SEVEN Sebastian #2
A video of me using lines from an Eminem song to describe a cold front blew up online. My inbox flooded with requests from ABBA to David Bowie and Kendrick Lamar, and I couldn’t keep up.
The fanfare carried over to my national gig as I moved up the meteorological ranks.
Albany, Detroit. Atlanta during prime time before landing in Manhattan.
It’s a lot of attention I didn’t ask for and a hell of a lot of messages from women using witty pickup lines to try to get my number.
I admire the enthusiasm, but I just want to talk about precipitation and atmospheric conditions and make weather fun for any kid out there who’s wondering what the hell he wants to do with his life like I was.
I don’t need the extra shit.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “That’s me.”
“Can you do one right now? How about Tupac?”
“I’m not good with performing under pressure, but I promise I’ll work in something fun next time I’m on the air.”
Whenever the fuck that might be.
“Sick. Blake,” he yells. Another quarter of his drink is lost to the grass as he sprints to a group of guys wearing matching T-shirts that say Getting Hitched to the Bitch. I want to deck them all in the face. “I just met Tupac!”
I duck to the left before someone can ask me for a mediocre rendition of “California Love.” A row of carnival games calls my name and I sit on a tiny stool in front of a water gun.
No better way to celebrate a new door possibly opening than with overpriced entertainment rigged to make you spend money without winning.
“Can I play by myself?” I ask the attendant leaning against a wall.
“No.” He pops a bubble with his gum and doesn’t look up from his phone. “Two-person minimum.”
“Cool. I’ll stare at the fish.”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“Carnival games?” Long legs fold into the stool to my right. When I see a short dress that shows off tan thighs I pivot, grinning when I find Quincy looking at me. “Interesting.”
“What a surprise this is. Now who’s following who?”
“Richard is out of town, and Mia planned our night so she didn’t have to spend the evening at home alone.” A muscle in Quincy’s jaw works. “So here we are.”
“He’s out of town again? What the fuck does that guy do for work? Something with the CIA?”
“Banking, I think. Mia says it’s a busy time of year for him.”
“Be honest with me, Pres. Do I need to kick his ass? I’ve never been in a fight, but if Mia is upset, I’ll learn how to throw a punch real quick. Cooper teaches self-defense classes. He can show me a move or two.”
“No. She’s okay.” Her face softens. “You’d do that for her?”
“She’s my baby sister.” I rub my jaw, smiling when I think about the tents we used to make in our small living room with old sheets.
The nights I’d read her princess book to her until she fell asleep while Mom worked two jobs to put food on the table.
She’s married now, to a guy who spoils her rotten, but there were years where Mia and I had to share shoes.
Summers when we organized lemonade stands so we could buy Mom a purse for Christmas.
“I’d do anything for her. Sometimes I wish …
” I laugh and shake my head. This conversation is turning heavy.
Way too far outside our usual discussions. “Never mind.”
“Truth or Dare, Dunn?”
“Truth, Monroe. I don’t doubt that you’d make me streak around here and laugh when I got arrested for public indecency.”
“You’re not wrong.” Quincy turns on her stool, staring at me. Attention heavy. Curiosity in the slight lean of her shoulders. “Sometimes you wish what?”
“I wish I was around more. I missed Mia’s engagement.
I missed Cooper breaking his ankle earlier this year after he literally jumped out of a tree to save a cat.
I missed Nate moving into a bigger bakery storefront last summer, and it feels like …
it feels like I’m in their lives, but I’m not really a part of their lives, if that makes any sense. ”
“Why don’t you come to town more often? You make it work during the holidays. You’re here now.”
“Because my boss sees this project I’m working on as a moneymaker. Asking for a week off during a historic blizzard doesn’t usually go over well.”
She hums and fixes the strap of her dress. My eyes drop to her collarbone, the sharp planes and soft curves of her body, and I decide her outfit is showing off entirely too much skin to be good for my mental health.
“Maybe the project will be a success and you can leverage some power in getting more days off. Finding a compromise. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you were around town more. Spending time with your sister is important. My personal feelings toward you shouldn’t get in the way of that.”
“It wouldn’t?” I lift an eyebrow, my grin slow. “Thought you hated me, Monroe.”
“I still do.” Quincy pauses, less bark behind her bite than usual. The edge of careful consideration. Acceptance and exhaustion too. “You just looked sad sitting by yourself.”
“Is that why you’re ogling me?” I ask, her gaze jumping from the tattoo on my arm to my face. “My eyes are up here.”
“I’m deciding where I would throw a dart at you given the chance,” she tosses back.
“I’d love a battle scar.” I grin and tap my knuckles on the counter. “Two rounds, please,” I say to the attendant who sighs like this is the most difficult part of his day.
“Are you sure you want to go against me?” Quincy curls her hands around the water gun and spins on her stool, facing forward.
There’s a glint in her eye, the same steely determination I used to see when we’d go head-to-head in our Synoptic Meteorology classes.
Arguing until our voices gave out. Declaring a winner and a loser.
Watching her get riled up really is one of my favorite things.
“I set the record for most victories in a row last year.”
“Were you going against eight-year-olds?”
“They were nine.” There’s a stretch of silence. The ghost of a laugh. “And one severely intoxicated man who thought he was in the bathroom.”
“Poor guy probably thought the water was something else.”
“Want to make this game interesting?”
“Are you a Mafia don when you’re not talking about weather, Monroe?”
“It’s best to keep you wondering.” She drops her head back and shakes her shoulders. She looks absolutely ridiculous when she shimmies on the seat. I can’t stop watching her. “Winner gets to pick the other’s punishment.”
“I haven’t kicked your ass in a while. This could be fun.”
“You haven’t kicked my ass because I’ve been too busy kicking yours.” Her smile is sharp, sure. Full of that goddamn confidence that makes my head spin. Her mouth curves into a smirk. She bats her eyes, and my imagination runs wild. “Sorry, Dunn. Your moment is over.”
“Is that right?” I move closer. My knee bumps hers under the metal counter.
She doesn’t pull away, and we keep touching.
The toe of her shoe knocks against my shin, and I don’t care if it was on purpose.
My voice drops low. “Sounds like I need to prove my worth. Don’t worry, Quinny baby.
I’ll be gentle when I win. Unless you like it rough. ”
I’m playing with fire, but it’s too much fucking fun to stop now.
Quincy’s cheeks flush a deep shade of pink.
The color travels down her neck and to the top of her chest. It disappears under her dress, and I have to think about multivariable calculus and hydrologic processes.
Linear algebra and anything fucking else to stop myself from wondering how far the flush spreads.
If her skin would be hot when I teased her with my fingers, my mouth.
If I dipped my hand lower, under her dress, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
The heat is getting to me. So are those two beers I had with Cooper and Nate earlier. My rationality is wavering, and I need to pull myself together before I do something stupid.
“I hate you,” she murmurs, snapping me back to reality.
Yanking me away from some hazy version of us where I have her in my bed.
Naked and tangled in my sheets while she says that when I make her come.
I need another drink. Something stronger to wash the thoughts away.
“And the last thing I want you to be is gentle.”
Fuck me.
A bell sounds. I scramble to grab my water gun, cursing when I see I’m already behind.
Quincy has me by a nose, but she glances at me with a cocky lift of her eyebrow.
I use her distraction to my advantage and blow her a kiss.
Her aim falters. Her grip on the water gun loosens.
She hits left of the target instead of on the bull’s-eye, and I edge her out at the last second to reach the top first.
“Player two is the winner.” The attendant hands me a stuffed dinosaur. “Congratulations.”
“I’d like to thank my mom for her endless support. And this carnival game for giving me a new purpose in life.” I put a hand over my heart and beam. “I used to think I had reached my potential, but with this dinosaur, I know the possibilities of my power are endless.”
“You are infuriating. But congratulations on your win.” Quincy stands. “What punishment are you going to pick? Please don’t make me look like an idiot on the internet. I have a reputation to uphold.”
I glance around, wondering what I can come up with. I could make her ride a mechanical bull or enter her in the hot dog eating contest slated to start in ten minutes. When I spot the Ferris wheel towering above us, I grin.
Decision made.
“You have to sit next to me on the Ferris wheel,” I say. “Ten minutes of coexisting by my side. We’ll see who breaks first. I think I can go two for two tonight.”
“You’re joking.” Her hands settle on her hips. A gust of warm wind ripples through the air and lifts the ribbon she’s wearing in her hair. The bow comes loose. I have the urge to wrap it around my wrist. To give it a tug. “You’re going to push me off the top, aren’t you?”
“Tempting, but homicide isn’t my thing.”