Page 64 of Cold Hard Cash

Jimmy couldn’t help but smile in surprise, his cheeks warming up at the sweet affection. Maybe he had made a little more progress than he first thought. He opened one eye to peer up at Cold standing over him. “I can make no such guarantee.”

Cold scoffed, pulling away to adjust his tie. “Rowena will come by to see you later. She’ll have paperwork for you to sign.”

“Paperwork?” Jimmy rolled back over to face Cold, frowning.

“You’re a new employee,” Cold said dryly. “There is a standard contract for all our performers. There are also tax forms you need to fill out and vital statistics that we need for your employee file... driver’s license, social security card.”

“Seriously?” Jimmy was surprised. “This is what you meant by a new deal?”

Cold snorted, retorting sharply, “I do run legitimate businesses, Mr. Poe.”

Laughing at the idea of Cold being concerned with W-9s, Jimmy grinned.

Cold rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll text you later if anything changes. Keep your phone close.”

“And thank you for that, by the way,” Jimmy said. “I never did get a chance—”

“I’ve added the purchase price to your balance,” Cold said with a smirk. “Once you’re more fiscally stable, the monthly bill will also be yours. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Cold said, turning to leave. “Goodbye, Mr. Poe.”

“Bye.” Jimmy sighed, flopping around in bed. He couldn’t fall back asleep, finally sitting up with a loud groan. Cold had left him a small card as usual.

$223,208.18

I’ll see you soon.

-RL

Hardly a love letter, but Jimmy smiled all the same. He got dressed back in his tux, slinging the jacket over his shoulder and grabbing his mother’s jewelry box. On his way out, he paused to get a better look at Cold’s den. Last time he was there, Rowena had been waiting for him, and he hadn’t stopped to look at anything. Now that he had a moment, he was curious. There were a few photographs and vintage concert posters, all framed and hung with great care.

There was a picture of a little girl and Cold, perhaps in his twenties and his hair already starting to gray. The girl was sitting in his lap and she was grinning, proudly showing off a missing tooth. Jimmy grinned when he recognized the little girl as Rowena.

There was another one of Rowena as a teenager, dressed up for a formal dance of some kind. Her hair was a giant brown bouffant of teased-out curls, and she was wearing a neon blue sequined dress.

The last photo was tiny, but the frame was thick and heavy as if to help protect it. It was an old Polaroid of a young woman with smooth dark skin and a smile that reeked of mischief. Her thick hair framed her face like a smoky cloud with white lilies pinned behind her ear.

Cold’s mother, Suzanne. She was beautiful.

The lilies were the same kind as those scattered all throughout the house, Jimmy realized with a small smile. He also noticed that one of the concert posters hanging up was hers, advertising a show from the early seventies. It was bright and colorful, a heavily stylized art nouveau image of Suzanne singing.

Jimmy was sad knowing that these images might be the only things Cold had of his mother to remember her by. While Jimmy mourned his own mother’s loss deeply, he at least had a few years of good memories to treasure. Cold had but a single Polaroid and an old poster.

After heading downstairs, Jimmy found Jerry the limo driver and part time chef ever diligently cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and there was no sign of Rowena. When Jimmy inquired, Jerry politely informed him that she was still recovering from last evening’s celebratory activities.

“Crap, I gave her my house key.” Jimmy sighed miserably. “I really need to go home.”

“Ahem,monsieur,” Jerry said, reaching into his pocket and offering out the key to Jimmy’s apartment.

“Jerry! You really are amazing.”

“Oui,” Jerry chuckled heartily and winked, offering Jimmy a full plate of eggs and bacon.

Jimmy ate every bite before Jerry graciously gave him a ride back home. He was so happy to be in his own apartment. It was easy to get carried away in a fantasy when he was with Cold. His home wasn’t fancy and new, but it was his. It was grounding. It helped remind him that he had a life beyond his deal with Cold. He had an innocent father in prison he still needed to free, bills to pay, a college education to finish. He had a life.

But when he was with Cold, all of that faded away. He became a slave to that smooth voice, and Cold’s velvet words were an incantation designed to summon Jimmy’s most intimate self. The hint of danger made it even more titillating, and Jimmy couldn’t deny the thrill it gave him.