Chapter VIII

Marcello Vercetti had always been a prompt and stagnant man. Nor was he one to waste time or lead others astray. Especially if he had interest in specific individuals. Someone like Michael DeSanta landing on his radar was more than unexpected. Michael showing up with his sister was what concerned his focus.

Carefully observing Michael's arrival at the Cemetery had him be easily trailed. From a distance even Michael could detect that he had been followed. Once the cat was out of the bag, Marcello could see how alert and focused Michael adapted with his surrounding environment. Already Marcello had given Michael points for following instructions at being discreet.

This was indeed the same man that was rumored to be in Sasha's Company. Tommy had been greatly concerned for her safety. Demanding to know who the hell Michael DeSanta was... "Sasha will always have her self destructive pattern when trying to cope. Do her a favor and keep watch. Keep her safe. No matter the cost."

If Tommy had his say. Certainly Michael wouldn't be breathing, but having received updates about Sasha and a possible entanglement. Tommy had another idea to make use of everyone's well being. Perhaps Michael had a better opportunity working with them rather thank against them. Marcello had to keep his composure. That's all he could promise Tommy when encountering Michael.

"Michael DeSanta?" Marcello greeted him with a light accent and a firm handshake.

"You must be my secret admirer."

"Marcello Vercetti. I'm the older brother of Sasha. My little sister." He properly introduced himself to see Michael as an equal if respect was reciprocated.

"How are you doing, Mr. Vercetti? How might I be of service?"

"Mr. Vercetti is my Grandfather and with great reason. Call me Marcello and I'll address you likewise if that works for you." Michael had nodded to return. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I had heard that my sister is in good hands with a man of your reputation? It seems like you caused quite a ruckus with Merry Weather and FIB. Perhaps you're just a man who has chaos in his wake. It matters not. Your type are always frantic."

"My type?" Michael asked upon crossing his arms. "What exactly is wrong with my type, pal?"

Marcello lifted his arms, defending his ground. "Hey, now. I may talk the way I do, but don't take any offense. I'm a native of Liberty City."

Michael shared a baffle look. "Liberty City? What the hell are you doing in Los Santos?"

"I've been trying to find my baby sister. If you haven't noticed. Sasha hasn't been herself. She hasn't been answering her phone outside of Aldrick Crawford. You emerged with her just sometime after. Don't try and deny it because I have eyes and ears everywhere. You were with her just the night before. We keep tabs on all those who invite themselves around the family."

"Aggressive. I think that suits you well, Marcello. I'm not causing trouble. You stalking me explains how brash you're handling this situation." spoke Michael. "You sound a little paranoid having my type around your sister."

"It was a very rushed and personal request that I speak with you on these terms, Mike. Not my choice, but after Lance Marston passed. The rest is history. It's certainly not out of animosity. I'm assuming you've been told about Marston?"

"Yeah. That him and your family were close knit. His death was sudden and everyone had been effected. Your sister..." Michael had to reviewed his words carefully. "You're aware she's self destructive, but are you aware that she drinks? I fear her state. If she is unstable... it could be a very..." Marcello caught onto Michael's stress.

"Has Sasha resorted to that much? That would explain why she didn't answer her phone for the passed few weeks. Lucky you stumbled upon her the way you did then."

"Sheer dumb luck." Michael commented. "Sheer dumb fucking luck."

"I would be honored to hear that tale, Mr. DeSanta. Hearing my sister has turned to hard liquor isn't a surprise. Lance was a good man. My guess is that she'll do anything to not face reality."

"What of Lance?"

"Sasha and him... were close. Practically inseparable. If you ask those who knew them? It had completely shattered her when the news of his death came. It was a secret he kept not only from her. Lance kept it from everyone. Damn bastard was selfish enough. Died alone."

"Then what exactly do you seek from me? I'm already involved. Things have become quite complicated. I can't even explain it to my own family."

Marcello rubbed his face, reached into his jacket pocket. Giving Michael a small stack of cash which Michael automatically grabbed from him. "I'm asking of a favor from you, Mr. DeSanta. Not only from me, but from Tommy directly." Marcello ran his fingers through his hair. "I know how much of an impact this has on your life. All so very sudden... but I am asking that you protect my sister. She could use a bodyguard like you."

"Why can't you just call her yourself?"

There had been a quick glare of Marcello's phone came into Michael's view. There had been several calls and texts missed or not responded to over a period of time. "When Sasha shuts down... she shuts up. You're about as close to her anyone has been in recent weeks. What you were just handed was a small bonus. Best you just do what Tommy asks. You'll find it easier to work with him in that regard."

"You don't even know who the hell I am."

"Let's just say that I know enough. Just do what you're told."

Michael kept silent having received cash. Money had a way of talking. So did the Vercetti Family. No doubts or questions about it. Trying to process everything, he was capable of halting Marcello in his exit with a simple phrase. "Wait. There's something I was speak to you regarding your sister. It's about Aldrick Crawford."

"Let me assure you that Lance would be devastated to see you in this state." Sasha could still hear Michael's words echoing in the back of her head. The rest of her afternoon had been empty without him being by her side. The silence was strange to endure.

Staring at her home bar mirror. She could see her imagination running off with her. Reviewing just the nights before of the laughter she shared with Michael. Their nights together would forever linger in the back of her mind. These passed few days had been quite the adventure.

Everything had seemed to slow down, however now seeing what her mind recognized as their framed picture together in-front of her Grandfather's Yacht "The Vercetti Gale". Lance was even generous enough to sign the photo. "Let's do this again soon! Vice City! Next year! Count on it! Much Love! - Lance." Reading that grounded her mind. Her heart had ached. There was still a part of her that wanted anything in the world to have him back.

"Why don't you trust me?" Lance had asked as if distant, yet in the same room.

Enraged, Sasha gripped the picture frame, shattering her bar mirror. Watching as the shard pieces covered the shelves, counter and floor. "You self centered bastard. The one thing you had to speak to me was the truth. I would have been by your side. I would have helped you fight until the very bitter end.

Grabbing the nearest liquor bottle, Sasha knew it would help with the voices she was hearing. They were getting increasingly worse. The problem was telling Michael the truth. Still hiding away behind a mask. The unfinished resolution of Lance's death was something Sasha would have to face alone.

"I love you, Sasha. I always will." Lance's voice had echoed in her mind.

Through mournful tears she spoke again to herself. "I love you too, Lance." Starting to drown out the voices in the back of her head. "I'm not too crazy about hearing your voice. You are my greatest tormentor. Perhaps that's now more of a personal problem. Like the Book of Revelation. Michael arrived at just the right time."

Fallen Angel or not. Michael had certainly been a small blessing for a short time. Swig after swig she continued to drown out the memories of recent past. Perhaps breaking the promise she made to Michael earlier in the day. Had it mattered. There would have been a great feeling of guilt. In the moment. There was none.

Only the abyss staring back.