Life

Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Tragedy/Drama.
Summary: Sequel-ish to Tenacity, Future set. Jimmy loses the only parent who cared about him.

Author’s Note: Oh man, this is why I never write these stories! I get all teary-eyed!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bully or Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. They belong to Rockstar.

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DAMMIT! IT HAPPENED AGAIN!

If you just read a piece of writing lacking in punctuation, BLAME THE WEBSITE. I can't tell you how many times it's done this to me now.

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Zoe had long since taken the boys back to the hotel, and now Jimmy and Ken sat in the local bar with the typical prime-time bar crowd. Jimmy didn’t even notice the rumble of noise around him, nor did he even begin to worry about the danger of his wife and kids being out in Vice City alone; But then, anyone who tried to bushwhack Zoe Hopkins would pay dearly. Jimmy’s head was stuck in a cloud that had existed for two weeks now.

His father was dead. Tommy Vercetti, the infamous Harwood Butcher, had died.

The man had dodged bullets and mafia grunts as a hitman, escaped the death penalty by the skin of his teeth in 1971, sidestepped the fury of gang bosses as a crime lord, and what had killed him? A heart attack.

Jimmy knew that while he mourned, there were people that were celebrating. Hell, someone had screamed something obscene at the limousine during the drive to the cemetery. Dane, Jimmy’s older son (And every bit the hell-raiser that he and Zoe had been at that age) had yelled something right back at the heckler that would have made his dear old Grandpa Tommy proud.

But Tommy was dead. And all Dane got was a whack on the back of his head by his mother (So inappropriate the comment was). Jimmy had said nothing. He had neither the will nor the energy.

While some people had intensely disliked (Hated) Tommy, there had been plenty of people who had liked him. Mercedes Cortez, Candy Suxxx, Carl Johnson, Wu Xi Mu, Phil Cassidy- they and more had turned out for the funeral. There was hours of people saying their condolences to him, having known him since he was only a baby. Remembering how much he’d adored Tommy.

Jimmy knew, from the moment that day began, that he was going to drink himself into a coma that night.

Ken wasn’t saying much. He offered up a “Nice, Einstein,” when a drunken reveler in the bar fell headfirst off his barstool. He’d never been one for sentiment- That’s Ken, not the drunken guy- so he probably was at a loss as to what one might say to a grown man who felt like a little kid who just lost his father.

Jimmy tipped back a shot. He thought about his dad and felt his heartstrings tear. Nope- not drunk enough yet. He wanted to drink until he didn’t feel the pain anymore.

Ken looked at him. “Hey, Jim.” Jimmy glanced at the aged lawyer. Ken had long since lost the rest of his own hair, and now switched back and forth between cheap toupees on the regular basis. This, recently, had been a great joke for Tommy who, by some sick, cosmic joke, had retained all of his own hair (However graying).

“What?”

Ken seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. Jimmy recognized these movements; it meant he was about to hear about something he shouldn’t be hearing about. This was how his dad had always approached him when about to tell him something that no one- particularly his mother- should hear about.

Jimmy down another shot.

“All right; I briefly considered telling you this at the wake, but I didn’t think anyone else should know. It was always between me, your dad… And you.” Jimmy cocked an eyebrow.

“How much have you had to drink?” Ken rolled his eyes and waved his hand vaguely.

“Look, do you remember, when you were a kid, that your mom used to drop you-”

“-Dump me-”

“-Okay, dump you at your dad’s place every two years?” Jimmy felt one of his heartstrings tear. Those days being down here with Tommy, where no one was telling him his was a hopeless loser who’d be in prison by twenty, and having a parent that actually cared about him, were some of the best days of his life. The happiest. Jimmy downed another shot.

“Yeah.”

Ken glanced around the bar in a nervous manner. Jimmy was accustomed to this; Ken had always been neurotic. One of Jimmy’s earliest memories of the lawyer involved a psychotic break-down that had been shocking, a little frightening, and terribly amusing. Tommy had watched with complete neutrality, and asked Ken “Are you done, moron?” when it was over.

“Okay; well, when you were… Geez. One, I think. It was the first time your mom left you here. Tommy and I had no idea what to do with you, you know. We weren’t taking baby-sitting classes between coke deals.”

“Really?” Jimmy’s still frustratingly sober voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Really. So, for two, three weeks, we were running around trying to figure out what you wanted. Sometimes you were hungry, sometimes you needed to be changed, sometimes I think you just thought it would be funny to piss us off by making us run around for nothing.” He snorted. “The early signs of the brat you would soon become. Anyway, apart from several bumps on the head and a shirt getting caught in the blender-”

“You guys let all of that happen to me?” Jimmy asked, surprised.

“Of course not, Jim. That’s what happened to us while taking care of you. You were a real hellion at times, kid. To continue; despite a few minor to moderate injuries to your father and myself, it was pretty smooth sailing.” Ken paused, rolling his eyes innocently up to the ceiling. “Well, except for that one thing.”

Jimmy sighed. “If I don’t ask, are you still going to tell me?”

“Yes.”

Jimmy rubbed his head. “… Fine.” He put on a voice of faux eagerness. “What happened next, Ken?”

Ken, to Jimmy’s irritation, paused for a moment, quickly tapping the sides of his glass with nervous fingers.

“So… It’s like this. Your dad brings you to my office so we can work out a plan for dealing with these guys we’ve been having some trouble with. But then, the alarm on my car goes off, and we run outside, thinking maybe one of these guys has come to bust it up or tag it for kicks. You’re alone for- I don’t know- two minutes in the office. It wasn’t an hour-long affair. I tried shutting the alarm off, your dad kicked it a couple dozen times and started swearing when his foot hurt.”

Jimmy almost smiled. That sounded like Tommy. That sounded like Tommy to a T.

“But then, we come back in. And what do we find? Nothing. Nobody. And the window’s gone.” Jimmy’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t follow.”

“Who was the only person in the office when we left?”

“… Me?”

“Right. And nobody was there when we got back in. And the window was gone. So, what does that mean?” Jimmy thought for a moment (Why did the alcohol have to choose now to kick in?), and then his eyes widened.

“I was KIDNAPPED?”

“Don’t broadcast it to the whole damn state!” Ken hissed, glancing around. “And you already know it has a happy ending, don’t you? You’re alive, I’m alive, and your dad was alive up until two weeks ago!”

Jimmy leaned forward now as well, curiosity momentarily overriding the self-destructive misery that had consumed him. “So what happened? What did you do?”

“Well, I panicked- Shut up-” Jimmy had snorted, “-And your dad was on the fricking warpath. He was ready to blow up half of Vice City if it meant finding you. Good thing I was there to talk him out of it, because you know he had the resources to do it. We had a pretty good idea as to who took you- those guys I mentioned- and where they were.

“So, in short, we went to their place, shot it up, and got you out without a hair harmed on your head/” He paused. “Well. It was really more of Tommy who shot the place up. With gusto, I might add. He got shot, you know- In the shoulder. Nothing big, though.”

Jimmy wasn’t certain if Ken was serious about the bullet to the shoulder being ‘nothing big’ or if he was just trying to impress something upon Jimmy. If this was bait, then Jimmy fell for it hook, line and sinker.

“He got shot?” Ken shrugged.

“No big deal. Any real parent would take a bullet for their kid.” He twirled his glass on the table, now not meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “Tommy loved you, kid. You need to grieve, I know that. And I know how much you loved him. How much him caring meant to you, when your mom was such a flake. But remember that he wouldn’t want you miserable until you die over this. He wanted you to be happy.”

Jimmy sniffed softly, eyes burning. Ken was right. He knew that. But now was his grieving time.

He needed another drink.

-End

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(Sniff) I wrote this story about a year ago in my writing journal at school. I teared up when I was writing it then, and I did just now when I was typing it up. God, I hate writing stories where my favorite characters die! (Goes off to wail in the corner)