“I get it. You want to handpick your stars and assign personality traits and get your grand idea off the ground so you can rake in the dough, but this isn’t a daytime soap opera, gentlemen. This is reality TV.”
I spoke confidently, like I had any idea what I was talking about. “You like what you see on our channels? Well, we don’t work with special effects. We don’t do retakes, aim for the best angle, or seek optimal lighting. We don’t smile for the camera and read from a script. This is the real deal. We put our lives at risk to get as close to tornadoes as possible. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there?”
“Of course we do,” Dennis spat.
“No,Dennis, you don’t. Unless you’ve stood under a growing vortex, you don’t know shit. Our goal has always been to take viewers along for the ride. Your concept isn’t new. It’s simply bigger. We have roles. We don’t need you to assign us new ones. We operate like a well-oiled machine. If you break us apart and reconstruct the team to fita vision”—I added air quotes—“you sacrifice safety and our ability to get the raw footage you so desperately want to put in front of an audience.”
I glanced at the guys seated beside me. Vern to my left, Noah and Lex to my right. “I have worked with this crew for six years.” I jostled Vern’s shoulder and ruffled his hair. “I can read this asshole’s hunger cues and hormones as well as the intricate and sometimes confusing thoughts that circle his brain.”
I pointed at Lex. “That guy right there is my voice of reason, and I trust him with my life when he says we can get closer or it’s time to back down. When the roads are sloppy, and they often are, it’s Lex’s driving skills and our special vehicle that keep us out of danger.”
I met Olivia’s gaze. “I imagine it’s the same for you, Windrow.”
She nodded. “Like a well-oiled machine.”
“Exactly. I mean no disrespect to Olivia and her group. I commend their progress. She’s grown an amazing following, so she’s doing something right, but you can’tblend usfor the sake of entertainment. Here’s what I propose. You want five people for your show. Great. You’ll get five people. These five.” Imotioned down the line at the members of Twisted Fates. “And Elliott, of course. Or those five.” I indicated Olivia’s crew.
I wasn’t confident that Twisted Fates had enough advantage. Charles might demand to keep us, but Dennis could still put his foot down, so I took it one step further, not realizing I should have stopped while I was ahead.
“Storm season is nearly upon us. We’re already monitoring the weather and have alerts set up. We’re ready to jump at a moment’s notice. So, here’s what I suggest. The Wind Riders and Twisted Fates go head-to-head. First storm of the season, we make our own amateur production for this show. We’ll record more than the storm itself. We’ll include everything from beginning to end. Then, we’ll submit it. You can decide who has better chemistry on screen. Who does a better job of drawing an audience. Hell, test it out. Air it as a premier or toss it in the fucking garbage for all I care. You want real reality TV? Let a curated audience decide who deserves this opportunity. I don’t know. The bottom line is, you can only cast us as a team or not at all. Twisted Fates or Wind Riders.”
I stopped short of telling them we weren’t changing our name to Stormz Rising. That was a fight for another day.
Charles’s forehead creased. He seemed to ponder my words. Dennis glared with hostility, but I locked gazes with Olivia, begging her to stand with me. We didn’t know each other, but from what I’d gleaned watching her channel, she seemed like a decent, level-headed person.
“I told you,” Dennis said. “We can always approach other chasers.”
A spark of fury appeared in Olivia’s pale blue eyes, and she pushed from her seat and stood. Facing each other, we formed a united front.
“You could,” she said to Dennis. “But you won’t. You want the best, andweare the best. Ozrik and I have built our teams’ names and reputations. I agree with him. We won’t be split up.”
Charles waved a hand. “Hold up. Let me get this straight. You want to…competefor a spot on the show?”
“Yes.” I grinned at Olivia. “And may the best man—”
“Or woman,” she interjected with a smirk.
“Or woman, win.”
And that was where everything fell apart.
Dennis looked ready to blow a gasket, but Charles turned contemplative. He angled his body toward Dennis and lowered his voice. “A voting audience would increase ratings.”
“We can’t do audience polls. This isn’t cable television.”
“Hear me out. It could work. Instead of voting after each episode, we record a full season of chasing. After the last episode posts, you ask the audience to log in to the website and rank the cast from favorite to least favorite. Have a wide closing date. Give them a month to vote, so stragglers who don’t watch right away can catch up. Then, we curate a team from the results. The second season features Stormz Rising’s official audience-selected team.”
“Wait, that’s not what I—”
Dennis interrupted my objection. “You’re doubling your film crew.”
“My problem. Not yours.”
Olivia and I shared a glance. What was happening?
Dennis ran a hand over his jaw. “Okay. I like it. Let’s hammer out the details and draw up the contract. Stacey,” he said to the woman at the end of the table, who had been invisible the whole meeting. “How long do you need?”
“An hour.”
