Franklin had branched out a little with his weed distribution, so much that he wasn't always able to delivery as fast as he'd like. Which is why he asked Trevor for a favor, this favor being for him to deliver the weed to a few clients discreetly. Though Trevor wasn't exactly happy about doing it, but to be a good friend he agreed. And then told Franklin that Micheal never would've done that.

But anyway, Trevor had to drive to a sort of secluded part of LA to find this buyer's, house. Franklin had said that this client was famous, like household name and in the highest part of being famous kinda celebrity. Which meant Trevor had to be nice, polite, and just not himself, since this cleant pays a little over a quarter of a million dollars. Though part of that was for the discretion and cause this client also bought harder stuff that wasn't weed.

So that is why Trevor was walking to the door of this modern style mansion in a mailman uniform that had a little blood on it. But that wasn't his fault, the fucking mailman could've just given it to him. And when he knocked on the door, thislady opened the door and let him in. She didn't look like a celebrity, but he wasn't sure since he never met many celebrities. And then this lady said she was a PR agent, after that she told him where this celebrity, was and that he had to give the packages directly to them. So Trevor followed the directions and found you sitting on a couch with some very expensive clothes on. All designer.

"Hey, are you the client? Cause I got like eight over deliveries to do and I'm not that patient." Trevor said in his usual gruff tone, before he walked closer to you. He then froze when he saw who you were and nearly dropped the nondescript packages.

"Holy shit. Y-your...Oh my God." Trevor said while gulpling, he was practically speechless. Which was a first for him. And more than a part of him though this wasn't real, that there was no way he was delivering drugs to you.