Chapter VII
"Hey Lester. It's me."
"Good Morning, Michael. I was almost certain you wouldn't return my call from last time we spoke. Have you reached a decision involving Mr. Crawford and Ms. Vercetti?"
"Yeah, actually. Would you kindly inform Mr. Crawford that there's absolutely no deal?"
This response had Lester go silent for a moment. "Are you self aware that knowing you live... Aldrick will make you one of his targets? Are you certain you don't wish to reconsider?"
Michael gave a long drawn out sigh. "There is very little choice for either option, Lester. Let me just elaborate that I might be too deep into this situation. It's no one's fault, but I feel it necessary to complete any business here. Sasha included." Overall for him, Michael wanted to scream in his head. Anything that would make him convince himself to leave. Everything would have been completely different if he didn't even comply with Sasha or departing from her place if he just taken her Pegessi.
It would become a tale of aligning factors.
"All right, Michael. Tell you what. I'll delay Aldrick for as long as necessary so that you can have some preparations. Might I suggest you stock up at Ammu-Nation? You're going to need some serious firepower if you plan on taking his men directly. That's the best advice a friend can give you. For the artillery he has at his disposal... You're better safe than sorry."
"Greatly appreciated, Lester. Thanks." Michael responded. "I'll call you when I'm next available."
"Sure thing, Michael. Look after yourself. I'll keep you updated."
Michael had stashed his phone away in his pants pocket. Giving himself a sobering view of Los Santos before turning around to face Sasha whom had been naked. Slumbering in her bed. This predicament was certainly unique, but under control. At least that's the though Michael kept to convince himself it wasn't a nightmare.
Yet here Michael was, standing out on the balcony of Sasha Vercetti's Penthouse. Observing her covered body. Her back having been turned away from the rays of sunlight. The stress of trying to figure out if Sasha trusted him completely lingered in the back of his head. In truth Michael knew he needed more time. This was the time to act. Careful wording and preparations were required at this point.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Michael had entered Sasha's Bedroom's sliding glass door. Trying to keep his rustling to a minimum, he had joined her side. Making sure he didn't wake her just yet. His mind scanning her bedroom. Having taking notice of the empty liquor bottles. This included the one they had both generously shared the night prior.
Before Michael's thought could embellish in the quiet aroma, he leaned over to Sasha, kissing her forehead. Sasha had shifted in her sleep. Waking up with a 'Hm?' and a deep breath. Having soon came to her senses now seeing Michael still beside her. "You're still here?" She asked in her groggy voice. Waking herself up further. "Shouldn't you be home with your loved ones?"
"Not without breakfast." Michael had snarled.
"Without me is what I'm going to insist."
"And why exactly would that be, Ms. Vercetti? Is it your reputation?"
"I just don't think it's right for married men-"
"Kid. I hate to break it to you, but after last night? That ship sailed long ago."
"Don't start an argument you won't win, Michael. Especially if it's a woman." She mentions, sitting up to cover the upper half of her body.
"We're both to blame, darling." Michael had hammered in that point, now leaning closer into her. "We can point at each other and make excuses all we want. Doesn't derail the fact something happened that was going to be inevitable. All you had to say was no."
"What do you mean?"
"Well.. the next part of my story just sucks. My wife cheated on me recently. Twice as a matter of fact. Once with the Tennis Coach. The Second with her Yoga Instructor. Not to mention that I caught the Tennis Coach in bed with my own wife. Someone I was paying. It caused strain for awhile and she even left for a chunk of time with our children."
"Wait. Hold the fuck up." Sasha had been wide awake by now. "You're telling me that you practically paid some random to fuck your wife? And you're telling me you're still with the bimbo?"
"I think the term you're looking for is "settled for whatever bullshit I have now"." Michael had corrected. "I fail miserably at loving my own god damn wife."
Sasha let out a more confused laugh than anything else she could fathom what Michael had been telling her. "Yet here I was these passed few days thinking I shouldn't have certain thoughts about you or push our limits only to learn that your wife is a slut."
"Hey." Michael had threw back at Sasha's attitude. "You're not my marriage counselor last I checked. This includes the position of a consultant or an advisor for that matter!"
"As ducks quack, Michael! I once said the same thing about you!" Sasha by now had climbed on-top of Michael. Who actually allowed this even if he had been ruffled. "Funny that you lecture me about my life when I try to give you sound advice!"
"Your situation is not similar to mine, kid." Michael had explained the best he could.
"No! Not one fucking bit." Sasha had expressed back. "What I'm trying to suggest is that you most certainly deserve better than her! After awhile you just submit to the cycle of abuse until either of you rather drive each other apart or worse. Why are you staying with someone who you know won't change?"
"Like you?" Michael questioned on a whim. Stinging Sasha's prescient. "You really are one to talk, darling."
This gave Sasha an interesting thought. "All right. How about this, Michael? I'll convince you that you'll have a better life if you help me through my grief of "alcoholism". If that's how you want to label my "addiction"? I'll change and moderate my drinking if you're willing to pull through for me."
"You label me the hypocrite all the while you could have made that promise the first time we met! What drives you for this motivation? Getting others involved in your drama? What would make you exactly interested in helping someone like me? Who is twice your age mind you."
"No one. Not even us have to subject themselves to an abusive situation, past or cycle that doesn't help us grow and change for the better. Perhaps in this case... your wife. She had no reason to cheat on someone like you!"
"Sasha... you-"
Sasha had ignored the words that Michael struggled to express. Instead... she had buried her face into the left side of his neck. "Promise me, Michael. Promise me you won't settle of less. That you know that you deserve better. No matter the years that will separate us or we never see one another again. I promise to help you if you help me."
Michael had been speechless. Feeling Sasha's caress. Small factors had him contemplating. He knew he had to see this through. "Fine." He finally agreed. "I promise."
"I'll hold you to your word, Michael. Now won't you join me in the shower before we head down to the restaurant here for food? I'm a little too hung over to be cooking us both a meal."
In return, Michael gave a smoldering glance. Her smile ever-so welcoming as they prepared themselves for the day ahead.
With a relaxing morning, Michael had been escorted by Sasha back to his car after breakfast. He had given her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you later. I got some work that needs to be done." Those words alone had tormented him. Having to depart the Diamond Casino.
Michael wanted to head home. Anything to assure his family he had been alive these passed few days other than brief visits. Yet something had stalled him. Driving down Vinewood as he approached his house down Rockford Hill made him contemplate. Sasha might actually having a point had bothered Michael extensively.
Had Michael really settled for less? What had he stayed with Amanda? He couldn't help but to hear the repeat the echo of words. Something Sasha wanted to bring to light. Michael had been reminded of his own father. His bastard of an alcoholic physically abusive father. Michael had buried his face into the steering wheel of his car.
What consequences would Michael face from not associating with Sasha again if he had felt the need to tell her that she was absolutely wrong?
The years that passed Michael had him questioning if he had really become a reflection of his father? The waves of the past catching up with him. Michael had thought about the lies his own mother told him about his own dad. How he had left because of other reasons faltered. Like any other cycle. He had endured his own mother's torment.
There had been no denying that she had settled for less herself. Boyfriend after abusive boyfriend. Him begging her not to submit to similar behaviors he saw reflecting his own father. The failed advice that Michael gave to his own mother fell most often on deaf ears. Memories of those years were still fresh with Michael.
The day that Michael witnessed his father leave. His mother take on the dismal trait of alcoholism. He saw it all. The cycle his mother enured. The abandonment of his father. No matter how estranged he had been with his parents... He had one wish and hoped they had still been alive. No matter how much sour hatred he had towards both. Regardless of the emotional disconnect or torment.
The similarities were most uncanny. Reflecting on Sasha's own abuse of liquor. Her own struggles. Centering himself and remaining calm wasn't helping. Michael wasn't the type to bottle up any of his emotions. So he had taken all the physical abuse out on his steering wheel. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! For the love of God don't tell me it's just a repeat of the past. Don't make me face this. I ran away from this lifestyle! Why?! Give me a god damn answer!"
Right on queue, Michael's phone had rang. Checking his phone screen it had been an unknown number. "Oh. Very fucking funny." He growled upon answering the call. "Yeah. DeSanta Residence. How the fuck can I ruin your day today?"
"You appear to be very sound for a walking dead man, Mr. DeSanta." Spoke the voice on the receiving end. "It seems Sasha's blind faith in you was well... suited."
"Yeah and who the hell are you?"
The voice found humor in Michael's question. "The Family doesn't abandon anyone or leave anyone behind. I'm not conversing over the phone, Mr. DeSanta. I'm going to text you a destination. I recommend you meet me there. I'll see you very soon."
Before Michael could speak his next word. The receiving end had hung up. Ending their call. Confused, there had been a brief tie to make sense of everything that was just handed to him on a silver platter. More nonsense had flashed on Michael's phone directing him to his destination. "What the hell?"
The location he had been texted was Pacific Bluff Cemetery. The text instructed him to find a practical and isolated spot might they carry a conversation out of earshot. With this text. Michael had forwarded it to Lester. Telling him to track who the hell this was and their background. He knew better than to continue falling down a rabbit hole without more information.
Taking a deep breath. Michael knew that he was getting deeper. The hints he was given by the opposite party had his thoughts race. The Family. It was them. Michael was going to meet another member of the Vercetti Family.