Razor Girl: A novel by Carl Hiaasen (English) Paperback Book

Description: Razor Girl by Carl Hiaasen NATIONAL BESTSELLER • A lovable con woman and a disgraced detective team up to find a redneck reality TV star in this raucous new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Squeeze Me. "Carl Hiaasens irresistible Razor Girl meets his usual sky-high standards for elegance, craziness and mike-drop humor." —The New York Times Merry Mansfield, the eponymous Razor Girl, specializes in kidnapping for the mob. Her preferred method is rear-ending her targets and asking them for a ride. Her latest mark is Martin Trebeaux, owner of a private beach renourishment company who has delivered substandard sand to a mob hotel. But theres just one problem: Razor Girl hits the wrong guy. Instead, she ends up with Lane Coolman, talent manager for Buck Nance, the star of a reality TV show about a family of Cajun rooster farmers. Buck Nance, left to perform standup at a Key West bar without his handler, makes enough off-color jokes to incite a brawl, then flees for his life and vanishes. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography CARL HIAASEN was born and raised in Florida. He is the author of thirteen previous novels, including the best sellers Bad Monkey, Star Island, Nature Girl, Skinny Dip, Sick Puppy, and Lucky You, and five best-selling childrens books, Hoot, Flush, Scat, Chomp, and Skink. His most recent work of nonfiction is Dance of the Reptiles, a collection of his columns from The Miami Herald. Review "Carl Hiaasens irresistible Razor Girl meets his usual sky-high standards for elegance, craziness and mike-drop humor." —The New York Times"Vintage Hiaasen, in the very best way: darkly funny, unapologetically crazy, and more Florida than a flamingo eating a Cuban sandwich while singing a Jimmy Buffett song." —NPR Books"Raucous ... Its a classic Hiaasen setup, and Razor Girl delivers on it with seasoned, professional ease." —The Washington Post"One of the wildest, funniest Hiaasen novels yet." —The Daily News"In Florida its usually too hot to move very fast, but Carl Hiaasen, a native son of the Sunshine State, likes to hit the ground running.... The secret is Hiaasens premium, high-grade comic prose, which keeps everything at the right temperature. In Florida, you have to know how to stay cool." —The New York Times Book Review Review Quote "Carl Hiaasens irresistible Excerpt from Book CHAPTER ONE On the first day of February, sunny but cold as a frogs balls, a man named Lane Coolman stepped off a flight at Miami International, rented a mainstream Buick and headed south to meet a man in Key West. He nearly made it. Twenty-seven miles from Coolmans destination, an old green Firebird bashed his car from behind. The impact failed to trigger the Buicks airbags, but Coolman heard the rear bumper dragging. He steered off the highway and dialed 911. In the mirror he saw the Firebird, its grille crimped and steaming, pull onto the shoulder. Ahead stood a sign that read: "Ramrod Key." Coolman went to check on the other driver, a woman in her mid-thirties with red hair. "Super-duper sorry," she said. "What the hell happened?" "Just a nick. Barely bleeding." She held her phone in one hand and a disposable razor in the other. "Are you out of your mind?" said Coolman. The drivers jeans and panties were bunched around her knees. Shed been shaving herself when she smashed Coolmans rental car. "I got a date," she explained. "You couldnt take care of that at home?" "No way! My husband would get so pissed." "Unreal," said Coolman. The woman was wearing a maroon fleece jacket and rhinestone flip-flops. On her pale thigh was the razor mark. "How about a little privacy?" she said. "Im not quite done here." Coolman walked back to the Buick and called the man he was supposed to meet in Key West. "Ill be a few minutes late. Youre not gonna believe what just happened," he said on the mans voicemail, leaving it at that. The cops arrived and wrote up the red-haired pube shaver for careless driving. Naturally, she had no collision insurance; that would be Aviss problem, not Lane Coolmans. A tow truck hauled away the Firebird, which needed a new front end including a radiator. The woman approached Coolman and asked for a ride. "Tell your date to come get you," he said. One of the police officers had pried the damaged bumper from the Buick, and Coolman was trying to fit it into the backseat. "He doesnt have a car," said the woman, whod buttoned her jeans. She was attractive in a loose and scattered way. Coolman had a weakness for redheads. "See, I work for an escort service. We go to where the clients at," she said. "Yes, I understand the concept." The womans fleece was unzipped and beneath it she wore a black sequined top. Her toes must be freezing in those flip-flops, Coolman thought; the temperature was 55 degrees with a biting north wind, arctic conditions for the Florida Keys. "My names Merry," she said, "spelled like Merry Christmas." "My names Bob," said Coolman, "spelled like Bob." "Does that mean youll give me a lift?" "Why not," Coolman said, the worst mistake he would ever make. At Mile Marker 22, Merry told him her last name was Mansfield, like the bombshell actress of the Fifties. Coolman stopped at a Circle K where he got a cup of coffee and Merry bought three eight-hour energy drinks, chugging the little purple bottles one after the other. "You running a marathon?" Coolman asked. "Im all about performance." At Mile Marker 17, she told him she didnt really work for an escort service. "Wild guess--youre a dancer," he said. "On my own time," she replied. "Not one of those." "I didnt mean it in a bad way." "Why didnt you just say stripper? The games you guys play, I swear." Her eyelashes were a paler shade of red than her hair. Coolman said, "Why would you make up a lie about being an escort?" " Cause I needed a ride, Bob. If I said I was an artifacts appraiser you wouldve left me standing in the road." "What is it you appraise?" "Sunken treasure. Doubloons and cannonballs and so forth. Business is slow right now. Im an expert on eighteenth-century Spanish maritime." "Do you have a real date, or did you make up that part, too?" Merry laughed. "Hes an Air Force pilot based at Boca Chica. Why else would I be doin my trim at sixty-five miles per hour?" At Mile Marker 8, she blurted, "Did I say Air Force? I meant Navy." She was buzzing like a flagpole in a lightning storm. "His names Rocky." "What about your husband?" "Hes a Rocky, too." "Stop," said Coolman. "Dont be judging me. I go for men with strong names." The closer they got to Key West, the more Southern her accent became. Coolman was foolishly intrigued. "What about you?" she said. "Whats your field, Bob? Your expertise." "Im in the entertainment business. I manage talent." "Your own, or somebody elses?" "Ever seen the show Bayou Brethren?" Coolman asked. "Little Rocky watches it all the time." "Thats your son? Little Rocky?" "No, its what I call my husband. Dont make me spell out why." "Anyway, I manage Buck. You know--the family patriarch? Buck Nance." "No shit?" "Leader of the clan," said Coolman. "Yeah, Bob, I know what a fucking patriarch is." The show was taped in the Florida Panhandle at a swampy location that somewhat resembled a Louisiana bayou. Buck Nance and his brothers were actually from Wisconsin, but the network paid for a Cajun dialogue coach. Merry said, "So what brings you all the way down here?" "Buck has a personal appearance." "Where?" "Parched Pirate." "Doing what?" "Just being Buck." Coolman hoped the guitar player had found the bar. Buck Nance had trouble speaking in public unless he was accompanied by a live musician. For his road gigs the writers at the network had come up with eight or nine amusing redneck stories, what you might call a monologue, and afterward Buck would take questions for ten minutes or so. The questions were printed on index cards distributed in advance to random fuckwits in the crowd. Coolman offered to take Merry to the show. "Well hang backstage," he added. Like there was a backstage. "What about my date?" she asked. "Bail," Coolman said. "Tell him the truth--you had car trouble." "But then I shaved down there for no reason." "Not necessarily." The redhead smiled and shook her head. "For the Zac Brown Band Id ditch my Navy boy in a heartbeat, but not for some yahoo from the bayou." "Its only the top-rated cable program in the whole country." "I prefer the nature channels. You know--penguins and cheetahs. Shit like that." "Buck converted his Bentley to an ATV with rifle racks." "Why would a grown man do something so ridiculous?" "America worships the guy. You should come hear him tonight." "Another time," said Merry. At Mile Marker 5, she made a call on her cell phone. All she said was, "Dont wet yourself, sugar. Im almost there." At Mile Marker 4, after theyd crossed the bridge into Key West, she flipped open the visor mirror and checked her makeup. Freshened her lipstick. Brushed her hair. "You look terrific," said Coolman. "Damn right, Bob." At Mile Marker 3, she exclaimed, "Okay, pull in here!" It was a small shopping center with a Sears as the high point. Merry directed Coolman where to park. He was surprised when a white Tesla rolled up beside them. "Thats your boyfriend?" Coolman knew a couple of CAA agents back in L.A. who drove jet-black Teslas. The white model looked pretty sweet. Coolman himself leased a corpuscle-red Mercedes SLK 350 that required no electric outlet. "I thought you said he didnt have wheels." Merry shrugged. "Must be a loaner." The young man who got out of the Tesla was wearing a leather bomber jacket. If not for the gold earring and oily long hair he could have been a Navy pilot. "It was nice meeting you," Coolman said to the redhead. "Oh, youre coming with." "Me? What for?" The man in the bomber jacket yanked open Coolmans door and put a pistol to his neck. "Lets go, dipshit." "Just take my wallet," Coolman said, breathless. "The Rolex, too, whatever you want." "Youre adorable, Bob," the woman whispered. "Now get out of the fucking car." Details ISBN0345804902 Author Carl Hiaasen Short Title RAZOR GIRL Pages 400 Language English ISBN-10 0345804902 ISBN-13 9780345804907 Format Paperback DEWEY 813.54 Year 2017 Publication Date 2017-05-02 Imprint Vintage Crime/Black Lizard Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2017-05-02 NZ Release Date 2017-05-02 US Release Date 2017-05-02 UK Release Date 2017-05-02 Publisher Penguin Random House LLC Subtitle A novel Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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