Ozrik
The second we parked at the motel, the two groups spilled from the command center, Vern leading the pack and Olivia close on his heels. The former looked like a charging bull, and I held my hands up in placation.
Nothing stopped my best friend’s attack.
Vern shoved me hard enough in the chest that I lost my footing and crashed into Gale. “What the hell were you thinking, asshole? You don’t fucking ditch the team.”
“You are in so much shit, Devereaux.” Olivia crossed her arms.
The rest of the gang gathered behind them, no one looking particularly pleased.
To Gale, I said, “Notice how everyone is mad at me? It’s like you never took part.”
“Because my brother would never think of doing anything like that.”
“Au contraire. Gale was right there with me. Tell them.”
Gale could barely smother a grin as he shrugged. “You guys were going the wrong way. We told you not to.”
“We weren’t,” Vern yelled.
“Um, I’m sorry, but did you see a tornado tonight?” I asked my hostile best friend. “Because we did. That cell produced, exactly like we said it would.”
“We’re supposed to be working as a team.” Maggie moved beside Vern. She clutched his arm, holding him back as though fearing he might attack me again.
“Yet everyone disregarded my input.”
“You aren’t in charge, Devereaux.” Olivia’s cheeks flamed in much the same way her brothers did when I had him aroused.
“No, I wasn’t put in charge.” I turned to Vern. “Who guides us during our chases? Who gets us results?”
Vern ground his teeth but didn’t speak.
“How many times have I been wrong?” I glanced between Lex and Noah.
“You’re not perfect,” Lex piped in. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes.”
“You busted expensive gear tonight,” Noah added. “If you were going to fuck off on your own, the least you could have done was record it. Did you record it?”
Was my entire team against me? I glanced at Elliott, but he didn’t look any more pleased than the rest of them.
“You know what? Fuck all of you. I’m here to chase tornadoes, and the only people who saw any action tonight was us.” I thumbed at Gale.
“I bet.” Jazz’s nose wrinkled as he scanned us up and down.
Momentarily confused, I stared at the fucker. When my comment and its alternate meaning sank in, I launched at Jazz, tackling him to the ground. We crashed hard, and I landed one decent punch before two people pulled me off, wrenching me upright by the arms.
“Stop, for fuck’s sake,” Lex yelled.
Jazz came at me, but Roe stepped between us, blocking his path. “Enough.”
“You mouthy motherfucker.” I yanked against my restraints. “I’m so sick of your shit. You’d better watch your fucking back. I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Why are you so mad, Devereaux?” Jazz shouted around Roe. “You’re making it more true. It ain’t no secret Gale’s a little—”
“Shut up. Both of you,” Noah yelled.
Blood roared in my ears. I glanced at my captors. Lex and Vern.
“Are you finished?” Lex asked.
“Let go of me.” I gnashed my teeth.
“Not until you chill,” Vern said.
I glared daggers at Jazz, issuing a warning without words. This wasn’t over.
Only when I visibly calmed and stopped pulling did Vern and Lex release my arms.
Olivia took charge. “Charles is meeting us here in the morning, no thanks to you. He’s pissed. Told me to let you know to meet him at the diner at eight.”
“Fine.”
“Everybody get some sleep.”
Olivia held my gaze as the group dispersed. I earned more dirty looks as they scattered to their rooms. The camera crew remained—God forbid they miss a moment of drama—but they must have seen something on Olivia’s face and backed down, retreating to the command center.
Olivia was the last one to walk away, but not before checking in with her brother.
“Gale?”
“Go. I’m fine.”
Only when Olivia vanished into her room did I turn to Gale. He wore a look of distress and stared into the distance at the command center.
“They’ll get over it, and I’ll smooth things out with Charles tomorrow.”
The camera crew had filmed the argument and my attack on Jazz. It would give him the drama he was looking for and hopefully mitigate his animosity.
“Gale?”
He dragged his attention to me.
“I’m sorry I roped you into this. If it helps, they’re mad at me and not you.”
He nodded but didn’t seem any more reassured.
When I reached for his hand, he stepped back, eyeing the command room. “We should head to bed.” Without meeting my gaze, he ducked his chin and walked off without another word.
I didn’t go to my room. Elliott would be there, and I wasn’t in the mood for more lectures, nor did I feel like explaining myself. I sat on the hood of my car like Gale and I had done earlier and gazed at the semi-overcast sky. Every so often, the clouds parted, giving me a glimpse of stars.
What was I doing? Between the show, Gale, and my mother, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I pulled out my phone and filtered through the endless texts that had come through earlier in the evening. Six from Vern and Olivia. Three from Charles. Only one from my mother. That was odd.
I wanted to text Gale, but once again, I’d forgotten to get his number.
Although it was late and I risked confrontation, I text my mother Not dead in a ditch. I love you.
I woke shivering and damp the following morning on the hood of my car, Charles beside me, shouting, “Get up, Devereaux.”
Groggy, wet, sore, and chilled to the bone, I groaned and sat, peering around the parking lot in confusion.
“Serves you right if they kicked you out. What the hell were you thinking last night? My God, kid. I fight for you, and this is what you do?”
I blinked at the ornery producer as a mild headache bloomed behind my eyes. My teeth chattered. “They didn’t kick me out.”
“You’re going to catch your death sleeping out here in the damp. Come on. I’ll buy you a coffee. We need to chat.”
I followed him to the diner across the street and huddled in a booth. Once I had my hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee and I’d placed an order with the waitress, he lay in.
“Look, I’m not mad.”
I frowned. “That’s not what I heard.”
“I’m unhappy about a few things, but I can spin this in our favor. In fact, your little stunt helped the narrative I was going for, so in a way, it worked out.”
I wasn’t sure I understood and was too tired to ask him to explain.
“You saw action?”
I thought of Gale splayed out on the hood of my car. Touching him. Kissing him. Making him come.
I cleared my throat. “We saw a tornado. Yes.”
“Excellent. Did you record it on your phone at least?”
“No.”
Charles sighed and swiped a hand down his face.
“Gale took pictures.”
“How does that help?”
I shrugged.
“Listen, Oz, I like the act of defiance. I like that you broke up the team and pissed everyone off. I like the arguments. The shouting matches. The name-calling. Hell, if you want to knock Jazz’s lights out, I’m all for it.
I’ve given you the freedom to chase storms and foot the bill for your travel expenses.
In exchange, I asked for one thing.” He tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. “Do you remember what that is?”
“Record everything.”
“Record. Everything. And you threw the cameras out the fucking window.” Charles sat back with a weary sigh. “What were you thinking?”
“I was angry. This isn’t freedom. You’ve put a noose around our necks. You’ve ruined a good thing. This many people can’t make decisions.”
“It makes for good television.”
“What good is a show about tornado chasers if we never see a tornado?”
“But you did.” Charles leaned forward, elbows braced on the table.
“I’m not asking you to get along. In fact, I love that you don’t.
I love it even more when you don’t do as you’re told.
What I don’t love is you shutting off the fucking camera.
My people can’t follow you on chases. My insurance won’t cover that level of danger. ”
“Fine. I’m sorry. I was angry.”
“It’s okay. You’re forgiven. Like I said. I’m not mad. I can work with what you gave me. What I need is some live-action tornadoes, and we haven’t gotten much of that.”
“That’s the nature of chasing. For every ten runs, you may only see one.”
“Will I get one this season?”
“Probably. It’s early yet, and I usually catch at least two or three.”
“Good. Will you record it next time?”
“Yeah.”
Our food arrived, and Charles spread a napkin on his lap. “Be as defiant as you want, Oz. In fact, stir the shit pot. You’re going to lead Stormz Rising.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Unless you’re rigging the votes, I have to win the audience.”
Charles smirked. “Oh, you will. I’ll tell you a secret. It comes down to editing. The audience sees what I want them to see. I build the narrative. I decide who looks good on camera and who doesn’t. They’re going to love you.”
I should have been excited. Charles was all but telling me I had a spot on the show, but I wasn’t sure anymore if this was the answer to my problems… especially if he broke up my team.
We had another run that night. The system was farther north than before, taking us an hour and a half outside city limits.
Since I’d slept like crap, I spent most of the day in bed, avoiding people and confrontation, shivering the entire time.
I hadn’t been able to warm up since waking on the hood of the car that morning, and my mother’s voice rang in my head. You’re sick. You’re sick. You’re sick.
When I insisted that Gale drive, he peered at me skeptically. When I leaned my head against the window and dozed as he followed Olivia’s car out of the city, I felt the burning heat of his attention on my face more than once. I couldn’t stop shivering and cranked the heat.
“You’re sick.”
My spine stiffened. “No, I’m not.”
We hadn’t had a moment to chat all day. By the time I crawled out of bed, everyone was busy preparing for the run, and Olivia had kept Gale occupied—likely on purpose.
Hugh, Arty, and Becca were everywhere, filming every moment like their lives depended on it. I imagined Charles had ripped them a new one as well, even when they weren’t at fault.
Tempers were raw.