“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. Succulents—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!”
