Richard lay low in the safe house Michael had provided for five days.
His routine for those five days was: woken up in the morning by Lamar’s calls (“You eaten yet?
I brought you breakfast, though it’s probably cold by now”); dragged out for a walk at noon by Franklin (“Lester says you need rehab, not lying around waiting to die”); harassed by texts from Michael at night (“You know any decent divorce lawyers?”).
On the sixth day, the system showed his health had recovered to 85%, and the bandage on his left shoulder could be removed.
Richard stood before a mirror, looking at the circular scar on his shoulder.
He touched it—it didn’t hurt anymore, but the skin was a shade darker than the surrounding area.
“A souvenir,” he muttered to himself.
Lamar pushed the door open, holding two cups of bubble tea.
“New bubble tea shop in Los Santos!
Run by a Richard person!
I even had the owner teach me a phrase in Richard—’Wo ai ni’!”
“Who are you saying that to?”
“To you, bro!” Lamar said with genuine sincerity.
Richard took the bubble tea, took a sip, and nearly spat it out.
“This is bubble tea?
This is syrup mixed with water.”
“Not good?
I thought it was alright.”
“What did you drink before this?”
“Soda.”
“…No wonder.”
The two sat on the safe house balcony, looking at the Los Santos skyline.
Lamar suddenly became fidgety, like a middle schooler confessing for the first time.
“Richard…
I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“You…
you understand girls?”
Richard nearly choked on his bubble tea.
“What?”
“I mean…
girls!
How to chase girls!” Lamar’s face turned bright red.
“I recently met a girl.
Her name’s Tanisha.
She works at a beauty salon.
Really nice, has two dimples when she smiles, and she doesn’t look down on me—”
“Wait, Tanisha?” A name flashed in Richard’s mind.
In the game, Tanisha was Franklin’s ex-girlfriend who later married someone else.
But the plot had already diverged.
Had Franklin and Tanisha not started yet?
Or had they already begun?
“Are you sure she’s interested in you too?”
That’s why I’m asking you!” Lamar pulled out his phone and showed a photo.
It was a Black girl with a ponytail and a bright smile.
It was indeed Tanisha.
Richard took a deep breath.
He knew Lamar’s one-sided crush on Tanisha ended tragically in the original story, but maybe—just maybe—he could change that.
“Lamar, the first step in chasing a girl isn’t giving flowers or chocolates.
It’s—being yourself.”
“I am myself.
A car thief.”
“Then be a car thief who also respects people.
For example, if you ask her out, don’t take her to a strip club.”
“I’m not that stupid!
I want to take her for ice cream!”
“…That’s acceptable.
Second, don’t brag.
Last time at the bar, you were telling people you robbed a bank, but that was Michael, not you.”
Lamar scratched his head.
“Then what do I talk to her about?
My dog?”
“You have a dog?”
“No.
But I could get one.”
Richard facepalmed.
“Just ask her out first.
If she agrees, I’ll teach you the next steps.
Remember, don’t mention anything about crime.
Tell her you’re a ‘logistics engineer.'”
“Logistics engineer?”
“Means you transport goods.
Not exactly a lie.”
Lamar left happily, leaving his bubble tea with Richard.
Richard looked at the cup of syrup and decided to pour it out.
In the afternoon, Michael’s son Jimmy showed up.
This was Richard’s first time meeting Jimmy alone.
He was chubbier than in the game, wearing an oversized T-shirt and carrying a plastic bag.
“Richard?
My dad asked me to bring you this.” Jimmy placed the bag on the table.
It contained a few boxes of frozen pizza.
“Thank your dad for me.”
“No problem.” Jimmy didn’t leave, instead looking around.
“Nice place you got here.
Bigger than my room.”
“Doesn’t your room have a 60-inch TV and a game console?”
“That’s the only good thing.” Jimmy sighed.
“My dad and mom are fighting every day lately.
Can’t stand being at home. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Can I hang out here for a bit?”
Richard was about to refuse—he needed time to deal with the Trevor situation—but looking at Jimmy’s ‘I’m a loser but I’m actually pitiful’ face, he softened.
“Fine.
But don’t touch my phone.”
Jimmy flopped onto the sofa, pulled out his own phone, and started playing a game.
Richard noticed a strange charm hanging from Jimmy’s phone—a miniature ‘knockoff perfume bottle.’
“What’s that?”
“This?” Jimmy held up the charm.
“A sample of the fake perfume I sell online.
Wanna buy a bottle?
Original price $200, I’ll give you 20% off.”
“You sell knockoffs online?”
“Yeah!
I set up a website called ‘Jimmy’s Selects.’ Sell high-end fakes, super high profit margin.
If you’re interested, we could partner up.” Jimmy’s eyes lit up.
“You know a lot of people, you could help me get customers.”
Richard thought about it.
This might be a funny side quest.
Nothing to do while recovering anyway.
Help Jimmy sell fakes, make some extra cash on the side.
“Alright.
Show me what you’ve got first.”
Jimmy opened his phone’s photo gallery, scrolling through a bunch of pictures: fake Rolexes, fake Gucci bags, fake Apple earbuds, fake Canada Goose jackets.
The more Richard looked, the more he wanted to laugh—the craftsmanship of these fakes, in the game, would be ‘obviously fake,’ but on the streets of Los Santos, they could probably fool quite a few people.
“I’ll help you sell.
I get 30%.”
“20%!”
“25%, or I’ll tell your dad.”
Jimmy backed down.
“Deal.”
That night, Richard noticed a new marker on the system’s mini-map—a green shopping cart icon.
He clicked on it:
Side Quest: [Jimmy’s Knockoff Empire]
Help Jimmy sell 20 knockoff items in Los Santos.
Reward: Money +$5,000, Jimmy Favorability +20, Unlock Special Skill [Bargaining Expert].
“Bargaining Expert?” Richard smiled.
“That skill would actually be useful for life in Los Santos.”
He started posting ads on social media, using half-truths to promote Jimmy’s fakes—’Original factory surplus, leftover stock, supports store verification’ (of course, it couldn’t be verified).
His first customer was Lamar, who bought a fake Gucci perfume to give to Tanisha.
“Are you sure you want to give her fake perfume?” Richard asked.
“I can’t afford the real thing.
Besides, she doesn’t smell the ingredients; she smells the sentiment.” Lamar argued with conviction.
Richard was speechless.
Perhaps Lamar’s views on love were more mature than his views on crime.