#gtavfest

Michael’s car nearly slid down the road as he slammed his brakes. If he was somewhere dying, fine. But this lanky prick had been dodging his calls for some sleazy, run down, overglorified glory hole?

He cuts the wheel hard, pulling into the pothole ridden parking lot, right next to that red rust- ridden eyesore of a truck. Michael slams the car into park and gets out of the car, fuming.

The bouncer can’t even get a word out before Michael storms past him. Shoving through the too-narrow hallway to get into the club. His boots stick to the floor as soon as he crosses the threshold of the swinging door.

Michael grimaces, the ‘girls’ in here were old enough to be his mother. For a club, the place was dead. Nearly half of those there were only there because they were working. Even the dancers hung lazily around the stage, gossiping amongst each other. But nowhere could he spot the lanky Canadian.

No stained white tee, no oil ridden flannel, not one of Trevor’s tasteless outfits anywhere. Figures. That man was likely in the ‘VIP’ lounge that doubled as a broom closet getting a private session with the oldest woman he could find in here.

Fine, then Michael would just wait for him. Catch him in the act and rip him up one side and down the other. Did Trevor know how much gas he’d just wasted searching down practically every last dirt and gravel side road in North Yankton? All because this idiot couldn’t answer the cell phone that Lester even provided him with?

He knew where that phone was if he wanted to talk to Brad. He’d witnessed it first hand. Made him want to wring Trevor’s neck, Michael was business. Michael was more important than that stupid blonde’s God awful jokes.

Michael’s blood pressure was going to go through the roof at this rate. He made his way over to the vastly understocked bar, the bartender seeming surprised to be serving someone beside the dancers.

“I just want a Pisswasser, put it on Phillip’s tab.”

The bartender eyed Michael, but only shrugged.

Michael watched the man pull the bottle from a box on the floor, of course. Why would it be cold? He thought to himself taking the semi-cold bottle and popping the top off with the edge of the counter, slipping the cap into his pocket as he made his way to the stage.

At least he’d be able to watch one of the shows as he waited. The woman just in front of him had long slender legs, covered by thin, black tights. As his eyes moved up her body, he noticed how thin she was. How you could see every muscle flex beneath her skin, a sheen of sweat that almost glittered with the spotlight. Beneath a soft, floral green dress and a fluffy, pink boa. Black hair that fell over her shoulders and large golden hoops that swayed with her movement.

She was…beautiful. Michael had never seen her here before, but the way she moved to the music was mesmerizing. For a moment, he’d forgotten how pissed he was with Trevor. He’d just flat out forgotten what he’d been here for.

Her hands reach for the boa, teasingly pulling it away from her chest, rose red nails that matched her lipstick, Michael stared as he slowly began to remove the boa, revealing her slender neck beneath that read ‘cut here’ with a dotted line.

“Cut here’ with a dotted line.’

The realization hits Michael like a ton of bricks. The woman he’d just been ogling for the last 5 minutes was Trevor.

“T?” He says in a loud whisper.

The woman’s eyes widen as she locks onto Michael, that confirmed it.

The feelings that were mixing in Michael’s gut right now were some of the most profoundly confusing feelings he’d ever had.

Their awkward eye contact didn’t break, they only sat and stared at one another . Trevor seeming to almost forget that he was on stage.

How the hell did some hick like Trevor become such a beautiful and almost elegant woman? Had Trevor done this before? Would Michael have noticed if he was drunk?

No, it was Trevor! The feelings weren’t like that, were they? No. It was just the beer. It was just the alcohol in his system. But he could not take his eyes off the woman in front of him.