A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

The marvelous dark blue sky hinted a hue of light as the sun peaked and gave dim rays of orange through the window panes of Los Santos. Early morning joggers stretched, inhaled deeply and began running. Their feet hitting the pavement, with a rubber feel ever so lightly for the sneakers they wore were top of the line and guaranteed comfort. Those were the kind of neighbors she had.

Her clothes came off more quickly than her drinks went down, he thought. Her skin was smooth and glittered in the few thin rays of incoming sunlight. She was a bronzed masterpiece. He had been dying to devour her at Bahama Mama and now he was in her overpriced apartment. Kissing her on overpriced bed sheets. Making her moan as he sucked her skin and she grabbed on the collar of his cheap button down. Running his fingers through her short dark hair. Her fingers traced the line of his 'Cut Here" tattoo.

They both drank too much. They both laughed a lot. They both had a good time and were ready to enjoy the frosting on the cake.

He didn't realize it was so late – or early – until they stumbled through her front door. Or at least, what he thought was her front door. He remembered her saying she rented the room from a friend and got a pretty good price for it. It was the only reason she'd pay for something so 'over the top'.

He was too drunk to judge her. She didn't give him the impression of stuck up Vinewood bitch, but her apartment said otherwise. Again – he was too drunk to judge. Besides, he had only come for sex. And there it was. They had sex and there was nothing else for him to say.

He pulled his pants back up and struggled a little with the zipper. The after effects of his drunkenness were settling in. From under the sheets, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. He looked at her and smirked. He liked that she liked. Him. The sex. Everything. His ego was being stroked in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

"This is where we end the night miss."

"I never got your name." She said. She sat up and held the sheets over her chest. He could see the outline of her frame and he was still amazed such a beautiful woman had wanted to be with him. She even cared enough to ask his name.

"It's not important. Not like we'll be seeing much of each other after this." He told her.

"Well – that's true. Though, I would like to know the name of the man who inspired my next screenplay."

"I don't think you do."

"…alright. I understand." She stared at him for a while. Trevor looked away. Once he was done straightening himself up, he headed towards the bedroom door. He turned around for a moment and stared back at her. Their eyes met and he walked over to the bed. He laid down and stared at the ceiling fan. His eyes followed it as it spun its circles.

"I'll tell you a story you can write."

The young woman searched in her nightstand for pen and notepad. She returned to face him. Her eyes stared at her page and she squeezed her pen hard.

"There were these two guys. They were complete strangers and had a bunch of differences – but one. They were both were good at doing bad things. So, they came together to do a series of bad things. They made a friendship out of it. They became best friends because of it. One of them was real happy about that. It was the first time he had someone had could rely on." Trevor's voice lowered as he talked. He closed his eyes and the girl slowly looked over to him, away from her pen and blank paper.

"Then one of them fell in love with a woman who cramped his style. He, slowly but surely, started to change. It's like when your shirt get snagged and that thread unwinds. And you keep you walking. Not knowing."

The room was poorly lit, a yellow glow on the ceiling from the dull bulb. Walls were dingy and worn. There was a swelling of the wood of the window pane, showing water had made its way in. It was covered poorly by black tape – to keep the heat from coming out. A large blue couch with a body print on the far right was the in the middle of the room. Across from it a medium sized tube television. A dark coffee table between the two of them. There he sat with his feet up and an infant in his arms.

"Are you sure you have it under control?" Amanda asked Michael as she pinned up her hair in a messy up-do. She applied natural looking makeup and double checked her reflection in the mirror before heading out the bathroom of their small apartment.

"Of course." Michael told her. He sunk into the couch bouncing a newborn Jimmy in his arms.

"His formula is in the refrigerator. Make sure Tracey finishes her homework and please call me at work if anything is up." She buttoned up her coat and wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck.

"I got it. Now go." Michael waved his free hand motioning Amanda to leave and she glared at him.

"Don't treat me like a dog!" She walked over to the sofa, lightly slapped his forehead kissed Jimmy on the head. "My little man. Take good care of daddy." She kissed his toes then walked towards the door. She turned to Michael once again. "Please don't have Trevor over tonight. I don't like him around the kids."

"Yeah, I got you." Michael did not look away from the TV once. Amanda sighed and exited, slamming the door in the process. The loud noise caused Jimmy to cry and Michael to frown. "Damn woman got him crying now." He turned down the TV and began walking around the living room, making shooing sounds to calm Jimmy.

A small little girl with very chestnut brown in pigtails hair walked out of a room. She yawned and rubbed her large eyes. "Papa…" she called out. Michael turned around and saw little Tracey stretching her arms over her head.

"Hey honey." He said to her while rocking a still crying Jimmy.

"Why is Jimmy crying?" She asked.

"Mommy was being a meanie and slammed the door when she left for work." He told her.

"Mommy left for work? She didn't tell me bye…" Tears filled Tracey's eyes and Michael regretted immediately telling her what he did.

"Honey, honey don't cry! Oh damn it!" Both children wailed loudly and he found himself at a lost. Not even ten minutes and both children were already in tears.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Michael sighed deeply and walked to the door. He peered through the peep hold and opened the door.

Tracey's tears immediately vanished as she was held in the air, her arms out, being spun around in circles. Airplane sounds being made. When her 'airplane' landed her arms around wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. He was cold, wet and his coat dripped melting snow. His boots left water marks in the already distressed carpet. "Uncle Trevor!" She exclaimed in joy.

"Hey my little fighter jet. How are you today?"

"Good."

"Did you do your homework?"

"No. I was taking a nap."

"Well go start your homework and Uncle T will be there in just a minute to help you out, okay?" He placed her firmly on the floor, smacked her little butt and she disappeared into the bedroom. Trevor took off his jacket throwing it off to the side. His hair stuck to his face a bit, after being trapped under his hood.

"Hey T." Michael said while still bouncing Jimmy. He did not realize the child had stopped crying and looked at his sleeping face. It would seem upon Trevor's arrival all tears were subdued. "Wow. That was quick. Usually takes Amanda a good half hour to calm him down."

Michael headed over back to his spot on the sofa, sinking into the chair. He carefully put his feet back up on the coffee table and leaned in. "What brings you by?" He asked. Trevor sat on the other end of the sofa sinking into it as well.

"To talk about that thing. You know. If we do this…it'll be the biggest job we've done so far."

"You say that every time."

"Well the jobs get bigger. Of course I'll be saying it every time."

"T – I don't know. Can we not talk about this right now? I'm watching the kids tonight since Amanda is working a double."

"You going soft on me Mikey?"

"Going soft?!"

"Shh!" Trevor pointed to Jimmy who was sound asleep in Michael's arms. The two men met eyes and Michael frowned.

"T. I have a family. I'm not saying I'm going soft, but I…I have a family. I want to be with them. I want to…I want to be around when Jimmy learns to walk. I want him to play baseball and go to his games. I want to make sure Tracey grows up with some self-respect. Not shaking her ass and meeting scum like me. She deserves better than that. Amanda deserves better than that. I want her not to work so hard…I want to be here for my family T."

"What about me?" Trevor asked. His voice lowered and he stared at the sleeping child in his best friends arms. "Am I not your family too, Michael?" The two men remained silent and Michael turned up the volume on the TV. It was the first few strands of thread that began to unravel the beginning of their end.