Sorry for the lack of uploads recently. Work has been busy, giving me less time to write. Anyway, last chapter was kind of dark so I decided to uploaded something a bit lighter. I've been doing a lot of tennis in GTA recently and have been loving the "friendship" that Trevor and Amanda have while playing tennis, inspiring this chapter.
Forty eight, forty nine, fifty. Michael set the weights down for a moment, letting out a deep breath. He smiled in contentment for a moment at the energy coursing through his veins and the strength in his arms. The lack of jobs he'd been doing lately combined with all of the alcohol he'd been drinking left him with a couple more pounds then he'd like, which was why Trevor had dragged him here in the first place. With the way that he was feeling now, he definitely wasn't complaining.
He picked the weights back up, his eyes fixated on the tiled ceiling of the gym as he started another set. The sight of his girlfriend suddenly leaning over him nearly made him drop the weights onto his chest in shock. "Jesus fucking Christ, Mandy, are you trying to kill me?!" he breathed out, putting the weights down and getting up from the bench to face her.
"Sorry, babe," she just grinned at him, her own face flushed from exercise. "You know, I was kind of liking the few extra pounds. It made you finally grow an ass," Amanda whispered in his ear, reaching down and gripping said ass.
"Hon, let's save this 'till we get home," he said through hitched breath. He surveyed the nearly empty gym, thinking. "So, what now?"
"Mmm...I'd love to watch you do some pushups," she smirked, fingers running over the taut muscles in his arms.
"Of course you do," he chuckled, gently grabbing her free hand and leading her over to the mats. "Well, your wish is my command," he said as he dropped down onto all fours and began.
She bit her lip as she watched him in admiration. "You make this look easy…"
"Oh, yeah?" he asked, voice filled with cockiness. He put one of his arms behind his back and started doing them with one hand. "How about this?"
"God, you're an ass," she said under her breath, even though she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, away from the glimpses of his athletic body when his shirt lifted up.
"You know, this still feels pretty easy," Michael commented. "Think I need a bigger challenge."
"I can help with that," she grinned. She gently positioned herself over him and sat on top of his back, immediately noticing him struggle under her weight. "Not so easy now, huh?"
"You're loving this, aren't you?" he grunted through quick breaths.
"Too much," Amanda said seductively, resting her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath his shirt.
"Okay, now you're just trying to distract me," he growled in accusation, his pace starting to falter every so often.
"Maybe-" she started before a loud, booming voice cut her off.
"MIKEY!" Trevor's voice practically echoed through the gym, causing the both of them to fall to the floor in surprise. The psychopath walked over to them, eyebrows raising when he saw the couple tangled together on the floor. "Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds…"
"What do you want, Trevor?" Michael brushed himself off with a glare at the other man.
Trevor pointed the tennis racket that he was brandishing at him. "You. Me. Tennis. Now."
"Why, so I can kick your ass again?" Michael teased. "I'll pass."
"Ugh, have it your way, Townley. You're just afraid of losing," Trevor snapped before storming off.
Amanda saw him walk off to the tennis courts, a contemplative look on her face. She gave Michael a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up. "I'll be right back, babe."
Michael watched her leave, leaving him there to sulk by himself. With a sigh, he walked back over to the weights.
Where the hell is she? he wondered. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to realize that she still hadn't come back. Michael started to look through the gym before remembering their encounter with Trevor. He immediately ran over to the tennis courts, where he saw his girlfriend and his best friend engaged in a game of tennis.
"You know, we might have been in the same tennis club when we were kids," Trevor called out as he served the ball.
Amanda just scoffed at that. "If we were, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have spoken to you."
They went on like that for a while, bantering and hitting it back and forth, before Amanda had to jump out of the way when the tennis ball came straight for her head.
It was then that they noticed Michael, standing there with his mouth agape in confusion. "Ah, Mikey, we were just talking about you!" Trevor grinned maniacally at him.
Michael managed to shut his mouth and shifted nervously from where he was standing. "Good things, I hope?"
"Actually, your crazy friend here was telling me that whoever wins gets the pleasure of being your best friend," Amanda said sarcastically, brushing a few strands of damp hair away from her forehead.
"And who's winning?" he asked as he looked between them.
Amanda opened her mouth, sighing, but Trevor cut her off before she could say anything. "I am one point away from keeping my position as your partner in crime."
"Okay…" Michael said slowly. "Uh, just act like I'm not here, I guess."
They obliged and continued their game as Michael wondered if this whole situation was a hallucination that his exhausted, over-exercised brain was thinking up. That was until a sweaty hand clapped him on the shoulder roughly. He glanced up to see Trevor smirking at him and Amanda standing off to the side with an annoyed look.
"And with that, I am Michael Townley's bestest friend!" Trevor announced cheerfully and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulder.
Michael stiffened under the clammy touch. "Jesus Christ, T…" he muttered. He looked over to Amanda, who was watching them in amusement, his eyes silently pleading for help.
She just winked at him. "Babe, I'm getting kind of tired…" she said, feigning an exhausted yawn. "Do you wanna drive me home?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," Michael stammered, barely able to suppress his sigh of relief. "Sorry, T, but I gotta get going."
Trevor pushed him away. "Go. I'll see you two later. Let's do it again sometime!" he shouted as he walked away, tennis racket still in hand.
"Thanks for that," Michael smiled at her as soon as he was out of earshot.
Amanda laughed. "I couldn't let you suffer through that. Not after I got a glimpse of what being his friend is like."
"Why did you play with him, anyway?"
"I haven't played in a while and I wanted some practice," she explained. "I didn't really expect him to actually be good…"
He laughed at that. "So, do you still want me to drive you home?" he asked.
"Well...I was thinking that you could take me home and we could hit the shower?" she whispered as she put a hand on his chest.
"I sure need one after that…" he said under his breath before grinning at her prospect. "And, yeah, of course. It is the best part about going to the gym with you…"
Amanda sat at the edge of the pool with a content smile on her face. Michael was at work, the kids were out of the house for once, leaving her all alone in the house. She was glad, though. It gave her an opportunity for her to appreciate silence that was rare in their chaotic house. She stared down at the water, not paying enough attention to notice the footsteps behind her or the hands roughly grabbing her.
Through her fear and shock, she barely had time to fight back before her assailant threw her into the pool. The coldness of the water instantly hit her, making her even more disoriented. Once she got over her confusion, she started swimming up to the surface of the water, fully expecting her husband to be smirking at her the second she reached air.
When she came up, coughing, she was met with a much different sight than that she was anticipating. "Trevor. What are you doing here?" she snapped, wiping the water away from her eyes.
"Amanda, is that really how you greet an old friend?" Trevor asked, looking down at her with mock hurt.
"We're not friends," she quickly said. She sighed and rested her arms on the edge of the pool, glaring up at him.
"You know, I almost felt bad about interrupting your meditation or whatever the fuck you do these days," he frowned, eyeing her soaked and very pissed off appearance. "But now..."
She just let out a deep breath, trying to keep herself from screaming at him. "Seriously, why are you here? Finally gonna kill us all? Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me right now."
Trevor's eyes darted around the backyard shiftily. "Where's Michael?"
"At work. Because he has an actual job that's good for him now," she shot back, venom dripping from her voice.
"Ouch," he winced. "...but I'll tell you one thing, Mandy: he sure seemed to be having fun a few months ago."
Her hands clenched into fists under the water. "Why do you need Michael?" she asked as calmly as she could.
He glanced over to the tennis court with an almost longing look. It was then that she noticed the god-awful tennis outfit that he was wearing and the eager expression on his face. "Well…" he started.
Amanda just sighed, knowing that there was only one way to get rid of him. "Let me go get changed."
"Amanda? Hon, I'm home…" Michael called out as he opened the front door to their house. As soon as he took a step inside, he nearly slipped on a pool of water and had to steady himself to stay upright. "The fuck...?" he muttered confusedly, his eyes following from the puddle to the trail of water going upstairs.
Cursing to himself, he followed it all the way into their empty bedroom where it led to a pile of his wife's wet clothes. "And you get at me for dragging water into the house…" he grumbled under his breath.
He sighed in annoyance, going downstairs and into the back, still not finding her. A list of all of the bad things that could have happened to her started to run through his mind. Devin was dead, Madrazo was dealt with, but they'd taken care of Merryweather...right? He had just started to panic when he heard a cruel laugh from the tennis court.
"I guess that coach really didn't teach you much after all…"
Trevor?
Michael ran down the stairs to the tennis court and was met with the sight of Trevor gleefully waving his tennis racket around and Amanda crossing her arms in frustration.
"Well, at least you won't kill me now," she said sarcastically, before looking up and noticing Michael. "Oh, thank god…" she muttered under her breath.
Trevor's attention snapped over to Michael. "Ah, Mikey, we were waiting for you, you inconsiderate shit! Making your lady wait here all alone…"
"Yeah, remind me to come to you for relationship advice," Michael managed to say through his shock of what he was seeing. Trevor's tennis outfit was...interesting. His dirty white polo shirt hung off of his scrawny frame like a tent, but his shorts were shorter and tighter than what most of the young girls in Los Santos wore. Is that a headband…? Michael wondered in slight amazement when he caught sight of the few strands of fabric wrapped around his friend's head. "No offense, bro, but how the fuck did you get inside?"
"Your fence isn't very high," was Trevor's simple answer.
Michael raised his eyebrows in shock. "Uh, okay, and what are you doing…?" he asked, gesturing to his wife and the tennis court.
"Oh, she just looked so bored because you leave her home all day while you go work with pretty actresses," the psychopath explained, earning a glare from Amanda. "So, after some...persuasion...we did a battle for your friendship. I won, by the way."
"Persuasion? The fuck does that mean?" Michael's voice started to rise at the vague statement.
"He threw me into the pool after scaring the shit out of me," Amanda deadpanned, making Trevor smirk in satisfaction. "And he wonders why I don't like him."
"Long story short: I'm still your best friend! Not her, not Franklin, and not any of the rich fucks you've met here!" Trevor waved his tennis racket around happily, nearly missing hitting Michael in the face with it.
"I...I need a fucking drink…" was all Michael could say before he started to go inside, Amanda following him and Trevor right behind them.
As soon as they made it into the kitchen, Michael popped open a new bottle of whiskey and poured his glass to the top. The second he was done, Amanda took the alcohol from him and took a long drink straight out of the bottle. He just laughed at that, knowing that she probably needed it more than him.
Trevor just watched them drink with a frown. "Jesus...no wonder those kids are so fucked up…"
Michael flipped him off as he took a sip from his own glass. "Oh, because you're such a good role model," he said sarcastically.
He instantly knew that comment was a mistake as Trevor started to physically shake with rage. He was wound tight as a coil and Michael could almost feel the rage radiating from him. Shit. Whenever Trevor got like this, he was a ticking time bomb just begging for a chance to go off. Michael knew he needed to take his next steps very carefully.
"Oh, c'mon, T, lighten up. We…" he started, gesturing to the three of them. "We're all fuckin' terrible examples and I dunno about you, but I accepted that a long time ago…"
Slowly, the ball of rage that was named Trevor calmed down. "...fine," he muttered.
"So, are we cool?" Michael asked him calmly.
"We...are good," Trevor said after a long moment.
"Good. Now, are you gonna stay for a drink or what?" Michael raised his glass of whiskey at him in question.
Trevor shook his head. "Nah, I better get going. I have a business to attend to, nothing you'd understand of course, Mr. Leisure."
Michael rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Uh huh, of course. Well, I'll cya around, T."
The psychopath had just started for the door when he turned around quickly and pointed at Amanda. "Same time next week?" he worded it as a statement more than a question.
She sighed. "...I guess."
He nodded in satisfaction and opened the door. "Don't forget, I'm your best friend!" was all he said before he slammed the door behind him.
Michael and Amanda just stared at the doorway in disbelief. "Well, that was fucking interesting," he said after a minute.
"Yep," she agreed before putting her face in her hands. "God, it was awful, Michael…"
"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad," he said dismissively.
She shook her head forcefully. "Oh, no, you don't understand. He kept going on about how it was just like old times and all this shit...and I let him win because God knows what would have happened if he lost…" Amanda rambled on, voice still shaky with nerves.
Michael wrapped his arms around her waist and stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her down. "God, you smell like pool water, babe…" he said before he could stop himself.
Her glare practically burned through him. "Real helpful," she snapped.
"Aw, come on, babe, look on the bright side," he said lightheartedly.
She looked at him as if he were high. "What bright side?"
"Now you have a new tennis partner."