“Shit,” said Krebs.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Shelton said.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“It’s a girl.”
“What’s she look like?”
“She’s got pretty black curls,” Shelton said. “Greenish eyes. I’m not sure exactly. She mostly just looks like a baby.”
“All right then,” Krebs said. “I ain’t been to bed yet anyway.”
“Good,” Shelton said. “Go ahead and get out there now. Don’t wait for morning.”
“I’m on it,” Krebs said.
Shelton hung up and wondered if he’d gone a bit far with the reward money. Rick was rich, but that was because he didn’t like parting with money. His uncle was going to be furious, but Shelton supposed he’d burn that bridge when he got there. The important thing now was finding Jenna.
Kayla stirred in the living room and it occurred to Shelton that the last thing he needed was for her to wake up and realize Jenna was gone. He could not handle her hysterics, could not risk her panicking and calling the cops.
He took a Valium from the vial she kept in her purse and crouched above her. He lifted her head gently from the floor and whispered that everything was okay as he tucked the pill inside her delicate, dry mouth. She mumbled something over the V and he hugged her close and told her to go back to sleep.
“Everything is fine,” he said, and pried her mouth open to wash the pill down with a few gulps of vodka.
She coughed when she swallowed. She spat up some of the Gordon’s but the pill stayed down. She leaned against him and he kissed her on the forehead and said he loved her. It was a tender exchange. A beautiful moment, he thought, if you looked at it in the right way.
He eased her back onto the floor and she drifted off without a peep. She never asked for a pillow, but Shelton took one from the couch and tucked it beneath her anyway. “Goodnight porridge,” he said. “Goodnight spoon.”
Shelton had another balloon and then one more. He didn’t do it for the taste, but there was an edge of sweetness to the gas if you took a moment to savor it. Shelton smacked his lips and did another. And then some more. He didn’t see the point in keeping count, but soon there was a pile of bright balloon husks at his feet. He did one more and then went to the closet for his snowmobile suit. It was black with a red racing stripe down the left side and it fit him nice and snug. He believed it accentuated his chest in a very subtle but powerful way and he had sprung for the matching helmet and boots. He did a balloon for each boot and then another one for the helmet. Wha-wha-wha.
He gave himself a look in the mirror when he was dressed and wished he wouldn’t have knocked Kayla out so soon. He wished his girl could have seen him in his full winter sports regalia. Shelton was a sight, and he would not deny it in the name of false humility.
A snowmobile suit was like a tuxedo for trashy folk, and Kayla would have blushed red had she seen how handsome he could be when he took the time. It was his pectorals, yes, but what about that black visor? Shelton felt like a goddamn mystery in that visor, the sort of mystery a woman appreciated in a man.
But for all the suit’s glories and the visor’s intrigue, the helmet itself was the real gem. The belle of the ball, as they say. The helmet was aerodynamic, and its modern shaping concealed, or perhaps redistributed, the abnormal size of his head. Shelton had a big, swollen-looking head, which he was sensitive about because he thought it made him look retarded.
He had a learning disability, that much was true, but it was a long way from being retarded and Shelton hated that his head might suggest otherwise. As a child he was picked on endlessly for his head. In elementary school they called him Buckethead and Shel-tard. And while each name had its own cruel merits, his classmates consolidated their mockeries when Shelton grew a mustache in the sixth grade and everybody began to call him Gorilla Head Retard.
Shelton never fought back, despite a considerable size advantage. In fact he was usually the one who laughed the loudest at his own expense. Sometimes he jumped around and made monkey noises, scratched his armpits, and beat his chest. He couldn’t help it, Shelton wanted everybody to like him so bad.