“Nothing better to do.” Ernie Fitzpatrick holds a laptop in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He didn’t finish college but calls himself a weather expert, and I haven’t been able to take him seriously after finding out he plagiarized a friend’s thesis on human-caused climate change that ended up inThe New York Times. “It’s a shame this thing didn’t have time to churn in the warm water for longer.”
“Bummer it’s only a Category 1 instead of a Category 5. It would’ve been fun to see it level half the state,” I deadpan.
Behind me, the crunch of tires roll over gravel. The slam of a door from a newcomer blessedly interrupts us before afuck the patriarchydebate can start, and I wonder who else is joining this merry band of misogynistic misfits. Laughter follows. A voice floats across the parking lot, deep and low with the hint of Southern drawl, and I recognize it instantly.
I have for sixteen years.
I turn my head. I blink and Sebastian is there, climbing out of a car with a wide grin. His shirt stretches taut across his chest. Rubber green rain boots are visible under the cuff of his jeans. His eyes land on me, mischief dancing behind the dark blue. His beam turns brighter with the pop of a dimple, and I’m seconds away from getting back in my car and driving farther south so I can find a spot where I can chase alone.
“What are the odds?” Sebastian approaches, busy attaching his GoPro to the center of his chest. “We meet again.”
“Hello, Dunn.” I tap my phone screen. I need to remember tograb my flashlight and weather radio to carry with me. “Of course you’re here.”
“Perks of the job.” Sebastian puts a hand on the shoulder of the guy next to him. “Monroe, I’d like you to meet Eli Peterson. We chased an EF3 tornado out in Kansas together about five years ago and kept in touch. He was scheduled to fly home from a vacation this morning, but his departure got pushed thanks to the airport closing for Claudia.”
“Eli. Hi.” I smile at the man with dark skin and kind eyes. He holds out his hand and I shake it, the smoothness of his palm warm and welcome. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I have to tell you, I’m a huge fan.” Eli’s smile matches mine. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to get my younger sister to think weather is cool, but she wouldn’t listen. I found her watching one of your shows, and suddenly she wanted to be Helen Hunt inTwister.”
“God.” Sebastian groans. “My teenage crush. That white tank top and khaki pants combo does something to me.”
“Keep your fantasies to yourself, Dunn.” I glance back at Eli. “I’ll give you my email to pass along to her in case she ever has any questions.”
“That would be great.” He lets out an awkward chuckle. “When Seb mentioned you might be here today, I couldn’t pass up the chance to tag along. I hear you two go way back. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with his arrogant ass for so many years.”
“Finally. Someone on my side. You’ve resisted the charm too. I’m glad I’m not alone.” I laugh when Sebastian flips us off. “Are you a meteorologist?”
“Casual weather enthusiast. Science was never my strong suit in school, but I’ll chase the hell out of a tornado. I live in Iowa. We get plenty. If you ever want a break from hurricanes, come to the Great Plains. I’ll make sure you have some fun.”
“What are we thinking for timing?” Sebastian holds up hisphone, a trajectory map displayed on the screen. “Claudia picked up speed in the last few hours.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Ernie says. “Looks like the NHC just changed the landfall location. Slight tick south.”
“What?” I frown and walk his way. He has the latest advisory pulled up on his laptop, and I read the longitude and latitude numbers over his shoulder. “That doesn’t look right.”
“Of course it’s right. It’s the National Hurricane Center,” Ernie challenges.
“And they’re always correct? You don’t remember Charley back in 2004?” I argue. “They boasted about a Tampa landfall, and hours before it hit, they saidnope. It’s actually headed to Port Charlotte.”
“Cone of uncertainty. Port Charlotte was always in the path.”
“In the path and a direct hit are two different mindsets, Ernie. The public doesn’t pay attention to anything but landfall destination. We both know that.”
“With that kind of attitude, the NWS isn’t going to hire you.”
“How do you know about the NWS?” I ask, rearing back. My voice drops, focusing on Ernie’s smirk and the ash he taps out of his cigarette. “I haven’t told anyone I applied.”
I’m too afraid of what happens if I don’t get an interview. Too afraid I’ll be labeled asnot good enoughorfine, but could be better. The fewer people who know, the less I’ll have to explain if things don’t work out.
Not having heard anything yet makes me think it’s heading that direction.
Disappointing, yes, but at least not everyone knows I’m not worthy. That’s a secret I can keep to myself.
“I know everything.” Ernie laughs, the sound undercut with mocking. “They’d eat you alive. Might be fun to watch.”
“That’s enough, Fitzpatrick.” Sebastian steps between us, awarning lacing his words. He frowns and turns his back to everyone except me. “You applied to the NWS?”
“We have so many more important things to worry about right now.” I play with the ends of my ponytail, the weight of every pair of eyes heavy on my shoulders. I’m finding a secluded spot for the next storm so no one can ask about my life. There won’t be anything but me and the wind and the rain. “But, yes. I applied to the NWS.”
