Then it hits me, I know her, well, of her. She’s Lucius de Vezin’s only child, Lucky de Vezin. “I admire your father’s work,” I say, hoping to ease the tension. “He died too young.”
Her posture straightens and her face lights up at the recognition I’ve given her father. “Thank you for your kind words. I want everyone to remember my father’s talent. But some people seem determined to take advantage of his legacy.”
Lucky glares at man on the ground, who’s finally starting to show signs of life.
“What do you mean?” Roman asks, showing a little too much interest in a girl who’s so far out of reach I can’t find the words to explain it to him without making him look like a fool.
“My father didn’t always make the best choices, especially when he was younger.”
“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” Roman offers.
“Something like that,” she says.
“What’s Ron the Don have on you, sweetheart?” I ask.
“Not on me,” she explains. “He wants a hundred thousand dollars by next week or he plans on releasing damning evidence of my father having sex with minors to the media.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “I know my dad wasn’t an angel, but he’d never take advantage of children. Never.”
Rage contorts Roman’s features and he kicks Ron in the ribs a couple times. “Blackmail?” he growls. “Worthless piece of shit.”
Ron the Don groans in obvious pain.
“How well did he know your dad?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. The first time I remember him mentioning Ron was when he bought a Harley five years ago. Ron and his friends used to show up at the house on the weekends and my father would ride with them. Get drunk. Pick up women. The usual.”
“Are you sure your father didn’t…” I start.
“Never. That’s an absolute. Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Brick.”
She offers her hand and I shake it.
Then she turns to Roman. “Thank you for intervening, Roman.”
He grins like a love-struck adolescent. “Was the least I could do. Is there somewhere I can put him?”
I look for a spot. There’s a dumpster a few yards away. “Trash,” I say, gesturing up the alley.
Roman laughs and scoops Ron up like he doesn’t weigh anything.
“Wait!” Lucky says, following us. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Is it even legal?”
I stop and hold her back while Roman does what he needs to do. “Leave it to us, okay? Why don’t you go back inside and forget anything happened tonight? We’re here to celebrate my marriage, and I’m certain my wife would like to meet you. She’s a big fan of your father’s music, too.”
She considers it, still leery of what Roman is doing. “What table are you sitting at?”
“VIP section, next to the stage.”
“Consider it a date.” She heads inside.
“Can’t take you anywhere, Roman.”
“Probably not.” He drops Ron in the dumpster, then pulls out his cell phone. “Apparently this guy likes to commemorate historic moments with photography.” He snaps several pics and grins. “Should I climb in and take a dick pic—put my junk in his mouth?”
I shake my head, not entirely against the idea. Lucky is a sweet girl, obviously not used to violence of any kind. I’d like to give her a strategic advantage over Ron the Don—fucking loser name. “Do it.”
Roman jumps in the dumpster, whips his dick out, and poses. The flash goes off several times and I’ve had enough. “Put your shit away, brother.”
