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Razor Girl Paperback – May 28, 2019

by Carl Hiaasen (Author)

4.3 13,094 ratings

Book 2 of 2: Andrew Yancy Series

Editors' pick Best Mystery, Thriller & Suspense

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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 Hiaasen’s 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 there's 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.

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Popular Highlights in this book

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“A carrot cake is neighborly,” Burton said. “A blowjob is a plan.”
Highlighted by 175 Kindle readers
In his love life Yancy specialized in devising scenarios that could lead only to unwise decisions.
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Editorial Reviews

Review

“Carl Hiaasen’s 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 ... It’s 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 it’s 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 Hiaasen’s 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

About the Author

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 children’s 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.

www.carlhiaasen.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

On the first day of February, sunny but cold as a frog’s 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 Coolman’s destination, an old green Firebird bashed his car from behind. The impact failed to trigger the Buick’s 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 driver’s jeans and panties were bunched around her knees. She’d been shaving herself when she smashed Coolman’s rental car.

“I got a date,” she explained.

“You couldn’t 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. “I’m not quite done here.”

Coolman walked back to the Buick and called the man he was supposed to meet in Key West. “I’ll be a few minutes late. You’re not gonna believe what just happened,” he said on the man’s 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 Avis’s problem, not Lane Coolman’s. 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 doesn’t have a car,” said the woman, who’d 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 client’s at,” she said.

“Yes, I understand the concept.”

The woman’s 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 name’s Merry,” she said, “spelled like Merry Christmas.”

“My name’s Bob,” said Coolman, “spelled like Bob.”

“Does that mean you’ll 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.

“I’m all about performance.”

At Mile Marker 17, she told him she didn’t really work for an escort service.

“Wild guess—you’re a dancer,” he said.

“On my own time,” she replied. “Not one of those.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Why didn’t 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 would’ve left me standing in the road.”

“What is it you appraise?”

“Sunken treasure. Doubloons and cannonballs and so forth. Business is slow right now. I’m an expert on eighteenth-century Spanish maritime.”

“Do you have a real date, or did you make up that part, too?”

Merry laughed. “He’s 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 name’s Rocky.”

“What about your husband?”

“He’s a Rocky, too.”

“Stop,” said Coolman.

“Don’t 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. “What’s your field, Bob? Your expertise.”

“I’m in the entertainment business. I manage talent.”

“Your own, or somebody else’s?”

“Ever seen the show Bayou Brethren?” Coolman asked.

“Little Rocky watches it all the time.”

“That’s your son? Little Rocky?”

“No, it’s what I call my husband. Don’t 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. “We’ll 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 I’d ditch my Navy boy in a heartbeat, but not for some yahoo from the bayou.”

“It’s 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, “Don’t wet yourself, sugar. I’m almost there.”

At Mile Marker 4, after they’d 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.

“That’s 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 didn’t 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, you’re coming with.”

“Me? What for?”

The man in the bomber jacket yanked open Coolman’s door and put a pistol to his neck.

“Let’s go, dipshit.”

“Just take my wallet,” Coolman said, breathless. “The Rolex, too, whatever you want.”

“You’re adorable, Bob,” the woman whispered. “Now get out of the fucking car.”

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Vintage Crime/Black Lizard; Reprint edition (May 28, 2019)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 432 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0525567186
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0525567189
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 9.2 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 4.17 x 1.06 x 7.51 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #185,108 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #130 in Humorous American Literature
- #1,750 in Humorous Fiction
- #14,135 in Suspense Thrillers

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4.3 13,094 ratings

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Carl Hiaasen

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Carl Hiaasen was born and raised in Florida, where he still lives. He is a prize-winning journalist with a regular column in the Miami Herald and many articles in varied magazines. He started writing crime fiction in the early 1980s and has recently branched out into children's books; he has also had several works of non-fiction published.

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Richard B. Schwartz

Reminiscent of Hiaasen's Early Masterpiece, Double Whammy

Reviewed in the United States on September 17, 2016

Verified Purchase

With Razor Girl Carl Hiaasen returns to top form. The novel is beautifully plotted, laugh-out-loud funny at multiple points, and filled with memorable characters cavorting in and around Key West. The plot is impossible to summarize in less than about 25 pp. It feels like a comic version of a James Ellroy novel whose outline ran to literally hundreds of pages.

The principal characters include Merry Mansfield, the razor girl who plows into the rear of other peoples’ cars for insurance- or other purposes. Merry’s unique technique is her plea that she was distracted because she was heading off to a date and needed to groom her nether regions with the aforementioned razor. She partners with Andrew Yancy, sometime detective from Hiaasen’s novel Bad Monkey. He is now on ‘roach patrol’, working as a public health inspector. Brock Richardson, a Miami lawyer, wants to buy the lot adjoining Andrew’s. His current ‘case’ is to work with victims of a testosterone-laden gel which is supposed to simultaneously work as a deodorant. Instead, it amplifies body odors and contributes to the growth of nasty skin tags shaped like male appurtenances. Brock falls afoul of Dominick ‘Big Noogie’ Aeola, a Mafia capo, as does Martin Trebeaux, the proprietor of Sedimentary Journeys, an operation that dredges sand—usually at night—and transfers it to beaches that have eroded. Lane Coolman, a Hollywood agent who reps Buck Nance (a former Wisconsin accordionist who now headlines a cable reality show called Bayou Brethren) comes in for much of the satire. The top cameo appearances come in the form of two gigantic Gambian pouch rats whose sexual activities are nearly exceeded by those of the human characters.

Most imaginative touch: the name of Big Noogie’s mistress—Juveline, a name that stuck when a cop misspelled the word ‘juvenile’ on her rap sheet.

Greatest disappointment: no Skink in Razor Girl.

In its plotting and in its parade of unforgettable characters, Razor Girl reminded me of one of Hiaasen’s masterpieces, the very early novel Double Whammy (which concerns an attempt to fix a bass fishing tournament, among other things).

As always, Hiaasen’s dismay at the human and environmental destruction of his native state is never too far from the surface, but the book is not preachy and there are laughs aplenty. The cruise ship tourists shopping for trinkets are not to be missed.

Highly recommended.

3 people found this helpful

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Ralph

Laugh-Out-Loud Humor Throughout the Book

Reviewed in the United States on December 18, 2016

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When Lane Coolman's car is bashed from behind on the road to the Florida Keys, an ordinary car accident turns out to be an intentional hit. Behind the wheel of the other car is Merry Mansfield (aka Razor Girl; you’ll understand when you read the book), and this car accident scam is the beginning of events that provide continuous humor throughout the book.

In addition to Lane Coolman and Merry Mansfield, the cast of interesting characters include: Trebeaux, the owner of Sedimental Journeys, a company that steals sand from one beach to restore erosion on another; Dominick "Big Noogie" Aeola, a NYC Mafioso who hates the cold up north; Buck Nance, the star of a reality show called Bayou Brethren, who is actually a Wisconsin accordionist; a psycho known as Blister, who idolizes Buck Nance and tries to imitate the reality show character; Brock Richardson, a wealthy Miami liability lawyer, who is getting addicted to the very product he is litigating against; and Andrew Yancy, a former Detective who was busted down to a roach patrol inspector, who believes that solving a high-profile murder will lead to getting his detective badge back.

The book provides ongoing humor that at times caused me to laugh out loud. While the book could be considered R-Rated by some, it is not offensive in my opinion. I gave this book a 4-star rating because the humor is consistent throughout the book, but never goes overboard. I have never read any of this author's other books, but based on my experience with this book and the positive reviews his other books have received, I plan on doing so.

13 people found this helpful

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Efrisch

Classic Hiaasen

Reviewed in the United States on October 12, 2016

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I am always eagerly awaiting Carl Hiaasen's next book, and this wait was worth it! The characters were all well defined, all classically embedded into the story, and always true to their personalities. Hiaasen has no hesitation to lay it all out there with his innate ability to take the reader to places I didn't necessarily want to go, but, man, once I was on that ride, I couldn't, and didn't want to get off! Kidnappings, love affairs, lost jobs, good guys gone bad, bad guys gone good, exotic schemes and all centered around a family of "reality TV stars" who appear to be loosely based on Duck Dynasty, although they aren't near as wholesome nor...well, you'll just have to dive in and find out for yourself.

The title, I thought, was deceptive, until Merry, early on in the book, shows up with her razor and, well...again, you'll need to read it to find out how she uses it to her advantage, and it's not to take out anyone in the story in a way you would think based on the title! I have to say the imagination can take you far in this one!

If you like Carl Hiassen, you'll no doubt love this latest volume. It's classic Hiaasen from cover to cover. If you've never read any of his books, while this one has some already developed characters from previous works, this would be a good introduction to his humor, imaginative stories, and interwoven characters across the broad spectrum of Floridian culture.

Overall, like all of his books, this one was a "can't put it down" and the only disappointment was finishing the book. Now I have to wait until the next one! Enjoy!

5 people found this helpful

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A Constant Reader

As a Hiaasen fan of a few years, I was disappointed with this book

Reviewed in the United States on October 13, 2019

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As a Hiaasen fan for several years, I was disappointed this was not up to what I have come to expect from him. Yes it did have some pretty good dark humor here and there. Yes, some of the characters were interesting. Yes, the social commentary was somewhat biting and fair. Yes, the writing was pretty good and easy to read. However, there seemed to be a lot of superfluous characters who did very little to advance the plot. It just didn't provide the level of escape and pleasurable reading I anticipated when I spotted a book from Hiaasen I had not read. By the way, I have really loved all his others, including his YA novels and the ones co-written with Montalbano.

2 people found this helpful

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Amazon Customer Katharine

book

Reviewed in Canada on January 27, 2024

Verified Purchase

Excellent writer! Laugh out loud funny and imaginative.

martina scheuren

Hilarious. Carl Hiaasen writes wonderful, laconic books about Florida.

Reviewed in Germany on April 5, 2024

Verified Purchase

I love the special sense of humour and share political views.

yesfan

Entreteniment assegurat

Reviewed in Spain on December 3, 2022

Verified Purchase

Una novel·la negra que fa riure? Doncs sí. Amb molt d,encert.

Marquinius

Hilarious and like a film noir

Reviewed in the Netherlands on June 25, 2019

Verified Purchase

Hiaasen writes like a fast train running. Super dialogues, weird encounters, some softer crooks and one scary moron. And a love story hidden behind it all.

As always a pleasure to read.

Emm Campero

Hilarious read.

Reviewed in Mexico on August 10, 2017

Verified Purchase

I've always loved Carl's books. They are easy to read, fun and fast-paced.
This one in particular is so ridiculous that half the time you are laughing in disbelief but thoroughly involved in the plot to actually care about that.
I deeply enjoyed it and I'll be waiting for more books where Andrew Yancey and Merry Mgfggfjfxfh appear.

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