“Where are you going?” I called after him.
“To use the bathroom. I’ll talk to you later.”
Once I heard the bedroom door close, I took his empty glass to the sink, washed it and set it on the drying cloth. I cleaned the table, swept the floor, then left.
On the way out, though, I pulled out my phone and typed out a text:Meet me on the roof. Eight o’clock.
Chapter 12
Wesley
Iwas four years old when my mother told meIran to her bedroom and said I wanted to be Superman. I didn’t remember that particular conversation, but I remembered wearing that damn red cape everywhere. Until I flew my ass down the stairs and knocked my tooth out. I threw the costume away that day.
On my sixth birthday, I knew I wanted to play in the Major Leagues. I worked hard to land the starting spot on the team. Short stop. During one of our games, we were caught in a thunderstorm, one so severe we had to take cover. I was transfixed by the flying debris, the wind, the large hailstones falling from the sky, unable to move because I was so mesmerized by the scene. It was the first time my mother yelled at me. Through her tears, she’d begged me to move, to run. My father wasn’t there, but my coach hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me to the shelter.
The tornado touched down less than a mile away from the baseball diamond. After the storm passed, and we emerged from the shelter, I couldn’t look away from the damage, the miles of destruction left in its wake. Uprooted trees, shattered glass, shredded homes … Mom’s brand-new Lexus GS 400. I recalled her scream when we spotted it, overturned near the concession stand, damaged beyond repair due to the wind and hail.
The experience changed me. From that moment on, I wanted to be a meteorologist. For some reason, my interest in atmospheric science made my father angry. He hated the thought of his son being a scientist instead of a business mogul, but I was resolute. He’d never hesitated to tell me how much of a disappointment I was to him either. I didn’t care, though. I’d spent hours in the library, reading books about cloud patterns and climate trends, and analyzing and interpreting weather data. I watched videos of storm chasers every day, learned how to anticipate risks.
Of course, I didn’t end up doing that shit, but I still loved storms, I still found myself watching the sky, looking for signs of calamity in the clouds.
I excelled at science because I was a wizard with all those things that made me excellent in business now. Since I joined Batchelor Corporation, my keen observation skills, ability to think critically, and solve complex problems had helped Granny expand into new markets and avoid bad business deals.
My success proved one thing.Basically … my father didn’t know shit.
The one aspect I always struggled with, though, was patience. At the NOAA Middle School Science Camp, I’d failed the part of the exam that required me to wait for the weather pattern to materialize. I had to fight the urge to run to the danger, not from it. My need for instant gratification had tripped me up often—in business and in my personal life.
Like now …
It had been hours since I’d left Elijah’s house. His words turned over in my mind on an endless loop. More questions. No answers. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking that the conversation was somehow connected to the social media drama. Specifically, Ms. Tea’s identity.
I’d retreated up to my safe space almost immediately, grabbing a bite to eat and putting a couple of beers in a cooler. The music coming from my speaker was low, just soft enough that I could hear it and the sound of the approaching rain.
When Granny let us pick the apartments, she’d given me first choice. My place was the only unit with direct access to a private enclave on the roof, which infuriated Jackson, who thought he deserved the space because he was the oldest grandchild. While I suspected she couldn’t stand some of her offspring, she’d never played favorites. She literally picked my name out of a hat.
Although the roof was a common space, my tiny slice of heaven was private. I installed a gate, which shielded the area from view. It had served me well when tenants were using the roof for events. No one knew I was there most of the time, and I’d gathered a lot of intel because of it. Which I’d used to my advantage often.
Lightning lit up the sky and the rain started, but I didn’t move. The forecast predicted scattered thunderstorms. Nothing severe, though. I’d taken the precautions before I came outside.
For a brief moment, I considered going to her. Albany hadn’t called or responded to my text earlier to meet me here. I thought about sending her another message, luring her up by teasing more information about the case. But I’d promised myself that I would move at her pace no matter how much I wanted to demand her attention.
Albany wasmystorm—a destructive yet transformative force. She was all-consuming, so beautiful I couldn’t look away even when I knew I should. The damage was done years ago. My feelings for her were overwhelming with intensity. Passionate. Turbulent. Sometimes chaotic, sometimes calm. Always vulnerable. At the same time, nothing felt better than the connection, the perfect combination of her warmth with my cold front. It was everything.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled the earthy scent of rain. When my phone buzzed on my lap, I peered down at the screen.
Tapping the screen, I said, “What’s up, Ma?”
“Hey, son.”
I kicked my legs out, stretching in the oversized chair. “Long time.”
“I know, I know. We just got back from the cruise a few hours ago.”
It had taken a long time to move on after my father died, but when she married Morris Walker, she’d finally started to live again. “Did you have fun?”
She chuckled. “Lord, yes. It was so nice to get away.”
“Where did you go?”
