Dirt

The CEO of Pharmaceuticals

    We sat in the sand and chugged at our booze until we could no longer feel anything but each other, and we did feel each other as we clumsily kissed on the ground, far too drunk to coordinate ourselves properly. I was once again subjected to the same crushing embrace I had been longing for since the morning and I held him just as tightly, or as tightly as I could with my feeble arm strength.
    We made love again, this time uninterrupted, and the combination of alcohol and a lack of speed in my system allowed me to fully let myself go. At this moment with no one around us for miles but crickets, fireflies and the occasional frog I felt as though we might have been the only two human beings left on planet earth in a post-apocalyptic future.
    Every touch seemed to tingle and every laboured breath on my ear made me quiver, and though I had had a number of sexual encounters in my lifetime none could ever come close to this. It wasn’t a matter of pleasure but a matter of complete attachment on both a physical and emotional level; it created within me a euphoric state void of all insecurity.
    It amazed me how quickly ones life can change in a matter of hours; I had always expected myself to walk along the same road and suddenly I was one of those people who simply breaks the mould and changes their course. Whether I myself had broken this mould or Trevor did for me I was unsure, but I liked to attribute it a little to both of us.
    In a place that I had never been before and knew little about Trevor had simply become everything. He was what I breathed and what I felt and most importantly he treated me as if I were a human being. I knew that even when I did inevitably have to leave Sandy Shores my life would never return to the state it had been in before I had met him.
    When it was over we held each other for what what seemed to be an endless amount of time that I never wanted to end. Trevor planted kisses from my forehead down to my chest, slowly, each kiss sweeter than the next as I stroked his back methodically with my fingertips.
    Between each kiss he told me, “You- are the most- amazing- woman- I have ever- met.” Before pulling away from me and lifting up with him. I wrapped my legs and arms around him and pressed my lips to his neck.
    He brought me back to the sea and let me go, proceeding to wash the sand off of my back and shoulders. Until now I had yet to notice both of us were covered in a layer of fine pebbles, this made me laugh unexpectedly, amplified by the amount of alcohol and endorphins tainting my mind. Trevor told me I was “a fucking adorable drunk” before leading me back to the truck and taking a swig of wine.
    We spent the next few minutes searching for the clothes we had lost in our drunken stupor, Trevor swearing under his breath and kicking at heaps of sand. They were not too far from where we had begun our hunt but I supposed they were overlooked like those objects you look for for ages only to find them in the most likely of places.
    It didn’t faze me that Trevor was driving while under the influence of alcohol, nor did it bother me that he was driving while indeed drinking said alcohol that was influencing him. I actually found the premise of endangering my own life quite laughable at the moment, for it would mean I would die at the peak of my happiness.
    As we drove I kept my body flung around him like a toddler hanging on to their mother’s leg on their first day of pre-school. The world was swaying around me in an exquisite ballet routine as we blasted heavy metal tunes from the speakers so that everything in the truck vibrated. I could never imagine a more perfect night, even in my wildest dreams.
     We pulled in to his dirt driveway, nicking the chain-link fence with the rearview-mirror as we did so. Trevor pulled the keys from the ignition in one swift movement and motioned for me to stay put before he stepped out the truck door. With immaculate footing he waltzed to the passenger’s side and opened the door for me before lifting me out of the seat himself as if we might have been honeymooning in the most disgusting place on earth.
    He kicked the door shut with his booted foot and carried me to our chipped-paint palace like any good old-fashioned lover-boy would. The fantastic nature of my thoughts almost verged on nauseating, but then again that may have been my blood-alcohol level talking.
    Upon entering the trailer Trevor put me down and offered me more to drink, which I more than willingly accepted. For the sake of somewhere to rest we decided to move the ancient rabbit-ear television into his bedroom, where we spent the remainder of the night sipping at wine and watching terrible television sitcoms I assumed were popular amongst the inhabitants of Sandy Shores.
    As we watched television and found pleasure in the stupidity of others we ate leftover cheeseburgers and asked one another a variety of questions. I found it quite bizarre that I had found more moral support in a man I knew nothing about than any family member or friend, and therefore I decided to make it my goal to learn most everything about him.
    “I want to get to know you.” I told him blatantly, “I want to know the legend that is Trevor Philips.” I laughed to myself before beginning to unwrap another poorly constructed burger.
    Trevor snickered with eyes still focused on the television screen, “Well tell me what you want to know then.”
    I was unsure where I could possibly begin, I felt as though I knew everything and nothing all at once before I managed to ask the first thing that came to my mind, “What’s your favourite colour?”
    He scoffed and then burst forth in loud laughs, “Out of all the things you don’t know about me you want to know my favourite fucking colour?”
    I found myself laughing as well, “I mean, it’s a good place to start. You can deduct a lot of psychological conclusions from someone’s favourite colour, don’t be so fucking condescending.”
    “Okay, alright, um…” He seemed now to be taking the question rather seriously, or as seriously as one could take such a simple question, “My favourite colour is… purple.” I found myself chucking momentarily before he asked, “Why what’s wrong with purple?” Sounding genuinely self-conscious even through his laughter.
    “There’s nothing wrong with purple. Purple’s great.” I stated, “It’s the colour of royalty, you know.”
    “Fucking right it’s the colour of royalty.” He mused, taking a gulp of wine. After a moment of silence he inquired, “Is that really all you wanted to know about me?”
    “No, no… just let me think.” I pondered for a few seconds before deciding on my next inquiry, “What do you do for a living?”
    Trevor was hesitant before providing me with an answer, “I’ll have you know I’m the CEO of a very prestigious corporation, Trevor Philips Enterprises.” He stated this with some formality which drove me into a fit of foolish giggles. “Hey, I’m being completely serious!”
    “Okay, okay, I believe you. And what exactly is Trevor Philips Enterprises?” I questioned, knowing with most certainty that it would be some sort of illegal operation.
    “Well, it’s a kind of, pharmaceutical company… so to speak.”
    “You’re a drug dealer?” I quipped quickly.
    “No, I do no drug dealing whatsoever, I’m way above that kind of shit, alright? I have an army of people doing that for me.” And at this he erupted in laughter once again, and I laughed alongside him. “If you think you’re so high and mighty I’d like to know a few things about you too, missy.”
    “Shoot.” I replied, ready to take on the world considering the amount of wine I had consumed.
    He grinned at me, and this was when I knew I was in for it, “So you must be like 16 or something right? It can’t be legal for me to be banging you right now, I’m fucking sure of it.” And then more laughter.
    “I’m 21! I already told you I was a university student,” I smiled, “ But either way I’m too young to be hanging around a geezer like you.” And with this I tried to replicate his patented grin right back at him.
     “Yeah, yeah, good one.” He replied with some disdain, “And what is little miss Ivy League going to university for?” His words were loaded with sarcasm that I could only find hilarious at this point in time.
    “Literature.” I responded, awaiting the barrage of insults that were surely coming my way, and that surely had come my way many times before for having chosen such a seemingly useless subject to spend my time and money studying.
    “Ah, I see, so that’s why you were throwing at that Shakespearian crap at me last night.” And then he grew quiet.
    When no insult arose I felt genuinely surprised, “You’re not going to tell me how stupid I am for studying something so useless?” I chuckled.
    “What? Of course not, what kind of an asshole do you take me for. I had dreams of my own when I was your age. Too bad dreams never work out.” At this he snickered; and there it was, the condescending ‘when I was your age’ speech I had received many times before from parental figures. I wondered how old Trevor in fact was but had no intention of asking after it having been driven into my skull that that simply was a very rude thing to ask anyone your senior.
    We lied in bed for some time with arms around each other, watching obscenely propagandistic commercials as I began to doze off until Trevor spoke up, “Got anything else to ask me sugar?”
    There was so much more I wanted to learn about him, especially the ‘dreams’ he had spoken of just before, but I found myself at a loss for words, it might have been the fact that I found myself in a state of complete exhaustion, “Hmm, not at the moment.”
    The last thing I remembered before falling into complete sleep was Trevor switching the television off after I had begun to lose control over my own consciousness. Besides passing out after my drug incident I had not gotten much sleep since my arrival at Los Santos via long, excruciating bus ride with the individuals I now refer to as my ex-companions.
    Without fail I dreamt about Trevor the entire night; for some odd reason I always dreamt the most while under the influence of alcohol. The dreams I had were the kind of vivid delusions you experience during the night that you simply cannot manage to forget minutes after waking up, and that stay with you for weeks after you have them.