Rest, Weary Traveller | GTA V Fanfic [Trevor x Reader]

Chapter Six

Shortly after receiving a fat stack of cash, you texted Trevor asking if he'd given the wrong amount. As much as you wanted to keep it and chalk it up to employer error, you feared what he may do if he found his missing money in your hands.

That's exactly how much i gave 2 u. Good job counting. Use it well, he'd texted you back. You'd spent the past while wisely divvying out your money between furnishing your trailer, buying things for Sadie, and finally, you'd put a down payment on a cheap, shitty Asea with 75,000 miles on it. It was rusty, it was scratched to hell, and it was transportation that wasn't dependent on neighbors. 

You were stationed outside your trailer; the landlord had given you permission to repaint it, so here you were with a baby blue paint bucket trying to do right by the metal walls. 

"I can do that for you, you know," a voice sounded behind you. You suppressed a yelp of surprise and spun around to see Ron in a bucket hat. 

"Um, okay. If you'd like... why?" you asked him. He was usually standoffish toward you. Maybe he's wanting to perform an act of goodwill? Or maybe he's wanting to start over clean with me.

"Trevor saw you painting and he told me to take over," he said plainly as he snatched the brush from you. The window groaned as Sadie pressed herself against the window, begging you for pets. "Oh, is that the cat I picked stuff up for?"

"Yeah. You know, Ron," you muttered gently, trying to make eye contact with him, "You don't have  to do everything he tells you to do."

He swiveled his head toward you and gave a look of contempt. "Of course I do! He's my boss and best friend. I suggest you do the same. He's a very generous man, looking out for you, and you can't even do the basic act of putting out for a guy. If I were him, I would have just--"

"Okay, Ron, thank you, but I've had enough Ron today. You can go home," you snapped, not wanting to hear the rest of whatever Ron had to say. He dropped the paintbrush on the ground and, huffing, stormed away.

"You know, you're no Patricia. She didn't put out at first, but at least she took good care of him and loved him," Ron shouted at you as he power-walked back to his trailer. 

"Who the fuck is Patricia?" you shouted after him, confused. And... jealous?

"Maybe if you got to know him, you'd know!" At this point, Ron's voice was barely audible as he broke into a run. 

Now curious as to who Patricia was, you decided to call Michael as you went into your trailer. It sounds like it could be too sensitive of a subject for Trevor.

After one ring, Michael picked up. "Hey, [Y/N]. What's up? Are you okay?"

Oddly pleased to hear a tone of concern in his voice, you told him, "Well, I just got into an argument with Ron. He was being all weird and said I was 'no Patricia', whatever that means. Is there something I'm missing?"

"Oh," Michael laughed, "I almost forgot about her, damn. Patricia," he snorted over the line, "was a 57-year-old mob boss's wife he kidnapped in a rage fit a year back. She got Stockholm's and became enamored with him. She cleaned his trailer and shit, just took care of him, basically. Eventually, she went back to her husband and broke his fucked up little heart." 

"That would almost be sad if it wasn't so messed up." You paused, not sure what to say next. "Do you guys have any business plans  you may need assistance in? I'm good on cash for now, but it can't last forever, you know?"

"I don't have anything in the near future, but Trevor always has something. You know that by now, though. I dunno, Frank might have an odd job you could help him with. I don't know if it would be worth driving all that way for," Michael brainstormed aloud.