This chapter has no original dialogue and takes most of the dialogue from the mission "Paleto Score Setup" just a warning. New chapters will be up soon.
Chapter 24: Hipster
Stephanie woke up next to Packie in the hotel room, he was passed out from the partying the night before. Steph pulled the covers off of her and stood up, the hot desert air made her naked body sweat. Her head was pounding from her hangover, she opened the fridge to find a single bottle of Pisswasser. Stephanie opened the beer and started drinking it, the alcohol almost instantly cured her headache. She sat on the bed with the beer in her hand, her phone started ringing and she picked it up. Trevor's name showed up on the caller ID, she answered the phone. "What?" She asked. "Where are you? I'm at the trailer and you're not here." Trevor asked firmly. "I'm at a hotel in Paleto Bay, what do you want?" She asked in response. "Those FIB cock snobs want to talk to me, you, and Michael. Meet me at Liquor Ace in Sandy Shores." Trevor replied. "Okay dad- I mean Trevor. I'll be there soon." Stephanie replied before hanging up the phone. She stood up and got dressed, she put on her thong first, then her denim booty shorts, then her white belly shirt. After she put on her boots she grabbed a pen and piece of paper from the desk, she wrote Packie a note. "Had to go, business needs taken care of. Call you later -Steph" She taped the note to the TV and walked out the door.
The cab dropped Stephanie off at Liquor Ace, she paid him $35 and got out. She walked inside, the place stunk like car urine. She walked in the back and upstairs, she found her way into the meth lab where Trevor was waiting. "Ah you're here good, what about the fat man?" Trevor asked. "I haven't seen him." Stephanie replied. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, a small bag of cocaine fell out and hit the floor. Trevor saw the bag of coke and looked at Steph, he picked up the bag. "What the fuck is this?" He asked her. "Oh it's just some chop my friend gave to me." She replied. "This shit is good, but I got better shit." Trevor told her. He picked up a meth pipe sitting on the table and packed it full of crystal, he handed Steph the pipe and pulled his lighter out of his pocket. "Take a hit of this." He told her. Stephanie put the pipe to her lips and Trevor lit the bottom, she inhaled the smoke from the melting crystal and coughed her lungs out. "Damn that shit is strong." Stephanie said. She felt a rush come over her, she felt strong and energetic. Trevor hit the pipe and looked at his daughter, she wanted to tell Trevor that she knew.
Michael walked in and looked at the two, Steph and Trevor looked at Michael, both high as a kite. "Whoa nice place you got here." Michael said sarcastically. "Oh yeah, it's easy to mock isn't it huh? Cheap and fucking easy. But, err, this? This here is my place. And my work paid for my place." Trevor replied. "Alright I was just being sarcastic." Michael told Trevor. "Yeah, well, don't be alright. Because the world doesn't need anymore sarcasm, it's the blight of the age." Trevor replied. "Yeah, I get the point." Michael replied back. You? You don't get the point. You're like every other asshole. You made a bit of money, and you became a turd." Trevor told Michael. "I got news for you, I was always a turd." Michael replied. "No! You weren't man, you were something but now man, yeah. You're like this place, you're a shell." Trevor ranted. "Go fuck yourself. Are you some kind of pure, morally justifiable asshole? What, because you're totally psychotic somehow it's okay?" Michael retorted back. "I'm honest, alright? You're the hypocrite." Trevor replied. "Oh yeah, You're a fucking hero. So far above it all!" Michael exclaimed. "Yeah well I'm not above ripping open your fucking chest, to see what's replaced your heart!" Trevor shouted in response.
Haines and Norton walked in the meth lab, Haines had that arrogant look on his face as he eyex up Stephanie. "Hello?" Haines shouted. He saw Trevor and Michael about to fight, he walked next to them. "Whoa, ladies ladies, what's up?" He asked them. "Fuck off!" Trevor shouted. "Listen." Dave told Trevor. "I'm sorry, but we got a problem. Government funding thing. We need you to…investigate a research lab upstate." Dave explained. "It's about terrorism, nerve gas. Biological terror." Steve told them. "Thank god I don't pay tax." Trevor replied. "You'll need some fairly standard gear. Boat, tandem rotor heavy lift copter, truck, weapons. You'll have to source all that. Chopper alone will set you back a couple of mil." Dave further explained. "Hell, no worries there. Trevor here, he just came into a lot of money." Michael said sarcastically. "Is that sarcasm?" Trevor asked. "Oh, you're fucking A-right it's sarcasm. You fuck! A few weeks ago. I was happily retired, sulking by my swimming pool, and my psychotic best friend shows up out of nowhere to torture me over mistakes I made, honest mistakes I made over a decade ago! We, our little posse, are flat fucking broke, but hey, let's go out and spend two million dollars on a tandem rotor fucking chopper, so I can go steal nerve gas from fucking terrorists! Forgive me, you ignorant fuck, but sarcasm is all I fucking got! Sarcasm, and a room full of you cunts!" Michael ranted. "Yes!" Trevor shouted standing up. "Whoo! Welcome back man, it is the old you!" Trevor told Michael. "Yeah well, we gotta go. It's been great but Dave here's got a Pilates class. Now remember ladies, you keep us way the fuck out of this thing. Bye bye." Haines told them before walking out the door with Dave. "Jesus fucking Christ. Alright, I'll give Lester a fucking call." Michael said in a defeated tone. "You tell him we're driving towards Paleto Bay." Trevor told Michael.
Trevor, Steph, and Michael walked downstairs and exited the store, they got into Michael's Declasse Premier and Michael drove down the street. Michael grabbed his phone and called Lester. "What do you need me for?" Steph asked Trevor. "You're a pretty white girl in the desert full of meth heads, bikers, and rednecks. I want you close to me and fatboy here so you don't get kidnapped by them and sold to the cartel that's put a price on our heads." Trevor replied. "We got a funding problem, so we need a job. Before the jewel store you talked about a bank in the sticks- I need you to meet us there. Paleto Bay right?" Michael asked into the phone. He heard Lester's reply and hung up. "Alright, Lester's meeting us there. Don't start." Michael told Trevor. "I won't. No way. Good call, if you're taking down a bank for a couple million first thing you do is call the hospital tell 'em to get you a guy in a wheelchair." Trevor replied. "Oh! This hayseed bank is gonna be carrying that kinda change?" Michael asked. "Local police extorts money from all the weed farms, whorehouses, and meth kitchens in the area. They keep their cash in safe deposit boxes, then there's the small town payroll stuff. We should do well." Trevor replied.
Michael pulled onto the freeway and drove north, he drove at a high speed to get there quicker. "You know, I've been thinking about you, Trevor. Your lifestyle." Michael told Trevor. "Oh have you? Really?" Trevor asked in response. "Yes I have. People always try to label you. Maniac, psycho…" Michael said. "….friend, industry leader." Trevor added in. "In some ways you defy categorization. But then." Michael said. "What?" Trevor asked. "Think about it. Where you live…" Michael replied. "Sandy Shores, you precious ass. I'm sorry there ain't a place nearby to get your colonics." Trevor responded. "Right, but why are you here?" Michael asked. "It's off the grid. We're away from it all. It's somewhere real and authentic. This is America, and real people ain't been priced out yet." Trevor replied. "Yeah, well. What if it gets gentrified?" Michael asked. "Then I'll fucking move." Trevor replied. "Okay. What about the way you dress?" Michael asked. "What about it? I don't give a shit what I wear." Trevor replied. "No no, if you don't give a shit, you wear clean clothes that fit. See yours are a little out there a little wacky." Michael explained. "Whatever is in the shop is what I get. Jesus. What is this?" Trevor asked. "It's not the absence of taste, T. It's the opposite of taste." Michael replied. "You should be a stylist." Trevor said in response. "Then there's the tattoos, the hair, the hair, the weird music, the niche drugs, the everything." Michael explained. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Trevor asked annoyed. "You…Are a hipster!" Michael finally said as he drove into Paleto Bay. "What?" Trevor asked. "You're a hipster." Michael said again. "I hate hipsters." Trevor said in an angry quiet tone. "Classic hipster denial." Michael teased. "I abhor hipsters. I eat them for fun." Trevor replied. "Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters." Michael told Trevor. "Well, I really fucking do!" Trevor shouted defensively. "Self hatred. Common hipster affliction." Michael replied. "What because I'm out here away from the Bean Machines, and the bankers?" Trevor asked. "You're gentrifying. Soon, the skinny jeans will turn up. Then the skinny lattes, and then the bankers. And you'll be somewhere else starting the cycle all over again. You're not the classic garden variety hipster, but you are what hipsters aspire to be. You, Trevor, are the proto-hipster." Michael said with a smile. "I don't kow what you're talking about. I don't agree eith what you're saying. You're trying to wind me up, but I'm very, very angry, and I want this conversation to stop right away." Trevor replied. "Hipster." Michael said once more. "Fuck you, fuck you Michael. Say it again." Trevor yelled. "I made my point, I'm not a sadist." Michael replied as he stoppe at the bus stop, they parked and waited for Lester.