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.
Once we were settled, Charles took to the front of the room and rubbed his hands together. “What a season. I can’t express how excited I am to bring this show to an audience. Today, it’s my privilege and honor to present you with an exclusive preview of the pilot episode of Stormz Rising that will air in three weeks. No better way to draw in an audience than to open with a friendly competition.
“My goal with this program was to take the audience along on dangerous chases. I wanted them to feel like they were part of the action. At the same time, it was imperative that they build connections with you, the chasers. The more emotionally connected they become with the cast, the more intense the danger becomes. I wanted them to fear for your safety while also rooting for your success. Building that rapport meant giving the audience a peek into those intimate moments in your lives. Yes, you bitched and moaned about the camera crew and endless personal interviews, but I promise you, it was those stolen moments that gave the show its true character.”
I pressed my leg against Gale’s, and the corner of his lip twitched in acknowledgment. When Charles turned to his laptop and asked, “Are you ready for the preview?” I poked Gale in the shoulder, whispering, “Zap.”
He smothered a laugh and mouthed the word back.
“I can’t wait to go camping,” I said, leaning close and lowering my voice. “Starry nights and hot sex in a tent. No one for miles. Just you, me, and nature.”
“Shh. Watch.”
Charles got the show rolling. The screen lit up with the Stormz Rising intro we’d seen many weeks ago when first presented with this opportunity.
Vern beat his chest over the identical logo plastered to his shirt and coyote-howled until Maggie shut him up.
The words flashed with lightning across the screen, glowing and slowly fading as thunder rumbled. The image was replaced with a wide shot of Lex, sitting behind a computer, Doppler radar filling the screen, one of the storm cells we’d tracked back in April.
It was my voice that provided the narration. “You need a distinct recipe for a storm to produce a tornado, and we’ve decoded that recipe, so we know where to go.”
The image flipped to one of Olivia, scowling at angry, swirling clouds. Roe’s voice took over the narration, “Data will only get you so far. If you don’t learn to read the sky, you won’t have success.”
The video flipped through several more action shots of each of us, either reading data on a screen or examining the clouds. At the same time, another voice summarized what it meant to be a successful chaser.
Then it flipped to a personal interview. Mine. The one I’d recorded in Lex’s garage. The posed question had been edited out, but it wasn’t required to understand my answer.
“When I chased my first tornado, I did it on a freaking BMX.” As I spoke, my profile details appeared on the screen. Name: Osrik Devereaux. Age: Twenty-four years old. Born and raised in Elk City, Oklahoma. Experience: Nine years running down tornadoes.
The beginning of the show was much the same: snippets of pre-chase activity, then cutting to an individual profile where our initial experience was shared with the audience, and our details were displayed.
When it was Gale’s turn on screen, his tight voice stated, “This is my first season. I got dragged into it quite by accident.”
My boyfriend scowled at the TV and hissed, “They edited out the part where I said I didn’t want to do this and begged to be voted off.”
“Are you surprised?”
Sighing, he slumped in his seat. “No.” Shooting Charles a dirty look, he added, “Bastard.”
I chuckled but bit the inside of my cheek when Olivia shot me a dirty look.
Noah sat on my other side. He leaned in on occasion to comment on the videography. He didn’t say anything I hadn’t already figured out. As we suspected, Charles had taken fullcontrol of the narrative. In less than ten minutes, it was clear that Twisted Fates had far more screen time and was favored over the Wind Riders.
Four weeks ago, it would have thrilled me. Today, it pissed me off.
As the first chase unfolded, showing the promising funnel that never produced and the Wind Rider’s complete disregard for Gale’s safety, Roe cursed under his breath. Guilt ate me up. I’d been so proud of that moment because I knew it would make them look bad, while Twisted Fates looked heroic.
I exchanged glances with Olivia, who grimaced and rolled her eyes with a shrug.It is what it is, she was saying.Nothing to be done now.
