The Bass Wore Scales Read Free Page A

underwear since 1975. I knew this was true in college, but thought he might have grown out of the predilection for unfettered hedonism during his years in the service. Pete explained to me, though, that once you have experienced such freedom in your youth, it’s tough to go back into confinement. He was a raving Democrat on environmental issues, a screaming Republican on social reform and a crazed Libertarian when he had to pay his taxes. Pete had, over the years, become a capitalist hippie, and we loved him for it.
    “ Hey Pete,” I said. “What’s it mean when you say you want to pin a rose on bossy?”
    “ Hmm,” said Pete thoughtfully. “I guess it means that your prom date isn’t going to win any beauty contests.”
    Dave and I laughed.
    “ That’s just freakin’ hilarious,” snarled Nancy.
    “ Order up,” called Collette as she came out of the kitchen carrying an oversized tray of food. “Here y’all are.” She put a basket of country ham biscuits in the middle of the table, furnishing me with an empty plate and a steaming bowl of grits. Dave had his usual breakfast of a western omelet and toast, an order he didn’t have to verbalize as long as Collette was the waitress on duty. Pete was having waffles.
    “ Here you go, hon,” Collette said, placing Nancy’s order in front of her. “Adam and Eve with the eyes open, burned British with grease, bossy on the hoof with a rose pinned to her, and a short stack in the alley.” We all looked over at two eggs sunny-side up, a buttered English muffin, a rare steak with onions on top and two pancakes on the side.
    “ Oh,” said Collette, setting down a glass of milk. “Almost forgot. Here’s your Sweet Alice. Can I get y’all anything else?”
    “ Nope,” I said. “I think we’re good.”
    “ I’ll be back with some coffee in a bit, then,” said Collette with a smile. “Y’all give a yell if you need anything.”
    “ Can you eat all that?” I asked, looking over at Nancy’s place. “Or were you just trying to stump her?”
    “ Oh, I’m gonna eat it all right,” muttered Nancy. “Every bit of it.”

    * * *

    “ Another sumptuous repast,” I said, dabbing a napkin at the corners of my mouth in the most genteel fashion I could muster. “Excellent work, Mr. Mayor.”
    “ Oh, I’ll take all the credit,” said Pete. “But Bud’s doing the cooking. He’s been working mornings since school let out.”
    “ Well, send him out here so we can give him a round of applause,” I said.
    “ Hey, Bud,” Collette yelled from the register. “Come out here for a second.”
    Bud appeared a moment later, first poking his head through the swinging door of the kitchen and then walking out into the dining room, all the while wiping his hands on his stained apron. True to his nature as a shy, self-conscious sixteen-year-old, he turned red at the applause that greeted his entrance, but smiled nevertheless.
    Bud was the eldest of the three McCollough children. Their mother Ardine, a hard-working woman, had lived a tough life. Their father, PeeDee, was an abusive good-for-nothing who thought that welfare was the best thing the government had come up with since the free cheese program. He disappeared about seven years ago and hadn’t been heard from since, the rumor being that Ardine might have had something to do with his vanishing act. Up in the hollers of the Appalachians, beating your wife and kids was an offense that was frequently taken care of in-house, and when PeeDee McCollough disappeared, no one looked very hard.
    Although PeeDee didn’t do much in his life, one thing he did do was name all three kids after the thing dearest to his heart—beer. Bud was the oldest. Bud’s sister, Pauli Girl, was now fourteen and as beautiful as her mother might have been in her youth, before life had taken the color from Ardine’s cheeks and the spring from her step. The youngest was a gregarious eight-year-old boy named Moose-Head—Moosey for