"Some things are better left alone and unfinished."
Table of Chapters
Someone once asked if I would be remembered.
Short answer: no
Tina’s okay looking. She has an out-of-date bob cut with a headband on that reminds me of some eighties movie – name drop anything by John Hughes. She sips on her Pißwasser and stares off into the bar. She’s so stoned right now she probably forgot who she came here with; stuck in her little fantasy world with Fabio over there at the bar. I take a drag of my cigarette and hear shouts from some taxi driver at traffic about how sh*tty this city is. And it only gets sh*ttier.
“Hey. You know, it was great hanging with you and all-” But she cuts me off with a finger.
She turns back to me. I never noticed how green her eyes were. “Don’t ruin the evening yet.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and tosses them onto the table. She turns back to look at Fabio.
I reach over and grab the cigarettes. I had been wanting to quit ever since coming back from Vice, but it’s a hard thing to quit.
I light the cigarette and stand up, pulling my jacket in tighter. I haven’t gotten used to the cold yet. I take a drag from my cigarette and wait for her to turn around, but she only speaks to the glass separating her from her estranged lover in the bar. Please.
“You know. I was planning on f*cking you tonight.”
“I mean it.”
“I’m sure you do.” I look at my watch and realize I could be taking a more productive shower.
She finally turns to me and takes my hand. She kisses the back of it and she looks up at me with those virulent green eyes. “Please? Stay for me?”
I take my hand back and take a drag from my cigarette. She crosses her arms and takes another sip of her piss beer. What a child, throwing a tantrum.
“I’ll call you later when you calm down.” I leave her there and turn the corner before grabbing a booth at a café. The waitress comes over with this big smile plastered across her face and I guess she’s cute enough.
“Would you like anything to drink, sir?” She reminds me of Tina who reminds me of Beth who reminds me of Kelsey.
“What whiskeys do you have?”
“We have Mountie Mallet, Seaman’s 8, Jennason, Jane-”
I stop her with a wave of my hand. “Give me a double Mountie on the rocks. Can you also put in a slice of lemon?”
“Sure thing, sir!” And she jets off.
I lean into the booth and close my eyes. I can imagine Tina sitting there sullenly outside the restaurant, pouting. I can imagine her grabbing her cigarettes and her purse, getting up in a huff until her big strong savior comes out and bumps into her. They would both apologize and she’d make up her mind to f*ck him right then.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Ghost of Night Clubs past.” I keep my eyes closed and let out a moan as I hear the booth creek. “Definitely thought you were dead.”
“Same could be said about you.” I hear a glass clink on the table and the waitress’s voice pipes up.
“Oh, would you like anything to drink, sir?”
“Whatever the hell this motherf*cker’s having. Pretty sure it’s apple juice in a glass by the looks of it.” He laughs at his own joke and the waitress only follows to ensure some meager tip. “So, I heard there was an explosion.”
“How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. I like this café. One of the only ones left that turns a blind eye to smoking indoors.” I could hear his lighter clicking with each flick.
I open my eyes and reach over and grab my drink. It’s dim in the café and he’s far back enough into his seat where his face is cast in shadow. I probably didn’t want to see it anyway, not after the gentlemen’s club incident.
“You torch my club, you don’t call, you blow yourself up. Some kind of friend you are, man.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and the small ember reflects in his eyes.
“Guess I lost track of time.” I take a sip and let it sit in my mouth before swallowing. The burn feels good; first thing I’ve felt all day.
The waitress returns with a smile and gives him his drink. He smiles back and thanks her before taking a sip and placing it on the table. “I see you’re stepping up and drinking a real man’s drink. You stopped drinking your little apple juice and coconut rum concoctions?”
I take another sip. “I stopped a lot of things.” I pull out a cigarette and light it. He leans in with a cackle and sneers at me.
His face is exactly how I thought it would look after being blown up by a flaming bottle of vodka. His skin is scarred from his left temple up to the side of his eye and along his left cheek until his chin; a patch of hair is missing from the top left corner of his face and his left eyebrow is cut off jaggedly at the end. Another scar runs from the inside of his left eyebrow over the bridge of his nose and cuts down under his right eye, ending directly under the outer tear duct of his right eye; most likely from a flying glass shard of the exploding bottle of liquor.
“Don’t I look nice? I have you to thank for my make over.”
“I see you still like holding grudges.” I take a sip and drag. I roll my eyes and look down at my glass with water rivulets forming and gliding down the side.
“And I can see you’re still an ungrateful asshole.”
“Did you come over here just to be an ass to me, cause if so, you can f*ck off right about now.”
He makes a frowning face to mock me and whimpers. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? Cause you f*cking destroyed my face.” He slams his fist and nearly spills both of our drinks. I pick mine up and take a sip.
“Maybe if you didn’t shoot at me.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t destroy my club.”
“I didn’t do anything. I came in to keep an eye on a friend and some unwanted company found me.” Memories of Victor nearly dying fill my mind and I don’t have time for this. “Is there a point to any of this?”
“Yeah, actually.” He takes a sip of his whiskey and a drag of his cigarette. “For being dead almost nineteen years, why are you here? In Liberty City?”
I look down at the table and stare at the glass intently. I can see Kelsey’s face, or at least what I remember Kelsey looking like who reminds me of Beth who reminds me of Clara who reminds me of Tina who is busy f*cking Fabio, and I can’t think of why I’m here.
“Roberto. What happened to you?”
Edited by Cubanwhip, 15 April 2013 - 05:31 PM.