Sorry for the bit of a wait on this. Also, sorry for the lack of action in this chapter. I figured it would be a good idea to see a bit of Jen's "new" life. Don't worry, it's all downhill from here. :) I hope that it is enjoyable, anyway.

Warning: Strong language, violence, and sexual situations. Rated the way it is for a reason.

In The Game

Chapter Three

"So," Jen started, a smile on her face as she spread her arms out, "what do you think?"

She watched as the thin woman walked into the rather small apartment, her heels clicking on the wood floors. There was really nothing special about it, which, in Jen's eyes, is what made it special. No pictures on the pale walls, a small living area with two couches and a small television was the first thing that could be seen, a kitchen separated by a wall across from it. There was nothing complex about the layout or decor, nothing to over think or look into.

"It's...nice," the woman said with a nod, placing her bags down on the floor beside one of the couches. She was a good head taller than Jen, blonde hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, clad in only a tight fitting shirt and a skirt much too short for just a normal woman in the street, which made her look like she wasn't wearing any pants with the jacket that was resting on her shoulders.

"It is, isn't it?" Jen said, walking around her new apartment with an odd sense of accomplishment. Like she had spent years working up the money, getting up at the crack of dawn everyday to work at a dead-end job, and not assisting in the robbery of a bank. The woman with her, Sabrina, at least had a job. Sure, she was a stripper, but it seemed that she didn't mind it all that much. She bragged about it, really, like she had been picked out of the elite to shake her ass for horny men.

"You really want me to live with you in here?" she asked after a few moments, Jen walking over to the small balcony area, the glass doors covered in floor length blinds.

"Yeah, I had agreed to help you out, right?" Jen asked, pausing to look over at Sabrina with a grin.

"Where did you get this money, anyway?" Sabrina asked after a few moments of looking around, "I mean, fuck, it's nice that you're getting me out of that shit hole that I had called my home, but for someone who was struggling to make fifty bucks last week..."

"I...won the lottery," Jen offered up lamely, the taller woman quirking an eyebrow at her, "it was a small win, alright?"

"Hey, fine," Sabrina said, raising her hands slightly in surrender, "congrats."

"I really like it," Jen said, "it's simple, on the cheaper side, but it has a view."

"Of what?" Sabrina asked, taking off her jacket and slung it over the side of the couch, "the alleyway?"

"Well, you can see a building that can see the beach..." Jen said, peering out of the window for a few moments as her new roommate flopped down on the couch, bare legs propped up on the table as she looked over the remote in her hands.

"So, are you actually going to get a job to keep this dream apartment of yours?" Sabrina asked, pressing a button on the remote, the television across from her flickering to life, the woman pursing her lips as the started to search through the channels.

"I guess I will have to, huh?" Jen said, walking over to the couch and sat down beside her, swiping her friend's feet off the table with a sharp kick that the younger woman gave a slight cry and glare at, crossing her legs so that she could rub the spot where she had been kicked. Jen leaned back, her arms crossed.

"Any ideas?" Sabrina prompted, watching some sort of talent show with only halfhearted attention. "I mean, you can still continue to try and hustle drunks out of their money with trick shots at the pool tables in the many bars around Los Santos, but it won't pay the bills, will it?"

"I'll handle it," Jen said, waving her off slightly.

Sabrina didn't reply for a minute or so, the two woman watching some man shout racist things at a group of people on the television, the crowd seeming to eat it up.

"I could get you one," Sabrina said finally, glancing away from the television and fixed her gaze on Jen.

"Like, what? A stripper?" Jen asked with a chuckle, "Come on, I don't have the figure, nor the tolerance, for it."

"Hey, don't be so down on yourself!" Sabrina exclaimed, completely disregarding the last part of her statement, sitting up fully as she turned towards her on the couch, "I might have to drop a few pounds...get some new tits...but you have a great ass, if my input means anything."

"Thanks," Jen said with a chuckle, rolling her eyes, "I don't know how to dance, I'm under-qualified."

"I can teach you," Sabrina said quickly, "I mean, look at all the space we got!" she gestured around the empty space between the living area and the bedrooms, "We just got to put a pole in here and-"

"I'm not putting a stripper pole in my apartment," Jen stated, "only you will have a reason to use it, and it will just be in the way."

"Hey, our apartment," Sabrina said, pointing her finger back and forth between the two of them, "I'm paying half rent, remember? Shouldn't I get a say about what goes into it as well?"

"I'm vetoing the pole."

"Fine," Sabrina said, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against the couch. "You keep talking about my job like it's the worst thing in the world. I enjoy dancing, I like the attention."

"You keep telling yourself that."

Sabrina shot her a glare before she turned her attention back on the television, Jen's phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, looking at the message on her screen. Jen took a quick glance at the woman beside her before opening the message up fully, an address being the first part of the text, followed by two short sentences:

In an hour. Be there.


Jen never expected to be back in front of the house, not since what happened a year or so ago. She had a hard time believing that he still lived there, dead plants surrounding the front porch, front steps warn and creaked under her feet. She leaned to the side slightly, peering into the window that was blocked from the inside with a curtain. The door was unlocked, Jen pushing it open slightly as she walked down the familiar hallway, though the idea that the man she was seeing still lived in there had quickly vanished when she noticed the thin coat of dust that covered bare surfaces and various items.

"Hello?" she called out, shutting the front door behind her. She saw movement from the kitchen area, a rather bulky-looking man stepping into view. Jen had to admit that she thought he would have changed over the year, but he was still the same. He was dressed in the casual button up shirt, which looked crisp and fresh, tucked into a pair of jeans. His boots were loud against the hardwood floor as he walked towards her, arms crossed and stare hard. He had always looked professional, blond hair slicked back with bright blue eyes that always seemed to reveal his mood, as hard as he would try to hide it. He looked like he should be working in some high end store instead of assisting people like herself and her brother, back when he was still alive.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, huh?" he demanded, Jen letting out a chuckle as she gestured around the empty house.

"You messaged me..."

She jumped slightly when she found a crumpled page of a newspaper shoved into her chest, the man walking further into the kitchen before he sat himself down in a chair at the table, legs out in front of him, Jen feeling his gaze on her as she looked down at the newspaper. It was an article about the robbery in Paleto Bay, Jen clearing her throat as she let out an awkward chuckle.

"That's unfortunate, but I don't see how-"

"Let's not play games, Jenessa," he stated, leaning forward to place his bare arms on the dusty table, "I'm supposed to believe that you went from a few thousand dollars to over two hundred thousand in the course of a few weeks? That you would have enough money to play house with your stripper friend?"

Jen placed the paper down on the table, taking a seat in the chair next to his as she leaned back, rolling her head backwards slightly as she looked up at the ceiling. "I was going through a hard time, I was getting tired of working up only a few hundred dollars every three weeks, and, not to mention, having to spread my legs for some fucking asshole who just happened to have an extra couch for the night. I was offered an opportunity, so I took it."

"Jen, dead women don't rob banks."

"They also don't sleep in stranger's beds and get kicked out of bars for being recognized as a hustler," Jen hissed, "I want to make at least an attempt at having a somewhat normal life. If that means rooming with the world's proudest stripper in some rundown apartment in Vespucci Beach, which I bought with money that I got helping other people rob a bank, that's fine by me. I don't see you helping me out, anyhow, as much as you are taking offence to this whole thing."

"I'm not the fucking Witness Protection Program, alright?" the man snapped, narrowing his blue eyes at her as he clenched his jaw, "You're just being an idiot. I'd be wasting my money for you just to go run off with these people you claim to be helping."

"It won't happen again," Jen said, raising her hands slightly, "I just needed a boost, a kick-start in the direction of the right direction."

"You know, your brother basically told me the same thing when I helped him. He still killed and did reckless things, even with the money I gave him to help out. You were raised up in that, so I'm not surprised that you would feel right at home in this crime shit. Get out of it, I'm not going to cover your tracks if things go wrong."

"I will, Jake," Jen stated, the man across from her taking a few moments to study her, "If it means anything, I didn't enjoy it all that much. There was too much pressure and gunfire."

"What about them?"

"What about them?" Jen replied, "I'm still paranoid about that, as any sensible person should be, but I don't see how they would know about my thing in Paleto Bay. If the other members of the crew haven't been identified already, I doubt that some pissed off asshole will know about it, either."

"Keep this up and he just might."

"It won't happen again."

"I want to take your word for it," Jake stated, rising up from his seat, crossing the room as Jen did the same, her hand lingering on the page of the newspaper.

"How's your family?" she asked suddenly, "You marry that girlfriend of yours yet?"

"Fuck off," Jake muttered, leaving the room, Jen listening to his boots against the floor as he headed down the front hall. A sigh escaped from her mouth as she heard the front door being shut, Jen mulling over what he had said about her brother. While she didn't like the pressure, she had to admit that holding a weapon in her hands again felt...familiar.

Nice, even. Like she was at home.

She let out a low, angry growl.

"Fuck you, too," she muttered, shaking her head as she crumpled up the newspaper, tossing it into the bin in the kitchen before she followed in Jake's footsteps.