Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

17: The Phone Call

                  

"Maurice, I need your status report by 10:00AM," I spoke on the phone. I was leaning against the wall of a liquor store, near the door. I would go inside to purchase a few drinks, but I had to finish my morning's business first. "Also, collect the inventory of all of the warehouses. If any numbers are off, let me know so I can check those specific warehouses."

"Of course, boss," Maurice spoke.

"Also, let Paolo know his warehouse is going to be receiving a shipment of new product, as our cooks near his warehouse had to cook using different chemicals."

"Your wish is my command, m'lady."

I chuckled. "Alright, thanks Maurice. If anything changes, let me know ASAP." I hung up the phone and opened the door of the liquor store, but I fell backwards as a large man pushed passed me. I frowned. "Damn, excuse you."

"Fuck you!" he retorted. I flipped him off, he came to punch me out and I grabbed his fist, and kicked him in the nads. He groaned and fell on the floor, holding his twins. "Damn it, lady."

I continued to walk into the liquor store. I grabbed a 6-pack of Pisswasser, along with a few iced teas and Sprunks. I also bought a few Meteorites. I paid, then walked out to my Rusty Rebel, getting in and placing my items on the seat next to me. Where was Trevor?

I picked up my phone and called him, but I got no answer. I frowned.

Where the hell was he?

I drove to his house, and knocked on the door. No one home. I broke in and sat on his couch, sighing, crossing my legs as I waited for him. I gave him another ring.

This time, he answered.

"Baby, can't talk. In North Yankton."

I blinked. "Uhm, excuse me, what? Why are you all the way out there?"

"I think Brad is dead, Lucy, and I think he's buried where Michael shoulda been."

Oh, shit.

I took a deep breath. "Did you try to talk to Michael first?"

"Fuck Michael! He's pretending like he has no idea but I'm not stupid!" he angrily spoke.

"Where are you now?"

"I just got off my plane, I'm taking a car, I'm going to drive to the cemetery and check it out myself."

"And what happens if your suspicions are correct, Trevor? Are you going to ignore Michael? Are you going to give up The Big Score? God, I know you're upset, but is this the best decision—"

He cut me off now. "What the fuck would you do in this situation, Lucy? How would you feel?"

I was quiet now. He got me there. I hesitated. "Be safe, I love you."

"I love you, too," he responded, then hung up. God, did Michael know that Brad was dead? Did he know they buried him instead of Michael?

All of these damn questions, and I wasn't sure what to say anymore.

My phone started to ring again, I checked it. UNKNOWN CALLER.

I frowned, and answered it.

"Hello?" I questioned. I was confused. Only personal contacts knew my phone number.

"H-hello, Lucy, it's your mother."

I sat up straighter on Trevor's couch. I hadn't spoken to my mother since child services took me away from her and my father.

"Wow, nice talk, goodbye," I spoke, I was about to hang up on her when she stopped me.

"W-wait, wait! Please, oh God, don't hang up on me," she moaned, I could hear her voice start to waiver. "I am so, so sorry for how you grew up."

The first time I'd ever heard her apologize, and it was on the phone, about fifteen years later. "Wow, thanks, you just cured my insanity, and you stopped me from committing crime," I spoke sarcastically, I was surprised they were even still alive, to be honest. "How have you guys not OD'd yet?"

My mother sighed at this. "Honey, I have been clean for five years, your father has been clean for three. We felt it was time to contact you, see how you were, we heard that auntie and uncle died, but we weren't sure—"

"How my business was going? Why, did you want money? Is that why you're calling me?" I spat. "Yeah, I still run the business, and no, I won't give you a cent. I won't feed that nasty addictions of yours."

"Lucy, I swear, we're not—"

"You don't get to just waltz back into my life after being the shittiest parents on Earth," I roared. "You don't get that luxury. You don't get shit."

"Can't you give us one more chance?" my mother questioned. She sounded pained, now. Sincere, almost.

God, a second chance? A second chance?

I hissed, letting out a groan. "I'm not coming out there to visit you."

"We'll come visit you. Where do you live?"

I walked to Trevor's room now and lay on his bed. I felt exhausted by this stupid conversation.

"Sandy Shores."

There was a pause on the other line. "Really?"

"And Los Santos, but I prefer my Sandy Shores house. If you don't like that, then don't come."

"Oh, no no no, we will visit you! Are you seeing anyone?"

Oh, god, this talk now. I rolled my eyes. "Why?" I bluntly questioned.

"I, I don't know, I don't know if you've gotten married yet, or had children yet—"

"No, none of that, not married and not a mother. How can I be? I run a drug cartel. I'm in a relationship with someone. But not married."

"Well, we'd like to meet him when we stop by, what was your address again?"

I sighed loudly. "Uhm, 140 Zancudo Avenue."

"Splendid, when can we come out there to see you?"

I looked at the time. Trevor would hopefully be home by tonight, maybe we'd get to talk about this little 'family reunion,' maybe he could help me out.

"Er, the day after tomorrow."

"Wednesday?"

"Uh, yeah, Wednesday."

I heard a squeal now. "Okay, thank you so much, Lucy, you won't regret giving us this second chance!"

I hung up.

Why had I agreed to that?