In the Beginning, part II

This is part of my "Let's Play" of GTA Vice City. Part I is here.  When appropriate, I will link to a song from the game's soundtrack. Since "Broken Wings" plays during the game's introduction, I again recommend it.

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So I found out the deal was legitimately ambushed. Sonny was pissed, too pissed to fake . He’s a lousy actor. Not much of a businessman either. He doesn’t do too much well, that Sonny, not that I’d ever tell him that much. Hell, mouthing off to  his father is probably what got me fifteen years in the pen.

I had to make the call without thinking about it.  Sonny…Sonny went off like Mount Vesuvius, slamming things around. I figure he’s in the Bistro like always, playing the part of the respectable business owner, tearing the place apart. 

Look, Sonny, I say, I’m gonna hunt down the bastards that did this. I say it with an edge in my voice, like the time I told his old man that I’d show the Leones why they shouldn’t try to edge him out in the cab business. That was the night before their garage burnt down under the most mysterious of circumstances. Sonny knows that edge. It mollifies him.

“Because you’re you, Tommy, because we got history, I’ma gonna let you handle this. For now.” He hangs up. I sit there, fuming. I don’t have much else to do, so I get a drink from downstairs and fall asleep watching the local news.  I woke up early, and after a few hours paid a visit to Rosenberg. I had to jog there because someone stole his car. That’s two things gone wrong in his life this week. 

Rosenberg is not in the best of mental states. He’s back to being a beserk rat. “Go get some sleep?! I have been sitting in THIS chair ALL night, with the lights off, drinking COFFEE.”

I shrug. “Shut up. Sit down. Listen to me.”  You know what I did this morning? 

I went to the beach and watched the sun rise. First time I’ve really seen the sun in fifteen years. Fantastic. I sat there for hours, mesmerized. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to find out who hit our deal. Then, I’m going to kill them.”  He blinks.

“That’s a good idea. That’s a great idea.”

I prod him for leads, and he suddenly remembers the guy who got us into this deal: Colonel Juan Garcia Cortez. He’s having a party in a week, and Rosenberg’s been invited, being his lawyer. “All-lll of Vice City’s players are gonna be there,” he says, “But not me! No, no, no, no! I’m going to stay he --”

Jesus, man, shut up.  With no other leads and a week to kill, I’ve got life to live. The beaches are calling my name.