Chapter Text
"Alright I'm counting on you here kid."
Franklin swallowed down the annoyance of being called a kid as Michael repeated the same thing he’d said for about a hundredth time today as he drove them to the heist meet up.
"Dawg, I know, I won't let you down," Frank insisted. There was no way he'd let himself fuck up an opportunity this big. His first chance to be in a real crew, pulling the big jobs. A chance to make something more of himself.
"You better not. I vouched for you to Lester."
"Lester?"
"Lester Crest. He's a guy I worked with back in the day- the guy I'm taking you to meet. He’s…” Michael paused as he cut awkwardly around a van and Franklin found himself pressing his sneakers into the empty footwell to try and hit the gas. He’d forgotten how frustrating it was to be a passenger. “Well he’s a pro,” Michael continued eventually. “We pulled a lot of jobs together. He's our planning guy; he finds the score, figures out our best routes in and out, runs the operation from base, handles the fencing and sends out splits at the end." That sounded like a lot of important tasks for one man.
"Woah, you must really trust this guy."
"I do,” He almost sounded surprised to say it, but no less firm. “And he's not interested in any minor league bullshit like knocking over convenience stores or stealing cars so you gotta act the part." Franklin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at yet another warning.
"Sure thing." He got the feeling that Michael was trying to make sure Franklin didn't embarrass him. It had been a while since he was last in the game, the last thing he'd want to do is show up to his old heist buddies with some fool in tow.
"Great,” Michael nodded. “Now I gotta warn you; Lester can be a little eccentric, but don't let that fool you, he's a genius at what he does."
An image was conjured in Frank’s mind of a tall skinny guy with a huge forehead and Einstein hair leaning over a table of plans and blueprints- and books, smart guys always had books right? Richly and eccentrically dressed, but tough: pimp swag. Franklin was left with the impression that this Lester was a big deal he should try to impress.
Lester was… not at all what he'd expected. He was short, or at least hunched, pudgy and balding; not even a little bit intimidating. He dressed like someone’s boring uncle who worked in IT. The only thing pimp about him was the cane and that was... not pimp at all. Instead he was nervous and awkward, giving off the strong impression of a guy who had been badly bullied in highschool and it had never really stopped.
Franklin supposed not everything about him was a surprise. He was about Michael's age, he was white, and admittedly, despite concerning first impressions, he did appear to be some kind of genius. He’d rattled through the plan with a slightly twitchy mania the first time through before taking a deep breath and slowing himself down to cover the details. He was very animated, constantly gesturing and pacing up and down with the aid of his walking cane. The plan was smart and for every question the crew had, the man had an answer ready. There were plans and back-up plans and back ups to the back ups. This was a mile away from Lamar's ‘run in without thinking’ approach to crime and Frank started to feel like until now, he’d only been a kid playing at criminality and getting sucked up in gang bullshit. This was a genuine heist, like something out of the movies! Lester’s mind was quick too. At one point someone had made a suggestion and after staring at the old school planning board for a few moments, Lester had come up with an entirely new plan B which seemed to Franklin's fresh eyes to be even slicker than the last. Frank had done his best to be competent and polite, deferring to the more experienced voices in the room. At the same time he wasn’t about to be a doormat. He’d walked into that room ready to be challenged but Lester had just looked him up and down with a vague hum of acknowledgement and turned straight to Michael to begin the introductions for everyone. Everyone else had done this before, at least once. Honestly as annoying as it was when Michael patronized him, he was right: just being in that room was an education. A side of crime he'd only glimpsed before.
"So, what did you think?" Michael asked casually as they left.
"Man this is the real deal just like you said,” Frank said, a little of the awe he felt creeping into his voice.
"Think you can do it?"
"Yeah," he replied confidently. "I can definitely get away on the bike, no problem, and the rest is just throwing some canisters and smashing some glass. Sounds simple."
"Yeah well Lester has a gift for pairing things down to the essentials. Just you remember that doing will be a lot harder than talking about it; things can still go wrong." He glanced over at Franklin's face. "But that said… I do feel really solid about this one. We've been extra cautious, covered all the possibilities. I think we're gonna get a big score."
"Hell yeah!" Franklin held up his fist and Michael bumped it with a smile.
"So what did you think of the team?"
"Looked like a solid crew to me, but what do I know? Lester was…” Franklin trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
“Yeah, I guess it’s an ‘up’ day,” Michael laughed. “It depends what drugs he’s on at the time. Prescription,” he added, as though Franklin was about to judge a guy for drug use. “He takes them for the pain and spasms and whatever else he’s got going on but they can have some pretty wild side effects.”
“You didn’t mention he had a condition. Did he get that during a heist? Shot through the leg or something?”
“What? No- Lester’s got a wasting disease. As far as I know he’s had it since childhood. Still holding on though.”
“Damn, that’s rough.”
Michael shrugged. “We’ve all got our shit.”
Franklin couldn’t help thinking that Michael’s shit seemed a lot more his own fault than either his or Lester’s but he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
By the time the day of the heist came around, Franklin's stomach was tight with nerves and yet he was also so familiar with the plan he thought he might start reciting it in his sleep. Still, Lester's checking and triple checking was a welcome change. They met up at the garment factory first to run over it one more time before heading out. Today Lester was calmer and quieter, leaving the pep talk to Michael. Having had enough of Michael's pep talks lately, Frank let his mind go through the plan one more time. The voice in his head was Lester's, reciting it as he'd first described it.
The heist itself passed in an adrenaline soaked blur. By the time the bikes were loaded into the back of the truck, Franklin was about ready to start bouncing off the walls himself. There were a lot of high fives and shouts and then they left the van, and all the jewels, with Lester and went their separate ways. Lester gave him a nod as he left which felt like approval.
Franklin couldn’t help thinking again that there was a lot of trust put into this guy. To leave the entire take with him unattended. As the weeks crawled by and he heard nothing (even with the distraction of Michael’s old FIB contact appearing without warning) Franklin started to get a little twitchy, but then out of nowhere, he received a call. It was Lester, his share was in his account. He’d looked it up immediately and just stared at the numbers. So many digits… and it was his: laundered and untraceable. It was so slick, so easy! No drama, no bullshit. As Frank hit the town enjoying the biggest bank balance he’d ever had he decided he could really grow to like this Lester guy.
Now this was how to celebrate. A bottle of champagne, thudding base drifting out from the dancefloor through the open door, and a view of the sparkling lights of Los Santos over the Vinewood hills. He figured he could see his new house from here, nestled into the hill like a dream come true. Frank made himself comfortable on the roof terrace of the kind of bar he’d only dreamed of being able to afford two months ago. Shit had it really been just two months since he met Michael? It feels like a whole lifetime ago some days. Besides, it all really started when he met Lester, that’s when he really started making money rather than doing favours.
He’d been thinking about his first heist tonight, feeling sentimental. The jewelry store had been just the start, since then he’d robbed a bank, hijacked armoured cars, stolen weapons and made fat stacks doing it.
Frank sprawled out with a sigh and sipped his latest celebratory drink. What he needed now, was someone to share the buzz with. He scrolled idly up and down through his contacts. Michael was busy with family… He'd hung with Lamar the last three days and they were sick of each other, or at least Frank was tired of hearing about Stretch’s latest scheme... Tonya kept trying to make moves on him… Tanisha… no. He flicked his thumb up and down… who to call? A blank profile caught his eye and he was drawn to the name: Lester Crest. Frank chuckled. Fuck it, why not? Let's see how the geeks party. He hit dial and waited.
"Hey, it’s Lester-
"Heyyy!"
"-I don't listen to my messages but I probably listen to yours. Do with that as you will." The answering message finished with a beep.
Franklin hung up, slightly embarrassed to have spoken to a recording. He felt oddly disappointed. Sure they probably had nothing in common but it would have been a kick to see the brainiac let loose a little. Ah well. He finished his drink. Strip club it is. It’s not like it was gonna bother him.
"Hey, it's Lester. I don't listen to my messages but-"
Franklin hung up and shoved his phone roughly back in his pocket. Originally it had just been a funny drunken urge but somehow the idea had stuck in his mind and he had called Lester four times now hoping to hang out. He was starting to think he was ignoring his calls. He wasn't even sure why he gave a shit. It was just that he'd had this image of a drunk and giggly Lester that he hadn't been able to get out of his head. He just knew this guy would have some wild stories about Michael and his old crew and probably some entertaining opinions on any celebrity or CEO he could name. Plus with this FIB bullshit getting a bit heavier he needed to blow off some steam and just chill.
It's not even like Lester knew why he was calling in order to avoid him, he'd never actually left a voicemail, unsure how to phrase the offer without first gauging what sort of a mood Lester was in. Based on Lester's message there didn't seem to be a point anyway. He stared at the blank profile picture as though it could answer him before shaking himself out of it. He really didn't know why he gave a shit, it was just a drunken whim. It was just one more thing not going his way.
"Ugh fuck this…" he mumbled. He got on his bike and headed for a ride, not really caring where he ended up so long as the drive was fast and long.
Somehow he ended up at Lamar’s like he always did.
“Well who’s this motherfucking stranger?” Lamar greeted him with a fist bump and a smile as he opened the door.
Franklin rolled his eyes. “I was here yesterday, fool.”
Lamar stepped aside and pulled him into the house. “Yeah and you said you couldn’t hang tonight cus you was gonna be busy with shit. What happened, your new crew stand you up?” Lamar laughed, flopping his lanky frame onto the sofa and passing Franklin a beer.
“Something like that,” Frank grumbled. He had been planning to grab drinks with Michael after their job today but he’d had to bail, some sort of family emergency again, which knowing his family was likely to be a whole load of drama. He’d actually been kind of happy to move to his back up plan- until that had fallen through. Damn he’d been sure Lester would be free on a Friday night. Not that it mattered or anything. He took a long gulp of the beer.
“Hah! Knew it. Those crazy white assholes don’t want to hang with a gangbanger like you. They from a different world man, and they think they better for it too. I always tell you-" he interrupted himself with a big gulp- "I tell you, that’s why people keep to their own on the inside, don’t got no multiracial kumbaya in a federal prison.”
“Yo, you don’t even know these guys man. People got lives, you don’t need to make it some race class bullshit.” Frank sighed.
“They gonna hang you out to dry fool, after they use you up. And you acting all ‘yes sir, no sir’ like some little lapdog,” Lamar grumbled.
Frank sighed. Lamar’s jealousy was pretty obvious, not that Frank was enough of a dick to point it out. He knew he wanted a piece of the action and the cash. It was getting worse though, sooner or later he’d have to do something about it but he’d been putting it off. “Yeah like Stretch didn’t already stab us in the back,” Frank said instead, thinking of how he nearly got killed over some drywall by a whole street of angry gangbangers.
“That was a misunderstanding dawg, he told me, explained the whole thing.”
“Mhhmm, bullshit.”
“You trippin’ man I swear Stretch is tight he’s one of us from the same streets. We brothers man.”
Franklin just shook his head and drank. A few more jobs, get some cash and he was going to get the fuck out of here.
Just as he'd given up on contacting Lester, the next time he'd passed a payphone it had started ringing. A jolt of excitement pulsed through him. Frank would never get used to this. It made him feel like a secret agent or that dude from the matrix. Even as he picked up the receiver he half-expected it to be a wrong number- but no it was Lester, calling for him. Lester was all business: he needed someone dead and he needed it now.
Frank was glad to get his head back in the game. There was something oddly relaxing about setting up across the street with a sniper rifle and a single goal. It made all the other bullshit slip away. It was completely different to clapping motherfuckers in the hood, there was a refinement to it, the distance, the planning… smooth and steady. He let out a breath and took the shot. Adrenaline surged through him as the target crumpled to the ground. Franklin was already half on his bike before the alarm was raised and then he had the wild near misses of a high speed getaway to let that energy out.
Lester called him just as he was getting back into town, having lost the cops in Vinewood hills.
"Nice work, now that he's dead the whole company will go into meltdown. The serpent can't survive without its head," Lester chuckled darkly. "Meanwhile you and I are about to get much richer- assuming you made some investments?"
"Oh you know it!"
"Great and I'll wire you the payment by midnight. Be seeing y-"
"Wait! Before you go I wanna ask you something, since you ain’t answered any of my calls,” Franklin added.
"I never use the answering service. I don’t want any recordings of my business dealings lying around for the government to snoop over,” Lester replied.
"Yeah sure thing, that's what I figured," Frank said, just now realising that it was probably a smart rule.
"So what is your burningly important question?" Lester asked sarcastically.
"I'm not saying it's urgent. I would have kept calling if it was."
"Yes, yes, what is it?" came the impatient reply. Franklin almost wanted to drop it there, this was a lot less easy and casual that he’d been going for. But the whole idea was stuck in his head now as a sort of challenge, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d at least asked.
"Just wondered if you wanted to hang sometime, that's all.”
There was silence on the other end.
"Lester?"
"You called because you wanted to hang out with me?" He asked, words dripping with sarcastic disbelief.
"Fuck man, if you don't want to, just say so, shit!" Franklin snapped. Why the fuck had he even bothered?
"I would have thought your idea of a good time includes very little that overlaps with mine. I doubt I have much in common with your hood mates," Lester replied. Franklin growled in frustration.
"Fuck that bullshit! Yes I've been a gangbanger, yes I grew up in the hood, I like fast cars and hip hop and basketball, but I can like other shit too. I'm not just some cardboard cut out mass-produced motherfucker. I wanna make something of my life. That's why I got into this shit, so I can get the money to get out of here, see something of the world." Franklin had started pacing as he talked. He drew in another breath thinking of Lamar. "And I'm not turning my back on my home neither! I know my roots, I'll come back cus I don’t abandon my own, I just- man… sometimes it feels like people look at me and they think they know exactly where my life is going. My aunt is always telling me how I'm gonna end up. But screw that man! Fuck… "
There was silence for a bit before Lester replied.
"...that was quite a speech."
"Man screw you too," Frank muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed for having unloaded on Lester.
"Hold on." Lester sighed " God I'm not good at this ," he muttered under his breath so Franklin barely caught the words. "I guess I was just surprised, that's on me. If you still want to hang… well I'm free tonight?"
Franklin felt his anger leave him.
"For real?"
"Yes." Lester still sounded wary but earnest.
"Cool! How about I pick you up at eight? We could catch a movie or hit a few bars…" Franklin trailed off, sensing a lack of enthusiasm in the silence. "Or we could go back to my place- our place-" he stumbled over himself and grimaced. "-The place in Vinewood hills"
"Cute," Lester commented teasingly. Then he seemed to think better of it and back peddled. "Just a stupid dig, ignore me."
In the kind of company they kept, calling a man cute was likely to get your lights knocked out but for some reason Frank hadn't felt that defensive anger rise back up. Instead his skin flushed as the tease hit its intended target: his flub over the house that Lester had technically bought him. Him? Them? Supposedly it was just for tax purposes but Franklin couldn’t overlook the fact that he was now living in a mansion rather than his aunt’s house.
“Really,” Lester continued earnestly, “hanging out at the house sounds good to me, you know I have my physical concerns, I don’t get out that much. We could play some games, I know you’ve got a console. I’m more of a PC gamer myself but I know my way around a joystick." He coughed awkwardly.
"Yeah sounds good homie," Franklin chuckled.
"Great it's a- yep, I'll see you then. I'll message you my address." Lester abruptly hung up.
Franklin shook his head and got in the car to drive back to his new home.
Lester was definitely a weird guy, not that Franklin knew many normal guys to compare him to. He still wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was clearly wicked-smart and great at digging out information. Franklin had no clue where to even start with stuff like that but Lester just seemed to know everything. And he could somehow keep all this in mind whilst running a score without having a mental breakdown. Franklin always needed focus to get the job done, but Lester was out there keeping track of a hundred things at once.
Pulling up on his driveway still felt surreal. He felt like a trespasser amongst all these Vinewood multimillion dollar homes, but here he was, keys jangling in his pocket.
The whole house thing had been an amazing surprise- it had all happened so fast. Lester had just casually called him up to tell him his change of address and organized all his stuff moved over. As he opened the door he thought about walking in here the first time. There had been something really surreal about seeing his belongings already spread throughout the house. Sure some stuff was still in boxes, but other things had been unpacked and thoughtfully positioned around the house. He looked around, taking it all in. The house had been fully furnished as well. Had Lester bought it that way or had he hired some interior decorator to fill it up? Franklin wasn’t sure if it was a fluke or not, but Lester had absolutely nailed his style. He’d never even set foot in a house like this before, but it was exactly the kind of place he had always dreamed of living. Knowing Lester’s attention to detail, it was no fluke, and something told him it wasn’t to Lester’s tastes, whatever they might be.
He idly wandered around for a bit, just enjoying the space. In a way, it was their house, in more than just the monetary sense. He could feel Lester’s presence in every unexpected touch and unpacked box. It was strangely intimate. Franklin shook his head. He was being stupid. Lester had probably never even set foot in the house, this was all the work of some highly paid movers and decorators… but still… beyond it all, was Lester.
Franklin glanced at the TV; of course Lester knew he had a console. He presumably now had a list of everything he owned. It was, on a surface level, a bit creepy and that was an understatement. Most people would probably rather have been asked if they wanted to move house before it was legally and physically put into practice, without even a chance to talk to family first. Instead Franklin had been thrilled. No fuss, no fucking about. It was like some genie in the lamp shit - ‘I wish I lived in a big house in Vinewood hills’ and bam : it was like he had always been here. It was all the better that Lester (presumably via some 3rd party) had already unpacked the essentials, because it turns out that Franklin is shit at unpacking. Unless he needs it it stays in the box. Perhaps part of him is still expecting to be kicked out at any moment.
With nothing else to do with himself until Later, he decided to take Chop for a walk and get a work out in.
Later that night as he pulled up outside a shabby house in a run down neighborhood, Franklin found himself checking and double checking the address. He’d seen Michael’s house, and now had his own place to match, but this… this is where Lester lived? He stepped out of the car and walked closer. Bright warning signs about security and guard dogs made it feel like some redneck doomsday prepper was about to step outside and blast him in the face with a shotgun. As he walked up to the door the sound of angry barking could be heard, but it sounded flat, like a recording. “What the fuck…” He mumbled to himself. He looked around behind him in case of ambush before he reached for the doorbell. Before his finger could make contact there was a crackle from the speaker and Lester’s voice could be heard.
“Hey, I’m just finishing up, come on in.”
Franklin relaxed slightly. At least he had the right place. The door buzzed as the lock was released and Franklin stepped through. The inside was a strange mix of some old person’s house and a storage space for old tech and newspapers. The paper was peeling off the walls in places but every corner had a security camera. Franklin schooled his expression to something neutral.
“Through here!” Lester called from deeper in.
Franklin followed his voice, slipping through the open cage that was just inside the door. Shit Frank had been to dealer’s houses like this, except they had less security. The hallway was tight with boxes of crap that Franklin carefully weaved between, making his way to the open door to the back room. He stopped half out of the hallway, taking it all in. A sickly yellow light filtered into the room through windows that had been covered over with old newspapers, this fought against a fierce blue glow from a wall of tech and CCTV screens. His first thought was, admittedly, ‘Oh shit, a crazy person house’.
“I won’t be long,” Lester said, quickly glancing at him from amongst his nest of screens, “Make yourself at home or whatever.”
Franklin ran a hand over his newly cut hair and hoped like hell that his thought hadn’t shown on his face. Lester’s screen was filling quickly with code as he typed and Frank was briefly fascinated by how fast his fingers moved before he realized he was staring and backed off to glance around the room a bit more. There was plenty to look at. It was a big space separated into three areas; Bedroom, Computers, and a sort of living area where a cheap sofa peaked out at the end of the room.
Something yellow on the door caught his eye and he smiled. Lester had a ‘Danger! high voltage’ door sticker that reminded him of the ‘Wasted’ door sticker he used to have at his Aunt’s place. Actually, now he’d gotten over the newspapers there were quite a few similarities; the bed had a TV at the foot, like he used to have, with some games and DVDs littered around it. The walls were covered in posters and memorabilia, also like his. Ok the memorabilia was nerd-based rather than sport, but still, it made the space kinda cozy. Like Franklin’s old place, it was also a bit of a mess. Not too bad but there was a leftover pizza box on the side and a couple of Sprunk and Junk Energy bottles around. Actually overall it might even be tidier than Franklin used to keep his place, it was just hard to tell because there was so much stuff . It looked like Lester spent most of his life in this room. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but it was kind of fitting: a hackers den for an eccentric genius.
Lester hit a final key with a sigh of satisfaction, spun around and stood up, grabbing his cane. “Alright all good! Er welcome to me casa, I guess,” he chuckled, glancing nervously at Franklin then back at his room.
“It’s cool man, real cozy,” Frank replied with a smile. Lester looked relieved as he laughed.
“Yeah that’s one word for it. Shall we?” As they moved into the hallway, Franklin took in all the closed doors.
“What do you do with the rest of the house?” He blurted out.
“Kitchen and servers, bathroom and servers, and finally servers,” Lester pointed to different doors as he spoke.
“Damn, that’s a lot of hardware.”
“I have my own generator so the feds don’t notice the power usage. I can hack anywhere on the globe with my setup.”
“No wonder you know everything.”
Lester chuckled, bringing color to his cheeks “Well not quite everything, but thanks.”
As they drove away and the neighborhoods slowly got fancier Franklin asked what he’d been burning to ask.
“So, I gotta be real with you, never thought you’d live in a place like this. You been doing this job for a long time, and I could understand if it all went bad before but I know you’ve been making at least as much as me on these last jobs. So I guess what I’m asking is: how come?”
“Ha, you’re underestimating the cost of my medical bills. I’m in and out of the hospital a lot, it’s well over a quarter mil per year.”
“Shit , man,” Franklin hissed with feeling. “I’m guessing you don’t have insurance?”
“I did, but they want too much personal information. Not great in our line of work.”
Franklin nodded. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he knew anyone with insurance.
“But even so, you bought a mansion, I mean with our funds, from the jewelry job and the assassinations… Guess I’m just wondering why I’m the lucky fucker living in it?” He finished with an awkward laugh.
“You’re right, even with the medical costs, I’ve made enough over the years and through stocks that I could buy a second place right next to yours if I wanted. And then some. Don’t tell Michael that, he wouldn’t like to know I’m richer than him.” Franklin mentally made a note of that. Maybe it was a real good thing he’d decided to hang out with Lester for a change.
“So…?” he prompted.
“I like living here. I came here after North Yankton to lie low. It was my Aunt's place if you can believe that.”
“What? No way!” Franklin was struck again by the unexpected similarities.
“Yeah, we used to be close, she had no kids of her own so…” Lester shrugged. “It was good to have a place I could own fully legitimately, and since then, I’ve just stuck around. I’m never really gonna get use out of a nice yard or a pool, and a bigger house just means I have to do more walking around.” He gestured at his bad leg. “I don’t want snobby neighbors or home owners associations ruining my privacy. People leave me alone here…” He shrugged again. “I’m at home in my home.”
Franklin nodded. “Yeah, ok, I see it.” He suspected there was also some sentimental value as well, it looked like he still kept some of his aunt’s stuff around. Even so, giving Franklin a mansion to live in, that was still incredibly cool of the guy.
“But either way man, I mean thank you for the house, seriously,” he said genuinely.
“As I told you the last eight times, it’s fine, don’t mention it,” Lester laughed, used to this conversation. He looked pleased though.
“That motherfucker is the actual place of my dreams, for real,” Franklin insisted.
“Well I’m glad I could make your dreams come true.” Lester winced and his face flushed. “Sorry that was corny.”
“Ha, no problem, it’s all good.” Franklin felt his own face heating as he smiled.
When they got to the house Lester made a beeline straight for the couch with the console.
“You know your way around huh?” Franklin joked.
Lester just made a face like that was the most obvious thing in the world and made himself comfortable. It was weird, knowing Lester knew his house and belongings so well. Kind of nice in a way though, he hadn’t invited anyone else in his life back here yet. It was good to have someone who wouldn’t freak out seeing it and make a big deal (though to be real, he was looking forward to that reaction too, possibly from a girl or two). Franklin grabbed a soda and joined Lester on the couch. He looked at Lester. Lester looked back.
“Yo, my bad, I should have asked: you want a drink or a snack or something?”
“No, no I’m good,” Lester waved him away. “I drank a lot before we left.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
Ok now it was awkward. Franklin found himself looking around the room for some topic of conversation- anything! His eyes caught on the modern art on the wall, wondering what it was supposed to represent anyway. Might even be a print of something famous for all he knew. Lester probably knew.
“Hey, yo what do you think that picture is about?”
Lester stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Your mom taking dick at the zoo.” Franklin almost spit his soda and started coughing. “Are we here to game or what?! Come on noob!” Lester asked with a grin.
Franklin laughed. “Oh hell no. I’m gonna kick your lily ass. Street Racer 4?” Frank offered the game case.
“Oh you’re on,” Lester said, cracking his knuckles. “Don’t think because you’re the driving pro in the street that you can beat me on the couch!”
“I have put days into this game, you’re going down!”
They played all evening, sodas giving way to beers and the game changing every so often. To Lester’s annoyance, Frank could beat him on Street Racer, but Lester was surprisingly good at Timmy Eagle pro skater, raking up combos too fast for Frank to follow, and whilst they were pretty matched on Dead Sights, once Lester found the one shot kill gun, it was all over. Fabio Kart though, was starting to become his game. Honestly they got on better than Franklin expected, and whilst Lester did have some funny stories, they didn’t talk about Michael at all. It made a nice change, since that was half of what Michael talked about. Before the night was even over, Frank was thinking about doing it again.