Picking you up. Be outside at nine.
Taking a double take at his phone, Michael saw that the time was already ten minutes past. He looked around, locating and picking up his wallet and left the empty family home which was once buzzing with arguing teenagers, tennis coaches and yoga instructors. Lest he forget. At the end of his paved driveway and behind he electric gate was a car. He could see Niamh sat on her phone, as usual.
'After this job, I'm buying the 9F I wanted in the first place. After I've paid my credit card bill for this...'
'These ain't too bad, Trace has one.'
'Yeah... So does every hipster in the state.' She complained. It wasn't that she didn't like the car, she did. She didn't like the fact that the lifestyle she had become accustomed to; spending thousands of dollars on clothes and whatever she wanted to, to buying a car on a credit card and not having a home to go back to after a day of whatever Lester needed her to do and then tending to the drunken youths of Los Santos.
'Trevor didn't lie when he said you had a lot in common.'
'Do you realise how insulting that is?'
'Oh, I do. It's underneath the solid layer psychotic tendencies, I'm sure.'
'Yeah, before I picked you up I had already skinned six people.'
'Wow, strong with the fucking sarcasm this morning.'
'Strong with the I-don't-give-a-fucks too.'
'What, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed?'
'What's with all the fuckers driving this morning?' She yelled, hitting the centre of the steering wheel and sounding the horn.
'Pull over, I'll-'
'You're not driving my brand new car which isn't even half paid for-'
'Im a good driver!' He insisted, pushing on the steering wheel.
'Michael, stop it!' Niamh screamed, juggling the task of watching the road with trying the push Michael's hands away and-
'Jesus!' He screamed, looking on at the taxi which was less than five metres in front of them. Niamh slammed on the breaks and steered the car onto the sidewalk; scarcely missing a couple walking.
'Fuck...' She gasped.
'You didn't crash it-' Michael began, attempting to make light of the situation.
'You almost did though!' She screamed; face turning scarlet.
'D'you remember what happened last time we had a fight?' He smirked.
'Get the fuck out of my car.' Niamh leant over and pulled the silver handle; pushing him. She sped away and held a hand out of the window with a finger up as she did before preceding further up the road to Lester's.
'Ah, good, we're just waiting for Michael then.' He snorted as she walked through the guarded gate.
'He's probably fucked off to-' Trevor began before being bluntly cut off.
'I think I passed him waking on my way up the street.'
'Good! That fat slob needs to shift a few pounds.' Trevor chimed in, frustrated with the waiting.
'Niamh, you can get changed in there. Have the removal guys turned up?'
'Its sorted, Lester.' Niamh huffed as she took the bag of clothes from one of the industrial shelves Lester had acquired over the years.
'You've got a place?'
'Not yet, and probably not for another, what, three weeks?' She, obviously annoyed, hypothesised, continuing into the small bathroom to change her clothes.
'I'll get it done as soon possible- Ah, what took you so long?'
'Traffic.' Michael coughed, catching a bag Trevor threw into his stomach. It was the uniform he had stolen from a warehouse in Strawberry.
'Right. Niamh's changing and Franklin should be here with the car any minute. Are you guys ready?'
'I'm getting real fed up of all this dressing up.' Trevor growled as he unveiled his new look: a groupee drivers uniform.
'Didn't you alway wanna work for the man, T?' Laughed an amused Michael.
'Fuck you, Mikey.'
'Franklin will pick Niamh up and then you'll go in and plant the rest of the bombs. Packie will get the van and go into the underground vaults with Trevor before the bombs are detonated and we'll all meet up at the Vinewood sign.'
'See'ya out there.' Niamh coughed, quickly pushing past the men. What was she wearing? She really did look the part. Which part however, she wasn't quite sure. She had a pencil skirt on which left little to the imagination. It rose to her waist which then, with the addition of a delicate gold belt, transitioned to a sheer white blouse. The three of them had just about the right amount of time to capture the image before checking her out as she got into the stolen car.
'Mr. Jackaan will see you now, Miss Spencer.' A sickeningly upbeat woman chirped before leading Niamh into a sleek office.
'So you're Niamh Spencer...'
'So you're Jacob Jackaan...' She mimicked, showcasing her glossy pout and sultry eyes.
'The one and only.' Only a serial cheater and general jack-ass would come out with a line like that, Niamh thought.
'You certainly live up to your reputation.'
'And what reputation would that be?'
'One you're proud to have built, so rumour says.'
'As long as they don't get back to my wife I am,' He declared, sitting in the oversized chair behind his desk. 'So, my buddy Rich told me that you were someone to interview personally; got the email right here.' Thank God for Lester, she thought. 'Y'know, there's no bigger turn-off than a woman with kids...' He quipped, referring to the heavily pregnant woman working outside he office. 'I just don't get it. I'll have someone show you around, get the feel of the place, then bring you back here in say... ten minutes.'
Niamh could hear Lester's voice piercing her eardrum. 'It isn't supposed to happen like this, keep him with you, Niamh...'
'Suz-' Jackaan began, stopping when a warm hand touched his back.
'Surely, you could take me...' Fluttering her eyelashes and opening her mouth ever so slightly enough to flash the smile she spent hundreds of dollars on whitening.
'Sure I could, what kind of boss would I make if I didn't.' The mogul rhetorically asked, before showing her out of his office.
'Yes!' Michael cheered. 'Fuckin' A!'
'Six. Million. Dollars!' Trevor screamed over the city he loathed.
'You ain't changed a bit, kid.' Packie said to Niamh.
'Except I ain't a kid anymore. Anyway, I've got to go. I have a-'
'Go where, dog?'
'The airport. I'm going home for a few days.'
'Want a ride?'
'Woah, woah, woah... You really are a leech, aren't you?'
'What?' Michael laughed, confused by his friends sudden outburst.
'She isn't a hooker-'
'Hey, shut up!' Franklin yelled, frustrated that his friends were at each others throats again.
'Just because you slept with her once doesn't mean-'
'Trevor.' Niamh interrupted. Her voice was barley loud enough to be heard, but the tone was strained.
Max was stood looking at her, disappointed and broken. She took in an unsteady and shaky breath and watched as his height shrank and he began to speak. 'So you did a job and you slept with him?' He spat
She opened her mouth to speak, but gasps in the place of words were the only things to escape. Finally: 'It was once-' She choked, barley any words escaping her lips as she tried to justify herself.
'Once makes a difference.'
'Your once didn't.' Niamh reminded him. Not a trace of anger was placed on Loki's face, something that Niamh had learnt had meant he was at his angriest.
'That was different-' He insisted.
'How different?' She yelled, scaring the four onlookers.
'I told you.'
'And that makes it better? You still-'
'You said you wouldn't do this anymore, you promised!'
'Don't change the fucking subject. You fucking knew I was doing this so don't-
'Look, we'll go back home for a few days and when we come back-'
'Let's face it, this is the beginning if a downwards spiral. You go screw Janet or whatever she was called because I didn't spend nine years with you for this shit.'
'You need me.'
'Keep tellin' yourself that, pal,' Niamh scoffed in disbelief, disbelief that he would stoop to the desperate low. 'I'll take a cab.'
I fell really hurt my knee last week, which is why I've not really written a lot. I was running and now all of my knee skin is on the pavement around the corner from my house. There's a picture on my twitter.
I have good news though; Steven Ogg is the actor who played Trevor and this is possibly the best thing to have graced my eyes, I blushed and cringed at the same time.