Post by Ph04nix on Jul 12, 2015 5:34:48 GMT
Lame title, I know, but I decided to combine my love of writing with my love of GTA and, voila, the first chapter of Phoenix's life in Los Santos and the beginning of her journey into the wonderful world of off-roading! Don't know how long I'll go on for but, knowing me, it'll be a fair while. Even if no one reads. 
Comments encouraged and welcomed! They give me mucho happiness and inspire me all the more to write.
“Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you -”
Turning on the spot and digging her heels into the plush carpet, dark eyes narrowed and hands threatening to curl into fists at her sides, Phoenix forcefully bit her lip to stop the insta-retort promising to crawl up her throat and into the space between them; she had to be rational, she had to be calm – there was no hope in being taken seriously if she let her emotions get the better of her. She swallowed the heated words and forced a stiff nod, shoving her hands into her pockets and meeting the angry gaze of her mother with as much willingness as she could allow.
“Fine. I'm listening.”
“Are you?” Abigail Chapman searched her daughter's eyes for confirmation, her fingers taut over the dishcloth she held within her grasp as she sought control over the situation. “Because you haven't been doing much of that lately as far as I can see. This right here -” She gestured wildly towards the suitcase on the bed, the mess of clothes spread across the floor, “ - doesn't exactly inspire much confidence. Do you really think that going halfway across the world is going to solve anything?”
Phoenix closed her eyes momentarily, oceans and trees and beautiful landscapes filling her mind as she attempted to find calm somewhere within herself. It didn't work, but at least her counsellor would be pleased. “I think the fact that I'm doing it at all is the best answer you're going to get, Mum. I've bought the ticket, arranged a pick-up from the airport and have a crappy apartment somewhere questionable which I can't really afford. This is happening. Look.” She opened her eyes, unclenching her fists and reaching out to take her mother's hands within her own, determined to part on good terms as best as she could. “I love you. I really, really love you and I love Dad and I love that even at twenty-five I can still rely on you to tell me when I've made shitty choices. That's the kind of parenting most kids only dream of. Those of us that have it see it more as a nightmare, of course -”
“Oh, that's nice -”
“But the choice has already been made. I've made it and... and this is it. This is what I'm doing. I'm not asking you to... to...” Phoenix struggled to find the words, settling lamely on the least offensive, “like it, but it would mean so much to me if you'd just get on board and accept that I'm going. See me off with a wave at the airport and wish me luck, even if you don't mean it.”
Abigail's mouth twisted into unmasked concern, words arriving and failing to be delivered as she fought to find sense within the chaos. “I... we'll always support you, darling, but it's... the... what we worry about...” She sighed, squeezing Phoenix's hands tightly to drive her nonsensical words home. “Los Santos? Of all places? You hate San Andreas, you've always said it was the last place in the world you'd want to live.”
Gently pulling her hands out of her mother's grasp, Phoenix simply nodded and turned away slowly, reaching for a pair of jeans and folding them as neatly as she could – making a point in probably the least subtle way possible. Subtlety had never been her strong point. “I'm not saying it's my dream destination, it's just the one that popped up at an opportune moment. Along with a guy who promises to help me out when I get there.”
“A guy? You're moving to the most convoluted city on the world for a man?” The horror behind Abigail's tone was so acute that it was all Phoenix could do to stop herself from whirling around and hugging the crap out of her. “Are you in love with him? Is this why you've been so secretive recently? How well do you really know him? Phoenix...”
“This isn't a soap opera, Mum, I'm not running away to elope. I barely know the guy -” She cut herself off, realising from the widening of her mother's eyes that she was digging herself further into a hole rather than climbing her way out of it, “ - well, I know him well enough, don't look at me like that. He's a... casual friend. And he's going to help me find my feet, get me work, that sort of thing.”
If she had hoped that the mention of work would appease the situation she was clearly much mistaken. “Work? What sort of work? What, he's going to have you standing on a street corner?”
Phoenix threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. “Why do you immediately jump to prostitution? And this isn't the first time, either, I'm starting to get a complex...”
“You know what I mean though, Phoenix, you don't even know this man. You don't know what he's like, what his intentions are, if he's really who he says he is.” Abigail threw her own hands up in the air in a perfect mirror-image of her daughter. “I don't want to turn into a walking cliché but what if he's a rapist? A murderer? Have you even thought about the risks?”
“Yep.” Phoenix turned around and continued throwing things haphazardly into her suitcase. “But I have to trust my instincts here, and Lamar... well, he seems like he legitimately wants to help me out. I mean, there's some definite small-print there which more or less means at some point I'm gonna have to remove my underwear but I'm thinking if I shove a pistol in his face he'll -” She cut herself off quickly, seeing the panicked look flash across her mother's eyes. “Oh, christ, I'm kidding Mum. I'm kidding. Please stop worrying so much, you'll make me change my mind about the whole thing just so that I know you're not going to be thousands of miles away wringing your hands at the thought of what I might be up to.”
“I don't want to change your mind, but -”
Phoenix turned slowly, eyes sincere as she reached out and placed a gentle hand upon her mother's shoulder. “Then don't. Let me make my own mistakes and, a few weeks down the line, you can point a finger in my face when I come home with no money and nothing to show for it and tell me that I should've listened to you in the first place. You'll laugh, I'll cry, we'll be right where we are now and I'll start looking for that 9 – 5 job you've been begging me to get for three months.”
Abigail's hand found its way hesitantly to rest upon hers, a gentle squeeze of her fingertips signalling both Phoenix's bittersweet victory and her own regret. “You're not made for the 9 – 5, love, I know that's not you and it's not what we expect of you. We just want you to make a living, a life. Nothing more than that.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment, a smile playing at the edges of Phoenix's lips as she shrugged once more, a small surge of adrenaline coursing its way through her body as she recognised that she had won, that she was at the very beginning of the rest of her life... a life she'd never seen coming. The very best kind. “I know, and that's why the next stop on my Life Itinerary is Los Santos, San Andreas. I mean, c'mon.” She allowed the smile to turn into a fully-fledged grin, her excitement sparkling in her eyes. “The only thing that's gonna change is my postcode, right?”
“Mm. Mmf. No.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
“Ugh. Bugger off.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZ-
“FINE. Fine, fine, fine, you absolute bast-”
Mumbling incoherently and rolling over onto her stomach, Phoenix reached out from beneath the thin sheets draped over her sprawled-out limbs and whacked her hand towards the bedside table, keeping her eyes stubbornly shut tight as she stretched out her fingers to find the source of the inescapable buzzing; her sleep-deprived brain began its usual hazy tirade at being woken up without permission, putting to good use her colourful vocabulary as she wrapped her fingers around the plastic troublemaker and pulled the cell phone towards her. What the hell was the time? Two in the morning? It certainly felt like it, though, grimacing as she remembered, considering she had gone to bed at around 4am it wouldn't have made much sense if it was...
She flipped the phone open and squinted at the too-bright screen, waiting for her retinas to stop screaming before she finally managed to make out the cause of the vibrations – one new text message – and the ungodly hour which, in fact, wasn't quite so ungodly. She rolled her eyes at the taunting flash of 09:03 on the screen and pushed herself up onto her elbow, groaning quietly as her body refused to cooperate without extreme effort and pressing her thumb in an attempt to open the message (third time with some success), pressing her lips together as she forced her mind to concentrate and absorb the words.
Cynister: Wake up, sleeping beauty. Got a lot to do today and something a little different if you're up for it.
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes and flopping back down onto the mattress, Phoenix closed her eyes and let her arm fall to the side. Nope. No. Not today. Today was Friday. Today was her day off. Today was the day that she could do whatever the hell she wanted to do and no one could tell her otherwise -
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Begrudingly opening one eye, she brought the phone back up to her face.
Cynister: Don't ignore me, woman. Get your butt in the shower, put some clothes on and meet me at the Suburban in Hawick Ave in an hour.
Rolling her eyes for the second time that morning (not quite her personal best, but she was well on her way) she started tapping back a message with more than a little fervour, irritation spasming through her stomach along with the copious shots of Sambuca she'd inhaled the night before.
Phoenix: Hell to the no. It's my day off, remember? You promised. I need sleep, junk food and then some more sleep. Maybe even a glass of water, if I want to get really wild.
The phone was buzzing again before she even had a chance to curl back up in her much-needed foetal position.
Cynister: You were the one complaining that you wanted something new to do. I'm offering you that chance. Now, are you gonna lay around in your pyjamas all day watching Vespucci traffic or are you gonna get up off your ass and buy me coffee?
Despite herself, Phoenix felt her right leg start to shift beneath the covers and, ever so slowly, slip across the mattress until her foot brushed against the rough carpet beneath. A reluctant smile edged its way onto her lips.
Phoenix: I have no money. Buy me a cup of tea AND a bagel and maybe I'll meet you. MAYBE.
This time she waited for the text, not even bothering to shut the phone; she was rewarded within less than a minute.
Cynister: One of these days you'll actually buy me a damned drink. Fine, cup of tea and a bagel. In return you have to agree to go with me tonight no matter what. Deal?
Chewing on her lower lip, Phoenix considered this. To be fair to Cynister, he hadn't steered her wrong yet in their short time of knowing one another; what did she have to lose? Glancing around at her shitty Vespucci Boulevard apartment and back down at her cell phone she decided that, as it was, she didn't have much to lose at all.
Phoenix: Deal. What should I wear?
Cynister: For now, whatever the hell you want. Later... well, I hope you have something in that cesspit you call a wardrobe that isn't ripped jeans and t-shirts. Gotta dress up.
Phoenix: I'll have you know I have a pair of jeans which aren't ripped at all. Well. Maybe a tiny tear in the knee but who's going to notice? And, yes, I think have a skirt or a dress somewhere in there. Where are you taking me?
Cynister: You'll find out tonight. Invite-only deal in Vinewood thanks to a buddy of mine.
Phoenix: Do I know them? This 'buddy'?
Cynister: Nope. Steve isn't really part of our usual crowd, but he's a good guy. You'll like him.
Phoenix: I can tell he's not one of our usuals considering his name is a normal person name. I don't know whether that makes me nervous or not.
Cynister: No need to be nervous, he's cool. Now stop wasting time and get showered before I come over and drag you in there myself. 45 minutes. Don't be late.
Phoenix flipped her phone shut, staring up at the ceiling, a combined thread of adrenaline and apprehension winding its way through her veins as her mind ran wildly over the possibilities of what her day would bring and what form this 'new experience' would take.
First things first: finding the only skirt she owned and making sure it wasn't ripped.
It probably was.
Comments encouraged and welcomed! They give me mucho happiness and inspire me all the more to write.
CHAPTER ONE
“Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you -”
Turning on the spot and digging her heels into the plush carpet, dark eyes narrowed and hands threatening to curl into fists at her sides, Phoenix forcefully bit her lip to stop the insta-retort promising to crawl up her throat and into the space between them; she had to be rational, she had to be calm – there was no hope in being taken seriously if she let her emotions get the better of her. She swallowed the heated words and forced a stiff nod, shoving her hands into her pockets and meeting the angry gaze of her mother with as much willingness as she could allow.
“Fine. I'm listening.”
“Are you?” Abigail Chapman searched her daughter's eyes for confirmation, her fingers taut over the dishcloth she held within her grasp as she sought control over the situation. “Because you haven't been doing much of that lately as far as I can see. This right here -” She gestured wildly towards the suitcase on the bed, the mess of clothes spread across the floor, “ - doesn't exactly inspire much confidence. Do you really think that going halfway across the world is going to solve anything?”
Phoenix closed her eyes momentarily, oceans and trees and beautiful landscapes filling her mind as she attempted to find calm somewhere within herself. It didn't work, but at least her counsellor would be pleased. “I think the fact that I'm doing it at all is the best answer you're going to get, Mum. I've bought the ticket, arranged a pick-up from the airport and have a crappy apartment somewhere questionable which I can't really afford. This is happening. Look.” She opened her eyes, unclenching her fists and reaching out to take her mother's hands within her own, determined to part on good terms as best as she could. “I love you. I really, really love you and I love Dad and I love that even at twenty-five I can still rely on you to tell me when I've made shitty choices. That's the kind of parenting most kids only dream of. Those of us that have it see it more as a nightmare, of course -”
“Oh, that's nice -”
“But the choice has already been made. I've made it and... and this is it. This is what I'm doing. I'm not asking you to... to...” Phoenix struggled to find the words, settling lamely on the least offensive, “like it, but it would mean so much to me if you'd just get on board and accept that I'm going. See me off with a wave at the airport and wish me luck, even if you don't mean it.”
Abigail's mouth twisted into unmasked concern, words arriving and failing to be delivered as she fought to find sense within the chaos. “I... we'll always support you, darling, but it's... the... what we worry about...” She sighed, squeezing Phoenix's hands tightly to drive her nonsensical words home. “Los Santos? Of all places? You hate San Andreas, you've always said it was the last place in the world you'd want to live.”
Gently pulling her hands out of her mother's grasp, Phoenix simply nodded and turned away slowly, reaching for a pair of jeans and folding them as neatly as she could – making a point in probably the least subtle way possible. Subtlety had never been her strong point. “I'm not saying it's my dream destination, it's just the one that popped up at an opportune moment. Along with a guy who promises to help me out when I get there.”
“A guy? You're moving to the most convoluted city on the world for a man?” The horror behind Abigail's tone was so acute that it was all Phoenix could do to stop herself from whirling around and hugging the crap out of her. “Are you in love with him? Is this why you've been so secretive recently? How well do you really know him? Phoenix...”
“This isn't a soap opera, Mum, I'm not running away to elope. I barely know the guy -” She cut herself off, realising from the widening of her mother's eyes that she was digging herself further into a hole rather than climbing her way out of it, “ - well, I know him well enough, don't look at me like that. He's a... casual friend. And he's going to help me find my feet, get me work, that sort of thing.”
If she had hoped that the mention of work would appease the situation she was clearly much mistaken. “Work? What sort of work? What, he's going to have you standing on a street corner?”
Phoenix threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. “Why do you immediately jump to prostitution? And this isn't the first time, either, I'm starting to get a complex...”
“You know what I mean though, Phoenix, you don't even know this man. You don't know what he's like, what his intentions are, if he's really who he says he is.” Abigail threw her own hands up in the air in a perfect mirror-image of her daughter. “I don't want to turn into a walking cliché but what if he's a rapist? A murderer? Have you even thought about the risks?”
“Yep.” Phoenix turned around and continued throwing things haphazardly into her suitcase. “But I have to trust my instincts here, and Lamar... well, he seems like he legitimately wants to help me out. I mean, there's some definite small-print there which more or less means at some point I'm gonna have to remove my underwear but I'm thinking if I shove a pistol in his face he'll -” She cut herself off quickly, seeing the panicked look flash across her mother's eyes. “Oh, christ, I'm kidding Mum. I'm kidding. Please stop worrying so much, you'll make me change my mind about the whole thing just so that I know you're not going to be thousands of miles away wringing your hands at the thought of what I might be up to.”
“I don't want to change your mind, but -”
Phoenix turned slowly, eyes sincere as she reached out and placed a gentle hand upon her mother's shoulder. “Then don't. Let me make my own mistakes and, a few weeks down the line, you can point a finger in my face when I come home with no money and nothing to show for it and tell me that I should've listened to you in the first place. You'll laugh, I'll cry, we'll be right where we are now and I'll start looking for that 9 – 5 job you've been begging me to get for three months.”
Abigail's hand found its way hesitantly to rest upon hers, a gentle squeeze of her fingertips signalling both Phoenix's bittersweet victory and her own regret. “You're not made for the 9 – 5, love, I know that's not you and it's not what we expect of you. We just want you to make a living, a life. Nothing more than that.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment, a smile playing at the edges of Phoenix's lips as she shrugged once more, a small surge of adrenaline coursing its way through her body as she recognised that she had won, that she was at the very beginning of the rest of her life... a life she'd never seen coming. The very best kind. “I know, and that's why the next stop on my Life Itinerary is Los Santos, San Andreas. I mean, c'mon.” She allowed the smile to turn into a fully-fledged grin, her excitement sparkling in her eyes. “The only thing that's gonna change is my postcode, right?”
*** TWO MONTHS LATER***
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.“Mm. Mmf. No.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
“Ugh. Bugger off.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZ-
“FINE. Fine, fine, fine, you absolute bast-”
Mumbling incoherently and rolling over onto her stomach, Phoenix reached out from beneath the thin sheets draped over her sprawled-out limbs and whacked her hand towards the bedside table, keeping her eyes stubbornly shut tight as she stretched out her fingers to find the source of the inescapable buzzing; her sleep-deprived brain began its usual hazy tirade at being woken up without permission, putting to good use her colourful vocabulary as she wrapped her fingers around the plastic troublemaker and pulled the cell phone towards her. What the hell was the time? Two in the morning? It certainly felt like it, though, grimacing as she remembered, considering she had gone to bed at around 4am it wouldn't have made much sense if it was...
She flipped the phone open and squinted at the too-bright screen, waiting for her retinas to stop screaming before she finally managed to make out the cause of the vibrations – one new text message – and the ungodly hour which, in fact, wasn't quite so ungodly. She rolled her eyes at the taunting flash of 09:03 on the screen and pushed herself up onto her elbow, groaning quietly as her body refused to cooperate without extreme effort and pressing her thumb in an attempt to open the message (third time with some success), pressing her lips together as she forced her mind to concentrate and absorb the words.
Cynister: Wake up, sleeping beauty. Got a lot to do today and something a little different if you're up for it.
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes and flopping back down onto the mattress, Phoenix closed her eyes and let her arm fall to the side. Nope. No. Not today. Today was Friday. Today was her day off. Today was the day that she could do whatever the hell she wanted to do and no one could tell her otherwise -
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Begrudingly opening one eye, she brought the phone back up to her face.
Cynister: Don't ignore me, woman. Get your butt in the shower, put some clothes on and meet me at the Suburban in Hawick Ave in an hour.
Rolling her eyes for the second time that morning (not quite her personal best, but she was well on her way) she started tapping back a message with more than a little fervour, irritation spasming through her stomach along with the copious shots of Sambuca she'd inhaled the night before.
Phoenix: Hell to the no. It's my day off, remember? You promised. I need sleep, junk food and then some more sleep. Maybe even a glass of water, if I want to get really wild.
The phone was buzzing again before she even had a chance to curl back up in her much-needed foetal position.
Cynister: You were the one complaining that you wanted something new to do. I'm offering you that chance. Now, are you gonna lay around in your pyjamas all day watching Vespucci traffic or are you gonna get up off your ass and buy me coffee?
Despite herself, Phoenix felt her right leg start to shift beneath the covers and, ever so slowly, slip across the mattress until her foot brushed against the rough carpet beneath. A reluctant smile edged its way onto her lips.
Phoenix: I have no money. Buy me a cup of tea AND a bagel and maybe I'll meet you. MAYBE.
This time she waited for the text, not even bothering to shut the phone; she was rewarded within less than a minute.
Cynister: One of these days you'll actually buy me a damned drink. Fine, cup of tea and a bagel. In return you have to agree to go with me tonight no matter what. Deal?
Chewing on her lower lip, Phoenix considered this. To be fair to Cynister, he hadn't steered her wrong yet in their short time of knowing one another; what did she have to lose? Glancing around at her shitty Vespucci Boulevard apartment and back down at her cell phone she decided that, as it was, she didn't have much to lose at all.
Phoenix: Deal. What should I wear?
Cynister: For now, whatever the hell you want. Later... well, I hope you have something in that cesspit you call a wardrobe that isn't ripped jeans and t-shirts. Gotta dress up.
Phoenix: I'll have you know I have a pair of jeans which aren't ripped at all. Well. Maybe a tiny tear in the knee but who's going to notice? And, yes, I think have a skirt or a dress somewhere in there. Where are you taking me?
Cynister: You'll find out tonight. Invite-only deal in Vinewood thanks to a buddy of mine.
Phoenix: Do I know them? This 'buddy'?
Cynister: Nope. Steve isn't really part of our usual crowd, but he's a good guy. You'll like him.
Phoenix: I can tell he's not one of our usuals considering his name is a normal person name. I don't know whether that makes me nervous or not.
Cynister: No need to be nervous, he's cool. Now stop wasting time and get showered before I come over and drag you in there myself. 45 minutes. Don't be late.
Phoenix flipped her phone shut, staring up at the ceiling, a combined thread of adrenaline and apprehension winding its way through her veins as her mind ran wildly over the possibilities of what her day would bring and what form this 'new experience' would take.
First things first: finding the only skirt she owned and making sure it wasn't ripped.
It probably was.
