by K. L. Hiers
“Good luck with that,” Jules laughed, sauntering back toward the door. He was still snickering as it shut behind him, cackling down the hall as he went.
“The wedding isn’t for another month,” Cold said breathlessly, his hands roaming down Jimmy’s stomach. “You’ll say yes.”
“I’m still mad at you,” Jimmy huffed as he struggled to resist Cold’s advances, “and you haven’t technically asked me.”
“We’re already married,” Cold argued. “Asking you is pointless.”
“We’re only married because you faked it,” Jimmy grumbled. “I’m not saying yes to the wedding until you ask me properly. A month, right? You have a month to come up with the perfect way to propose to me.”
Cold curled up his lip, sighing exasperatedly, “That is ridiculously unnecessary, and you know it. You are very frustrating.”
“Mmm, but you love me,” Jimmy taunted impishly.
“Yes,” Cold said. “Yes, I do.”
Chapter Two
“We will be meeting with the wedding planner this afternoon,” Cold announced over lunch. “Four o’clock sharp.”
Jimmy looked up from his plate, glaring indignantly.
They had worked out some of Jimmy’s frustrations with another passionate round of rough play, but he still wasn’t happy about Cold’s deception. He knew there were many things that Cold kept from him because of their very illegal nature, but this wasn’t business.
It was their relationship. This was about their future together, and Jimmy wasn’t going to forgive him so easily for messing with it behind his back, no matter how good his intentions supposedly were.
“The wedding planner for the wedding I still haven’t agreed to?” Jimmy snapped grumpily and set his fork down. He didn’t have much of an appetite now, and his lunch was forgotten.
“Yes,” Cold bit out.
“You do realize how many laws you broke forging a marriage certificate?”
“I have the distinct feeling you’re about to tell me, my little lawyer,” Cold sighed, pushing his plate away. Apparently, he wasn’t very hungry either.
“I don’t understand why you can’t tell me what’s going on,” Jimmy pushed. “Don’t you dare say it’s for my protection—”
“It is,” Cold cut in sternly.
“That’s bullshit and you know it!”
“Jimmy,” Cold began, his voice eerily calm, “everything I do is for a reason. Never forget that. Things have been put in motion that are out of my control, and I am doing all I can to protect what’s mine. Above all else, that means you.”
“What’s happened?” Jimmy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is this about Dickie?”
“No,” Cold answered after a long moment.
“What is it then? The Luchesis again?”
“No.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Jimmy threw up his hands in frustration.
Cold pursed his lips thoughtfully before finally replying, “Yes.”
“You can’t freakin’ be serious right now,” Jimmy groaned.
“Oh, but I am.” Cold leaned across the table. “If anything happens to me, I have to make sure that you’re taken care of.”
That gave Jimmy pause, and he frowned as his heart clenched uncomfortably. “What do you mean? Rod, are you...” He swallowed nervously. “Are you in trouble?”
“Not yet,” Cold replied carefully. He reached for Jimmy’s hand. “There is no need for you to be involved—”
“Ha! You didn’t even involve me in our own marriage! Why would you ever involve me in anything at all?” Jimmy scoffed and jerked his hand away. He stood up abruptly, pointing a defiant finger as he warned, “I’m going out, and don’t you dare try to stop me this time.”
Cold did not look impressed by his declaration. “Where are you going?”
“Out!” Jimmy said, marching out of the dining room with his head held high.
“Jerry!” Cold called out.
“Oui, monsieur?” Jerry replied politely, appearing in the doorway from the kitchen.
“Make sure he’s back by four o’clock!”
“No! I don’t need Jerry. I can drive myself.” Jimmy argued, huffing his way to the front door. He walked as fast as he could, determined to escape alone. He groaned when he saw Jerry was magically already waiting for him. “How?”
“I have my ways, monsieur,” Jerry replied mysteriously. He smiled and opened the door for him. “Shall we?”
Having officially accepted Cold’s offer of a prisoners’ advocate position earlier this year, his father, David, would be busy working today. He’d also since gotten his own apartment and wouldn’t be home until later that evening. There was only one other person Jimmy could think of to seek refuge with.
“Fine,” Jimmy grumbled, stalking out toward the limo. “Take me over to Maury’s, please.”
* * *
“Hey, Maury!” Jimmy called out as he strolled into the pawn shop. “You here?”
“Door says open, don’t it?” Maury yelled back with a short laugh. “Where else the fuck would I be?”
Jimmy threw himself down on the creaky old couch Maury kept by the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I just had to get out of the house.”
“Aw, you mean yous tore yourself away from your big fancy mansion just to come slummin’ downtown with me?” Maury cackled as he waddled out from the back of the store. “I’m fuckin’ touched.”
“How’s it going?”
“It’s fuckin’ goin’,” Maury grunted. He cocked his head and eyed Jimmy suspiciously. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”
“You’re looking at a very angry newlywed.”
“What? Yous got married?” Maury blinked in shock. “Uh... mazel tov?”
“No!” Jimmy groaned. “Cold did it without telling me. Says it’s to protect me and blah blah blah. Have you ever heard of such bullshit?”
“Wait, what the fuck happened?” Maury was lost, scrubbing his hand over his wrinkled face.
“He faked a marriage certificate so now our one-year anniversary is in a month,” Jimmy explained grumpily. “He’s already got a wedding planner and a ring—”
“But don’t you love him?”
“Of course I do, but not right this freakin’ second,” Jimmy growled. “He didn’t even propose. He just told me. And then he started all of this crap about spousal privilege as if that’s supposed to be romantic. Ha!” He stopped, noticing that Maury’s expression had become grim. “What’s wrong?”
“Feds are in town,” Maury said, pushing Jimmy’s legs out of the way so he could sit down with a grunt. “Little birdies have been yapping that they’re here for Cold. Got invited in on a local murder case.”
“Dickie White?” Jimmy asked quietly. He could feel his heart crawling up the back of his throat.
“Nah, that fucker Detective Duplin has done good on his end, and Dickie’s case been colder than a penguin’s dick. This is somethin’ else.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jimmy sat up, gawking at Maury.
“It was just a fuckin’ rumor!” Maury protested. “My information ain’t always the most accurate, okay? People are just talkin’ is all.”
“I feel like this is the kind of thing I should know about.”
“Come on, kid. You think that Cold don’t already know there’s feds crawling all over the place? That big ol’ ugly man of yours is smart. He’s definitely wise to ‘em.”
“The marriage,” Jimmy gasped. “He knew the feds were coming, and that’s why he married me.”
“See?” Maury clapped his hands together and grinned. “There ya’ go! Everything is right as the fuckin’ rain!”
“No,” Jimmy scoffed angrily. “No, it’s not. If he knew that the feds have been coming for freakin’ weeks, he should have told me.”
“And told ya’ what exactly?” Maury scratched his head.
“Told me that something was happening. Anything! Anything other than
marrying me behind my freakin’ back and expecting me to be okay with it.”
“Right! Got it! He’s a fuckin’ bastard!”
“Exactly!” Jimmy growled.
“Fuck him right in his mouth!”
“Yeah!”
“I’ll go get my crowbar and jam it up into his dick hole and then start twistin’—”
“Okay, okay, easy,” Jimmy cut in. “I love your enthusiasm, but eh, tone it down a bit.”
“Sorry,” Maury sputtered. “I just get real excited sometimes.” He took a deep breath and patted Jimmy’s knee. “Yous got every right to be pissed, kid. This is shady shit, but...”
“But?”
“But remember who you’re fake-married to,” Maury said sternly. “Cold will do whatever he fuckin’ has to do to cover his ass.”
“I know,” Jimmy said sullenly.
“Hey,” Maury said, tapping Jimmy’s knee again, “that means your ass, too.”
“Got it. Still pissed.”
“Then fuckin’ give him what’s good by not givin’ him what’s good!” Maury snorted.
“Huh?”
“Don’t be givin’ him none of that sugar,” Maury said with a grin. “Yous tells him that 123 Jimmy Booty Lane ain’t accepting any packages of the cock variety until further notice.”
“Oh, God,” Jimmy laughed. He didn’t mean to because he knew Maury was being serious, but he couldn’t help it.
“What?” Maury protested, actually pouting. “I think it’s a great idea!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jimmy chuckled.
“Hey, how’s your old man doin’?” Maury asked. “Ain’t heard much out of him lately.”
“Oh!” Jimmy grinned, eager to talk about happier things. “He’s great. They finished building the new infirmary at the prison, and he’s been helping them get everything ready. Cold did whatever he does, and the prison got a grant for the construction.”
“Fuckin’ sweet! He must be bustin’ his ass.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed. “He’s been exhausted. I haven’t seen him since my last show.”
“No more singin’ pretty, huh?” Maury teased.
During the early weeks of their relationship, Jimmy had worked as a performer at one of Cold’s clubs. He had enjoyed singing, but focusing on school had taken priority. His final show was last month.
“Maybe for special events or something,” Jimmy replied with a short chuckle. “Birthdays, stuff like that.”
“Weddings?”
“Ugh,” Jimmy grunted. “I don’t even wanna think about any damn weddings, especially my own. Anyway, we’re gonna try and do dinner this weekend, catch up.” He playfully nudged Maury’s arm. “You know you’re always welcome to join us.”
“Meh, not if it’s gonna be at that fancy joint of yours,” Maury scoffed. “Ain’t my scene, kid.”
“Rowena might be there,” Jimmy offered, knowing how much Maury admired her.
“Yeah, and watch her fuckin’ crawl all over that geeky Dario fucker? Nah, I’m good, kid.”
“Offer still stands,” Jimmy said with a shrug. He turned his head when he heard an unfamiliar drilling sound, having to raise his voice to yell over it, “What the hell is that?”
“Jackhammer,” Maury growled. “It’s the mayor’s magical facelift for the fuckin’ city! They been doin’ all kinds of construction all over the place!”
“Geez!” Jimmy tried to cover his ears, waiting for the noise to stop to quickly spit out, “I saw some guys working on the old deli across from the club at my last show. Rowena—” The jackhammer started up again so Jimmy had to shout, “Ugh, Rowena said they’re tearing it down to put up condos!”
“Fuckin’ goody gumdrops!” Maury shouted back. “Just what we’s need! More fuckin’ condos!”
They tried to keep up their conversation over the intermittent pounding of construction, and by the time Jerry came to inform Jimmy of the time, he was honestly tired of yelling. He hugged Maury farewell and got into the limo with his fingers in his ears to shield them from the noise.
On the drive back home, his thoughts were murky. He was certain that Cold was in very serious trouble. If Strassen Springs authorities had invited in federal investigators to assist on a case, this was big. He was still angry with Cold, but now he understood how dangerous the current situation was.
Jimmy knew Cold was smart. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone, and the cops had never been able to pin anything on him. Jimmy wanted to believe that his beloved gangster could outfox the authorities forever, but there was a seed of doubt beginning to dig its way down into his brain.
Everyone made mistakes eventually.
Even Cold.
Back home, Jimmy thanked Jerry for the ride and headed inside. He stopped short when he saw a new face waiting in the parlor. He knew all of the Gentlemen and some of the other criminals in Cold’s employ, but not this one.
He was young, maybe around Jimmy’s age, though much shorter and blond.
“Hello!” the new man said excitedly, standing up in greeting. He was British, exclaiming in a deep and smooth accent, “You must be Mr. Legrand’s lovely husband! My name is Charlie Swenson!”
Jimmy frowned, not offering his hand right away. He didn’t see any sign of Cold, and he was grateful that Jerry was right behind him so he wasn’t alone. “Uh... hi.”
“It’s an absolute pleasure,” Charlie went on. “I simply cannot wait to plan your wedding! I see the calla lilies everywhere, and they’re just gorgeous. I’m so inspired. I’m already seeing white flowers, yes, white. Maybe gardenias?”
“Huh?” Jimmy could barely keep up.
“Gardenias mean strength, Mr. Poe,” Charlie explained with a bright smile. “Such a flower will symbolize the strength of your blessed union.”
“Please, call me Jimmy,” Jimmy said quickly, hating the sound of that particular title in anyone’s voice except Cold’s. “And look, I’m glad you’re so excited, but I don’t think we’re actually going to have any kind of wedding. So, you see, we don’t need a wedding planner.”
“Oh, but there’s definitely going to be a wedding!” Charlie laughed heartily. “Mr. Legrand has given me absolutely no limit to make this day absolutely perfect for you. All you need to do is tell me what you like, and I will—”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I’m not going to tell you anything because I am not getting freakin’ married!” Jimmy hated how his voice rose to a shout. He cleared his throat and said more calmly, “I mean, yes, we’re already married, but I didn’t agree to have a ceremony.”
“Weddings are beautiful!” Charlie said, totally aghast. “They are a time-honored tradition to show the world your love and your decision to commit to each other. We barely have a month to plan the wedding of the century, Mr. Poe!” He paused, tilting his head as he looked over Jimmy carefully. “White, yes, still definitely white. Masculine, something steely, stark textures...”
Jimmy groaned in frustration and scratched at the back of his neck. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Jerry, do you know where Rod is?”
“No, monsieur,” Jerry replied quietly, staring at Charlie with the oddest expression on his face.
Jimmy wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or entranced. He didn’t bother asking, turning to leave and start up the stairs.
“Wait!” Charlie called out after him, darting up behind him on the staircase. “It doesn’t have to be so drab! We could do simple flowers and lush foliage instead! We could incorporate some really raw textures like unfinished timber and colored glass! Oh! All the place cards could be written on tiny chalkboards!”
“No, I’m good!” Jimmy insisted, shaking his head. “Seriously, I’m so very good!”
“Oh, but Mr. Poe!” Charlie clapped his hands together as he caught right up to him. “We’re just getting started! Just think about your boutonnieres! If we keep up with a natural and raw theme, the possibilities are endless. Succul
ents—yes! We could use succulents with a small sprig of dried berries—”
“Sure, fine! Whatever!” Jimmy groaned, hurrying into the foyer of Cold’s suite. “Rod! Are you here?”
“Thistles could also be lovely!” Charlie was following Jimmy like a little puppy dog, still prattling away. “We could make driftwood centerpieces for all of the tables and oh, oh! Entertainment! We have to decide on the entertainment!”
Jimmy didn’t go any further than the lounge, calling again, “Rod! Hey! Need a little help here, please!” He heard no response and quickly turned around to stop Charlie from invading the inner sanctum any further. “Okay, hold up. You’re not supposed to be in here!”
Charlie was looking all around in awe and walked right up to the poster of Cold’s mother. She’d been a singer, and one of Cold’s most prized personal possessions was an art nouveau-style concert poster of her.
“Oh, this is gorgeous!” Charlie gushed. “Yes! Singing! We should have live singing, and we have to decide on entertainment!”
“How about we decide on whatever out of this room?” Jimmy said, urgently shooing Charlie back into the foyer and shutting the doors behind them.
“If we have an outdoor wedding, think of the lawn game possibilities!” Charlie took a seat and made himself comfortable. “Croquet, corn hole boards, or perhaps a bunch of those clever giant Jenga pieces?”
Jimmy sank down into the small sofa opposite Charlie and sighed in defeat. There didn’t feel like there was any way to escape this man. He looked up to see that Jerry had followed them, and he still had that odd look on his face. “Jerry?”
“Oh! Oui, monsieur?” Jerry blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Do you need something?”
“Could you please bring me a drink?”
“Absolument,” Jerry replied, glancing over to Charlie. “And for you, monsieur?”
“Rien pour moi, merci,” Charlie replied effortlessly.
“Quelle?” Jerry looked utterly amazed. “Tu parles français?”
“Oui,” Charlie said with a quick wink. He said something else in French, but it was too quick for Jimmy to understand.
