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Jimmy waited patiently, and he was 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. 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?”
Damn, why didn’t he ask Cold for any money?
“More than you can afford,” Maury taunted. “Tell you what, bein’ 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 slowly. “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. “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 as he begged, “Pretty please?”
“Fuck, okay, just quit makin’ that face!” Maury disappeared into the back briefly and then brought out a large paper bag filled with old vinyl records. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”
“No, this is great,” Jimmy gushed. “Thank you, Maury. Look, I gotta get to work, but—”
“Go on,” Maury said gruffly, waving his hand. “Just keep me posted, okay? Be careful. Don’t wanna read about you in the papers.”
“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 by the limo, waiting patiently to open the car 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 when he thought about their last encounter involving a record player, and he was flushed when they pulled up to the club. Leaving the receiver and the records in the limo, he thanked Jerry and headed inside. Glancing around, he noticed that the club was suspiciously vacant. If anything, Rowena should be here. He wondered if she was in the office and started to head up the stairs.
Jimmy paused, hearing something.
Rowena was crying.
Sighing, Jimmy hurried up to the door, his chest tight with worry. He didn’t want a repeat of the last time he found her in this office, and he had honestly hoped she was feeling better since they’d talked.
“Rowena, are you…?” Jimmy stepped inside, freezing in place and staring dumbly at the unbelievable sight in front of him.
