Los Santos Adventures

Los Santos (Ch.1)

Day 1

[Y/N's Pov]

I was sitting in a small bar in Sandy Shore, I was relaxing. Enjoying my time in this odd place little place stop. Granted maybe it was the cheap place you were staying at and their uncomfortable bed or this morning when you found a rat gnawing on your leather bag. Or it could be the beer that you just bought tasted off or the fact that these people have nothing to do but piss you off. Or it could be the weather after all your in the middle of the fucking desert.

Yeah, it's probably that one.

As the saying goes, you'll always meet a stranger or two at Sandy Shores.

Business Man: "Yes, I know what you're asking for Mr. Pierce. But what I'm saying to you... It's simplistic and wil- Sir? Sir!?"

The man glimpses at his phone, realizing he's been hung up. The man was Caucasian. Smelt of cheap colon, has his black hair pushed back with gel bad and most importantly, had a five-figure suite on. Anyone that wasn't an idiot, knew this guy was in the wrong place! Heck half the people here wearing a tank top and shorts. You're lucky if they remember to put on pants or anything at all.

There have been some occasions...

The man turned to me finally taking his seat at the bar, right beside me.

Businessman: "What a cocky son of a bitch, am I right buddy?"

I turned to him for a moment, then turn away taking another swig of my drink, not fucking ready for this guy.

Businessman: "Hey buddy!? I'm talking to you!"

He grasps my shoulder and turns me around facing him. That's when he realized what he's done. I stood up from my seat and I towered above his short stature. I was maybe ten or fifteen centimeters taller than him. He stepped back, realizing what he's done and starts taking larger steps leaving the small bar in a panicked state.

I snicker to myself as he fell into the doorway. But still, drive with fear he crawls onwards hoping to escape me.

Y/N: 'Real piece of work that prick is... Fucking pulling me out of my seat like that.'

I take my seat again. But as I grab my beer on the counter top, it's snatched out of my grasp. I look up and see an older woman staring at me and to make it worse. It was the bar owner.

Bar: "What is this now... Your third fucking time this week, that you've scared off my paying customers. What do you have to say!?"

I shook my head slowly getting annoyed with this small town.

For the past week. You've been stuck in this little patch of sand. You were passing through Sandy Shores. But, your bike broke down half-way through the small shit town. It's been a pain in the ass. The trip was supposed to be three-weeks long. It breaks down here of all places and you've been waiting for nearly a week. To get the parts to leave.

Bar: "Well... What do you have to say!"

As the old woman leans closer, I grab the beer from her hands and chuckle.

Y/N: "Fine I'll pay for the fucking bill of his..."

Bar: "That's better."

She points and I spot the draught beer, that the businessman had order still on the table, still untouched. She leans over and puts the beer in front of me. I downed the drink in under a few minutes.

It was a cheap beer and nearly tasteless. But everything in this small town seemed to be either dying or lost it's flavor long ago.

Y/N: "There."