“The majority. Which means I have the majority vote, so if we can’t get a Jones, then I’ll settle for second-best. Hell, third or fourth. Anyone. Just don’t come back empty-handed.”
TWO
I’d keptthe sticky note with her name, studying it while downing a glucose packet. The RV smelled of this morning’s burnt breakfast and drowned in wayward clothes left behind by a scrambled attempt to get ready. It was a dream to be back inside its safety. An almost perfect end to a long day, if not for my lightheadedness. But thanks to the packet, it would fade in about fifteen minutes.
The event day had stretched too long, and I mirrored its fast pace the way I’d promised myself I’d stop doing.
My team’s voices were muffled background noise as I came back to myself after performing for a crowd of hundreds. Once I could stomach taking in information again, I unlocked my phone and opened my email. I typed in the rancher’s name, a woman who’d toggled between frustration and wonderment. She’d waited for hours just to give me the look one might offer a salesperson knocking despite aNo Solicitorssign. I almost felt as if I should have apologized to her for coming to my table.
“Don’t,” December warned from her spot at our little kitchen nook. Her reflection was in the rearview. She wasn’teven looking at me, gaze trained on her scratched-up laptop that’d been decorated with national park stickers.
“Just catching up on emails.” I adjusted in my seat so my shoulder blocked my screen.
“Forget it. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Her voice was monotone.
I was three years older than my cousin, but she bossed me around just as much (and as easily) as my older sisters had. Since I was the youngest in my family, my body acclimated to orders. But thankfully, before I could automatically yield to December this time, I came back to my senses. I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, perfectly capable of making my own decisions, especially for my business.
“Jonah?” December asked in a singsong voice. “Is she still looking at her email?”
Our driver, intern, occasional bodyguard, and designated middleman laughed nervously when I pressed my index finger to my lips. He raked his fingers through dark curls, revealing his rounded cheeks.
“Well?” December stopped typing, the pause like a maternal threat. One look and the woman could coax out a nervous confession.
“I’m kind of driving, you know? And you aren’t so…I don’t know. Confirm it yourself? Maybe? Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound rude.” Jonah’s blinking was rapid.
“Don’t guilt the guy into doing your dirty work.” A smile dampened Nico’s chide. He’d come from the back, his camera gear in hand so he could back up his footage like I’d been warning him to do for weeks. My go-to researcher and part-time tech guru held our livelihood in the palm of his hands. Our behind-the-scenes videos were half of our income nowadays.
“He doesn’t know how to turn someone down just yet.”Nico fell onto the bench opposite December’s and dumped his equipment in front of them. “It’s the ‘yes, sir’ in him. We all had to go through it.”
Nico had been my best friend since before he transitioned. Our parents had started the Guild, a group that would grow into the most reputable network for hunters. Our childhood toggled between on-road experiences and boarding school academics. The Guild had an education program by the time we hit our teenage years. They trained us in the art of coloring in the lines, blind respect for our elders, and following the leader.
“I wouldn’t have dirty work if Rae didn’t insist on rolling in the mud.”
December’s glare burned through the back of my skull. I scoffed and typed the name,Octavia, into my email’s search bar. “This is hardly mud.”
“I beg to differ,” she said.
“How about you help me file these clips?” Nico nudged a storage bank toward her. “You can name the folders and everything.”
“Really?” December’s voice went up a few octaves, feigning flattery. “You mean I can avoid all the work I have to do for scheduling interviews, booking motels, and ordering repair parts to do your job? You really mean it?”
“I think he really means it.” I couldn’t resist egging her on. Her tiny huff of disbelief had me chewing on my bottom lip to pin my laugh to the back of my throat. The toxicity of finding endless entertainment in my sisters’ arguments ran deep within my veins, bleeding into all my other relationships.
“Both of you have Ds today,” Nico said flatly.
December gasped. I released my laughter.
“Minus for you,” Nico told her.
“How disappointingly emotional of you.” December shoved some of his stuff back to his side of the table. A power bank almost dropped off the table, but Nico’s reflexes were quick enough to save it.
“What’s a D?” Jonah asked me in a low voice.
As I pulled up the email with Octavia’s name, I said, “A grade.” The email was from Wilson Daniel. He’d written to me a month ago. Like clockwork, every few days, he’d send over an email, each more desperate and jam-packed with info than the last. I chewed on my nail as I clicked on a spreadsheet detailing each abnormal occurrence ranked one out of ten. He even outlined his method of measurement.
“An amateur who figured out how to graph the paranormal fluctuations in an environment,” I mumbled to myself, impressed.
“Why a grade?” Jonah asked.
