Paved with Good Intentions

Chapter One

My fingers tightened around the wheel of the BF Injection as I sped down the highway toward Blaine County. My flight from Liberty City had been painless and at the rental desk I'd gone for substance over style, knowing that the old dune buggy would be inconspicuous and also make for a good desert getaway car if push came to shove. I glanced up and flicked on my indicator as I pulled off the highway and rode further out into the sandy wasteland. The sticky heat bunched up in the folds of my clothes, the archaic air-con doing very little to relieve the sun that beat down on the roof of the little car, radiating into my skin.

I looked up as I passed a road sign indicating that I was only a couple of miles from Sandy shores. My heart did a little flip in my chest as I read it, but I crushed the feeling back down, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. I pulled my motor into a parking lot outside a motel with a neon flashing vacancy sign just as the sun dipped below the horizon, dying the cloudless sky brilliant shades of orange and purple. I walked up to the clerk who sat behind a little wooden desk, paid upfront for two nights and dragged my tired carcass inside, immediately collapsing onto the stained sheets and into a dreamless sleep.

I woke to the sun casting dappled light across my face through the open blinds. I groaned and rolled over to shield myself from the unrelenting brightness and pulled out my phone. No messages. I took that as good news. I stood up, standing on my tiptoes as I stretched my arms above my head, yawning and padding over to where I chucked my black duffle bag the night before. I pulled out a change of clothes and my laptop, booting it up before wandering over to the bathroom and turning on the shower. The thick desert heat was already starting to creep up my spine, drawing out beads of sweat, and I sighed in pleasure as I stepped into the cool water.

When I was done I got out and wiped the condensation from the mirror with one hand. My auburn locks were damp and curled just above my shoulders. A smattering of chocolates freckles peppered my cheekbones and the swell of my nose over milky white skin, setting off the brown notes in my hazel eyes. I ran one hand through my hair to get out the worst of the tangles before pulling on a loose peach tank top and some skimpy shorts to help ease the heat. I couldn't decide if the desert had gotten hotter since I'd moved away five years ago or if I was just used to chillier climes of Liberty City. Either way it was fucking sweltering.

I grabbed my laptop and flopped onto the bed, my fingers barely touching the keys as I skimmed through my files. The crate was due to land in the port in Los Santos in exactly one week. I navigated into the cities transcript files, smiling to myself at the lapse security, and double checked the location. It looked like a simple in and out job. All I had to do was locate the crate, load it up and transport it out of there. I pulled a pile of papers out of my duffle bag and flipped through the schematics of the port. Once I was satisfied I chucked the pile of documents back into the bag and closed the lid on the laptop.

I was glad that I'd arrived in San Andreas with plenty  of time to spare before the score but as I stretched out on my bed, fingertips brushing against the starchy wallpaper, I realised that I was already bored. I checked my phone again. It was just a little after eleven but I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed my car keys. It was five o clock somewhere. I jogged down to my car, the heat enveloping me like a second skin, and I jumped into my furnace of a car  and pulled out of the parking lot.

I made the brief journey from my motel to Sandy Shores. I tried not to. I even looped round through Paleto Bay and stopped outside the Hen House for ten minutes, debating, but it was pointless. I knew exactly where I was going, As I took a right by the gas station I kept my eyes resolutely fixed on the road ahead as I rolled past Zancudo Avenue. I pulled into the parking lot of the Yellow Jack Inn and jumped out of my car, walking over to the door and making a  mental note of the rusted Canis Bodhi that was parked like an asshole, taking up three spaces. From inside I could hear the sounds of an altercation and I grinned to myself as I pushed the door open. Some things never changed.