TWO Quincy #2
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re perfect at both.
Working at the NWS would let me be more involved at the state and federal levels as far as researching and decision-making goes.
I could make an impact with data collection and integrating new and evolving science.
Studying how to prolong the demise of society at the hands of our climate is important.
” I pause for a breath, the root of why I’m trying something new coming to the surface.
“Doing it as a woman is even more important. It would be nice to prove the people who reduce my job to the title of weather influencer wrong. A large part of the internet thinks all I do is take photos of sunsets, not educate on natural disasters,” I tell them.
“I wouldn’t give up my show, just scale it back.
Merge the two platforms. I’m not saying I can change the world, but it’s a step in that direction. ”
“If anyone can change the world, it would be you. You’re incredible, Quin.” Mia sniffs and takes my hand again. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I did when you decided to start a social media show about weather: How hard can it be? Boys do it.”
“Boys do do it, but I can do it better.” I grin. “Thank you for cheering me on.”
“That’s our girl,” Harlow calls out. A guy at the end of the bar who looks more drunk than proud lifts a glass our way, but I accept the well wishes anyway. “She’s a trailblazer, ladies and gentlemen.”
One drink turns into a second round, then a third.
Music plays from the beat-up jukebox in the corner, a Dolly Parton song switching to Diana Ross.
Someone cues up a game of pinball, mozzarella sticks get delivered, and Mia tells me about the new keyboard she bought.
She switches halfway through her story to show me a picture of the cat she’s trying to convince Richard to adopt, and an hour later, my sides hurt from laughing.
I shake my head when Harlow tries to offer us another drink.
“I’m tapping out.” I nudge my empty glass away.
The world is starting to sway. I’m happy, savoring that buzzed feeling that comes right before tipsy when everything is funny and lovely and sparkly.
“I have to be up early to do some work before my show, and I’m getting too old for a night out that involves more than a few drinks. ”
“Me too,” Mia adds. Her phone lights up on the counter, and she drags her thumb across the screen to open a text message. Her eyes widen. They move to me, then back to her phone, and her face falls. “Oh.”
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is great,” she says, but her voice is an octave higher than before. Laced with the most obvious trace of bullshit I’ve ever heard. “Peachy, really. Nothing to worry about.”
“Mia.”
“Quincy.”
“Mia.”
She huffs. Flips her phone face down and huffs again. “It’s my brother.”
My blood turns cold.
Sebastian Dunn.
My long-suffering academic rival and the bane of my existence.
There’s always been a string tying the two of us together, a gossamer thread of dislike that stretches back to when we were teenagers.
Back to overlapping friend groups and assigned seats next to each other in chemistry and calculus.
The days when we were experts at the game of anything you can do, I can do better.
Masters of there’s no way you have the right answer, and yes, I do, read it and weep, you impossible show-off.
There have been high school pranks.
Sarcastic barbs.
When he followed me to the University of Central Florida and sat beside me in Introduction to Climate Science, never giving me a second of peace.
The year he won the WxChallenge, a collegiate-focused meteorological competition that measures weather forecast accuracy, then publicly shared his win as the top individual forecaster in a video.
Good effort, he said, smirking at the camera during the victory speech he posted to social media. But not good enough, he added, holding a trophy while feeling like he was speaking directly to me.
The only saving grace is the fact he’s currently living in New York, thousands of miles away. Blissfully out of sight and thankfully out of mind.
“No one’s pushed him off the Empire State Building yet?” I ask, wanting to think about anything but him. Life is much better when his arrogant, my-data-was-accepted-to-a-research-journal-and-yours-wasn’t-despite-you-doing-double-the-work ass isn’t in the picture.
“I think you’d be the only person to push him, but you don’t have a bone in your body that would resort to physical violence,” Mia says, and it’s a good thing she can’t see the ideas running through my head.
She’d be so disappointed. “He’s checking in.
Asking about what’s new in town. He’s so busy with work, we don’t talk as much as we used to. ”
“Tell him everything is great.”
“I’ll pass it along.” Mia pauses. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop: He won the Nobel Prize in Physics. He’s found the secret to solving world hunger. Maybe he’s going up in space to colonize Mars. A girl can dream. “He said he has a surprise for me.”
“Hopefully he’s moving to Antarctica. I’m sure the sea life would adore him,” I draw out, hating that it’s true.
Everyone loves Sebastian Dunn.
He’s always been the loudest and most enthusiastic person in any room.
He found internet fame and earned a cult following a couple years back, winding up in People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue under hot weatherman we wouldn’t mind getting wet for after a clip of him chasing a tornado in a cowboy hat and translucent shirt nearly broke social media.
The thirst trap edits and innuendos about soaking and drenched haunted me for months.
Dubbed the golden weather boy by his admirers, he works on the ABC nightly news as the senior meteorologist with a follower count five times mine.
His entire feed is photos of him in a field, leaning over the window of his Jeep and staring off into the distance.
Hundreds of thousands of likes and comments sit under the sepia-toned pictures, and blocking any mention of his name was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
“When I find out, I’ll let you know.” Mia interrupts my daydreams of watching him mess up his lines on-air and in front of eight million televisions every night. “I’m sure it’s nothing important. I bet he’ll come down to visit at the end of summer.”
“Perfect time to plan a trip up north. What a bummer we won’t cross paths,” I say.
“That wasn’t sarcastic at all.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I grab my wallet and pull out two twenties. Harlow won’t take the money if she sees it, and I make sure to slip the bills under a clean glass on the back side of the bar for her to find later. “Ready to head out?”
“Yeah.” Mia smiles and adds her own money to the pile. “Want to split an Uber?”
“Of course I do.” I wave to Harlow, who’s busy talking to the blond not-a-murderer. I swear I see a blush on her cheeks, but I blame it on the shitty lighting and gin I’ve been sipping. “I might be plotting your brother’s disappearance, but you, Mia Dunn, are one of the good ones.”
“I’m going to be an accomplice, aren’t I?”
“Never.” I hop off my stool and sling an arm over her shoulder. “When he meets his demise, I’ll make it look like an accident. I promise.”
Later, when I climb into bed, I don’t spare a single thought about Sebastian or his vague surprise for his sister.
THE RAINY DAY SHOW COMMENT SECTION
@BakersDozen13: First week of hurricane season down already?! I wonder if it’s going to be busy or quiet this year …
@TheRainyDayShow: @BakersDozen13 I’m predicting 14 named storms, 6 hurricanes.
@SandraClaire1982: Did anyone catch the name of the weather radio Quincy said she uses in her last video? Need a new one and hers looked nice.
@PocketFullOfSunshine89: it’s a Midland ER310, @SandraClaire1982. Worth the investment.
@SandraClaire1982: @PocketFullOfSunshine89 ahhhh thank u!!
@TheRainyDayShow: What @PocketFullOfSunshine89 said! (nice name, btw )
@highschoolxcstar: Hey, @TheRainyDayShow, can we get a Day in the Life video??! I’m a senior in high school and really considering going into meteorology (bc of you!), but I have no clue what your typical day looks like!
@AndrewMac69: @TheRainyDayShow never answers me, but I’d let her step on my face.
@TheRainyDayShow: @AndrewMac69 I’m going to pass. But thanks for the engagement on the video!