaze, she saw Trevor stalking towards her.
"For a world class criminal, I figured you'da learned to hide your truck." He spoke, quite as a matter-of-factly.
"For a person with a heartbeat, I should've known you would have followed me, because you're a bit of a creep. What? Didn't get enough of me in the first round?" She spoke, voice laved with monotone, as she finished her margarita. She ordered a better drink; rum and coke.
"Feisty! I love that! Why don't we cut the shit, let's get married! I'll whisk you away to Sandy Shores and show you how to live! All the cheap beer you want, best STD free sex you can ask for from that little white bred mountain town!" He slunk down into her booth, and her personal space, batting his dim eyes at her.
"I'll pass." Eris withheld her laugh; the guy was funny. But she was sure he wasn't joking.
"Three proposals rejected in two days. Your loss, Baby, I'm a fuckin' catch!" Eris cringed; he sounded grosser than M when he called her Baby. He made some sort of 'tsk' noise while shaking his head.
"So, Trevor, why did you follow me?" She downed her drink in a gulp and ordered another, as well as ordering a beer for Trevor. She might as well play nice for now.
"Just interested in my new team-mate. I know lots about Franklin, too much about Mikey, and nothin' about you," He let his eyes roam over her, clearly checking her assets ", Franklin did tell me you're quite the shady character. Dodgy, not wanting to answer simple questions. Real sketchy all around."
"Like you assholes don't have skeletons in the closet." Eris rolled her eyes, telling the waitress to hold off on bringing drinks for the time being. She didn't need to have shitty judgement while Trevor was in the mix.
"I don't." He shrugged.
"You wouldn't. Pretty sure you ground up the bones for stew."
"What the fuck did Mike tell you? That was one fuckin' time, I was starving and broke! That little fuckin' traitor!" He slammed his fists on the table, yelling through clenched teeth.
Eris watched him have his temper tantrum. From zero to shut the fuck down in half a second.
"I… I was just being a smart ass." She went to pat his shoulder, but decided against it. It was clear Trevor was morphing to be a special type of psychopath.
"Oh," he grumbled, hunching over the table ", well. Why the fuck are you being so secretive? Spit it out.'
"Because I believe in professionalism. Separate my work life from my personal life."
"I have a friend and he does all that fancy computer shit. Couldn't find a trace of a Baby Firefly anywhere. Can't figure out your real name. Went to the hotel, the name you're listed under is a fake. The fuck is up with that? Los Santos is dripping with people who don't give a fuck about you." Trevor seemed genuinely interested in how she did it, but all criminals wanted to achieve the level of secrecy that she had worked so hard to obtain.
"Professionalism." She reiterated with a buzzed smile. Slapping the table, she slid from her booth and stood on her wobbly feet. She tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover her drinks, plus a few more.
"Have some beers on me. As payment for not bothering me at my room later tonight. Tell M where I'm staying, see you tomorrow for prep." Trevor lifted his hands in surrender, letting her leave without a hitch. She nodded to him, and left with a stumble.
She struggled to put the key into the door, but she managed after a handful of tries, slamming and locking the door behind her. All the excitement of the day came crashing down on her; Eris leaned against the door, face in her hands, vigorously rubbing to remind herself she was okay.
She slowly stripped on her way to the bathroom, a trail of shoes and clothes left in her wake. She caught herself in the mirror, mounted just outside the small bathroom. She rested her weight on the vanity counter, taking a good look at herself.
Stab scars and bullet wounds coated her skin, some faded with time and some quite prominent; all of which she wore with pride. Another interesting story, another time she survived; war wounds of the trade. Her eyes were drawn to her left shoulder; white veins dying for attention Eris didn't want to give. She had yet to learn how to love these scars.
She turned anyway. Shallow divots, lined with white, raised lines dancing around the pattern. Her entire mid to upper back was laced with these scars; the burn scars she was punished to wear. Eris sighed, feeling phantom pains from not so long ago. She walked away from the mirror, washed her face, and then collapsed on the surprisingly clean bed for some well-needed rest.
