Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

26: The De Santas

What was I doing?

I sped on the freeway to get to Los Santos as quickly as possible, craving distance between me and the airplane hangar.

I felt my Zentorno shake as I shifted gears, passing four cars to my left before passing another two on my right.

Was it really safe for me to be weaving and thinking this hard at the same time?

No, but I didn't care.

God, why was I so stupid? I let someone else gain control of my work, and now they were treating it like fun and games. How do you run a business like that without tanking financially?

And the irresponsibility in taking the product like that. . . .

Gods. My hands gripped on the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. I bit down on my lip.

My phone started to ring loudly in its place in my cupholder in front of the center console. I glanced down to see who it was. Trevor.

I debated on whether or not I should pick it up before ultimately realizing he wouldn't know what was wrong until I told him, and he only got a brief glimpse of why it bothered me. Basically, how would he know my reasons if I didn't tell him?

I let out a long sigh, reaching down to click on the button on my phone. My phone's bluetooth connected with my phone, and his voice erupted through my speakers.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"Los Santos," I responded bluntly. "I couldn't sit there and watch the three of you disrespect my business."

Trevor groaned. "Baby, baby, baby. . . .Come on. We're new to your product. We're just. . .Trying it out. We're not going to take advantage of you."

"Oh, really? I saw you all take more than one baggy like I requested-"

He cut me off. "What's the big deal?"

I pursed my lips. "My business was in my control since I was nineteen. And now I have you guys getting your meth'd up hands all over my product and using it like it's not top-of-the-line shit that needs to be saved for the customers. I carefully make my batches and if I have my own boyfriend and his friends being thieves and disrespecting me, I'm going to have so much more problems than I expected."

There was silence on the other line for so long I thought he wasn't there anymore. I was about to say his name when he finally piped up. "I know business too, Lucy. Don't underestimate my methods. I'll keep Ron and Wade in line. Come home?"

"No," I responded curtly. "Blowing off some steam." I drove up Vinewood hills now.

"With who?" He asked.

"Franklin," I responded. "Gonna see if he's home."

"Eeerrrr, okay. Well. . . .I'll be home."

"Yep, I know."

"Love you."

"I know."

He groaned angrily, hanging up the phone as I parked in Franklin's driveway in front of his garage. I walked to his front door and knocked.

He opened the door after a minute or two of me shuffling my feet nervously. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned to let me in.

I smiled and wordlessly walked in, taking a seat on his couch before putting my head in my hands and groaning.

"Trouble?" He asked. I nodded before removing my face from my hands.

"Not worth mentioning. I was looking to blow off some steam. Wanna go do something?"