Trevor was laying in his bed. His bloodshot eyes traced over the cracks and peels of the ceiling as his mind ran wild with thought. He didn't sleep last night, mostly because he took some cocktail of drugs that made him feel like the fucking Hulk. It wasn't that unusual for him to do that. Once, he had run solely on speed and coffee for three days before crashing-quite literally- into a tree. At the moment he was reliving the events of last night in his head, laughing to himself every now and then.

Last night had been an interesting one, that was for sure. After leaving the restaurant he had a good laugh about what had happened, taunting Elanor about the look on everyone's faces-especially her mother's- when he came in. It was apparent though, that the princess didn't find any humor in it.

That was something he didn't like about her-how much of a killjoy she could be. It was like she had a whole tree stuck up her ass. He made a mental note to figure out how to dislodge that tree.

The two had done their usual snarky and crude comment war for a bit when Elanor changed the subject, demanding him to tell her what was the plan for the meeting.

Trevor had tried to make it as simple as possible. Because A) simplicity meant elegancy-or some shit like that. He didn't know, he caught it over the radio once and it kind of stuck to him. And B) because he didn't want her to fuck anything up.

"All you have to do is stand there and look pretty," He had told her. "Let me do the talking and if anything goes downhill I can handle it."

Elanor clearly didn't like the plan. "So I'm just there to be a piece of meat?"

"Not necessarily." He lied. "You're just going to be distracting the guy, make him drop his guard a bit. I dunno, the guy has a thing for white trash."

"If that's his taste then maybe you should be the one seducing him."

"I've thought about that," Trevor said, catching Elanor off guard. "But for some weird reason, every time I get in a dress everyone flips the fuck out about it! I mean, for Christ's sake! There are cross-dressers on TV and they can't handle that shit in real life?!"

"...I don't want to know about your private life."

Trevor's lips twitched slightly as he remembered the look on her face when he had said that. It was a look of pure confusion and a bit of horror. He had to admit, he loved the reactions he got out of her. Whether it was anger or confusion-they were priceless.

Eventually, he turned his head over to check his alarm clock.

1:17

No surprise, he thought.

His body protested as he climbed out of bed, making him curse as he walked out to the kitchen to see if the coffee from yesterday was worth heating up. Walking in he saw Elanor curled up on the couch with her back to him and her face covered with her jacket. By the snoring though, he figured she was dead asleep.

Trevor went over to her and took the jacket off her face, making her groan in protest.

Elanor rolled over with her eyes still shut and asked: "What now?"

"Quit snoring." He ordered, tossing her jacket off to the side. "You sound like a hog fucking a motor."

Elanor muttered something under her breath but Trevor ignored it and went to pour a cup of stale, cold coffee. "Get your ass up, I want you to try this."

Forcing one eye open Elanor glared at the coffee cup and then to Trevor. "You didn't piss in it did you?"

"No, but thanks for the idea." Before she could fully sit up Trevor had shoved the cup into her hands and watched her take a hesitant sip. As expected she spat it out over the floor. "Huh, that bad?"

Elanor didn't grace him with a response. She shoved the cup into his hands and went to work on prepping the coffee. Trevor leaned against the counter and watched her, scratching at his arm. Elanor ignored him. She sure as hell wasn't a morning person and being around Trevor didn't make things any better. She had turned to grab the half-empty can of coffee grinds when her eyes locked on a tattoo that Trevor had on the bicep he was scratching.

The tattoo was a detailed cross with two banners wrapping around it, that read 'Michael Townley'.

The question then flowed from her mouth without a second thought. "Who's Michael Townley?"

Trevor's hand froze in mid-scratch. Absently his eyes wandered down to the image and then to the floor. "No one...Just a friend." He answered in an unusual dreamlike tone.

This only fed into the young woman's curiosity. "What happened to him?"

Trevor shrugged. "Died."

Taking the hint, Elanor stopped asking questions and turned the machine on. She didn't know why she had asked him about it. Perhaps it was because she was with a Michael the night before, maybe that's why the name caught her attention.

The two of them stood there in a static silence, neither moving or looking at each other. Elanor didn't know if she should say something or maybe-God forbid- apologize. The idea was wiped from her mind when a beeping sound came from Trevor's phone.

He looked at it. It was text from Ashely asking if he wanted to do a hookup. What the hell, he thought and replied back telling her to get her ass over there. When he looked back up Elanor was watching his every move.

"Your parents didn't teach you about respecting privacy, huh?" He then went over to the fridge and began to rummage around. "I'm going to need you to fuck off for a bit, princess. I have someone coming over."

Elanor leaned back on the counter, more interested in a piece of hair then what Trevor was saying. "Mhhh."

"And while you're out," He went on. "Go buy some shit, will ya'? I think that hamburger just winked at me-wait. No...False alarm." Trevor yelled back, slamming the fridge as he did. "It was just a half-dead rat."

Elanor glanced back at him. "Okay, master. Is there anything else you want from me?"

Trevor thought for a second. "Hmmm...Yes-"

"Not happening."

"You didn't let me finish the fucking sentence."

"Did it involve something perverted?"

"...Maybe..."

"My point stands."

Elanor reluctantly walked out of the slightly cooler gas station into the mid-day sun. She almost thought about going back inside when she heard the cashier screaming at someone and then some loud thuds, and crashes followed. With that question answered she made her way back towards Trevor's trailer. It was only a two-mile walk but the sun made it very unpleasant, to say the least.

During the walk back she thought about what had happened last night and the consequences she now had to face. First off, she had a close call with Trevor. She didn't know how the hell he found her and she counted her blessings that he didn't blow a gasket when he showed up. She made a note to herself to choose her battles wisely with him from now on.

Second, after what had happened between her and her mother Elanor had the faintest feeling that she didn't have a place to stay anymore. Well, unless she wanted to put another dent in her pride and go begging on her knees to her mother. She didn't give that a second thought, she would rather have sex with Trevor before she did that...And that possibly said something.

"I wish I never left Wisconson." She grumbled to herself and the packet of jerky she picked up from the gas station. She had also gotten some beer, figuring that she would need it after today.

By the time she made it back Elanor had finished the bag of jerky and was ready to chug down a bottle of beer. She started to make her way up the steps to the trailer when she noticed a few grunts and muddled curses coming from inside. Having heard similar things from the neighbor's apartment in the old complex she had lived in previously Elanor chose to get comfortable on the steps.

Tuning out the sound of two mutts rutting Elanor popped open a beer, sipping on it as she enjoyed the scenery of rural America in all of its low economic glory.

Changing the scenery from the trash heap called Sandy Shores we go back to the pristine, over the top mansions of Rockford Hills.

Amanda had finished her lunch, part of the latest diet fade she found to get rid of stubborn fat, when Michael strode into the house. From the looks of him, he had a raging aura of confidence radiating off of him. Something she hadn't seen from him in years.

"Hey," She said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Nothing really." He lied. "Just a good day, that's all. Oh, hey, do you want to go out for dinner tonight? Just the two of us."

Amanda frowned a bit. "Michael, are you getting Alzheimer's early or are you choosing to be in denial still?"

She was talking about the night before. They had argued about it for almost the whole night whether or not the voice remained to Trevor. Even though Amanda was convinced it was him Michael chose to act like it wasn't him. It couldn't be. Trevor had to be dead. It was probably just some drugged out hobo who wandered in there and happened to have the same voice as his dead best friend.

Yeah. We'll go with that.

"Come on," He insisted. "Let's not worry about it."

Amanda shook her head. "Maybe another time. I mean, yoga waits for no one."

Her husband rolled his eyes. Of course. Yoga was more important than him. Or perhaps it was the instructor?

Before he had the chance to make up his mind Amanda had walked out the door and Franklin entered.

"Whoa, sorry girl." The young black man said as he passed her.

Amanda barely gave him a glance. It was obvious Amanda didn't like Franklin and Michael, as usual, could give less of a fuck about what Amanda thought.

Franklin closed the large wooden door behind him, making a loud echo erupt through the nearly empty house. The young man grinned widely and smacked his hands together.

"We did it, man!" He cried.

Michael returned this with a laugh. "I take it that means we're all good."

"Fuck yeah, man." Franklin went on as they entered the living room. "You know what, man, I think this calls for a celebration."

"You said it." Michael then poured them each a shot from the liquor he kept in handy on the nights when he couldn't stand his life anymore. He then went on to tell Franklin that their friend Lester had managed to find a guy who would give them a decent payout on the score they made on the jewelry store. "...Fifty-cents on the dollar." Michael concluded.

Franklin nearly choked on his liquor at the statement-making Michael laugh. "Hell," He went on as they sat down on his overpriced sofa. "We might have some spending money after we pay off that psychotic Mexican motherfucker. Cheers." He added.

"So that's it. End of story?" Franklin asked.

"Hope so." Michael said, taking a swig of his shot. At that moment both men were riding on a high from what they had just gotten away with. But that was short lived when reality came storming in, in the form of a man named Dave Norton.

The FIB agent came storming into the room from the kitchen, looking more tired and frustrated than normal."The whole job.

Everything about it-anyone who knows your file...What is wrong with you?!"

"Davey!" Michael said with open arms. "Long time no see!"

Dave frowned. He didn't want to be here dealing with Michael's shit. He had slightly higher hopes for Michael than this...But what do you expect from a middle-aged narcissist?

"And what about Trevor?" Davey went on. "If that fruitcake realizes-no, no. Finds out your alive you are D-O-N-E fucked!"

Michael didn't respond at first. Why was he so concerned about Trevor finding him?

"Trevor's dead...Right." It was more of a demand than a question.

Davey groaned, rubbing his temples. "We've been over this. We've never found him dead or alive. So if I were you I wouldn't be going around turning things into a fucking circus."

Michael shrugged and looked over to Franklin, giving him a knowing smirk. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've been here being a good little boy."

Dave didn't buy it for one second. He snatched the remote up and turned the TV on to the news to show them the evidence. What they had done earned them instant headlines. The media was all over it not even a few hours after the heist had been done. And on the screen was the pansy of a security guard who Michael had threatened when he got in their way.

"...So yeah, I was doing my job when I said to this guy 'Hey you need to move these bikes'."

The screen suddenly went black. Dave turned to look at Michael who had the remote in his hand.

"I don't know what that's all about."

Sitting on the steps in the desert heat Elanor was beginning to doze off. She had to be there for a good ten minutes and the only entertainment she had was the occasional tumbleweed going over the road. Her eyes were halfway shut when some voices drifted in from down the road.

Standing up Elanor squinted to see a trio walking-well, more like charging- towards the trailer. She recognized two of the figures, Wade and Ron, who were pleading after a murderous-looking biker.

She was preparing herself for the chaos that would probably ensue from this as the three men closed in when Trevor came out of the trailer.

"Got trouble." She said to him. Trevor didn't respond, in a way it looked like he didn't hear her. "Trevor?"

"Don't do it Johnny!" Elanor looked over to see the group had already arrived. Ron still begging the biker, Johnny, not to try anything. From the looks of the guy, he didn't give a damn at the moment.

"Trevor!" He growled, shoving his way through the steps. "Have you been with my girl again?"

Elanor waited with baited breath to see Trevor react- to cuss, to threaten, to punch the guy, anything! But he didn't do anything. Just walked past him like the guy wasn't even there.

Johnny didn't give up, he was screaming after Trevor while Ron held him back. Eventually, the girl from inside came out telling him to leave it. Elanor couldn't help but look her up and down. Yep. She was Trevor's type.

But she had to admit. She did like her cowboy boots...

"It doesn't make it right!" Johnny went on like a broken record. "We all get high, but it doesn't make it right what you've done to me." He then went after the zombified version of Trevor who was walking down the road to nowhere in particular.

Johnny was followed by everyone but Elanor, who had the common sense not to get involved with this. Besides, cornering Trevor is like cornering a rabid possum. No good can come from it.

From a safe distance, Elanor watched the scene unfold. At first, nothing happened. An exchange of words, Trevor telling Johnny to drop his pants and then one of the rarest sights on earth happened. Trevor hugged Johnny. Since she wasn't close up Elanor didn't fully understand the contexts of all this but she did understand what happened next.

Trevor had taken Johnny by surprise, gripping his throat and shoving him to the side of the dirt road. No one dared to interfere as Trevor threw his bottle at the biker's head and proceeded to smash his face in with his foot.

"Cunt!Cunt!Cunt!Cunt!" Trevor screamed over and over until he finally got bored. "Who do you think you're talking to?" He shouted at the dead body. "Who? WHO?! Next time don't get in my fucking face! I just saw a fucking ghost and now I've got to hear your crap?! Get up! Get up! Fuck you, then!" With no response from the corpse, Trevor stalked off.

His mind was already swimming from what he had just seen on the news and now he had to deal with this bullshit.

Ron and Wade were at Trevor's heels as he went for his truck. "That dopey cowboy's forced our hand." He said as he jumped in. "We gotta find the rest of the Lost." Trevor was about to take off with the two men when he saw Elanor's reflection in the side mirror. She was about to jump in the back with wade when he hollered:"Hold it, princess!"

She froze and glared at him. "What?!"

"You're on trash duty. Get rid of them." He ordered, pointing over to Johnny's dead body and Ashely who was sobbing over him.

Elanor opened her mouth to protest but Trevor didn't care enough to listen. "Meet me at the Yellow Jack Inn." He said before he stepped on the gas and drove off, dust and dirt swirling behind them.

Elanor ground her teeth together as the junker of a truck disappeared. She should have known he would leave her with the dirty work. Her attention was then drawn to the hysterical sobbing coming from Ashely, who was still clinging to Johnny's body. Elanor couldn't help but feel a small bit of sympathy for her, still, that didn't change the fact that if she didn't get rid of the two then Trevor would add her body to pile.

Turning around Elanor saw a metal pipe lying under a pile of scrap.

'Good enough for me.' She thought. Picking it up Elanor shifted it between her palms before starting to walk over to the redhead.

"Pretend she's a dog." She told herself as she got closer. "A very, very sick dog."

It wasn't even a full hour later when Trevor had finished his rampage across the town. He had taken out a good portion of the motorcycle gang and he had killed the Aztec's leader, which would have its consequences. Nonetheless, Trevor didn't give a damn. None of that really matter at the moment, what mattered was that a pussy with a shitty pencil mustache on the news had just said that one of the robbers from the jewelry store heist had said; "You forget a thousand things every day, make sure this is one of them."

Now, Trevor may be a drug addict with tendencies for violent outbursts but that didn't make him an idiot. There were two options to this: A) someone else out there liked the same shitty quotes that his dead best friend did. Or B) His dead best friend was dead.

At the moment, Trevor didn't know what to think. He saw Michael Townley get shot down that day in North Yankton. He saw his cold dead body get put in the ground. How did he survive? Why did he never contact him?

He could smell a rat and it wasn't the one in the fridge.

After dropping Ron and Wade off, giving Wade the special task of tracking down the "ghost" of Michael Townley, he headed off to the Yellow Jack Inn. The meeting with the leader of the Triads was today, and of course of all fucking days, it had to be this one.

Pulling up to the bar Trevor saw Elanor waiting for him in the parking lot. She was pacing around with her normal scowl and had a few noticeable dark stains on the skirt of her dress, which she tried desperately to hide with her jacket tied around her waist.

"You should try smiling once a while," Trevor said as he got out of the truck. "Who knows it might make you look attractive for once."

Elanor brushed the comment off and asked what the hell he was up to? Trevor didn't answer it right away, instead, he turned his attention to her new boots.

"I may have been in the middle of an internal crisis but weren't you wearing sandals earlier?"

Elanor looked down at her newly acquired cowboy boots and then back at Trevor. "What? It wasn't like she was going to need them."

"And people say I'm twisted."