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Pompidou, Where are you!

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The story begins in a video game: inside a dilapidated trailer by the sandy beach shore, Frank was cranking up the electricity to maximum voltage to pump up his latest gadgets and gizmos in order to invest his free time building up his entire notoriety and empire from scratch. By using his technique in manufacturing and marketing and intimidation, he was able to monopolize the drug industry by settling here whilst gunning down his enemies and recruiting prostitutes as his allies; yes, he was in fact playing Grand Theft Auto V, and not recreating this very scenes in reality; because if he intentionally delivered this ordeal, he would have gone in serious shit with the law, and that was not the Frank Bowers Arcadia Bays knew and loved.

Frank was indeed a very laid-back drug dealer and manufacturer. He might have exude the malignancy that most parents would instruct their children to get away from, or not to grow up to become a drug dealer like him; but deep inside his heart, he didn't care much about them and their opinions and the futures of stupid children, so fuck them. He did prudentially possessed a very gentle, compassionate heart and a penchant for animals and nature altogether. He learn to love nature and animals by meeting the love of his life, Rachel Ambers, and his man of honor, Pompidou, although, give or take, he was definitely a dog, or a sire. Rachel had astonishingly opened his eyes, took him wonder by wonder around Arcadia Bay and the state of Oregon, in hope that she can awaken his spirituality and emotions that needed to be tended and fulfilled; after all Frank was particularly not the man, who never did much received the love and appreciation he wanted because he was a drug dealer, and his poor hygiene and tattoos frighten some people, including Max Caulfield, who still covets his small black book of the names of his customers.

Hopefully, she and Chloe would return his book because he needed to make a sell for the purpose of making a living. He could have gotten a real job but he was not hone with the ambition he had expostulate in the virtual game of GTA V than he did in real life. For hours, he was very much engrossed in the game: it was released a month ago, and he didn't want to surcease from playing; he never knew the maximum hype gamers give for the game until he got the game himself and a superlative gaming laptop like Alienware which he purchased it over the internet. He was so stoked into killing people and stealing cars and exploring where he could have gone before, unless his income permits him. It has dawn on him that Los Santos resembled so much like Los Angeles, a place to where he wanted to take Rachel one day and make her famous.

Of course there was nothing in his mind that can impress him as to why his beau wanted to go to Los Angeles just to be famous in the first place. He knew she was brilliantly smart for instance getting excellent GPA, participating in club activities, and having a good reputation around the school by which would have been a leverage for her to launch her for any scholarships Blackwell Academy has to offer. But she needed come clear to the acknowledgement that Arcadia Bay was a small town in which pretty much everyone knew her, however Los Angeles was huge city, and she had to come to her senses that the world did not revolve around her, or the reality that the world owes her and everyone absolutely nothing. Los Angeles would have indubitably convinced her that she was nothing just like the people who come there by pursuing a career as an actor or a model for fame and fortune. She might have Arcadia Bay in her hand like the Prescott but she should damn well that Los Angeles would never feel sorry for her as the city throw her in the gutter or the dump.

Thinking of Rachel Ambers made him so depressed that playing this game was the only temporal substance he needed to relieve his pain and agonies of her. He paused the game at the same moment he suddenly heard scuttling and rustling sounds outside his domicile. He whipped out his pocket knife but knowing that Pompidou did not snarl or bark, so it must have been the presence of someone less inclined to be dangerous and perilous than the police or Nathan, but he still wields his pocket knife in case anything unexpected transpired. It must be someone he must know. He opened the door wide and when he noticed the quarry to be one of his best customers he ever had, he smiled.

"STELLA," he greeted, mockingly referencing to the movie starring the legendary Marlon Brando, A Streetcar name Desire!

The fuchsia-appareled, spectacled girl crossed her arms indignantly, probably loathing her name thanks to that bloody movie. "Are you trying to be the impressionable Marlon Brando because you don't possessed any of his qualities."

Frank did his Godfather impersonation with the arched lip and use his resonating voice to prescribed the fusion of Italian accent and Brooklyn accent: "Well, if it didn't faze you that I did want to go Los Angeles and audition to become a famous actor."

"I see...I thought we agree in our negotiation that you would call me dachshund from now on."

"I know but that darn hipster got my black book so I don't know anyone's names."

Alyssa simultaneously came out of the shadows and imposed her threatening, ominous fury over Frank, waving her pointed finger at him and scolding him. "I knew it. You have Max in there. I saw her going inside your trailer the other day when I was at the bus stop, and I saw you inside the Two Whales Diner."

"Whoa, whoa," Frank backed away into his trailer, feeling intimidated, "what the fuck! Stella Hill, you did not just brought back up so you can rob me?"

"No, she came along to find Max Caulfield but I came here for my daily medical prescription -" Alyssa nudged at her shoulder with her fist, probably leaving a bruise because Alyssa had muscles bulging out of her knuckles, and if Stella Hill happed to be confronted by someone with a brass knuckle, she would definitely make a comparison on which was more deadlier: Alyssa's knuckle or the weapon. "I meant I'm also here to find Max Caulfield." There was an indication of feigned interest in her statement.

"You mean that darn hipster with a camera: she's probably experimenting her sexuality with Chloe -" Then he shook his head in confusion and leered banefully at Alyssa. "And what do you mean about that hipster girl coming into my territory."

Alyssa did not back down and ignore Frank completely as though he was someone that does not possess the privilege of conversing with her. "Stella, in my good conscience, I don't understand why you hang out with a bum like him."

"I don't hang out with him!" Stella retorted, indignantly, incriminated by the seditious remark her best friend expunged upon her. "I only purchase some pharmaceutical drugs from him for my ADHD; I can't study without them, and you know I want to get a scholarship from Blackwell to get to a good university: it would be a completion of my lifelong achievement."

Frank was aghast at the short, compelling goals this generation have foisted upon themselves. "You don't want to travel the world...or master oil painting...or something like that. Kids, you don't need to be in your twenties to accomplish anything because you have a whole life ahead of you...and when you pass your twenties and going on in your thirties, do not think for a second that your life is over because you didn't accomplish whatever it is you wanted to accomplish in your twenties; you have to keep going in life no matter what the stupid society tells you."

"Is this some kind of obligation to have to pay you for giving advice now?"

"No: this advice is free of charge - use it or not, it really doesn't matter." Frank said sluggishly then he turned his sight directly to Alyssa. "Okay, so you're telling me the hipster girl was trespassing into my property? This time: no bullshit."

"Her name is Max; and is she going to be in trouble if I say yes." Alyssa replied, anxiously.

"No, why would I be mad: Chloe is her friend, and since I don't really bother putting my faith in Chloe, because she still owe me five grand; but I do have faith in her pet monkey."

Stella found this conversation amusing. "Oh, what did she promise you?"

Frank sighed: "She promised to get my Rachel back."

Alyssa intervened: "You gotta help us find Max: she was not in her dorm, and Mr. Madsen been looking for her and his stepdaughter around Blackwell."

"Hey, don't you dare tell me what to do?" Frank revolted. "And why should I help you?"

Stella and Alyssa stood there in silence, cogitating on the reason of why Frank would help anyway: he never helps anyone but himself.

Alyssa hypothetically came to the belief by quickly adding something before Frank could push them away: "Because...that girl, Chloe, is like a family member to you."

Stella added quickly: "Without her, you would not have met the popular Rachel Ambers of Arcadia Bay."

"You love Rachel just like you love eating beans." Alyssa implied, putting the two notions into a simile. "I saw how much you wolfed down on Joyce's delectable refried beans at the diner...and you always ask for second."

"Without Chloe, I would have never be able to purchase drugs from you." Stella wax her feelings.

"And...ohana means family and family means no one gets left behind." Alyssa referenced a quote from one of her favorite movie into the dispute.

Frank surrendered and gestured his hands aloft as his own illustration of a white flag waving in the air. "All right, all right: I don't like the sentiments and emotions coming in my way; I'll help."

Alyssa and Stella cheered, celebrating their victory over a dispute from a drug dealer but Frank did not fancy how loud they were.

"Would you mind keeping it down?" Frank interjects. "You don't have a fucking clue on how we have to live."

"Why don't you get a honest job?" Alyssa inquired.

"Don't start." Frank scorned.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Frank shushed her completely and turned to Stella, who stride with confidence, lacking any fear as to what Frank can implement. "I'll help only if you promise me that I won't get in trouble with your little Nancy Drew's mystery adventure."

"We swear we promise that we won't use as a scapegoat if anything goes wrong." Stella obligated.

"No, that's too general."

"Then what promises we ought to keep?"

"Like, when the cops arrive, you say you force me to be entangle with your little plight."

"I don't think the cops would believe in two helpless girls forcing a drug dealer what to have to see the gravity in this matter."

"Yeah, shucks."

"But we can promise you that we will everything in our power to convince the police that you were helping us find Max and Chloe."

"Yeah, anything to make me look good."

"Now: will you finally join us in solving this mystery?"

"You got yourself a deal: let's go find that peeping tom and Chloe."

"Her name is Max." Alyssa stated, sharply.

"And this is my territory: I can say what I want and do what I want. Welcome to American trash."

"You can say that again." Alyssa rolled her eyes.

"Don't push it." Frank grunted then he signaled to his faithful companion, Pompidou. "Hey, boy, we're going on a trip: join me in the cockpit." The dog assented and vaulted to the bow of the trailer; Frank followed.

Alyssa glanced complacently at Frank and Pompidou, projecting a nostalgic memory from her childhood. "That fermented-breath hooligan and his dog kind of remind me of that dynamic duo who constantly eats a lot."

"Don't even start ruining my favorite cartoon." Stella snapped and went inside the fetid trailer and find herself a place to sit down. Alyssa went in last and shut the door before trying to get herself comfortable inside this volatile domicile Frank would called home.

From the driver seat, Frank announced to his fellow passengers: "Please settle down, get yourself comfortable: it's going to be a bumpy ride. Don't say I didn't warn you? " He ignited the engines and waited till the motor warmed off for it to be ready to instigate.

Stella was behind Frank, seeing that he was more than just a mere acquaintanceship, she finally decided that it was time to ask the big question: looking at her perspective she was of mixed race and Frank was white with various compilation of many different Anglo-sax ethnicities. "Hey, I was wondering why do you sporadically wear your Confederate flag hat?"

"Are you racist?" Alyssa invoked, insinuating whether it was meant for Stella or Frank, they did not know.

He turned to his passengers: "I'm not a racist fellow whose mind is close from ideologies and shit; this Confederate hat was a gift from my father, and it's the only thing I can remember him by. If I were a racist asshole, I would not let you inside my shitty trailer, or my home. Also I wouldn't sell you any of my goods, be that as it may, I'm not racist. Period."

"Sorry, I just ask; I did not mean to push your buttons." Stella intoned quietly as she walked back to the booth where his Alienware computer is."

"That's all right: no hard feeling was input." She backed the trailer and turned his head to his passengers. "Hold on to something because I'm actually fucking serious."

Alyssa leered at Stella quite menacingly and pushed her down to the window side. "Stop hogging the entire seat, Stella."

"I am not." Stella retorted, indignantly.

They both shoved and pushed each other like Justin and Trevor until Frank drove off into the night.