They both had a free weekend, and it was a very rare luck, because Ted has a work nearly 24/7 in the hotel, and Joe Cabot always needed Vic for something, whether it be participating in another robbery or collecting money from his “employees” and debtors. But this time fate was on their side, and they decided to come to the beach. Both men loved ocean, but saw it probably even more rarely than had day offs.
Vic hired a room in the little cozy motel right on the beach, so they could spend their nights there, and forget about everything for two days. It was a Saturday evening, when after a swimming in salt tide and long walk along the shore they found a bar with some kind of an air-conditioner and a big amount of coctails. They were sitting at the round wattled table, Vic’s fingers brushed against Ted’s from time to time, and he already thought about going back to their room, take a shower together and continue to love each other on the bed, when it happened.
“Who the fuck is this shorty?” A quite familiar voice sounded right above his ear.
“My boyfriend. You have problems with this?” Vic wasn’t going to pay much attention to the drunk fool, but he spoke again,
“I always suspected that Vegas were a bunch of faggots, now I see the proof.”
“You better shut your mouth, old man, if you don’t want to get yourself in troubles,” he turned to the man, now he recognized him. Now fifty something, he worked with Vic’s father once or twice, but he never saw him with Joe, and it meant something. Joe Cabot had never worked with unreliable people. Until the last time. The man wasn’t going to stop, he grinned, like he’s been preparing this speech long before he run into Vic Vega,
“I’ve heard, your brother Vincent died like Elvis, on the toilet bowl. As for me, it explains a lot. And your father was a bit of a greedy rat. I always wondered, why he couldn’t make his way in the big world, be like Joe or that black guy Wallace. Now I see, he’s been always screwed by some fat cop. I wouldn’t be surprised, if your mother had another guy and he’s your actual dad. But on the other hand, children of a cocksucker can’t become anyone, but cocksuckers...”
By the time he finished Vic’s face was red, his eyes dark, he didn’t see and didn’t hear anyone and anything, but this man and his own loud heartbeating. “My father..,” slowly he got up and grabbed the man’s shirt, “My father, you bitch...” Vic dragged him through the room, pushing other people aside, but not noticing them. Outside he threw the other on the ground, and his heavy fist met the guy’s temple. “I will give you the proof... I’m the son of my father... And that’s the reason, why you will die here...” He hardly heard his own voice that sounded like a roar of a rabid animal. His fists were falling at the man’s head and body like a rockfall, and when he couldn’t get up anymore, Vic started to kick him with his feet, pushing him closer to the brick wall. All this time he was muttering something under his breath, but the only clear word in his ravings was “father”.
