Gale
I rearranged the photographs on the whiteboard into a different configuration and referenced my notebook. Taking a picture down, I replaced it with another, then adjusted a few sentences in the fourth paragraph of my notes. It still wasn’t working.
I’d selected eight potential images for the article I was putting together for Weather.
When I emailed the proposal for a special piece, they eagerly responded, requesting more details.
I’d promised to draft something by the end of the week so they could review it and decide whether to feature it in their magazine.
The problem was that I had dozens of shots and could only use six to eight photographs maximum. If they offered me a four-page spread, I could accommodate more, but I was an amateur, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I would be lucky to get half a page.
The distant creak of the basement stairs drew my attention to my closed bedroom door, and I cocked an ear. As far as I knew, Dad was outside with Lex, fixing the lawn mower. I figured if they got it working, I would hear it roar to life, and Dad would take a run at the uncut grass.
It could have been Olivia descending the stairs, except she stomped like an elephant.
Straining, I heard nothing further. Maybe Dad had come down to grab something in the laundry room. Maybe I was imagining things. I refocused on the display board, adjusted my crossed legs, rested an elbow on my knee, and balanced my chin in an upturned palm.
As I scrutinized the selection, a soft rap sounded on the bedroom door.
I sat upright and frowned.
“It’s open.”
The door creaked on its hinges, and Ozrik’s face appeared, wearing a tentative smile. “Hi. Can I come in?”
He was the last person I expected, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies burst to life in my belly.
My voice squeaked when I tried to say yes, so I nodded for emphasis.
Ozrik entered and quietly closed the door behind him, leaning against its surface. “Your dad told me you were down here. I hope it’s okay that I dropped in unannounced. I tried texting. Three times. You didn’t answer.”
I glanced at my phone with a wash of shame.
“Are you ignoring me, or did Olivia give me the wrong number?”
“I got your texts.” My emotions were all over the place when it came to Ozrik, and I wasn’t prepared to explain, so I diverted. “Am I allowed to ask how you’re feeling?” I didn’t bother masking my bitterness.
Ozrik pressed his lips together, a stitch growing between his brows.
“I’m much better, thanks.” He shifted his weight. It wasn’t often Ozrik looked uncomfortable. The man oozed confidence. “In the car. In Tulsa. I didn’t mean to bite your head off for expressing concern.”
I cut my gaze to the board of pictures, unable to meet his eyes and at a loss for words. I nodded, but it didn’t convey what I felt.
“Gale. You need to understand something. When you spend every waking moment of your life with a mother who is constantly telling you that you’re sick, when you really are sick, and someone points it out, you get defensive. I’m sorry for being an ass.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Ozrik entered the room, his gaze flitting over the collage of photographs once before refocusing on me. “Is that why you ignored me? Because I snapped?”
I sighed. “When you spend your life under the thumb of bullies, where everything you say or do is thrown back at you or used against you, even an ounce of hostility makes you jumpy and skittish.”
“Fair enough. Are we okay?”
I nodded and found his eyes. It had been a hell of a week. Ozrik’s presence was a balm.
He kneeled beside me and examined the board of pictures, lips parted and eyes sparkling as he took it in. “It’s us. It’s the team out chasing.” He touched the one I’d taken of the tornado in Arkansas. “Are these for Charles?”
“No. It’s my secret proposal project for the magazine.”
“You talked about it. You’re doing a piece about us?”
“About storm chasing. I detailed the weather aspects and science, but my real focus is on the individuals and process.”
“It’s brilliant.”
“It’s okay. I’m not as good at taking pictures of people. I was aiming for candid shots. Some are better than others. The problem is, I have dozens and have to narrow it down to a select few.”
“Can I see them?”
I located the folder on the floor beside me.
As Ozrik flipped through the photographs, I studied his reaction, waiting for a comment since it was obvious he’d become my muse. Ninety-five percent of the pictures were of him, taken in Tulsa, including the few from the time Twisted Fates had rescued me.
The last run we’d gone on in Arkansas had allowed me to take some of the rest of the group, but none of them were my favorite.
No one was as photogenic as Ozrik. He was the only one who shared chemistry with the storm.
If I could have focused the entire piece on him without it being strange, I would have.
Once he’d viewed the last shot, he held up a picture of himself, wearing the same cheeky smile as the guy caught on film. “You seem to have a thing for him. I can see why. He’s pretty hot.”
I mirrored his smile. “And high on himself.”
Ozrik laughed. “No shame, but for real. You like this guy?”
“I do. Your energy out there is…” I shook my head, unable to explain. “I tried to capture the confluence between you and the storm, but it hardly translates.”
He studied the shot for a minute before setting it aside and meeting my gaze. “Did you miss me, Gale?”
“Yeah. Chasing was far too serious without you. You make it fun, even when I don’t want to be there.”
“I’ve been told I’m a touch reckless.”
“You might be a bad influence, but I don’t mind.”
Ozrik glanced around the room, taking it in before speaking again. “I came by to invite you out for lunch.”
My stomach fluttered. “Oh.”
“Like a date, except under the guise of friendship. Unless you’re busy. Or don’t want to.”
I glanced at the board of photographs. “I’d love to. This can wait.”
“Great.”
I guided Ozrik out the front door, hoping to avoid notice or a conversation with my dad.
He and Lex would hopefully be too busy with the mower, and I was in avoidance mode.
After nursing my hurt feelings on the drive home from Tulsa, I lost the motivation to share the truth with Dad.
It was easy to make excuses and hard to take initiative.
It became obvious that I wasn’t fooling anyone on the team, but no one came out and asked, so I stayed quiet, pretending like I’d been doing my whole life.
I opened the passenger door of the car and was greeted by a sleeping cat.
Ozrik laughed. “Oh, right. We have company. I forgot. Slick missed me, gave me hell for being sick and absent, and told me she wanted to come along for the ride. Slick, move over and make room for Gale.”
As though in protest, the cat tucked herself into a tighter ball. I picked her up and slid into the car, depositing her on my lap. I didn’t think she’d stay, but she sprawled and stretched and meowed. Laughing, I petted her, and she soaked up the attention.
I immediately noticed the absent dashcam.
“Vern collected it a few days ago,” Ozrik explained. “He said something about the show giving them pockets of private time surrounding runs. Is that right?”
“Yes. Thank goodness. It’s a relief.”
“I bet.”
“Where to?” I asked as Ozrik turned around. I caught sight of my dad watching our retreat. Lex had his head in the guts of the mower.
“Are you opposed to hanging out at a shitty bar? It’s home to Elk City’s low-life alcoholic crowd and might violate a few health codes, but Chucky makes the best burgers in town.”
“Sounds… terrifying. Is this where you take all your dates?”
He chuckled. “I know the owner. Bobby’s a miserable asshole, but it’s all for show. He secretly likes me and lets me pick up the odd shift on weekends, so he’s cool. It will be quiet at this time of day, and that’s more than I can say for any other place in town.”
“Okay. I won’t get food poisoning, will I?”
“Nah. I was kidding about the health codes. Bobby follows the rules. You’ll be fine.”
Ozrik took us to the Salty Orange, a spot I never would have ventured on my own. It had a scuzzy, small-town bar vibe and was exactly as Ozrik described it. Dark, gloomy, and mostly vacant. The only other customers seemed too lost in the bottom of their cups to notice us.
Before we entered, Ozrik found a can of cat food in the trunk for Oil Slick and gave her a lecture about sneaking in and pissing off Bobby. The cat seemed too focused on the food to care about the warning.
“Hang on,” Ozrik said before he headed inside.
He tugged his cell phone from a pocket. “I have to make sure I respond to my mother at least once, or she might send the sheriff looking for me. I don’t want him interrupting our date.”
I wasn’t sure if he was kidding, but I waited while he opened his text thread. An odd expression crossed his face, and he repocketed the phone without sending a message.
“Never mind. We’re good. Let’s go.”
We found a booth and the man serving—Bobby, I presumed—brought Ozrik a drink, depositing it on a cardboard coaster and announcing, “Coke with a lime wedge for the teetotaler,” before sizing me up. “What’ll you have?”
“Um, same.”
“Christ, you don’t drink beer either?”
“It’s barely noon.”
“Bah. Kids these days.”
“Leave him alone, Bobby. How about two burgers and fries as well. Is Chucky in the kitchen today?” Ozrik asked.
“Yep. Two burgers and fries and another Coke.” The word came out indignant. “Food might take a hot minute. Not sure he’s got the grill fired up yet. You’re earlier than usual. Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
The man shifted his weight but didn’t leave. He studied Ozrik with a studious side-eye. “Heard you was sick. Was it legit, or was Stella messing around again?”
“It was legit.”
The man grunted and wandered off, returning a minute later with a second drink.
“Teetotaler?” I asked when he was gone again.