35. Ozrik
Ozrik
Tornado season wound down by mid-June, around the same time my mother was due for her first appointment with Dr. Jacob. It had been hell convincing her to go, but after promising to accompany her initially and not permanently leave home before she was more stable, she agreed.
Stella was trying, but I remained on alert. Too many years of her tricks made me leery.
The group’s mutual concern revolved around how Charles might decide to portray us individually.
In essence, the editing would determine how the audience saw us and if they felt we were worthy of a spot on the show.
Olivia and I had originally been concerned about keeping our teams together.
That concern had shifted, and every one of us now worried how we might handle the breakup of our newly formed ten-man group.
Oh, how far we’d come. I never thought there would be a day when I would combine my team with another and enjoy the results.
Gale and I had been dating for a little more than a month. We spent a lot of our nights at his house, since he had more privacy in the basement. Merrison treated me like another one of his kids and put me to work in the fields without blinking an eye. I didn’t mind helping out.
Although we hadn’t officially announced our relationship to the group, I suspected not a single person didn’t know the truth.
It had become an unspoken rule that Gale and I always traveled together and shared a room.
If we were caught getting handsy or being cutesy, our friends averted their eyes or pretended not to notice.
Gale had come out of his shell. He spoke and whispered more with his sister, suggesting they had mended their relationship.
It helped that Maggie and Vern stole most of the new couple spotlight. We let them, and they were disgusting about it, earning enough attention that no one made noise about Gale and me.
Except Jazz, but his attitude and mouth had turned him into an outcast.
“We aren’t spending the night, Mom. I’ll be home this afternoon.”
“Will Gale be here for dinner?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask him if he wants to stay. We were going to go to his place.”
“Again? I’ll make lasagna.”
“In this heat? Why not barbecue something?”
She acquiesced as a knock sounded at the front of the house. “I’ve got to run.”
I pecked a kiss on her cheek and headed for the door as she called out, “When are you camping?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’ll be there for your appointment. I promise.”
She didn’t like the idea of me sleeping on the ground and drinking camping water, never mind how far I would be from a hospital, but she had managed to bite her tongue… mostly.
I still hadn’t pulled together enough money to get new tires for the car, so we were taking Gale’s Jeep to Oklahoma City that morning.
One night at home, a quick appointment with Mom, and we were hitting the road that following day and heading northeast to spend a week at a national park.
Gale planned to teach me the art of photography and introduce me to Dickens.
He promised I would like Oliver Twist. I was more excited about the former.
I opened the front door and was greeted by a smug Gale, who thrust a white envelope into my hands.
I quirked a brow. “Shit. Have I been served? What did I do?”
“Open it.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.” His giddiness was contagious.
The envelope had already been torn along the seam, so I parted the edges and plucked a folded piece of paper from within. I eyed Gale, who hadn’t stopped grinning, and unfolded the page.
It took me less than a minute to realize what it was. A letter from Weather magazine’s chief editor. “No way. They approved your piece.”
“Yep. The Storm Whisperer is going to print for the November issue. A four-page spread.”
“Oh my god. You said half a page would be a dream.”
“I know. They like you for some reason.”
I dragged Gale into my arms and squeezed. “I’m so proud of you.”
Things were headed in the right direction. Gale had found something he was passionate about, and he was making a name for himself.
The more exposure he got with his photography, the larger his résumé, and the more people noticed him. He’d sold a few photographs from recent chases to other magazines and private art collectors, ones who planned to display them in series and show them off to fellow art enthusiasts.
An art studio in Houston had contacted Gale the previous week, asking if he would consider a show in the fall.
A lot of it had to do with the nature of his photographs.
He’d collected quite a portfolio of intense storm pictures, active funnels, and close-up shots of tornadoes and their destruction over the past few months.
Gale had a knack for capturing moments that came alive in print.
“We should go,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”
“We should celebrate.”
“I purchased some celebratory drinks for our camping trip.”
“Ohhh. Excellent.” Away from home, I wasn’t opposed to having a drink like a normal twenty-four-year-old, and I was looking forward to witnessing an inebriated Gale.
I shouted goodbye to my mother and followed my boyfriend to the Jeep.
As I clicked my seat belt in place, Gale thrust his phone in my face. “PS. My dad adopted a stray. In case you’ve been missing someone.”
On the screen was a picture of Oil Slick, curled up in Merrison’s lap as he snoozed in his reading chair. She looked perfectly at home.
“That traitor. No way. She’s my cat.”
“Well, she showed up two days ago and never left. Dad claimed her.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s a sucker for snuggles and wet food. Give her both, you’ll have a friend for life. I can’t believe she wandered that far.”
“Probably looking for you one day.”
We made it to Oklahoma City with time to spare and met the rest of the group in the affluent lobby of CineVision Entertainment.
They congregated on the swanky couches, chatting and laughing before heading upstairs for our appointment.
It was a contrast from the first time we’d been in the building, scowling and sneering at one another from across the room.
I left Gale with the group as I raced to the same bathroom where we’d first met back in March. My damn mother and her damn insistence that I drink thirty-two ounces of water before leaving the house was a test of bladder control.
Finished at the urinal, I scrubbed my hands and plowed through the door, on a mission to get back to my friends and Gale so we could head up for our official viewing.
I ran smack into Olivia, who waited in the hallway.
“Good grief, woman. What the hell? The ladies’ room is on the other side of the lobby.”
“I know. I was waiting for you.”
“What’s up?”
“Before we go up and Charles presses the whole competition angle and tries to pit us against one another even though the cameras are off, I wanted to say that I’ve had a lot of fun this season. More than I expected. You taught me more than I expected.”
I flinched at the compliment.
“Yeah, don’t get a big head. You’re a good chaser, Devereaux, and I was honored to be able to learn from you. I figured working with more than four or five people would be a headache and overkill, but I was wrong. We found a dynamic that worked for us. We blended our teams well.”
“Definitely. I had fun too. We’re stronger together, and I’m not going to lie, I hate the idea of us being broken apart next season.”
“I agree.” Olivia shifted her weight and glanced down the hall toward the lobby. “Your team deserves to be on the show. Between Jazz’s piss-poor attitude and Gale practically begging the audience to vote him off, we don’t stand a chance.”
“Can I be honest?”
She waited, so I continued.
“Twisted Fates is finished. This show is going to birth a new, blended team comprised of your people and mine.”
“No.”
“Yes. I don’t know who the five will be, but it will be a mix.
Elliott’s work and life schedule won’t work for a show.
He knows it, and Charles knows it. We’ve already written him off, and he’s okay with it.
He’s got another kid coming in a few months, and he doesn’t have time for this type of hobby, never mind a show.
That alone leaves an opening, but to be honest. You, me, Lex, Noah, Roe, Maggie, and Vern…
We’re all worthy of a spot. No one more than another.
I have no idea how it will play out, but I wish we could stick together as a team of seven.
Eight, if I could convince Gale to ride, and with his photography gig opening doors, it’s plausible. ”
“Charles has set it up to rig the votes. Come on, Oz. You aren’t that stupid.”
“Yeah, maybe. He has preferences.”
“You.”
“Me, but that doesn’t mean shit when it comes to voting. It’s anyone’s game, Windrow. I wish the win could belong to us all.”
“Me too.” Olivia studied me for a long moment. “No hard feelings?”
“None at all.”
We shook, but it turned into a hug. Before releasing me, she whispered, “If you ever hurt my brother, I will kill you.”
I laughed and shoved her away. I expected nothing less.
We headed back to the lobby and rejoined the group.
We were guided into a different conference room than before, one with a large screen on the wall.
The table had been set with an array of snacks and beverages.
Each waiting chair had a T-shirt draped over the back with the Stormz Rising logo on the front.
Tiny name tags told us where to sit. It didn’t stop us from rearranging ourselves the way we saw fit.
If Charles was unimpressed, he didn’t show it.
The producer greeted us warmly and told us to help ourselves to food and drinks.
He radiated glee as everyone filled plates and got comfortable.
Roe pulled on his new T-shirt and displayed it for the group.
Vern stripped and put his on as well, earning catcalls and whistles as he made a production of baring his chest.
Dennis joined us, making rounds and shaking hands, welcoming everyone, and congratulating us on a job well done.