Page 31 of Cold Hard Cash

“Will do.” Jimmy laughed.

They arrived at the first store, and as Jimmy crawled out of the limo, he realized he was really out of his league. They were in the uptown shopping district, and he felt horribly out of place. Rowena seemed to sense his discomfort, looping their arms together again.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” She grinned. “We’re gonna Pretty Woman the fuck outta you, okay?”

Jimmy laughed as Rowena dragged him into the store. She wasn’t kidding about buying him an entirely new wardrobe. The sales attendants could barely keep up with her grabbing things from the racks and tossing them into his arms.

Button-down shirts of all colors and patterns, vintage band T-shirts, slim-fit jeans, lots of jeans, shoes, more shoes.

Jimmy stared in awe at Rowena making her rounds through the store. She never once stopped to look at a price tag. She’d sporadically pause to glance back at Jimmy, squint as if lost deep in thought, and then continue on. If she couldn’t make a decision between two items of clothing, she bought both.

It was the same everywhere they went. From one store to the next, Rowena bought whatever she wanted for Jimmy and eventually let him pick out some things for himself too.

“I had to make sure your fashion taste could be trusted,” she teased him while hauling a few dresses for herself back toward the fitting area at the latest boutique.

This was the fourth store. Or was it the fifth? Jimmy was undeniably sloshed, but he was having a fantastic time. “I don’t have bad fashion taste,” he protested with a drunken giggle. “I’m just freakin’ poor as hell!”

“I know, I’ve seen your apartment.” Rowena snickered, gesturing for him to sit on some funky-shaped ottomans that were arranged together in front of the fitting rooms. “We need to get you out of there, like, immediately.”

“Can’t afford it.” Jimmy sighed as he plopped down on the inviting cushions. “Sort of not really working, you know?”

“Ugh, just ask Roddy for money.” Rowena groaned, stepping into the fitting room. She continued to talk, calling out, “You’ve got bills to pay, right? And you can’t survive on an exclusively protein diet, sweetie!”

Jimmy blushed furiously. “I don’t want him to be, like, my sugar daddy. I need a job, Rowena. This arrangement we have isn’t gonna last forever.”

Rowena came flouncing out of the fitting room wearing a slinky gold dress with an open back that showed off the full graceful length of her spine. She gave a few spins, checking herself in every adjacent mirror, and then she glanced over her shoulder at Jimmy.

“You’re definitely not giving yourself enough credit, sweetie pie,” she said. “But if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you just ask Roddy for a job then? He owns a bunch of clubs, a restaurant. He could totally get you something legit.”

“I mean, I guess I could.” Jimmy rolled over on his stomach and stretched across the plush ottomans. He peered up at Rowena, his eyes again wandering to the mangled collection of scars dancing up and down her back.

“What is it?” Rowena must have caught him staring.

“Can I ask you…” Jimmy rubbed his face. He was a little too intoxicated to find a polite way to pose his question. “Uh…”

“The scars?” Rowena replied, her bubbly charm not fizzling for a second.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Jimmy was instantly ashamed for asking. “It’s none of my business, I’m an asshole—”

“No! It’s okay.” Rowena laughed. “They’re from Boris.”

“Boris Legrand, your father?” Jimmy tried not to look absolutely horrified, but he had zero control over his face. “I am so freakin’ sorry… I… I didn’t know.”

“They’re just scars,” Rowena said with a sad smile. “I was so little, honestly, I don’t remember how I got most of them. Or maybe I just blocked it all out, who the fuck knows. It’s no big secret that Boris used to abuse the fuck out of us. Especially Roddy. God. Boris really hated him.”

Jimmy began to connect the dots even in his drunken state, asking softly, “Is that why Cold… uh, doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t take off his clothes?” Rowena replied bluntly. “Yeah, that’s why. He’s very funny about his scars. See, me? I love showing them off. I love knowing what I survived. But Roddy…” She bit her lip, as if hesitating, wondering how much she should share.

“It’s okay,” Jimmy said quickly. “I get it. I mean, I don’t, but I do? I’m just… I can’t believe someone, anyone, would do that to their own kids.”

“You know, I’ve actually had a lot of time to think about it.” Rowena’s expression wrinkled into a contemplative pout. “I used to think that maybe Boris did the things he did to us because he never got over Suzanne dying. Maybe that’s why he was so cruel, especially to Roddy, since he blamed him for losing her.

“I had thought, oh, that’s why he was horrible to my mother, drove her to drink herself into a fuckin’ oblivion, because she wasn’t Suzanne. And so, that’s why he hurt me. Since her leaving couldn’t possibly be his fault, it was obviously mine. He had to put the blame on someone else. Anyone else but himself. But there was no excuse for all of the horrible shit he did. Me and Roddy sure as fuck didn’t deserve it. So. Turns out Boris was just a fuckin’ monster. That’s all.”

“Was?” Jimmy echoed.

“Ugh, I keep forgetting you live under a rock.” Rowena grinned. “Yeah, sweetie. Very much was. He’s dead.”