Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up.
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Miami, Florida
The sun began to go down over a bright faded sky in a place known as the 'sunshine state'. Sailboats moved slowly into the water, the dark shadows appeared larger than under as the sun was sinking down into the ocean. Soft winds blew through the palm trees, brushing them slightly as people sat the docks enjoying this lovely view. The rays of sunlight created a brightness in the blend of orange and yellow rays. Perfect for anyone not used to such beauty over a tropical view, to come in and snap photos. But this wasn't an area of Miami that usually received many tourists around the year.
Key Biscayne was one of the more quiet places of the city. An island coast, right off west of Downtown over a long bridge that situated it on it's island off the south of Miami Beach. A nice place for a community, a better place to lay low and enjoy the years of life in sweet silence from the outside world. Vincent Dixon was just the man to enjoy that life hidden away behind sunsets and in an area of a big city where he wouldn't expect to be tracked by the ghosts of his former life. It was here where he made his retirement home, living under the radar at 46 years of age.
Not long ago, Vincent Dixon had found himself in the heart of an underworld business. A former private investigator turned 'fixer' for high playing clients, he had seen his fair share of the dark side in life. Some 15 years ago, he had been the prime of his body to sacrifice within the job. A former police officer who made rank of detective within the robbery division back in Chicago. He moved out to L.A. when he turned 31, ready to start a new career that would lead to a satisfying work of pay. As a private investigation, he started out with small cases; the usual eyes on the street watching for his clients. Back then, he spent his time watching cheating spouses and keeping tabs for clients who felt they were being ripped off in business deals.
His career quickly took a deep turn back in the fall of 2001. Taking one case from a prominent figure in Hollywood, becoming the P.I. for a powerful director that needed someone to track down agents. The payoff in this one job was enough for him to become greedy, starting in the six figure numbers and setting a goal to make millions of dollars. Vincent didn't quite see greed as a bad thing, for it was the only choice that opened the doorway for later would become a partnership, as he met his best friend: Joe Steele. Together, the two became known as 'Dixon/Steele'. Private investigators turned 'fixers' within the underworld of L.A.
Vincent had met Joe Steele back in late 2001, still fresh with his new job as a P.I. The two became partners, as Joe was originally a bodyguard for an actress. Before then, he had been a cop in the LAPD. Steele was a detective working in narcotics before he threw his badge amidst finding that most of his division was full of corruption. He was about 5 years older than Vincent, had seen more experience within the line of duty. Together, they formed a partnership after they met working security for a specific actress that needed help with keeping a scandal out of the tabloid magazines.
For 9 years, the duo between Vincent Dixon and Joe Steele worked in the underworld. Together, they kept their jobs as fixers moving from star to star over the years. Their detective skills came in handy for the dirty work, making them sufficient in every situation. The money made it all worth it, as they had plenty of money and had their chances with so many famous women. The two quickly became something of ladies' men. Never in Vincent's life did he want to settle down and have a family. The lavish lifestyle he spent with money and within the heart of Hollywood, that was his true pride and joy to the world.
All good things eventually come to an end. No matter how much money was made doing jobs and working from high name client to the next, some secrets were better left untouched. Vincent learned this the hard way just 5 years ago. While investigating a conspiracy linked to a business man in Hollywood, Vincent and Joe had ended up stepping into the foot prints of something more sinister. It cost Joe his life, to be murdered in a set up that looked like a suicide. Vincent took the hint with his partner's death and transferred all his money from off shore bank accounts and decided to move somewhere east. A place where he didn't the players' names and could live a quiet life. He had settled in Miami, moving out to Key Biscayne and renting a nice hotel where he could lay low.
By this point, he had been in Miami for 4 years, almost going on the five. He often thought of Joe, beyond his death. There was no doubt that his murder was a cover up to look like a suicide, only the two of them knew what they had truly uncovered behind the curtain. It was nothing he could do about. All he could do was sleep with a gun under his mattress, in case something ever happened later on. Other than Joe, Vincent didn't miss much of the old life. By the time he left L.A., he was a burnt out shell of his former self. The game had passed him up, he and Joe both were products of an old past. Today was a much different game for private investigators working with rich and famous clients. It was difficult to keep anything a secret now, not like the old days.
At 46 years old, he just waited for life to quietly pass him by. Living in the shadows in a place where he was a stranger. His hair was beginning to fade from brown to small glimmers of grey. He still shaved regularly, it was the only thing to prevent the grey hairs from becoming apparent over his face. Occasionally, Vincent missed the fun life. Getting to be a player and womanizer to rich and famous women, not counting the expensive suits and jewelry he used to spend his money on. There were many women in Miami he could have settled down with, but what was it worth? No woman would ever come close to the ones in his past life, at least to his knowledge. All he had left was the beautiful sunsets of Miami, watching the sail boats from the docks. This was how he spent the evening, all before going back to his hotel room hideaway and dreaming in fantasies, reliving his years of the night life.
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1 DAY LATER
A lonely day had unfolded, right in the middle of the work week. The hotel would become empty, just like neighborhoods in the morning as everyone went off to their daily jobs on schedule. For Vincent, this was another day to relax around the place. He was retired anyway, nothing else to do but soak in the sunlight and enjoy himself, or at least try to. The hotel was an expensive leisure. Outside, was a large swimming pool with rows of patio tables and large chairs for sunbathing. This was the place that Vincent spent most of his days outside of his hotel room on the 7th floor.
On this afternoon, he found himself walking to enjoy the cool breeze in the air. From this point, he was known as a local from the hotel. The bartender who fixed drinks from around the pool was used to seeing him almost every day for the past few years. Vincent walked out, wearing a purple shirt under a sports jacket and some blue jeans as he strolled on past the pulled back chairs near the pool. The large body of water was rather empty on this afternoon, just with two people swimming inside. A couple women sat on the lounge chairs with magazines and sunglasses, tanning their bikini-clad bodies. Vincent walked over to the bar on his left, waving to the old man as he approached. Fred smiled, greeting his friend.
"Nice day for a walk, eh Vincent?"
"Yeah, appears that way if I ever get out on the streets. What are you up to, today."
The old man stroked his white beard over his hand. His head had become bald ages ago, no one truly knew how long Fred had been fixing drinks at the bar to this hotel.
"The same thing I'm always up to, sitting here looking at beautiful ladies...maybe remind me of days when I could get lucky."
Fred laughed while Vincent just smiled at him before replying to him.
"I imagine you see nice things everyday from here."
"You know it, I always have my eye out!"
The old man pointed his finger over to his left, alerting Vincent to look in the direction.
"You see that right?"
"Yeah."
His finger was pointed at a blonde woman sitting in a chair with her legs propped up in a pair of red heels. She wore a white bikini, a black sun hat and a pair of sunglasses while peeling the page of a magazine. Fred nodded and spoke.
"Britney Spears, right there."
"You're shitting me..."
Fred laughed before responding, all while Vincent starred across from the bar at the woman. The old man barked out a response to him.
"Like hell I am! She checked in last night, I saw her name down in the books."
