Read Online Bad Luck by Anthony Bruno - Free Book Online

cockatoo for a reaction. The bird kept his head down and concentrated on sticking pins in the pants. Probably afraid he’d get shot if he said anything.
    â€œBisexual. And that was just a rumor. We never found out for sure.”
    Lorraine’s face changed. The dopey smile was gone and that handsome, ageless beauty was back. She could look like a great painting sometimes. A face you could study for years and never pin down in your mind. This was the Lorraine Gibbons wanted to marry.
    â€œBastard,” she said in a whisper.
    â€œExcuse me, sir,” the cockatoo whispered, afraid to interrupt. “Do you want cuffs on the trousers?”
    Gibbons looked down at the cockatoo on his knees. “No cuffs.” The guy seemed to be shaking a bit, afraid he’d stick Gibbons with a pin. Gibbons shook his head. Pathetic. “What about that girl Tozzi had been seeing? The redhead. She still around?”
    â€œRoxanne?” Lorraine shook her head. “That’s all over with. I don’t think her nerves could take it. Last time I talked to Michael—”
    â€œWhen was that?”
    â€œOh, at least five or six weeks ago.”
    â€œYeah, what did he say?”
    â€œHe just mentioned something about Roxanne leaving a message on his machine after he hadn’t seen her in months, but he decided not to return her call. It wasn’t worth it, he said. They really didn’t have that much in common, he claimed.”
    Gibbons didn’t like the sound of this. Shitcanning the old girlfriend when she’s making an attempt to reconcile. Could be a bad sign, burning his bridges behind him. Was Tozzi trying to erase his old life to make room for a newone? Maybe he really is going bats. “Did he happen to say anything else when you talked to him? I mean, about how he is, what he’s doing? You know.”
    â€œAre you kidding? When do you guys ever say anything about what you’re doing. G-men don’t make chitchat.”
    The cockatoo had moved on to Gibbons’s sleeves, pulling them down snugly to mark the length. “Will you be wearing French cuffs with this suit, sir?”
    Gibbons gave him a hard stare. “What do you think?”
    The cockatoo cleared his throat. “I didn’t think so,” he mumbled. His hand was definitely shaking as he marked the sleeve, but he managed to make a reasonably straight line. Grace under pressure.
    â€œYou know, I was thinking,” Lorraine said.
    Gibbons looked at her in the mirror. The handsome beauty had disappeared from her face. She had the gooney look again.
    She wrinkled her nose. “The food we picked for the reception? Chicken parmigian’ and baked ziti seems awfully mundane. Maybe we should have something a little more unusual.”
    â€œYour relatives don’t eat unusual. If there’s no macaroni, they won’t come.”
    Lorraine scowled. “They’re not that bad. Not all of them.”
    â€œMa’am, if I may offer a suggestion?” The cockatoo was on his knees again. He looked up warily at Gibbons before he continued. “I attended a wedding last fall out in the Hamptons that was very special. They served Indian food for the reception, and it went over very well with all the guests.”
    â€œReally.” Lorraine looked intrigued. Gibbons rolled his eyes. You gotta be kidding.
    The cockatoo was more at ease with her, and he launched into a detailed description of this Indian affair. Lorraine seemed to know what he was talking about, but Gibbons had no interest in finding out what pappadum, pakoras , and samosas were.
    Gibbons could tell from Lorraine’s face that she was enthralled. Anything about weddings enthralled her these days—she enthralled easy—and she kept egging the guy on.
    When the faggot got to the main course—some kind of curried lamb with a yogurt sauce—Gibbons’s stomach grumbled. He tried to tune out the cockatoo and