Free Sweetgirl by Travis Mulhauser Page B

the heating vents in his direction.
    â€œThanks,” Shelton said, and pulled off his helmet.
    Zeke Turner had always been a stand-up guy. He would not deny Shelton a ride even if he’d been in prison for ten years. Shelton considered him a friend, or as close as he came to one.
    â€œI thought that was you,” Zeke said. “I couldn’t tell exactly through the snow, but then I said, who else could that big motherfucker be out here by the hills but Shelton Potter?”
    â€œI thought the same thing,” Shelton said. “I knew it was you right off, because who else has a pickup that looks like a big ole gay Easter egg.”
    â€œShit,” Zeke said. “You find an Easter egg that isn’t gay, you let me know. I’d say gay and Easter egg go hand in hand.”
    â€œWhich begs the question,” Shelton said.
    â€œThe purple is to draw your attention to the signage on my side panels. ZEKE TURNER ENTERTAINMENT .”
    â€œOkay,” Shelton said. “Well, that actually does make some sense.”
    Shelton remembered then that Zeke was a singer. Or at least he was trying to be. Mostly he worked at the plastics plant, but he had dreams of his own, which would also explain why he was wearing a black cowboy shirt with white piping and sequin swirls stitched into the collar. He had on matching black pants and snakeskin boots. He wore a straight-banged black wig that sat on his head like an inverted bowl.
    â€œYou ain’t wearing a coat?” Shelton said.
    â€œCan’t crease the shirt,” Zeke said.
    â€œYou got a show then?”
    â€œRock and roll,” Zeke said.
    â€œWhere at?”
    â€œAll the way to the Sault.”
    â€œEven in this storm?”
    â€œSlot machines are inside,” Zeke said. “I’m playing the brunch buffet.”
    â€œYou look like Elvis,” Shelton said. “But I know you ain’t.”
    â€œRoy Orbison,” he said.
    â€œThat’s right,” Shelton said. “I’m sorry.”
    Zeke waved him off.
    â€œI get it all the time,” he said.
    They drove into the flurries and the freshly dropped sky. There wasn’t another car on the road.
    â€œIt wasn’t snowing,” Shelton said. “And then, boom!”
    â€œI saw two flakes come down all innocent, and then the fucker just opened right up,” said Zeke. “It’s like the planet Hoth out here.”
    â€œWell, I appreciate you stopping,” Shelton said. “And I got a little doober for your trouble, if you’re interested.”
    â€œI would say I’m keenly interested,” said Zeke.
    Shelton lit the joint and passed it to Zeke first. Zeke had a toke and passed it back. They smoked the joint quietly, deliberately. Shelton looked at Zeke and tried to decide if he was wearing makeup. He thought he might be. He thought it was strange for a man to put on makeup, but supposed things were different in the entertainment industry. He pinched the joint off at the roach and dropped it in the console.
    â€œFor after the show,” he said.
    â€œYou’re all right, Potter,” said Zeke. “And I’ve never said otherwise.”
    â€œThis is pretty good pot,” Shelton said. “It’s decent anyways.”
    â€œI’m going to crack the window a smidge,” said Zeke. “But only because I can’t tell the smoke from the snow.”
    â€œIf you don’t mind,” Shelton said. “I could use a ride home.”
    â€œSure,” Zeke said. “What happened that you’re out walking in this mess anyway?”
    â€œMy sled run out of gas.”
    â€œThat sucks,” said Zeke.
    Shelton shrugged.
    â€œYou know you could come up to the casino if you wanted,” Zeke said. “Sometimes there’s some women to be had. Divorcées mostly. If not, I know some of the waitresses. We could get a room and see if we can’t make a day of it. People