EIGHT Quincy #3
It’s so quiet I can hear the slam of a hammer against the head of a nail up the road. The wind rustling the flag tethered to a pole on my right, and I slowly turn to look at what’s unfolding behind me.
“What was that, pretty boy?” Ernie asks.
“Knock it the fuck off,” Sebastian says.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Drop the condescending shit. Talk to Quincy with the respect she deserves, or we’re going to have a fucking problem.”
“It’s not my fault she can’t read the—”
“I’d be careful how you finish that sentence, Fitzpatrick. And when you do, I want you to speak up so I can make sure I’m hearing you correctly.”
Sebastian steps toward Ernie. Narrowed eyes, hands clenched into fists at his side. He’s wearing a scowl so menacing, I’m worried he’s going to start throwing punches.
I’ve never been in a fight, he’d said.
He’s about to be, I think. Then, vaguely, does this make me special?
“The model says what it says,” Ernie fires back.
“And the only person in this group who has a PhD says differently.”
Sebastian’s gaze bounces back my way, and he doesn’t look like the golden weather boy right now.
He looks downright pissed, and his attention is all on me.
Unnerving, I realize. That’s how it feels to be the object of his sole focus. I felt it fleetingly the other night at the top of the Ferris wheel when we were all alone. Out in the field when we tried to chase a tornado, and I’m feeling the effects of it again now.
A pressure on my chest. Warm skin, flushed cheeks. My tongue heavy in my mouth and words hard to find. A group of six other people are around us, but Sebastian’s vision is tunneled down to a single, painstaking entity:
Me.
“Why do you think it’s moving west?”
Sebastian’s question catches me off guard. I fumble at the directness but recover quick enough to gesture at Ernie’s computer screen.
“I’m guessing the NHC adjusted Claudia’s course based on the wobble they saw in the advisory at five a.m. But look at the eight a.m. advisory. The wobble corrects itself. It’s back on its western course.”
“And the—”
“High pressure system over the Carolinas? It’s preventing Claudia from making a more drastic northward turn.”
“There’s that badass bitch,” he murmurs, the pride only for me. “Are you staying put?”
“Might as well. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. There will be more hurricanes.”
“We’re moving,” Ernie declares. “The Euro is matching up with the NHC’s track. No use sitting here and missing out on the good stuff.”
“The GFS is more accurate for short-term forecasting. And—” I click over to the spaghetti models he has pulled up on a separate web page, smiling at the outlier. I’ve always liked the underdog. “It’s sticking with the westward track.”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Dave hitches his bag over his shoulder, decision made. “Enjoy your mediocre storm, Quincy.”
The rest of the men follow suit. They pack up their filming equipment and hop in their cars. Someone revs an engine, and I roll my eyes. Eli looks between Sebastian and me, eyebrows furrowed.
“What are you two doing?” he asks.
“Staying.” I close my laptop and turn my attention to my phone, wanting to hop on my socials and give my followers an update on the storm. The notifications have been nonstop this morning, and I know they’re all waiting for more information. “I don’t care what he does.”
“So considerate.” Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest. “Just for that, I’m going to hang around too. We’ll see how long it takes her to push me into the marina.”
“Seconds, probably.”
“Do you have somewhere safe to go if things go south?” Eli turns to me as he asks it, the concern making me smile. “Hurricanes are less of a beast than tornadoes, but they bring on a whole different set of dangers. You’re good?”
“I’m good. I scoped out the area earlier. There’s a parking garage around the corner with higher ground if I need it. You’re welcome to stay if you want. You won’t see shit if you go with the other guys,” I say.
A conversation I’m not a part of passes between Eli and Sebastian. There’s a shrug and a nod. The huff of laughter and a quiet, I get it, man. When I look up at them, they’re shaking hands.
“I’m all set, but you all be careful. It was nice to meet you, Quincy.
” Eli’s eyes hold mine. He’s an attractive guy.
Considerate too, which feels impossible to find these days.
If I was feeling bold, I might slip him my number after a drink or two.
“If you’re ever in Iowa, track me down. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. ”
With a salute and the tip of an imaginary hat, Eli jogs toward one of the cars pulling out of the parking lot. When the passenger-side door slams shut, I glance over at the only person left.
Sebastian’s eyes widen. The grin he gives me is devilish. Unfairly coy with a lazy lift of his shoulder.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Quinny baby. Probably for the best. I’ve never liked to share.” His voice is the hint of the leftover liquor in an expensive glass. Smooth, distracting. “What do you say we have some fun?”