For Your Paws Only by Heather Vogel Frederick Read Free Book Online

floor, whistling. B-Nut cleared his throat. The gray mouse looked up. His eyes widened.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t my old pal B-Nut Goldenleaf!” he exclaimed, dropping his broom (a foraged makeup brush) and hustling over to them. A flashy gold chain circled his neck, from which hung an enormous letter B encrusted with diamonds. “Finally decided to take my advice and ditch that stodgy backwater you call home, did you?”
    â€œGood to see you, too, Bananas,” said B-Nut, whose grin had broadened at the sight of the gray mouse. He extended a paw, and the mouse called Bananas shook it vigorously.
    â€œEntertainment Guild,” Glory whispered to Bunsen, who nodded in agreement. The dramatic flair was unmistakable.
    â€œFigured it was time to come where the action is, did you? Hit the Big Apple? See the bright lights of Broadway?”
    â€œJust for a few days,” B-Nut replied. “Thought maybe you could squeeze my band in for a set or two while we’re in town.”
    â€œAre you kidding me?” Bananas crowed. “The Steel Acorns? D.C.’s hottest rock band? Wait until word hits the street. This’ll really bring in the younger mice.” He rubbed his paws together in gleeful anticipation.
    B-Nut turned to Glory and the others. “Acorns, meet my old pal Bananas Foster. He owns this joint.”
    The spy mice nodded politely.
    â€œThis is Tulip, our lead guitarist,” said B-Nut, pointing to the dark gray mouse who had slicked up the fur on top of his head into sharp spikes.
    â€œIt’s Lip, man—just Lip, ” Tulip whispered sulkily. “How many times do I have to remind you?”
    â€œSorry, dude,” B-Nut whispered back. He turned back to Bananas. “He likes to be called Lip. And Romeo here”—he slapped a paw on the shoulder of the big brown mouse who had shaved off all his fur except for a long ears-to-tail Mohawk, dyed purple—“is our bass player. Nutmeg over there is on drums.”
    Nutmeg nodded a greeting. He was smaller andlighter in color than the other Steel Acorns, and he sported a studded black leather collar and a single hoop earring.
    â€œDelighted, delighted,” said Bananas Foster, shaking paws with the three musicians. Turning his attention to Glory, he gave her a toothy smile. “And who, may I ask, is this delectable creature?”
    Bunsen’s nose and tail turned pink in alarm as the nightclub owner reached out and drew Glory forward. The lab mouse stepped forward too, taking up a protective position at her side.
    â€œShe’s, uh, our lead singer,” B-Nut replied smoothly. Glory cast him a frantic glance, but her brother ignored her. “Goes by the name of”—he hesitated for a fraction of a second—“Cherry Jubilee.”
    â€œCharmed, my dear Cherry—charmed,” murmured Bananas Foster. He bent over Glory’s paw and kissed it. “Consider me entirely at your service.”
    Bunsen’s nose deepened from pink to crimson. “I’m the sound engineer,” he blurted, wedging himself between the nightclub owner and Glory.
    Bananas Foster blinked at the lab mouse. B-Nut frowned. “Uh, this is, uh—”
    â€œBunsen Burner,” said Bunsen firmly.
    â€œPleasure to meet you, I’m sure,” said Bananas Foster, craning his neck over the lab mouse’s shoulder for another look at Glory.
    â€œWe’re going to need a place to practice,” B-Nut said.
    The nightclub owner reluctantly pried his eyes away from Glory. “No problem,” he replied. “Plenty of space backstage. Come on, I’ll show you.”
    â€œWhat’s gotten into your brother?” said Bunsen, as the two mice moved off. “For a minute there, I thought he was going to introduce me as Baked Alaska.”
    Glory shook her head. “All I know is our cover story just spun out of control.”
    â€œWhat do you