(Sorry I shoulda wrote this chapter as the first one in the desert but it's here now, just roll with it, alright!)
"Oh hey Franklin," Michael said into his phone with his face in one hand. "Yeah we're still here. That nice Mexican still wants my head." Then he stood up and slowly took steps to the middle of the room. He stood in the open doorway of the trailer looking out into the street.
I sat at the table with my feet kicked up onto it fanning myself with a magazine with my own face plastered on it.
"Tell me if anything happens F." Then he hung up.
"RrrrrRON!" Trevor's voice erupted through the room and I jumped from the unexpected noise. "I'm back!"
"Coming Trevor!" A muffled voice yelled back from outside.
"And bring me my coffee or I'm
Gonna cut your arm off!"
"Absolutely!"
Trevor lazily walked into the main room. Where Patricia was seated.
Michael walked into the bathroom and starting peeing without even closing the door. I could see the side of his body through the doorway and I shielded my eyes. I sat on the counter like normally since Michael always has the couch.
Trevor rubbed his eyes. "Who's that, your maid?" Michael asked casually.
"Business partner. Good guy. Very loyal." Trevor replied sleepily while walking.
"I met Ron. Outside. He kinda got really nervous and left." I said.
"Ah you met Nervous Ron?" Trevor asked. I nodded. "He's weird." I replied. Then Ron ran inside the trailer.
"Ron, Ron, that is Michael." Trevor said with his back to them. Trevor sent a smile at me and I smiled back.
Ron went to shake hands with Michael but Michael shooed him away with his hand since he's still in the bathroom.
"Alana," he pointed to me. Ron nodded at me.
"And this...is Patricia." He tore the piece of tape off of her mouth and she cried from the sudden pain. I felt awful. He sat in a chair in front of Patricia.
"Listen, beautiful," he started. I got jealous instantly. Why is he calling her beautiful? I'm his sorta girlfriend.
"Yknow I'm sorry about everything that's happened, and I, Yknow, I can't guarenas that no harms gonna come to you, might have to chop you up into little pieces before spraying your pulped mess down the drain, but... I really hope it doesn't come to that."
Ron walked over to Trevor with a coffee in hand he had been making while Trevor talked to Patricia. Trevor forcefully took the coffee.
"I appreciate your honesty. You are a good man. I can see that." She replied.
"You need your eyes examined then." Michael butted in. As Trevor walked by he shoved his cup into Michael's hand.
"Ron, you miss me?" He joined him by the sink.
"Yeah Trevor, a bit I mean."
"How's the fucking business!" Trevor exploded. Ron jumped back. I even jumped little.
"I-I-I tried." Ron whimpered.
"If you're gonna give me a sob story, I'm gonna rip your fucking throat out and show a turd down the hole."
"It's not a sob story! It's just not quite come good yet. But I heard about something...to do with Merryweather! Big cache of weapons they got coming in, so I thought you might want to, err...requisition it..."
"Fantastic! Let's go." Trevor exclaimed.
"I'm in." Michael pushed himself off the couch for the first time in a week.
"Whoa," Trevor pointed at Michael. "No no no not you. Sit down. You're a wanted man. Stay low. And watch her okay? She's a good lady." He pointed at Patricia. "Let's go Ron." He walked out of the trailer. "Good to meet ya Michael." Ron waved as he quickly followed Trevor.
"Fuckin come on let's go!" Trevor called from outside. Michael sighed and sat down on the couch.
"I'm about to start dinner," Patricia says and walks to the stove. Michael stands and walked right out of the trailer and I heard his car fire up and back out.
"What an asshole," I said. I picked up a new vile vocabulary from being around Trevor. "Sorry it's like this."
"It's alright, I knew what I was getting into when I married Martin." She said. "I am sorry your father dragged you into this. I know you make your music."
"Yeah, I guess we're both unlucky."
"Where did they go?" Patricia asked as she turned the faucet on, letting water pour into the pot.
I shrugged. "No idea. I hope Trevor doesn't get hurt." I said.
"Who do you live with? Is it just your father?" She asked.
I shook my head. "No I have a brother and a sister and my mom. Step mom. My real mom was a prostitute." I replied. She poured a box of noodles into the pot.
"Oh? Where does she live now?" She asked. I leaned back on my hands. "I think she's still in North Yankton. Not sure though."
"Do you get along with your step mom?"
"Yeah, she likes me more than Michael." I replied. Patricia laughed.
"What about your brother and sister?"
"Yeah, I hate my brother. He's so annoying. My sister is cool. She's kinda a hoe though."
"Ooh," Patricia says caught off guard. "Oh my."
***
I was sitting on the porch steps writing songs in a notebook and smoking a cigarette I'd taken off of Michael just for the hopes of dying. Patricia was still inside cooking spaghetti. Trevor had been gone awhile and I was kinda worried. Pretty worried.
I could hear plane engines pretty close by, so I flicked the cigarette off and walked to the front of the trailer.
"Jesus Christ," I said once I saw the smoking plane flying towards the Alamo Sea. I saw a figure coming closer and closer.
"Trevor?" I called out. He had parachuted from they plane in guessing. How the hell did he get in it?
He got closed and closer to the ground and he landed past the hill by the water. I took off running over the hill and towards Trevor who was untangling himself from the parachute feet away from the water and muttering curse words. He pushed himself up as I jogged towards him I instantly wrapped my arms around him and he pulled me off my feet and spun me around as if we were in some erotic romance novel.
"Miss me?" He pressed his lips to mine.
"I was so worried." I said once back on my feet. He chuckled. "Good."
***
"What's for dinner?" Trevor asked Patricia inside.
"Spaghetti." She replied while stirring the pot.
"Oh sorry Trevor, it's not human. You wouldn't like it." Michael said sarcastically from the couch.
"Hey pork chop," he said angrily. "I love spaghetti."
This is weird but after writing this my gma made spaghetti for dinner what a coincidence lmao
Edited 6/19/17