She forcibly pulled back, so hard that Diane’s upper body lifted upright in a startling manner; Hazel screamed, thinking for a second that Diane had come to life and was attacking her.
But Hazel was controlling Diane’s movements. They were still connected. Hazel stood and Diane lurched forward, hanging like an oversize ventriloquist’s dummy that had been improperly placed upon its operator.
Hazel’s arm was stuck. The bedside clock read 11:10 AM. If Byron was sending a surprise for her at noon, the timing was not convenient.
8
JASPER WOKE FROM A DEEP SLEEP JUST IN TIME TO CATCH THE nightly eleven o’clock local news, which he was featured on.
“It was like a pietà,” an elderly woman told the camera. She held out her arms in a reenactment of Jasper emerging from the water. “Just like one. If Mary were Jesus and Jesus were a dolphin. This guy was a dead ringer for Jesus!” In the background an intoxicated tourist eating an ice-cream cone yelled, “I am on the TV!”
Jasper cursed. Though given the circumstances, he knew he had a lot to be grateful for. No one had followed him back to his old motel room after that afternoon’s incident (if you wanted to slip past a horde of people, setting down a living bottlenose dolphin was apparently a pretty good distraction). Despite his legs shaking from exertion, he’d managed to sprint off the moment he’d placed the creature on the sand; everyone had gathered around it and assumed Jasper was sprinting off to get help.
Just one stoner-voiced bystander had called out; his concern seemed heartfelt but not flaring with altruism. “Hey, man!” he’d said. “You need a lift to the, I guess, ocean creature clinic? I got my beach cruiser; I’ll just need a few bucks for gas!”
And all the news outlets were reporting the dolphin in good health—they said it had gotten lost from its pod and might’ve stranded itself farther down the shore had the “unidentified male being termed ‘Dolphin Savior’” not helped out. All the news stations were using this nickname. It seemed he’d become an Internet sensation in the past few hours. A photo of him holding the dolphin with the words NO BIG DEAL superimposed at the bottom was now a widely circulating meme; a posted five-second video clip of him holding the dolphin and saying this phrase already had millions of views.
He hadn’t been identified yet, but people wanted to know his name. He looked good in the photo with his wet shorts clinging to his body. “He’s a bit sexy!” one news anchor exclaimed, a woman with a British accent that delighted Jasper. A less-hot female commentator gave a more elaborate compliment: “Maybe I’ll put on a dolphin costume and hit the beach this weekend. Undercover investigative journalism, right? Will the Dolphin Savior appear like Batman if I pretend to be in trouble in the water?” The woman’s blond cohost was on board with this idea. “Right, pretend to stop breathing! See if he’ll do dolphin CPR and give you mouth to mouth!” The camera panned to a smirking male producer wearing a headset mic. “All right, you two,” he said. “I’m going to stop this before the blowhole jokes start!”
What in the exact hell was wrong with every person on earth? Jasper wondered. It was a riddle he knew he’d never solve, so he decided to get some more rest. Tomorrow’s incognito relocation would mean a busy day.
THE NEXT MORNING JASPER LIFTED THE SLEEVE OF THE HOTEL BATHROBE to trace his fingers along the raised scabs of the dolphin bite. He needed to be sure to wear sunscreen over the next several months to minimize scarring. The needle-nose teeth had sunk in so deeply that hard tissue formation was inevitable; there would be a series of tiny firm beads beneath the skin. The flaw would be visual and textural.
Jasper sighed. A bad mood was coming on. At least he was alive? But he thought of all the wrist-snap exercises he completed so diligently each week. He had such nice flexor muscles. And now this.
It was still fresh. It would probably fade. He was not his father, and his arm was not his father’s ugly spider-bite leg. But beauty was security, Jasper knew that much. His father repeatedly fell in love with beautiful women who left. They had power because men desired them. This had been an epiphany for Jasper in his late teens—that he should start working out and investing in his own appearance too. He’d figure out how to live in a way that guaranteed he’d always be the one to leave and not vice versa.
Jasper started the coffee and as an afterthought opened his door to grab the paper. He read the headline and dropped the paper, then bent over and grabbed it and shut the door to his room as quickly as he could.
“Curious Nation Seeks Identity of Dolphin Savior.” Jasper looked to see which local paper he was holding, but it was national. Syndicated. Coast to coast, people were waking up to Jasper’s photo and asking themselves if they’d ever seen or known anyone who looked like him. His anonymous code had been breached.
This was a red alert that required immediate action. It meant his hair had to go.
“I can do this,” he whispered, though he didn’t quite believe it. He’d heard a story about a man who’d had to amputate his own stuck limb to get to safety. The autoamputee had distracted himself with inspirational thoughts of family. Jasper no longer considered himself to have a family. If his father was still alive, they wouldn’t recognize each other; Jasper was scrawny and seventeen when he left the house and he’d never looked back. What did he find inspirational? Money, sex, flattery. All of which his hair had helped him get in abundance. Shaving it was somehow going to feel like wounding his penis. He couldn’t explain it but it just would. It was going to hurt all over. He’d likely have phantom pains afterward too, still feel it whipping around when he drove his convertible.
He let paranoia motivate him as he turned on the shaver: If he didn’t act fast there’d be a knock on his door at any moment, some crackerjack journalist whose unfulfilling childhood gave him a need for relentless success. Probably a whole crew of them. They’d likely already found and interviewed Moley E. and were en route to his hotel. He needed to have convincingly altered his appearance by the time they found him. The hair would be enough to raise a little doubt and let him escape while they rechecked their facts.