Chapter II

Sasha attempted to shift herself awake knowing well what took place a night before. Another night that had faded and one she would soon forget. Her senses shifting back into reality focused into the sounds of running water from her kitchen sink. Sasha's groggy state had consumed her. "Classic hangover." She muttered to herself, placing her right hand on her throbbing migraine.

Time slowly passing, there had been a sudden jolt to her senses. There had been a texture of a cold, damp rag brushed against her forehead. Opening her eyes, she had taken notice that it was the man just the night prior that was fully conscious and tending at her side. "Take it easy, kid. I'm not too unfamiliar how the night after a long night of drinking. Especially when you overdo yourself."

Sasha had remained quiet, observing Michael's actions. "You... You're?"

"DeSanta. Michael DeSanta." Michael introduced himself, dampening her neck and face.

Sasha exhaled a deep breath. "Sasha." She spoke back.

"Do you have a last name?" Michael questioned, staring into her eyes.

Hesitation had been clear with her. Tensions were high for the moment. Enough to cut through butter. "Reeves. My name is Sasha Reeves." Pain throbbed, reminding her that what she was experiencing wasn't a dream. "Damn... my head."

"Anticipation is the name of the game. I've brewed some coffee. Aspirin for your hangover waits just on your kitchen table."

"Thank you, Mr. DeSanta."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, now. You are the one who saved me from my future imprisonment. As many times as I have been in jail. Lost count."

"Yes. I found you down stream. Cassidy Creek. I still remember that detail. You were bleeding out. Shot in your back left shoulder. Even had the attention of the Los Santos Police Squad. Anything you're willing to share in that regard?"

Michael joined her at the kitchen table. Pouring the both of them some coffee. "Not exactly. I was dragged back into a lifestyle I thought I ran from over a decade ago. I was enjoying my retirement."

Sasha reacted within means, nodding her head. "Somehow I oddly relate to your internal struggles. Trying to run away only to become the only person who is called upon to get the job done. And done right."

Michael leaned back in his chair, chin up at her grievances. "Let me guess... In your drunken and hung over state... I'm guessing an Old Boss or Boyfriend? One of them got under your skin?"

Sasha made a face in return. "I wish everything were that simple." Her eyes met Michael's gaze. "I lost a dear friend. He was more than just a friend. He's been in the family ever since I was younger. There's nothing twenty years can make me forget. Everything around me became overwhelming. So I did what I did best. I sought Sanctuary. I escaped into solitude so that I might recover."

"Strange that you would find what you label Sanctuary in Paleto Bay. So you work in The City? Los Santos, I mean." Michael wanted to assure he was asking the right questions.

Sasha caught his pattern. "What's your next question, then? That I'm married, Mr. DeSanta?"

"Smart kid." Michael chuckled in response. "All right. Are you married?"

"Look, you're free to recover here for as long as you see fit. Perhaps when you want to visit. Be thankful that I offer shelter. Don't be so understanding when I don't talk about my life story. You know enough."

What bothered Michael was that this random stranger allowed him to exist in the same space she did had. If he was to find out more about her. Stepping on egg shells was perhaps putting it lightly. So Michael played along. Rubbing his neck as awkward silence. The back of his mind didn't seem to complain. At least the coffee was good.

Michael broke the silence, reaching for her hand. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Really. If it weren't for you... I would have been in jail or worse. Dead."

"Where do we go from here?" Sasha inquired. "Have you lost anything since I located you?"

Subconsciously, Michael had sat up straight, recalling anything important he might had lost on his person. "Yeah when I crashed into the waterfall I must have lost my smart phone and wallet. What luck."

"Then I suggest you start there. For now my hungover self needs food. There's a wonderful cafe and bakery on the corner that has scones to die for." Sasha stood up, snatching a leather jacket as she walked towards the entryway.

"Wouldn't it be best to change your clothes. Maybe brush your hair?"

"Don't stress, Michael. I may be hungover, but I know the Manager. Adam. Do you think I'm the first hungover bastard who walked into his bakery early hours of the morning hungover or drunk?" There had been a snide remark from Sasha.

There had been a hairbrush and hair tie on the table to Sasha's left. She wasted no time quickly brushing and pulling back her hair. "Makeup not your thing?" Michael observed.

"Are you kidding? Do I look like a cheerleader?"

The unwelcome image had entered Michael's head as soon as it left. "So you say that the Manager Adam is used to people like us?"

"People like us? You're an alcoholic too?" Sasha shrugged off his question. "Okay. People like us. Adam sympathizes with people in town because most of Paleto Bay, Hen House included carry hard liquor. Just as long as we're civil. He'll feed us. Especially after a long night drinking, hangovers or two days after."

"All right. Whatever you say, kid."

The bright sun had temporarily blinded Sasha as Michael became a shadow shield. Sasha took lead. Walking alongside her companion down the block. Passed the Hen House Nightclub and to the Bakery on the corner. "The place we're traveling towards is called Golden Buns. I can still remember the first time I wandered into the cafe hungover. No questions were asked and Adam took care of my basic needs. It's even better as a cafe. They have great scones!"

Michael could recolonize small bits of enthusiasm. He wondered how Sasha was sober. Perhaps if she had bounced back a little since her heavy drinking last night. There would be time to discuss interests. Eating would make the both of them functional. As they had strolled street-side, Michael slowed his pace knowing that Sasha's short legs wouldn't keep up with him.

Perhaps Michael was overthinking Sasha's personality. As much as there had been a barrier or wall in her heart. With more time he assured himself that she would explain more when the time came. It wasn't his position if she didn't speak of her past. Sasha gave enough detail and Michael showed respect for her actions.

Arrival upon the street corner that housed the cafe, Michael picked up his speed, opening the door for Sasha to step ahead of him. "Ladies first." He motioned.

For once Sasha appeared to have given a genuine smile. "Thank you."

An arrangement of smells greeted Michael's savory senses. The smell of baked breads, doughnuts and freshly baked pies filled the air. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had something home-baked or homemade for that matter. Sasha lead Michael to a booth. More likely one she was used to inhabiting. The staff were ecstatic seeing Sasha as she knew how to wear her mask to the outside world quite well.

Though unusual, maybe it was her method of keeping secrets. That even when she had been down. She placed double effort into having people not see the darkness she had been fighting. "They must have some wonderful menu items. I wonder what's the better of the two evils?" His question giving a glance from Sasha.

Sasha's snark like attitude surfaced once more. "It's all for the scones, Mr. DeSanta. It's all about the scones."

"All sunshine and rainbows aside, Sasha. I don't get saved by a random stranger. None the less a..." Michael stalled. "... Well a drunkard such as yourself. So I have to ask. Why is it that you feel the need to heavily drink and get drunk?"

"My personal life isn't of your concern, Michael. I told you what you wanted to hear. There's nothing more to share. You dig?"

Michael slouched back a little hearing Sasha being a little defensive. "Bullshit, Sasha. Someone like you wouldn't have saved my ass. Hangovers aside. My conclusion keeps reaching a deep-seeded past. Maybe something recent. I've seen the prescription bottles. You aren't living. You're suffering. My obligation is that I repay you how I see fit. No matter how much you might deny, kick or scream. The least explanation you can give me is a name. An event. Something that caused you to fall down the rabbit hole of darkness."

Sasha took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly. "That would mean we would have to be more involved, Michael. Are you sure you want to be chasing me down that rabbit hole?"

"Look at what I've endured, kid. I wouldn't have been a free man or alive if it wasn't for your meddling." Michael repeated his answer from earlier. "The least you can tell me is about your awkward strange of impulse and kindness."

"A close friend of mine-"

"I need a name."

"Why does it matter?"

"Why are you deflecting?"

"His name was Lance. A family friend, more of an uncle towards me while growing up. I knew him for just over two decades."

Michael had seemed to phase passed the first barrier. "Now we're getting somewhere. I promise you that I won't be stepping on any toes. You detail that you two were close. Were Lance and you... married?"

"Why are you so persistent?"

"What? I'm allowed to answer your questions, but when it comes down to your own personal life suddenly it's all too much? Give me a break!"

Sasha had been distasteful. "Fine, Mr. DeSanta." Her breath had huffed. She had been holding back tears. "My answer is 'NO', Mr. DeSanta. We were close. It's just how my primary family has always worked. We keep those we care for close. It might be a little old fashion, but we need to take care of one another. It's a motto My Father, My Grandfather and Great Grandfather carried. Family takes care of family. Blood or not."

"You have my condolences, Ms. Reeves." Emotions at a high tension once more. Michael felt it was the best to sympathize with her. "There is a question that remains with you, however. Something that arises more concern. You claim to have family values, but fled just as soon as things got complicated."

"The day Lance died. All of it just became overwhelming. I respect and love my family dearly, but I deal most of what happens alone. I prefer to live a solitary life because it gives me time to think. Thus why I am well known here in Paleto Bay. The community here has an understanding that the people in Los Santos never have. We keep to ourselves. We don't question our private lives. Outside of Los Santos. Those who live here in Paleto Bay see this town as a safe haven."

"So what you're saying is that alcohol has never been a consistent problem with you?"

"You're a drinker yourself, Mr. DeSanta. You of all people should be familiar with the grieving process."

"Please, Sasha. I don't take formalities well. Just call me Michael." As a small gesture, Michael grasped Sasha's freehand. "I would offer you my number. Being a voice of reason. That's just not a possibility at the moment. Just remember to keep everything in moderation. Even my own family loves to torment me regarding "moderation". I call it nagging."

Sasha smiled at Michael's sense of humor. "Don't worry. After we eat we can go and locate your phone. I'm not sure if we'll find it, but it doesn't mean we can't try."

With that statement there had been something Michael admired in Sasha. She may have been in a difficult position, but she was still fighting. She wasn't depending on her medications as a crutch, but something to help her fight against the darkness she had wondering for however long.

The scone Sasha had promised was astounding by any given standard. Emotions aside, Michael found himself enjoying a little bit of Sasha's company. Even as she had recovered slowly from her drunken hangover. There had been a certain charm to her personality had that not many her age had in modern times. Where others were lost in their phones, Sasha had been serious about her statement on closing off the world. There had been something to learn from her after all.

There had been peace and quiet the walk back to her place. So another questioned lingered. "So what do you like about calling Paleto Bay your home?" Sasha considered that question, taking his left wrist and leading him across the street from her home. The answer was within beauty of itself. The ocean waves crashing upon the beach's shore Michael noticed through awe and astonishment.

"I never showed you the best part." Sasha emphasized with joy. Starring Oceanside with Michael. "Peace, quiet and just across the street I have access to a somewhat private beach. Many love Los Santos, but the alluring stillness, sounds and ocean waves of this place. Eventually you never want to leave."

"Truly a beautiful sight. Thank you for breakfast, Sasha." Was all Michael to speak back towards in gratitude.

"You're welcome, Michael. Remember. If you ever need a Place of Sanctuary. You're always welcome here. My offer still stands." Sasha's hazel eyes locking with Michael's gaze once more.

Michael gently brushed Sasha's dark brown hair out of her eyes, smiling. There had been a part of him that sympathized with her. Multiple traits he could relate and endure. Through her eyes, Michael could see her true nature. The sun illuminating a brighter side of her personality just off the reflection of her hair.

Placing his right arm around her, Michael drew her close as they spent a short amount of time overlooking the ocean and enjoying each other's company. There had been no yelling from his family. The strain of his marriage on his shoulders. Just the peace and quiet of a town he often drove passed without giving it another thought.

Yet just for today. Michael DeSanta could feel himself relax.