Part 2. Mission: First Heist.
Trevor drove up the posh streets of Rockford Hills, with the dirty, rusted and old, it looked like it was from the eighties, car he stole from one of his neighbors. The gate to Michael's house automatically opened for him, as if it was expecting him, and he drove up the red bricked drive, purposely running over a flower pot that had been sitting on the edge of the driveway, he honked. Trisha, in the back seat, groaned, not wanting any part of this. But Trevor was hard to argue with, he was insisting, rude, threatening and childish all rolled up into one insane man. It wasn't fair, how was she supposed to go through the ups, downs and puberty of teenage-hood with this guy as her father?
And then there was Michael, coming down the stairs, wearing an all black suit with no tie and a irritated look on his face, which he always sported when with Trevor, not that Trisha could blame him. Along with Trevor, Michael was also supposed to be her dad, why exactly this was...well, it really all boiled down to Trevor trying to piss Michael off, and it just sticking. Not that she saw Trevor or Michael as a father, more of the obscene relatives. Not even uncles, distant, very distant, relatives. The position of uncle had already been claimed by Franklin anyway, who, years ago, at this point, refused to be her third dad.
"Trisha, Sweetheart," Michael announced as he got in the car, looking over his shoulder at her and slamming the door. He glared over at Trevor then. "...T."
"Sugar Tits."
"When the fuck ate you gonna stop callin' me that?!"
"When I'm six feet under ground, buddy," Trevor announced loudly, in a rough, sing-song voice. "Eating worms!"
"I can make that happen..."
"OHHOO, I know you can, Mikey!" Trevor retorted, looking in the rearview mirror, as he drove on the wrong side of the road and ran a red light. "Don't be like Michael, Trisha, don't pretend someone's your friend and then stab them in the back."
"Are you ever going to stop bringing that up?"
"When I think the lessons learned, Sugar Tits."
"Everyday with you is a fucking lesson learned..."
"Can you two shut up, please?!" Trisha shouted, feeling that pain in the middle of her forehead Michael so often talked about. "I'm a little nervous right now, I don't want to hear you two going at it...AGAIN!"
Michael shook his head, looking back at her with concern. "I told ya this was a bad idea, T, she's scared shitless."
"I was scared my first time, too," Trevor explained, not sounding as nearly concerned as Michael. "But I did it, and I became a man after, I was proud!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Michael insisted, glaring once again at Trevor. "You threw up all over my shoes after our first heist!"
"But I was a man!" Trevor slammed a hand on the steering wheel. "I proved myself!"
"Yeah, well...I'm a girl," Trisha retorted, because of course, they had brought it back to themselves, ignoring Trisha's needs, wants or concerns. Instead, being too involved with themselves. It had been this way since she was seven. "I'm pretty sure a penis won't grow out of nothing after robbing a freaking store, for no good reason. But hell, maybe God works in strange ways...he gave me to you two, probably so I would kill myself!"
"Hey, whoa...whoa," Michael started, looking back at her again. She glared daggers at him. "Calm down, I know you're worried, but-"
"Don't joke about killing yourself!" Trevor interrupted, roughly. "Or I'll tape you to a chair and let you watch me enjoy the company of Mrs. P..."
Michael face palmed, letting his hand run down his face slowly, "Shut up..." he said, Trevor shrugged, this was not the first time he had threatened this, so it went on a bland ear to Trisha anyway. "We're gonna be right there, if shit goes south, we'll be ready for it."
"What if they have a gun?" Trisha offered.
"We'll have more."
"Tuck and roll," Trevor said, as he stopped in front of the clothing store Trevor had decided Trisha should hit. Trisha sighed, as both of her supposed fathers turned back and watched her eagerly. She got out of the car, looking up at the clothing store in horror. She couldn't do this... She wasn't like them. She was a good person, they were psychopaths who actually enjoyed stealing and hurting people. She just wanted a normal life...far away from them.
XXX
Trisha walked into the store, no gun or weapon of any kind, refusing to take one when Trevor had offered this morning. She refused to hold it, to be the one to hold someone's life in her hands, just because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. She walked to the back of the store, not sure how to do this, or at least...how to fake it. But they were too smart for that, if she didn't come out of this thing with a few hundred dollars they, especially Trevor, were going to be pissed.
Rubbing her eyes, trying to think of a plan, nothing came. Michael had given her a few ideas the other day, but none of these were going to work without a weapon, or more help. Why the hell weren't they even helping her? It was like they threw her to the sharks...
She pulled out her phone, looking at the time, it had already been ten minutes at this point. She opened her contacts, wasting more time.
You: Text Sent: You have a big house, can I live with you?
Uncle F: Text Received: Sup?
You: Text Sent: I can't say over text.
Uncle F: Text Received: That bad? Shit u can come stay wit me.
Uncle F: Text Received: Ur probz cleaner than Chop.
Uncle F: Text Received: Talk to M. He can help wit T.
You: Text Sent: He's in on it.
You: Text Sent: He doesn't like to argue with Trevor when he's made up his mind about something.
Uncle F: Text Received: M? Cuda fooled me. Thought they always fightin.
You: Text Sent: Not when it comes to "parenting" me...
Uncle F: Text Received: Sorry Little Homie. Settin up yo room. ;)
XXX
Michael's eyes were glued to the door, it had been twenty minutes and there was not so much as even a hint of disturbance, he drummed his fingers on the car door. He was more nervous now, than when he took Jimmy to his first job interview, that hadn't gone well...this probably wouldn't either. It might not be the best mentality, but Michael really did have enough money, none of his kids would ever have to resort to crime to get by, he wanted his kids to have a job because they loved the thing they were doing. Like Tracey with her acting, even if it was mediocre at best, and Jimmy and his video game, that really didn't make any sense, but hell...at least he was doing something. It was obvious Trisha didn't want to do this, he had no idea what she did want to do...listening wasn't his strong suit, but fuck, he would support her, whatever it was.
His eyes traveled over to Trevor, because watching the door anymore was making him sick. She was like the fucking runt puppy at feeding time, blind and lost. These thoughts made Michael want to jump out of the car and save her, and clip any bitch who dare get in his way. But fucking Trevor...he wanted her to do this on her own, he said it would build character, which is pretty rich coming from someone like Trevor.
"I wonder what she's doing in there..." Trevor muttered, finally, now looking a bit nervous. It had been twenty five minutes.
"I say if she's not out here in ten minutes we go in."
"No, Mikey, we can't do that."
"Why the fuck not?!"
"She has to do this on her own," Trevor Insisted. "The thrill of a heist gone right? Naaah, nothing can beat that, maybe she'll finally get us."
"Ohh," Michael nodded. "I get it now, you wanna relate to her," Michael laughed. "It ain't ever gonna happen, pal. We ain't ever gonna relate to them, I gave up on that a long time ago."
"That's you, Mike," Trevor shrugged him off. "We always knew I was going to be a better father than you."
"You?" Michael laughed. "Alright...whatever you say."
XXX
"Does this come in yellow?" Trisha asked, holding up a purple shirt that she was pretty sure did not come in yellow. The woman took it and gave her a dirty look for actually making her do work.
"I'll look in the back" she said, with a snip. Snip or not, that was exactly what Trisha wanted her to do. The woman walked from behind the counter and went through a door. Trisha took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She stepped around the counter, it felt like she was climbing a never ending mountain, with how labored her breathing was. Oh God, was she fainting? She felt very dizzy.
She looked down at the cash register, not sure, really, how to work it. She looked around for any nosy shoppers, there weren't any, before hitting a few buttons, pulling the backpack off her shoulder. The drawer popped open, the sight of the money actually made her feel worse, how that was possible...she had no idea.
She took hand fulls of twenties, fifties and tens and shoved them in her bag, praying the woman wouldn't come back until Trisha was gone. But of course...there was a shuffle of feet as she zipped the bag shut. Trisha heaved a troubled sigh, not wanting to face it, but knew she had no choice. The woman stood there, purple shirt still in hand, eyes going from the bag, Trisha's face, and the now mostly empty cash register. The women, mouth hung open, leaned forward, grabbing at the counter. Trisha knew what she was doing, looking for the alarm button.
"Noo!" Trisha pushed her back by the shoulders and pushed passed her, running for the door. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, as she genuinely felt horrible and also very...very scared. She reached the door, before the women could hit the button. It was just as she felt the concrete under one foot that she heard the sirens go off. She booked it toward the car, diving inside of it and throwing the bag onto the floor. "Drive!"
"Sooo?" Trevor replied, interested, for the first time ever, so it felt. "How'd it go?"
"Like shit!" Trisha yelled, looking left and right, hearing police sirens now too. "Just drive. DRIVE!"
(A/N: I'm really happy that some people are interested in this story. Thanks for checking it out and also, keep letting me know what you think! :D)