Hands ran over his slicked back hair, normally he styled it loose with a few waves of darkness cresting his brow. Blue tinted irises observed the hasty retreat of the daughter. Thoughts swirled as to why she so snubbed her sire. He was a great man, personable to a fault. He could not fathom the need to insult Vic. Then a flashback struck the forefront of his cranium; a turn of a few years back when he was merely dating Julie instead of her being a kept doll.
They were in the restaurant of a rival Family. Julie was decked out in a blue silk strapless number showing class mingled with sensuality. Victoria had been the best friend along for a good time. Never did she mention her father except in tightly squeezed out terms. The trio had wined and dined for an hour. Carefree times only had during ones youth that seemed like they would last forever. In the later hours as the pair of girls felt the effects of booze, the future capo snuck his way to the back to conduct business. Dirty deeds a curious Victoria should never have seen...
Other memories passed in music video fashion, fleeting and indistinct. He shook his head to clear away the distraction, sending a few tiny droplets of dew in an arc. The Vice family limo sped off into the main throughway as Nunzio brought the sleek grey Mercedes into the now vacant spot.
Damien was rather impatient in motion. The back door was opened and loudly slammed into its housing before Nunzio could exit. "Follow her Nun, but at a safe pecking distance. I want to ask the inheritance queen a few questions. Is it going to be business as usual? Or is she ... clean?" He grinned like a panther sighting prey. White ivories gleamed in the rearview mirror as Nunzio sent them traipsing after Victoria. Nunzio had recognized that dangerous look in Damien's eye. The look always shown right before a new girl was corrupted from cotton into leather. The driving wise guy shook his head as the back up boys raced to get into their cars to follow the capo. Damien flicked his vision over a shoulder to observe the bodyguards.
His rule was always for them to remain at a distance and note every individual before they got close. And well... if they managed to get by the thugs, Damien always had a Heckler and Koch 9mm right over his stomach. He leaned back to prop Yemeni loafers on the seats in front of him. Another Lucky was snaked out of its soft pack and lit. Soon Victoria Vice would have to stop. And he would catch up with her... in all meanings of the word.
Victoria's limo sped up through the winding roads until it reached a busy interstate and finally merged into a steady flow of traffic. She sat well poised in her seat without a single tear botching her perfectly placated mask. How dare he die now. She'd had a childhood full of regret and absence to serve back to him upon a silver platter.
Somehow it just didn't seem right. Her father had left her empty and alone with these feelings and no chance to ever quench them. But hadn't she always been alone? He hadn't been there for her. It was never lost on her as a child. She knew she was basically strewn about to the families of her friends. And for some reason they never ask her how her father was or where he was at the time. It had all been set up. He'd managed her life from afar. And that's how she had always seen him... from afar, like a bad episode of Charlie's Angels and the ominous Charlie.