Hell of a Storm || TWISTERS AU

Chapter 3

As I walked to Tequila Plata that night, anyone would think Oklahoma had never seen a storm. The sky was as blue as the eye could see and there was not a cloud in sight. The late afternoon weather was still sunny enough to warm my skin and bright enough to warrant a pair of sunglasses. Before I left my motel room, I'd opened the windows to let in the rest of the afternoon warmth. I hoped I wouldn't be sharing the room with an assortment of bugs tonight, but I knew I could beg Theo to switch rooms or rescue me if I got really desperate.

While I waited to be seated, I checked my phone, but I still hadn't received any new texts since the one Theo had sent me as I was on the way out. Grab a table, he'd instructed. I'm running late, ran into someone who might be useful for the pod. If we were scrapping our previous plan and starting over, I liked that Theo was already getting a head start, but if he had already had a chat with a potential interviewee it meant I was starting on the back foot.

As I was taken to my table, I scoped out the room. Tyler and Boone were in a corner, working their way through an enormous shared platter of tacos. The Storm Par crew were seated at a long table, like they'd made a booking ahead of time so they could all sit together. There were more locals here than there had been at the roadside diner, cradling beers and plates of corn chips. Ceiling fans gently rotated the stale warm air. Above the bar, newsreaders were recapping current affairs on a grainy flat-screen TV.

"Can I get you anything to start?" the waitress asked me as I took my seat.

It had been a long day and I was ready for a drink. "A margarita, please."

While I waited for Theo, and sipped at my drink, my eyes drifted again to Storm Par. All of them were still wearing their uniforms despite it being after hours. I couldn't put my finger on what it was yet, but there was something off about them all, a sense of sweaty desperation to go with their polyester shirts. Maybe it was the way they were all looking deliberately down at their plates and not engaging with the locals.

"Sophia, this is Scott," Theo announced, suddenly at my side. "Scott, this is my producer Sophia."

I turned to look up, further up than I was expecting. Scott was tall, taller than Tyler, but he didn't have any of the same confidence – if anything, I would say he moved with arrogance. Jet-black hair and sly blue eyes, a picture-perfect clean shave; this guy was middle management personified. He looked me up and down in my jeans and t-shirt and seemed to elect not to offer his hand. I could relate.

"Scott was just telling me that Storm Par is operated by him and his business partner, Javier," Theo told me.

I wondered if that was the worker we'd seen throwing a tantrum in Frank's Auto. "Where's your partner?"

"He's in New York at the moment," Scott said. Despite his height, his voice was a lot deeper than I was expecting, like he'd been practicing to sound more authoritative. "He's trying to recruit a weather expert he knows. But I can speak on behalf of him in his absence."

I'd never liked that phrase – speak on behalf of him. Like a puppeteer with his hand inside someone else's mouth. "He must trust you a lot if he lets you speak for him."

"He does," Scott said. "When did you want to do the interview?"

Interview? I looked at Theo, who was too busy looking at Scott to make eye contact with me. "Maybe the day after tomorrow?"

"Let me review." Scott reached for his top pocket. I almost expected him to pull out a Blackberry, but it was a regular iPhone, albeit with an enormous waterproof case. He tapped away at the screen for a moment, then said, "I could do the day after tomorrow. That's fine."