mostly mobsters

victoria | 4

As the evening air starts to enter my lungs I exhale, preparing myself to step nearer the selected location for the gala, which looks like a derelict, abandoned Victorian mansion, however, the topiary and greenery are perfectly trimmed and completely contrasts the building. Blossom is hanging off many of the trees, and falling onto the floor.  A dragonfly flies above my head quickly, as I come closer to the peeling black doors. I look down to my dress, which hugs my body, and goes up to just above my knees. My left side holds a slit down the leg, which 4 pieces on diamond encrusted fabric hold both of the sides together, so it doesn't expose anything which could leave me a tad bit embarrassed. The material is a deep red that matches my delicately painted nails. I check my reflection in the mirror and smile at myself. My curly hair is neatly tucked behind my head in a bun, with a few strands falling across my face. I have a snake ring on my right middle finger, and 3 different gem and diamond rings on various fingers. Underneath my right leg's skirt, a garter is placed tightly on my thigh, showcasing a series of different knives, which, if need be, I could use for self defense. I inhale sharply, then pull the doors open, being met by a cacophony of music, chatter, lights and smells. On my left, is a copious amount of assorted gambling tables, black jack, roulette, poker, you name it. On the right contains an array of numerous corridors leading to the upstairs, basement, stairs and private rooms some families or people may request to talk about deals, ransom offers, etcetera. Further on from me is the ballroom, where many people are already gathered, and are being circled by vulture like waiters and waitresses carrying diverse choices of alcholic drinks, and snacks, food, you get the picture. I strut forwards, slowly walking to one of the approaching waiters, and take a glass of the mystery beverage, which I chug down promptly before I meet my family. A worker touches my shoulder and requests me to follow her, which i abide to, as she says my father is waiting for me. Great. I accompany her to the right, through a well kept, ornate corridor with paintings on the walls, towards a door labelled 

SWANSONS,

PRIVATE

She nods and trapses away, and I open the door, where I'm greeted by a group of men who are surrounding a taller, portly man, with a rough and hoarse exterior, my dad. He comes closer to my, grabs my arm and turns around,  smiling to his friends and henchmen.

"Men, this is my daughter. Please ignore..... her attire." He spits, while the men around me all say hello, not wanting to complain, scared of what my father would do.

"Hello. I'm Victo-" I start, before he drops my arm and interrupts me.

"This is Victoria," He deadpan, and I scoff, making him turn and glare at me, his eyes ablaze with anger. "I'm just going to speak with her in private, please." He continues, turning around, expecting me to follow him, which I do, and he leads me into a separate, smaller room in ours.

"What are you wearing?" He spits.

"Clothes," I smile at him, then glance down and dust my dresses' skirt off. "What, do you not like it?" I proceed innocently.

"No. I think you look like a whore, which I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO." He shouts at me, spitting on my face, and i wipe the excess off.

"Wow, okay. First of all, as you said, I'm an adult and not a child so that has to mean that I can wear what i like, and if i want to dress as a quote on quote whore, I'll dress as a whore. Secondly, don't spit on me, i spent 2 and a half hours on this face of makeup." I reply, glaring at him, and i can swear he looks panicked for a second, but it doesn't last long, and is just replaced by anger. He inhales, but doesn't say anything. He just looks mad and disappointed. 

"Fine," He spits. "But you need to meet some people later, to help me with a deal." I agree to this, and exit as promptly as possible. I walk along the halls step by step, briskly passing by each person, moving closer to the bar near the gambling tables, where I stop and order a cocktail and sit down on one of the custioned stools by the bar. After recieving my drink and paying, I sense movement in the chair next to me, and sigh, really hoping it isnt Eric. I look next to me. It is. Fuck.

"Oh Jesus fuck. You're still alive." I spit out, taking a sip from my martini, which he looks at. 

"Careful, you don't want to sound toooooo disappointed, I might think that you somehow don't like me!" He replies, looking at my face now.  I start to glare at him and also glance at what he's wearing. Wow, it looks like he actually has a fashion sense. Who knew?

"Seriously? I actually despise you. Like, I hate you." I retort, rolling my eyes and going back to my drink.

"Whaaaaaat?" He exclaims, in a shocked tone. "I'm lovely" He laughs, and I scoff. When he exhales, his suit jacket relaxes a little around his body, and slightly wrinkles. He obviously didn't iron it. I chug the rest of my drink and ask the barwoman for some shots, for which she nods to, pours them out and hands me them. I down one of them, and then when I'm not looking, Eric takes one and chugs it, which I glare at him and hit his hand for.

"Ow! Are you even sober, Vicky?"

"Don't call me that. And, I'm moderately functional. Just trying to get through the evening, and not kill any men." I say, looking at him, hoping her gets the message and buggers off.

"Double ouch, but that time was my feelings," he smiles, and looks unsettled when he realises I am still glaring at him. "Why are you glaring at me? You do it all the time"

"Oh, I'm just hoping that my eyes will make you spontaneously combust. It would do the world a deed of good. Anyway, before you start nattering on about fuck all, please can you leave and go be stupid, I don't know, anywhere away from me?"

He clutches his heart and nearly falls back onto the floor, and cries out in fake agony, and looks at me desperately, which i just roll my eyes (again) at and take another shot.