“Bucket of nails,” requests Wilson to Terry. “And make it bloody.”
“Ahem,” intercedes Baker Bloch. “Not open yet, Wilson. Sorry.”
“Yeah, sorry,” echoes Terry. He tries to size up his new potential customer, but can’t quite make out what’s the deal-i-o. Baker helps.
“So you’re a man again,” he states to Wilson.
“Yeah. A pretty man. Let me show you. You haven’t seen yet.”
“Just a glimpse at the police station. How’s Burt the Cop doing?”
“Brutus?” replies Wilson. “Prostitute problems as usual. Gaston’s filled with them, even choking on them. Berries. Cherry, Raspberry, Blueberry. Lemon. Yes, Berry is fully intertwined with Gaston. You knew Lemon on Mars didn’t you?”
“I did,” states Baker, thinking back fondly to his stay in futuristic INSCO. “Have you seen her? She ran around with Sugar then, but wasn’t a prostitute (like her) at the time. Circumstances must have changed. Science is getting tough to swallow for many.”
“I’m not sure she’s really a whore there,” says Wilson. “She could be undercover. Brutus hinted at so much. Purple Gang. Burt Lake Band. Crooked.”
“Oden, then,” responds Baker.
“Yeah. Have you seen him?”
“Old Gregg?”
“Right.”
“Maybe a glimpse as well at Morrison. Rockabilly Cafe. But we’re done filming there.” He pauses. “And you haven’t shown me the new face yet.”
Wilson changes.
“That’s way too pretty, man,” Baker offers. “For a man. How about a scar? What do you think Terry?”
Sunklands 