Part 7. Mission: Moving In.
Despite Michael's attempts to not fight with Trevor, they still argued constantly, it was just in their nature. Michael had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to be apart of Trevor, or even Trisha's life, he was just going to have to go through a lot of grief, and apparently piss off more than just Trevor in the process. Michael had accepted it, he only wished Amanda and Trisha would do the same.
And despite how badly the first interview went, and how much worse the second interview was, Trisha was still accepted into the Sunny Hill Farms program. And Trisha was the only one happy about this, of course they didn't want her going to jail, juvi or not, but Michael and Trevor had to sign something agreeing to keep her there a year. A year was a long time.
"I need bed sheets and towels, a holder for my tooth brush," Trisha rattled things off on a list in her hand. Michael, Trevor...and Franklin, somewhere, he had slipped away at some point, were all standing around in the store. They had already navigated through the upstairs jungle of house design ideas, and now they were in the discount toiletries department.
"This store is another reason why America's fucked," Trevor said, for the second time in the last five minutes. And if Michael really wanted to keep trying to be nicer, or whatever the fuck he was trying to do, then he should just ignore him. But, he was finding it pretty hard. "You fucking idiots really pay for this shit?"
"If you don't like it, go the fuck back to Canada!"
Trevor glared at him and looked offended for a long moment.
"Where's Franklin?" Trisha asked, noticing he was gone. But it was at this moment, that a blond man rushed them, pushing Trisha out of his way, and onto the ground, as he ran. Michael and Trevor both swore, as Trevor walked over and picked Trisha up, off the ground, and it was this moment Franklin came charging toward them, taking a flying leap at the guy who knocked over Trisha and wrestled him to the ground.
"Can we ever go anywhere without someone whipping out a gun or punching someone?" Trisha complained. Pushing Trevor away from her, as any sane person would do. Franklin, stood up, holding something in his hands, as he aimed a kick at the guy and turned around and looked at them, they all stared back.
"Told ya, he's just as fucked up as us," Michael said, almost, no...entirely gloating. Trisha shot him a dirty look. Franklin walked toward them, or so they thought, actually, he walked passed them and over to an edlerly woman.
"Oh, thank you so much, Honey!" the woman said, taking back the purse Franklin was holding. "You're so sweet."
"No problem, Ma'am."
"Shit..." Michael muttered, Trisha raised an eyebrow, making a 'mmhmm' noise as she pursed her lips.
"It doesn't count if he wants to sleep with her!" Trevor announced, as the woman hugged Franklin.
"She's like in her hundreds!" Trisha shot back. "Seriously?"
"Don't mind T, he has issues..."
"You're telling that to the wrong person."
"Hey! Rude..."
XXX
Trisha had all of her things packed up into the back of Trevor's truck, and they drove down the highway, not speaking. Trisha was nervous, but excited, a whole year...a whole year gloriously free of insane, mass murdering, bank robbing idiots. It was more than Trisha could ever ask for. And she had already thought about this, after the year was up, there would be another interview and if they decided she needs to stay longer, she could stay another year. And she would!
Eventually, Trisha was going to turn eighteen and at that moment she could leave without finding an out, just go. And would she want anything to do with them after that? Some days yes, some days no. They did raise her, minus the first seven years, but they also did kill her family... At least Trevor did, and honestly, out of the three Trevor was the one she wanted least to do with. But she also knew it would hurt him too much if she ever told him that.
"I don't have to tell you to play nice," he was saying, as Trisha looked in the rearview mirror at Michael's little black car, following behind them. "You're too nice."
"It's called manors, you don't have those," Trisha told him.
"I don't know where the fuck you learned that..." Trevor retorted "I didn't teach you manors!"
"Or how to read...or math," Trisha muttered.
"You were seven, you should've known basic math and reading!" Trevor expained. "It's not my fault your parents were methheads, too busy locking you in a closet."
"Oh...nice, very nice," Trisha nodded, rolling her eyes and looking out, at the passing trees. "You don't know anything about my life before."
"Because I don't care," Trevor said. "They were unfit to raise you."
"And you are?!" Trisha retorted. "A freaking dog is more fit to raise me than you!"
"Hey!" Trevor fought back. "You're clothed, you're fed!"
"Because Michael gives me money!" Trisha yelled. "Money I don't feel right taking, but god knows where you are some days! You sometimes don't even come home for days!"
"I am a very busy businessman..."
"Oh...my god..."
"Trevor Philips inc..." Trevor nodded. "One day it will all be yours."
"If that day ever comes, I'm shooting myself in the face..."
XXX
Trisha jumped out of the truck, once they arrived at the farm, of course she couldn't start unpacking right away, because they had to go over even more paperwork, but as soon as that was over. They headed to the house. Trisha, now more so that she was here, was nervous to meet all the other girls, not having been around any teenagers all her life, she didn't know what to expect.
"You must be Trisha," a rolly-polly type woman, with gray hair, said, as Trisha walked in, a bag full of clothes over one shoulder, and a box full of stuff in her arms. "I'm Miss Tudor, I'm your house mother, I'll be here if you need anything."
"Hi," Trisha said, with a struggle in her voice, but still wanting to be polite. "Um...where will I be staying?"
"The first room on the left," Miss Tudor said. "You'll be sharing with Jasmine, but the girls, they're all outside right now..."
Trisha nodded, and headed down the hall, turning into the first bedroom on the left, there was stuff on they bed closest to the door, so she figured she better take the bed by the window, which suited her just fine anyway. Michael came in right after her, carrying a box of stuff and setting it on the floor.
"Trevor is flirting with your house mother," he said, looking rather put off by this fact. "But ya didn't hear that from me."
"I don't care what he does," Trisha responded, and it was the truth, Michael knew that too, so changed the subject.
"Only fifteen minutes each night for phone calls," he said. "Who do I not have to kill to get at least five of those?"
"No one," Trisha shrugged, turning away from him, opening the box she carried in and looked at her purple towels. "Besides, you probably won't answer anyway."
"I'd always answer the phone for you, Trisha..."
Trisha shrugged again, looking under the towels, there was only bed sheets there. "Where's Mrs P?"
"Trevor has it," Michael said, and she looked over in time to see the look on Michael's face, like he had just ratted out his best friend. It wouldn't be the first time. She growled and stomped out into the living room. There, in Trevor's hands was her bear. She ignored the fact that he was leaning against the desk and had just winked in Miss Tudor's direction.
"Bear, now!" Trisha demanded. Ripping it out of his hands before he could react. She smiled at her new house mother. "When are they supposed to leave? I have all my things out of the car."
"They can stay for awhile," she explained. "Whenever you feel comfortable enough for them to leave."
"Okay, well...bye!" Trisha waved in Trevor's face, right as Michael walked into the room. "See you never."
"The first optional weekend is in two months from now," Miss Tudor explained. "You won't be able to see them until then."
"For two months?!" Trevor roared, unhappily. "No way!"
"I'm afraid so," Miss Tudor nodded. "Yes."
"That's bullshit!" Trevor argued. Michael cut across the room at this point and grabbed Trevor's arm.
"We should go."
"Yeah," Trisha nodded. "Buh-bye!"
Michael stared at her for a moment, then bowed his head and pushed Trevor toward the door.
"It's fucking ridiculous, Mike!" Trevor complained, as they left. Their voices were muffed as soon as the door shut behind them and Trisha sighed in relief. However, Miss Tudor was staring at her now.
"No hugs?"
"Oh," Trisha shrugged. "We never hug."