Chapter VI

For a calm evening, the overwhelming stress of Aldrick faded into the background. Sasha watched as the moon shined brightly into the night sky. All of it flooded with bright stars. Stargazing alone, her face had glowed from the firepit just beside her. Her aquamarine high heeled shoes in hand... Sasha had felt sore. Socializing had never been her stronger suit.

Even if it mean business meetings.

Enduring Aldrick had been a difficult task. Though a recommended partner when it came down to semantics, Crawford was a dangerous man. People of his kind were a rocky boat. If there were a few words to describe Aldrick from Sasha's perspective they would be unhinged and confident. Los Santos would be a better place without people like him.

Tommy needed a more solid presence here in Los Santos. With his ruling alone, perhaps the gangs could be more cooperative. All Tommy needed-

"You look beautiful tonight." A familiar voice to Sasha's right caught her attention. Her eyes had brightened as she saw her visitor through the glow of the radiant firepit.

"Hello, Michael." Sasha responded with a warm smile. Her stress melting away. If there was one person she could trust. It was him. "How did you know I would be found here?"

Michael had given a warm smile in return, joining her side. For a moment he wanted to tell her about his encounter with Crawford. Only to be more awestruck by Sasha's beauty. "Long enough to observe how Aldrick was pulling moves on you that clearly made you uncomfortable." Michael's left fingers had brushed Sasha's hair out of her face.

"So you decided to play hero? I'm not buying that, Michael. Please tell me the truth."

Michael nodded. It was at least worth a shot back in his mind. "All right. You caught me. I had my old friend Lester do a background check on you. I stole your number before I left Paleto Bay. I was worried about you. Especially in the state you were in. I couldn't have just leave you."

Sasha was taken aback. There had been a questionable gaze from her in return. "You know that I had offered my home as a Sanctuary. In what terms did you not think you wouldn't see me again? Lance just pushed me into darkness for a short time. I'm not suicidal."

"Your medications tell me another story, Sasha. Your thoughts. What you shared with me. Being an alcoholic. You shouldn't be alone."

"You have no business putting yourself in my life!" Sasha's voice pitched higher and she got to her feet. "Don't you think I had a reason not to tell you who I truly was? That I had a Place of Sanctuary? One I invited YOU into. Something to escape?!"

"Is it because you're a Vercetti? In case you didn't notice. I honestly don't care about that. You know what I am stressing over? That I'm in your eternal debt. Simply because you saved my sorry butt. Let me return the favor. Something!"

Sasha was beginning to revolt. "If you did your research. Which you clearly did! You would also figure out that I'm a very dangerous woman! Not by just my reputation alone, Michael. It's primarily because of my family name! There's a reason why I don't tell people my real last name! You can't relate!"

"Actually. I can. Quite frankly I can even extend my courtesy by saying WHY you didn't care to tell me your real last name. This includes anything that might follow suit. As you become more private. You're better off without the trouble!"

"You!" Anger was clearly in her voice by now. "You... fucking HYPOCRITE!"

With shock, anger and her blood boiling Sasha stormed off the Roof Terrace. Dashing for the elevator back to her Penthouse. Michael bolted after her. Calling her name. It had even been enough to witness her cry as Michael stalled the elevator doors from closing. "Sasha. Wait. Don't leave. I'm sorry. Look. Everything what I said still stands. Sure. I shouldn't have done a background check on you. But what was I supposed to do? Question if you were to survive? If you were going to still be on this earth the next day?"

"Damn it, Michael. All it accomplished was making you a prime target." Sasha's words made Michael want to confess, but now wasn't the time.

"It's a bit too late for that, kid." Michael stated, getting distracted by the elevator doors dinging at him to remove his body. "Did you not hear what I had stated before? I don't give a damn if you're a public figure. You saved my miserable life! Now let me save YOURS."

By now, Michael had inched closer to Sasha. Having them be alone in the elevator as the doors had finally cleared to close. "I appreciate the intensive, Michael. Really, but can't you just take the act of random kindness and move on with your life?"

Michael inched his was even closer. Now face to face with Sasha. "I can't. I can't just let you walk away from me. Not knowing that as you offered me your place of Sanctuary that I would ever see you again." He had brought her into a full embrace. "Listen. I've been where you're currently experiencing. Lost in a rage. Not knowing if asking for help not only for yourself, but just to ask someone to be by your side it going to accomplish anything."

"There's nothing I can do to accomplish anything." Sasha broke down into Michael's arms. "Lance was supposed to help me manage my Grandfather's Empire and I'm left with nobody. I'm alone. None of this is even in my field of expertise. Lance told me we were going to be partners. That everything was fine. Then I get news that he died. Nothing went according to plan."

The elevator had opened back up as it had arrived to Sasha's Penthouse Suite. Sasha walked ahead, glancing back at Michael. "I would prefer if this wasn't mentioned." She ordered. "Go home, Michael. Give me a call in the morning. I promise I'll answer. As of right now. I have work meetings and associates to interview."

Michael watched as Sasha walked down the corridor to reach the entryway of her High Class Penthouse Suite. His thoughts and actions silent as the elevator doors closed behind him. He turned around to reach for the Parking Garage Floor. Yet his right hand had dropped. Sasha had been an emotional mess. Michael had seen her for who she truly was in the moment. There was no one to back her up and there was a possibility of her making reckless, brash decisions.

Michael's hand pressed the button for the doors to reopen. "Promise me, kid."

Sasha, who had been preoccupied at locating her keys turned her head towards him. "What?"

Michael exited the elevator. Walking towards her. Finding a way to restate his question. "Promise me that you'll moderate your drinking. That you won't die from alcohol poisoning. I completely understand spacing out or having a beer after a rough day or even enduring morons. I need you to promise me that you'll keep living. That you'll find purpose again."

Sasha didn't respond immediately. She had opened her door to the Penthouse, motioning for Michael to step inside. "You can help yourself with a drink at the bar. I'll just be a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

As she had disappeared into her bedroom, Michael was fascinated by the enormous space of the Penthouse alone. High end decor caught his attention as he wandered over by the bar. Many expensive liquors lined the mirrored space. Michael was even willing enough to entertain Sasha's instructions, rounding the counter to help himself. His eyes had scoped the place. It was truly a sight to behold.

"High end living. If I knew becoming a druglord would provide me with such nice luxuries. I would have changed careers a long time ago." There had been a spare bedroom, a separate office and even what appeared to be an antiques art gallery. There had been plenty to discover in Sasha's elaborate home.

With the entire floor to navigate, Michael had naturally been drawn to the art gallery. Items of interest caught his attention as he observed the impressive classic weaponry upon the display mantle. Taking a swig from the bottle he gripped. he found himself clearing the burn from his throat. The scotch he had was above his normal tolerance, but still smooth.

Thinking he could carry on with the spectral of the sheer collection, Michael had stopped in his tracks. Double taking at the placard his eyes had read. Could it be? His focus confirming his concerns. Reading the engraving again. His jaw practically dropped. It had been John Martson's Carcano Rifle! This was the primary collection Crawford had sought.

Thoughts formed internally. His palms began to run cold and his heart raced. How Sasha had the collection Crawford requested wasn't the mystery. Everything that Aldrick had come into question. Rather it be a challenge to pull the heist against Sasha wasn't the challenge. The morality was if Sasha was in direct danger because of him.

Michael knew he had to tell her. He needed to explain that Aldrick wasn't to be trusted.

"Quite the display. Isn't it?" Sasha's voice had caught Michael off guard as she joined him in a more casual attire. "Being that Lance never had any children, I was the closest heir to his "family". Even if I wasn't related. He trusted most of his inheritance to me. John Marston's prized weaponry is of greater value than a normal heirloom."

"Any idea why Lance would trust you with his family heirlooms?"

Sasha had shrugged. "Who knows. I don't know why I was selected outside of his immediate family. Being that I was never an extended family bloodline... it was all confusing to me. Even if I did know him for over two decades. Maybe the majority of his family members didn't understand the importance of this type of inherited collection? Value aside."

Having listened to her explanation, every voice in the back of Michael's head were screaming to confess. Yet he couldn't bring himself to tell her that Aldrick was targeting her simply because she had unintentionally placed in harm's way. "That sounds heavy. A heavy burden and responsibility to carry. Sometime we do find the friends who become family. Blood related or not... I have no words. I share your pain. I'm truly sorry."

Sasha had swiped Michael's scotch bottle, taking a shot before considering to comment on his experience. "I almost want to joke that you're onto something, Michael." She laughed, having then taking another drink. "You know as well as anyone, not just in age, but in experience. That through your own perspective that there are going to be certain people who enter our lives. Then before we blink or appreciate them truly... They're gone."

Michael had become troubled. He had took back his liquor bottle, there had been an audible sigh that accompanied his thoughts. "How about we forget the smaller details for just tonight?"

"That sounds like a better plan than I had tonight."

"You mean dealing with perverted business men?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. DeSanta." Sasha had remarked back, giving a slight giggle to Michael's precise assumption.

The remainder of the evening was spend by what Sasha would label as "Lakeside Company". Meaning both her and Michael would be in each others company without saying much. Just being by each others side was enough. Physical Healing through comfort. They even had taken their share drinking from the same scotch bottle until they were dead drunk.

"Okay. Okay." Sasha spoke through her intoxicated state, nudging Michael's body. "How's this for an embarrassing story...? When I was younger I was so terrible at lockpicking that the authorities questioned the wrong person simply because they believed it was attempted by a copy cat. I had failed so damn much that I wasn't a suspect at my own crime scene."

Michael gave a hearty laugh. "Ah... the days of being an inexperienced thief. I can relate to that! Reminds me of the jobs I was once hired for back in Liberty City. Now... Now THAT kind of learned talent took over a decade to master. Even as I improved... there were more than plenty missteps. Regrets. Assholes. Even as you mastered your skills... one way on another you're going to fuck up."

Sasha had fully agreed with Michael's statement. "I had been forced to train myself as a basic thief even if it wouldn't contribute to my current career path."

"There would be no way I could envision someone like you honing basic thievery skills. Why was something like that forced on you?"

"It became a strange "Family Tradition" thanks to Tommy. He even had the strange decency to call them necessary "Survival Skills". Just incase anyone of us were caught in-between a rock and a hard place. Or as Tom loved to title it: "Down on our luck"."

"From the stories I heard about your Grandfather? He's a very intelligent man. He takes the dangerous scenarios that he endured and passes it to the next generation in hopes they won't make the same mistakes. Every near death experience becomes a life lesson not to repeat throughout life."

"Lance had met Tommy during a low point of our family business. The Vercetti Family I mean. We had been struggling. So him and Tom struck a reasonable deal to keep everything afloat. I honestly don't think our empire or reputation alone would be here without people like Lance. He had more insight on people's behavior and reactions. In no time Tom and Lance reached the prime of their business endeavors. They weren't to be trifled with."

"The sad fact of today. The fantasy of today aren't the 80s of yesterday. Becoming more than a cliched relic of the past. Now days it's rather you continue taking risks that bring more trouble or you make yourself into a "legit" company. Don't get me wrong, though. Going legit can be a difficult venture as well. Any successful trade requires the right people. The downfall is that you don't know who people really are. They can say anything. Everybody lies."

"And that's why I'm here, Michael. I may not know much about the empire Tom built, but I do know a lot about working negotiations and other deals. I've accomplished more than what my parents ever could. I'm a reliable Ambassador by an excelled standard. It took awhile for anyone to have true faith in my abilities, but their tone changed with every successful deal. My skills may not be perfect, but we have more compared to the last two decades. At the very least."

"You don't actually... interact with the product... do you? There's always a rule to never get high off your own supply for good reasons."

"I may be old fashioned, but I prefer to be a classic business woman. A few drinks. One on one trust building tactics. No one interferes. Even if I have to tackle... uncomfortable obstacles or challenges along the way."

"If I wasn't misunderstanding... You sound like you could benefit from a little extra protection. Maybe even a stubborn bodyguard to assure your safety."

Sasha had grinned, raising her left eyebrow in Michael's direction. "What? You mean someone like YOU, Michael? You flatter me."

"With someone as attractive as you? I don't doubt for one second that you had more than a few... uncomfortable situations. In your chosen profession? I'm surprised you haven't accidentally placed yourself in grave danger."

Sasha's head had slightly bobbed towards Michael. Having it drift to her right, yet still maintained eye contact with him. "That concern in you voice! That tender tone! You're worried about me... aren't you, Mr. DeSanta? You don't think a single gal like me can't place up a front? You honestly believe I need extra muscle to scare the big baddies away?"

Michael had been speechless. He lightly cupped Sasha's chin. Caressing her left cheek. He had met her gaze equally. His former judgement had fogged his mind with intoxication. There had been heartstrings tugged. Michael had ached with guilt and remorse. It was his own actions that he had endangered Sasha. The pure dread and overwhelming fear branched inside Michael's head. How would she react knowing that Crawford was trying to make a business partner out of Michael himself?

All of this because of Lance? Everyone had been to blame.

Sasha continued to whisper Michael's name through his deep trance. Clouded haze through everlasting silence and compassion. He needed to make a move to assure that Sasha could trust him. No matter how outrageous the next action played on his part. Time was short and Sasha needed to be prepared. What could Michael convince Sasha without words? Without judgement? Without fear?

Inching closer to her face, Michael had given Sasha a soft, gentle kiss. Having now left her breathless. Her mind had but only one thought...

Michael.