"Ha, Pepe, you really should have been in that car. Vito drives like sothing out of those old movies — what's the one, the bald guy?"
"Fast and Furious."
"That's it! Fast and Furious! Vito, your mory is incredible!"
Jackie and Vito were back in their usual spot, several bottles of Four Hundred Rabbit already open in front of them. Pepe was having the kind of evening that makes bartenders consider career changes: managing a bar full of Valentinos on the one hand and listening to Jackie's full mission debrief on the other.
"All right, Pepe. I'll handle the bar. Too many custors tonight, you can't be everywhere at once."
A woman with a streak of grey in her hair waved Pepe out from behind the counter.
"Uh — Mom? What are you doing here?"
Mrs. Welles smiled at the question.
"This place is called the Wild Wolf, not Jackie's Bar. Night like tonight, soone has to keep an eye on her own place."
She set a plate of lemon slices on the counter in front of the two of them as she spoke.
"Mom, you should be resting. I've got this!"
Mrs. Welles pulled the empties off the bar.
"Is that right? Because what I see is poor Pepe running himself into the ground, and my son sitting there like an old engine sobody's been feeding alcohol all night."
Jackie's shoulders went up. He put on his best aggrieved expression.
"Mom, don't do this in front of my best choom. Oh, right — Mom, this is Vito."
"Very good to et you, Mrs. Welles."
"Good to et you too, Vito. I've heard your na from half the people in here tonight. You're a good kid. Co eat with us soti."
"I will, Mrs. Welles."
"Good. I'll leave you two to your evening. Those of us from the older generation are nearly past our use-by date." She looked at her son. "Jackie. Bar's yours. Today's your big day, I know. Just don't empty the cellar. Promise that."
Jackie put one hand on the counter and vaulted over.
"Watch and learn, Mom. Your son has everything under control."
Mrs. Welles smiled at the pure chaos of the entrance, left Jackie a few instructions, and headed up to the second floor.
Jackie exhaled the second she was gone.
"Honestly, my mom terrifies ."
Vito bit into a lemon slice.
"Hard to picture Mr. Jackie Welles flinching from bullets but scared of his own mother."
Jackie grabbed a lemon, chewed on it thoughtfully, and washed it down with a pour of Four Hundred Rabbit tequila.
"Not scared scared. I just can't stand seeing her disappointed. Or upset."
Vito leaned in without a word and listened.
"I was in the Valentinos before. Got into a firefight with 6th Street, took a hit, ended up in the hospital. Saw my mom crying. Couldn't take it. That was it for the gang."
Vito poured him a glass.
"Running with the bottom of the barrel doesn't end anywhere good. One day you're on the street, and the next day you're on it permanently."
A few Valentinos drifted over from across the bar to raise a glass.
"Hey — you're Vito, right?"
Vito turned around.
"If there's no other Vito in here, that's . What can I do for you?"
They lifted their cups.
"No trouble. Just here to drink. Jackie's our brother and we're here to toast him and his new partner."
Vito reached for a bottle.
"A few cups? We can do better than that. More bottles, on ."
Liquor makes strangers into old friends fast. After a few rounds the conversation opened right up.
A Valentino nad Bolivar started in on an urban legend.
"You all heard about the Orca? The legendary submarine?"
The table imdiately beca a rapt audience.
"Caught a few words here and there. Give us the full story."
Bolivar sat up straighter.
"Back in Los Santos there were so major players. One of them, guy nad Pavel, was the Orca's helmsman."
Another Valentino frowned.
"If he's a major player, shouldn't he have been the captain?"
Bolivar held up a hand.
"Hold on, let finish. Pavel was sobody, sure. But his boss, guy who went by Little Mute — he was the captain."
Jackie raised an eyebrow.
"Little Mute is a rough nickna."
"Doesn't sound like much, but this guy was the real deal. Cross him and you were finished. He could have turned Los Santos inside out."
Jackie pushed a glass across to Bolivar.
"Keep going."
Bolivar wet his throat.
"Pavel handled Little Mute's operations getting to the island. The island was loaded — serious wealth — but a blonde boss had the whole thing locked down. Hundreds of people on his payroll, weapons for days. Didn't matter. To Little Mute, that island was wide open."
Bolivar paused, read the room, then continued.
"Little Mute was in and out of the blonde boss's vault whenever he felt like it. What he took most of was a specific liquor. You know what it was?"
Vito's mouth twitched. He couldn't help himself.
"Sinsimito."
Bolivar blinked.
"How did you know that?"
Vito waved his hand.
"Keep going."
Bolivar kept going.
"Eventually Little Mute moved on to Vice City. Pavel retired. Then the Orca went down — so kind of accident, sank to the bottom of the ocean. Took all those cases of Sinsimito tequila with it. Sitting on a continental shelf sowhere right now."
Jackie sighed.
"All that top-shelf tequila, just gone."
"Not gone!"
Bolivar cut him off.
"Word is Yorinobu Arasaka — the rock-loving gang-running Arasaka prince — found the Orca. Now he's sitting on the original stock and planning to put out a new Sinsimito line exclusive to the wealthy."
One of the Valentinos looked skeptical.
"How does a street-level guy like you know what Yorinobu Arasaka is up to? He call you?"
The table erupted. Bolivar went red.
"Damn it, believe it or don't. Not everyone knows what I know."
The laughter wound down eventually and the Valentinos drifted back to their own table, leaving the bar to Jackie and Vito.
Jackie looked wistful.
"Getting to drink a Sinsimito before I die. That'd be a life well lived."
Vito laughed.
"If it exists, a Night City legend getting hold of a bottle shouldn't be hard. The prerequisite being you're still a living legend at the ti."
Jackie's eyes lit up.
"Every Night City legend needs a signature cocktail. We should figure ours out now before soone else asks and we co up empty."
"Fair point. You go first."
"Let think. Vodka, ice, li juice, ginger beer. Oh, and one indispensable ingredient."
"A little love?"
"Exactly right, mano. You get completely. What's yours?"
"Let think. Rum. No ice. High-proof alcohol. Five drops of hot chili oil. Oh — and a lemon on the tab."
"That sounds absolutely lethal."
Jackie let out a shout of laughter, then grinned.
"But it sounds exactly like a legend."
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