I just kept thrusting. Harder and harder, I didn't want it to stop. She was so god damn beautiful, too. Probably the best looking girl I'd ever been with. It was just the two of us, there on the beach, having the best sex of my life. Her breasts glimmered in the setting tropical sun; her hair, as beautiful and blonde as the sand underneath it. I could it feel it now, amongst the moaning and the movement. I felt the climax. Here it comes...Oh here it comes....Her screaming was louder now, and just as I thrust one last time, "BUZZZZZZ"
"Fucking alarm clock," I said to myself.
I was back in my apartment.
"Wake up, Liberty. It's 6:45 AM and you're listening to Chatterbox FM. I'm your host Lazlow, and today on the show we have the owner of PetsOvernight.com, Jeff Bezas. He's going to..." I shut the radio off.
It took me a while to get out of bed, but eventually I found the strength to do so. My feet hit the cold linoleum floor, and I took a look out of the lone window in the bedroom. Greeting me was the vast cityscape of Liberty, such a beautiful mix of cloud, smog, and concrete. The typical 'morning gray' that I'm accustomed to. I've lived in this city for the past 18 years, and I don't think I've once woken up to a beautiful sunrise. It's kinda sad when you think about it. Looking down at the street below I could already see that traffic was horrible today. I'm sure the Callahan is backed up for an hour. And that means the subway's gonna be hell. Shit. Looks like I'm walking to work today.
A couple of steps from my bedroom was the kitchen. An amalgamation of tile, cabinets and an again Frigidaire. What was most upsetting was the lack of actual food in the thing. A couple packets of ketchup, jar of mayo, and a half gallon of expired skim milk. The rent for this dump was cleaning me out, and my pay at work wasn't helping at all.
I checked the couch for some loose change. Eighty-seven cents. That should be enough for a cup of coffee. I threw on my slacks, the ones I hadn't ironed in weeks. Soonafter followed my shirt and tie, and I was out the door.
As soon as I hit the street, which was 6 stories below, I kinda felt uneasy. Today just seemed like one of those days. You know, those ones that always start the same but never end up exactly the way you planned. But then again, this is Liberty City, nothing ever goes as planned. I hung a quick right from my apartment building to the little shop on the corner. I made it a habit to get my morning coffee there. There's this one girl who works the counter, I think her name's Jenny, that I'm pretty friendly with. She always manages to slip me a danish or something. Truth be told, she's kinda attractive. I wouldn't mind hitting it with her. But other than our daily exchange of cash for coffee, I have no other business with her. Maybe I'll strike up some courage to talk to her....someday.
Opening the door of the coffee shop, I look right at the register. Shit, it's that Indian guy. She must have gotten the day off. Reluctantly, I stepped up to the counter and bought the coffee, sans any bonuses that Jenny would give me. But on the way out, my eye caught the television they had in the shop. It had been tuned to a news channel, one probably owned by my boss, Donald Love. It looked like they had some kind of breaking news. I checked my watch.
"7:05. I got some time," I said out loud.
So I took a seat in front of the TV to see the latest happenings across Liberty.
"...Thanks Jim," the female newscaster finished, "And now to our top story. The underground crime world is in shock today as high-profile mafia don, Salvatore Leone was gunned down late last night in front of a gentlemen's club that he frequented. Salvatore was the head of the Leone crime syndicate, the most powerful family in all of Liberty. He was previously being investigated by the FBI into several accounts of fraud, extortion, and copyright violations. No word yet on who is responsible for the attack, it is assumed that Salvatore left his entire estate, valued at over $250 million dollars to his son, Joseph. And now in sports news, the Liberty City Cocks defeated the Carcer City Beavers by a score of 9 to 6..."
I think I was the only one watching the television because the rest of the coffee shop seemed to go about it's business. But to me, this was huge. The Leone crime family had run this city for years. And when I mean run, I'm talking everything. Prostitution, drug trafficking, extortion like you wouldn't believe. In fact, I was convinced that they were behind the success of Donald Love. How else could someone run a media conglomerate such as his? It'd be impossible for one man to amass. Anyway, I decided to return to reality and head off to work. It was going to be a long walk over the Callahan Bridge into Staunton Island, but it was better than sitting in a good hour of traffic. Who knows? Maybe I'd catch the bus back home after work.
Stepping out of the coffee shop door I felt the rain. Just great, another addition to an otherwise perfect day. But I should have known by know that in Liberty City, everything's far from perfect. I really had no idea what I was about to get into.
"Hey! Watch where the fuck you're going,"some guy had yelled over on my right.
I glanced over to see someone in a dark suit just sprinting thru the crowded sidewalk. Now it was then and there that any other perfectly sane person would have moved out of the way. But not me. I just stood there, and zoned out. I imagined myself banging that girl in my dream again, when he ran smack dab into me and the both of us went down.
It was at this point that I could barely make out the sounds of screeching tires headed right for me. The crowd quickly dispersed as myself and this guy on top of me stood up. He took a quick look at me, shoved me back to the ground, and then looked up and down the now empty sidewalk. From my street-level view, I saw the limo speed down the block and cross the lane of traffic, coming to a skidding halt parallel with the sidewalk. I looked over at the guy, who was now up against the marble wall as if he were trying to climb it. When I glanced over at him, I could see another man, apparently a bystander who had nothing better to do with his time than to witness this domestic disturbance.
The limo window rolled down, and I heard a voice from within, "You're done Forelli! You fuckin' hear me? You are done!"
I couldn't stand up. Something inside wouldn't let me stand up. I just felt trapped and helpless. I looked up at this guy, and the fear in his eyes was greater than words could express. I just sat and I watched. The limo opened fire on him, and I could hear the rounds piercing his chest, cracking his ribs and puncturing his lungs. The man slunk down the wall in a heap, and wheezed, trying to grasp every last breath of air that he could, merely prolonging the inevitable. The blood merely trickled from his chest. It wasn't like in the movies where the blood was everywhere, but the sound. The sound of his crippled mass trying to breathe...that's what scared me the most. As he convulsed one last time, and his body dropped to my right, I heard the ominous voice from the limo again. This time directed at the other guy who decided to watch this all happen, and who hadn't moved and inch since this began.
"Hey you! Get the fuck in the limo!"
The man just stood there. As if frozen in time. I peered into the window trying to decipher who the commands were coming from. I didn't even look at this schmuck who was just standing there.
"I'm telling you one last time, get in the fucking limo, stunad; or you'll regret it."
I could tell he wasn't budging. I bet the fear paralyzed him. Whoever was in that limo meant business, and I think he'd had enough.
"It's your funeral you dumb piece of shit."
I still was looking right at that window when I saw the muzzle flash. In fact, I saw three of them. The shell casings hit the ground like diamonds on a sheet of ice. And all I could hear was the sound of something like a melon being jabbed with a pole and then broken open. The warm sensation that ran down the side of my face was unmistakable.
It was then that the voice directed his attention at me.
"You! Get in the fucking limo or I'll send you to wherever those two are goin!"
And then, fear let go. I sprung to my feet and reached for the limo door, leaving my
already spilt coffee on the sidewalk. The door opened before I could reach for it, and two sets of
hands ripped me into the vehicle. And all I could think was, "Welcome to Liberty: Where you're
always in the wrong place at the wrong time."