Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

20: Meeting the Parents

"How do I look?" Trevor asked after I let him inside of my house. I grinned and folded my arms, leaning against the door frame. I looked at him from his scraggly, patchy hair to his clean, black shoes. Looked like his brown ones, just black.

He also wore a pair of nice black jeans, and the purple bowling shirt I liked on him.

"Did you go shopping?" I questioned, placing my hands on my mouth while letting out a small giggle. He grinned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Yes, I did, sweetums."

"Why are you acting different?" I snickered. "They're not here yet. Be vulgar, fly off the handle."

He raised his eyebrow, a grin playing at his mouth but not quite reaching it just yet. He walked around me to the kitchen, opening the fridge to take a beer out of it. "Can't believe that Weston job was a bust."

"Yeah, fuck that guy," I spoke, I turned to look at him. "But real talk. How are you about Michael being alive?"

I had gotten a call of a scared Franklin looking for Michael. I was in the middle of stealing supplies for one of my labs since a rival business stole them from me, so I couldn't exactly help him, but he did have a tracking device from Lester so I knew he wouldn't have that much trouble.

Since then I've been keeping tabs on the both of the boys, who would keep in touch with me since they didn't know my relationship with Trevor existed. Michael was working with that Solomon guy, the director. I also knew there was another heist coming up, but Trevor wouldn't be in on it.

I told them I wanted to wait until I spoke to a neurologist so I didn't have a repeat of the Paleto score. They agreed, and told me to a) stay away from Trevor, and b) tell them what happens with the neurologist.

Of course, I wasn't going to do either of those, since a) I was with Trevor, and b) I hadn't made an appointment with a neurologist, as I was trying to avoid that altogether, since I was scared of what they'd have to say about it.

"I don't know, Lucy," he spoke. "But us keeping this relationship a secret means you can be friends with them without it being weird for them right now, so I guess whatever, you can huddle up with them and go fuck around, I don't care," he practically seethed. He did care.

"Babe, I—"

The doorbell stopped me from speaking. I hesitated and looked at the door, biting my lip, turning to look at him. All the anger and frustration had left me, and I know it left him, too, as we both looked at each other uncomfortably.

My heart was beating so fast I wasn't sure it would stop, and I could feel it drop into the pit of my stomach.

I didn't want to answer the door, I didn't want to make eye contact with those assholes. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

"The door." Trevor spoke. He motioned towards it, as if he thought I didn't hear it. He knew I heard it, he was reminding me that I'd have to face them sooner or later. I couldn't just stand here looking like an idiot.

I let out a long sigh, turning to look at the door. I bit my lip and walked towards it, my steps feeling heavy, I just wanted to go to bed and put the covers over me and forget they were here.

But my hand grabbed the doorknob, and turned it ever so slowly until the door clicked open, I pulled the door back and stood there, staring at the two people who had the nerve to call themselves my parents.

My father was fifty-six, my mother was fifty-five, but they looked like they were in their mid-sixties.

I looked at my mother, the short Filipino woman with long greying hair to her mid-back and light brown eyes, then at my father, the tall white haired man with the same blue eyes as mine, and immediately wanted to shut the door on them.

I took a step back and hesitated.

"Lucy," my mother spoke, her eyes started to fill with tears. "Oh, Lucy," she started to get choked up as she looked me up and down. "You're so beautiful."

"Thanks." I spoke bluntly, I turned to look at Trevor, who was nowhere to be seen. Fucker was probably waiting in the kitchen and didn't want to intrude on this 'touching' moment. Damn. "So come in, I guess," I moved out of the way so they could walk inside. They look a look around, my dad letting out a whistle.

"Looks like you have the nicest house in Sandy Shores."

"Depends on how you define 'nice,' I guess," I spoke. "But thanks."

Trevor wasn't in the kitchen, either. Damn. I guess he wanted me to call for him when I wanted to introduce them.

"So, how is business?" my mother asked me, sitting down on the couch, wincing. She always had a bad hip.

My father took the seat next to her.

"It's fine, I'm successful, it's great, there's your summary of how my life is going." I folded my arms.

My parents hesitated and looked at each other. "Honey, please can we keep it civil today? We're just happy to see you. We can discuss what happened—" I cut my dad off.

"Look," I spoke. "I'll keep civil if you don't ask about anything that involves money. I'll keep it civil if you guys understand how pissed I am at you two."

"Trust me, Lucy, we know you're angry, you have every right to be. . ." my mother spoke, I could see the regret in her eyes. I took a deep breath.

"Okay. Anyway. . . I have lasagna in the oven, it'll be done in thirty minutes. I also have my boyfriend over, if you, er, want to meet him."

My mother and father smiled at each other. "We would love to, sweetheart," my mom spoke.

I nervously turned to look at the bedroom. "Trevor!" I called, he walked out of the door and made his appearance, awkwardly looking at them, then at me. He wasn't sure what to do, and I wasn't sure either.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Reaper. My name is Trevor Philips, CEO of Trevor Philips Industries. I, er, nice to er, meet you."