Page 120 of Cold Hard Cash

“Yeah,” Jimmy replied, unable to resist a bashful smile. “I really am.”

“Just keep your nose clean and stay out of his business,” Maury warned. “Still gotta make a lawyer outta you some day. An honest one. Jimmy Poe, the world’s first honest lawyer.”

“Ha, ha,” Jimmy drawled, “very funny.”

“I’m a fuckin’ riot, I know,” Maury snickered. He sighed heavily, heading back behind the counter as he said, “Hang tight, I’m gonna get you that receiver.”

Jimmy waited patiently, surprised when Maury brought back the device and set it down in front of him. “That’s it?”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s just...” Jimmy picked it up. The receiver was roughly the size of a handheld radio, although there were more knobs and the speaker was larger. It was heavier than it looked. “It’s little?”

“Hey, that’s modern tech for you,” Maury said with a smirk. “Everything’s all super compact and shit now. You could put this little baby right in your pocket, nobody’d ever know. There’s even a plug for some headphones.”

“Cool.”

“Hey, kid.” Maury cleared his throat. “You gotta pay for that. I ain’t running no charity here.”

“How much is it?” Jimmy asked mournfully. Damn, why didn’t he ask Cold for any money?

“More than you can afford,” Maury teased. “Tell you what, since we’re such good friends and all, how’s about I make you a little deal since you seem so into ‘em?”

“Oh, God. What?”

“Take the receiver, lemme keep all your shit you’ve pawned. I can finally sell that bullshit, and you won’t owe me a dime.”

“Maury, I know there’s interest,” Jimmy said with a surprised blink. “I owe you a lot. Like, so much.”

“Take the fucking thing, and let me do something nice, okay? You don’t need any of that old shit anyway since you’re sittin’ pretty with Boss Cold.”

“Thank you, Maury,” Jimmy laughed, beaming happily. “Okay, there might be one more thing I wanna get back.”

“Are you really that attached to your fuckin’ toaster?”

“No, my records. They were my parents’, and you know...”

“Fuck, that’s the only shit you ever pawned that might actually be worth anything,” Maury cackled.

Jimmy gave Maury his best puppy dog impression, batting his eyes and pleading, “Pretty please?”

“Fuck, okay, just quit makin’ that face!” Maury disappeared into the back briefly, bringing out a large paper bag filled with old vinyl records. “Anything else, your majesty?”

“No, this is great,” Jimmy replied with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Maury. Look, I gotta get to work, but—”

“Go on,” Maury said gruffly, waving his hand dismissively. “Just keep me posted, okay? Be careful. Don’t wanna read about you in the papers.”

“Oh, Anna wouldn’t actually write anything—”

“I’m talkin’ about the obits, kid,” Maury said seriously. “Please, take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” Jimmy promised, shaking his friend’s hand before departing. Jerry was there, waiting patiently to open the limo door for him.

On the ride over to La Belle, Jimmy flipped through the records with a big smile. He didn’t know if Cold would appreciate the massive amount of AC/DC, but it would be fun to listen to a few of the albums together.

He shivered a little when he thought about their last encounter involving a record player, blushing when they pulled up to the club. Leaving the receiver and the records in the limo, he thanked Jerry and headed inside, noting that the club was suspiciously vacant. Rowena should be here, he thought, glancing around. He wondered if she was in the office and started to head up the stairs.

Jimmy paused, hearing something.