04 Four to Score Read Online Free PDF Page B

breaking and fucking goldfish fucking going to heaven. And then I had to fucking look like some western dude. I mean, how can you have any self-respect when you have to go on stage in a cowboy hat?”
    I was pretty good at cussing, but I didn't think I could keep up with Sally. On my best day, I couldn't squeeze all those “f” words into a sentence. “Boy, you can really curse,” I said.
    “You can't be a fucking musician without fucking cursing.”
    I knew that was true, because sometimes I watched rockumentaries on MTV. My eyes strayed to his hair. “But now you're wearing a Farrah Fawcett wig. Isn't that kind of like a cowboy hat?”
    “Yeah, only this is a fucking statement. This is fucking politically correct. See, this is the ultimate sensitive man. This is taking my female shit out of the closet. And like I'm saying, here it is, you know?”
    “Un huh.”
    “And besides, I'm making a shitload of money. I caught the wave on this one. This is the year of the drag queen. We're like a freaking fucking invasion.” He took the note from my hand and studied it. “Not only am I booked solid for every weekend for two years . . . I get money stuffed in my goddamn pants. I got money I don't know what to do with.”
    “So I guess you feel lucky to be gay.”
    “Well, just between you and me, I'm not actually gay.”
    “You're a cross-dresser.”
    “Yeah. Something like that. I mean, I wouldn't mind being sort of gay. Like, I guess I could dance with a guy, but I'm not doing any of that butt stuff.”
    I nodded. I felt like that about men, too.
    He got a pen from a hall table and made some marks on the note. “Lorraine said you're a bounty hunter.”
    “I almost never shoot anybody,” I said.
    “If I was a bounty hunter I'd fucking shoot lots of people.” He finished scribbling on the paper and gave it back to me.
    “You're probably gonna find this hard to believe, but I was sort of weird when I was a kid.”
    “No!”
    “Yeah. I was like . . . out there. So I used to spend a lot of time talking to Spock. And Spock and me, we'd send messages to each other in code.”
    “You mean Spock from Star Trek?”
    “Yeah, that's the dude. Boy, Spock and I were tight. We did this code thing every day for years. Only our codes were hard. This code is too easy. This code is just a bunch of run-together letters with some extra shit thrown in. 'Red and green and blue. At Cluck in a Bucket the clue waits for you.' ”
    “I know Cluck in a Bucket,” I said. “It's just down from the bonds office.”
    The trash containers in the Cluck in a Bucket parking lot are colored red, green and blue. The green and the blue are for recycling paper and aluminum. The big red one is for garbage. I'd bet my apprehension fee the next clue was in the garbage.
    A second man came to the door. He was neatly dressed in Dockers and a perfectly pressed button-down shirt. He was shorter than Sweet. Maybe 5'9". He was slender and totally hairless, like a bald Chihuahua, with soft brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses, and a mouth that seemed too wide, too sensuous for his small pinched face and little button nose.
    “What's going on?” he asked.
    “This is Stephanie Plum,” Sally said. “The one Lorraine called about.”
    The man extended his hand. “Gregory Stern. Everyone calls me Sugar.”
    “Sugar and I are roommates,” Sally said. “We're in the band together.”
    “I'm the band tart,” Sugar said. “And sometimes I sing.”
    “I always wanted to sing with a band,” I said. “Only, I can't sing.”
    “I bet you could,” Sugar said. “I bet you'd be wonderful.”
    “You'd better go get dressed,” Sally said to Sugar. “You're going to be late again.”
    “We have a gig this afternoon,” Sugar explained. “Wedding reception.”
    Yeeesh.
    *    *    *    *    *
    CLUCK IN A BUCKET is on Hamilton. It's housed in a cement cube with windows on three sides. And it's best known not for its outstanding food but for