“Ain’t much that happens that the Boss didn’t plan,” Jules said with a smirk. “Now he’s not gonna be alone in the joint. We got plenty of support inside, you know, but Tamerlane needed to go, too.”
“Jules,” Jimmy said, his tone quickly becoming urgent, “please tell me what’s going on.”
“Can’t do that.” Jules’ brow furrowed with sympathy. “Just trust in the Boss, okay? This has been a long time comin’.”
“Who is Marco Luchesi?”
“A dead fuckin’ piece of shit.”
“Very helpful,” Jimmy grumbled.
“Look, we’re gonna meet up with the other Gentlemen at the club, down at La Belle—”
“We should be meeting with Cold’s lawyer!” Jimmy protested sharply. “Beccali and Beccali, right?”
“Yup, he’s got Christine ‘Face Fucker’ Beccali herself,” Jules replied with a smirk. “She’s one scrappy broad. I’m tellin’ you, Twig. There ain’t nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, sure!” Jimmy threw up his hands. “Cold just got dragged away in handcuffs, and the house is being raided! But nope! There’s nothing to worry about! I’m supposed to be planning a wedding for a husband I didn’t even know I freakin’ had, and now he’s going to jail!”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Jules shrugged.
Jimmy stewed the rest of the way, his attention redirected when he saw a mob of photographers and reporters waiting outside of La Belle et la Bête. “Shit.”
“Just move quick,” Jules said firmly. “Don’t answer no questions, don’t even look at them. I’ve got you, Twig.”
Jimmy felt very small when he got out of the limo, instantly wedged between Jerry and Jules as they escorted him inside. Cameras were flashing, and his ears were assaulted with a barrage of screaming voices.
“Were you with Boss Cold when he killed Marco Luchesi?” a reporter shouted.
“Is it true your father was a doctor for the mafia?” asked one. “Is that how you met Cold?”
“Mr. Poe! Mr. Poe! Did he tell you where he hid the body?” another screamed.
Jimmy closed his eyes, trying to shield himself from all of the noise. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard the club doors slam shut behind him, although he could still hear the roar outside.
Rowena was at the bar, a martini shaker in her hands and pouring a round of shots. “Now,” she began sweetly, “while it’s just lovely to see you guys, will someone please—” her voice rose to a scream, “—tell me what the fucking fuck is going on?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy immediately agreed, glaring behind him at Jules and Jerry. “That’d be nice.”
“Can’t.” Jules reached for one of the shots. “We got orders.”
“Then no shots for you!” Rowena snatched the glass away before Jules could grab it. “My brother has just been fuckin’ arrested, and I want some fuckin’ answers right now!”
“Starting with who the hell is Marco Luchesi?” Jimmy demanded, taking the shot that Jules had tried to get. “I know that name, and it’s driving me crazy.”
Rowena suddenly looked sad, pointing to her left side and clearing her throat. “That Marco Luchesi.”
Puzzled, Jimmy stared for a long moment until a vivid memory came back to him. He’d lain with Cold in bed going over his vast collection of scars. His pulse thudded miserably when he remembered what Cold had said as he touched the large scar that stretched over his left side.
“First time Marco Luchesi told me to use my mouth on him and I refused...”
“Wait, but Rod was sixteen when that happened!” Jimmy protested. “Did he... uh... take care of it... then?” He hated to assume Cold’s guilt, but this was one of the Luchesi men who had been abusing him. It wasn’t hard to believe.
“How about you focus on that wedding you gotta plan?” Jules said, stealing a bottle from behind the bar since Rowena wasn’t sharing. “And let us handle the gangster shit, all right?”
“Hey! We’re supposed to be a family!” Rowena piped up, slamming another shot back. “Listen, Marco was still around when Don Luchesi was murdered. Like back when the big war started, but after that? I don’t know. Thought he skipped town.”
Glaring at Rowena, Jules growled, “I hope you checked this place for bugs if you’re gonna be running your mouth like that.”
