Don't Get It Twisted, page 2
The tornado was breaking up in front of them, the funnel fading into wispy clouds as the energy of the competing storms collided and collapsed. Lightning snaked across the sky with a loud crack of thunder, and the tornado was gone as quickly as it had formed.
“Did we get it?” She asked Noah, knowing they had.
“We got it,” he confirmed with a grin.
“Good. Because we’re almost out of gas. Can you find a station nearby?”
“On it.”
Haley flipped the camera around so it was facing her. It was time to wrap things up. “Okay guys, I think this is where we’re going to call it today. The tornadic potential in this line of storms is most likely going to keep going down as they cross the state, but remember to stay in your safe spot until any warnings expire. People to the east need to be aware of the possibility of damaging straight line winds and lightning strikes later on this evening, but as far as tornadoes go, I’m just not seeing it later on this evening. But how about that to end a chase? Thanks for tuning in, stay safe out there, and I’ll see you all very soon.”
She smiled and paused for a moment to watch the final messages roll in.
Bye
Bye <3
Love you Haley <3 <3 <3
Tornado Whisperer strikes again!
Bye Haley
See you soon
Byeeee
“Love you all, too. Bye, guys.” She hit the button to end the stream, then checked to make sure it had actually stopped broadcasting before exhaling a huge sigh of relief, adrenaline, and exhaustion all rolled into one.
“Knew I made the right choice riding with you today,” Noah said as he punched the address of a rural gas station into the GPS. “All Evan got was a drizzle south of Indy.”
“I learned from the best,” she demurred. Without even looking, she could practically feel his ego inflating beside her. Though their chasing and streaming tactics couldn’t have been more different, she respected him more than anyone else in the game. He was the one who had mentored her, encouraging her out of her shell before she was brave enough to appear on camera, teaching her how to grow an audience and lending her his. And he had never asked for anything in return.
Haley pulled into a gas station, the glare of the lights too bright against the background of the gray, rumbling storm. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to book herself into the nearest roadside motel and crash. The chase had started three days ago in the high plains of Colorado, and she had spent long days touring back roads and tracking down storms, then driving all night to get ahead of the system to do it all over again in the next state as the line moved across the country.
But as tired as she was, her brain wouldn’t stop turning the numbers over. Six tornadoes spotted. Something like 140,000 viewers warned. Ten thousand new subscribers. And $8,000 in donations, minus the cost of gas, food, lodging, and whatever was making that grinding noise in her front axle when she turned right. Plus ad revenue from the stream.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Noah asked, handing over a hot dog and an energy drink from the gas station store.
“I’d hope they’re worth a bit more than that,” she joked, and inhaled the hot dog in three bites. Ketchup only, just how she liked it. “Just thinking about metrics.”
“I’ve created a monster,” Noah laughed. “You know, at some point, you have to turn it all off. You’re going to burn out.”
“I just feel like I’m so close, you know?” Of course he would know. He had done the same thing she was trying to do, built his social media empire brick by brick until he had become the veritable king of the internet weather realm. “I can’t let up now. If I don’t hit a million this season, I don’t know if I can afford another.”
“Don’t get hung up on the numbers.” Easy for him to say. “This is only your second year out on your own, you’re doing great. Better than great. So, don’t stress it.”
The gas pump clicked, letting Haley know the tank was full. She leaned against the car a moment longer while the energy drink did its work, then climbed back into the driver’s seat for another long night. They rode in silence for a while, Haley focusing on the road and Noah flipping through pictures on his camera, selecting the best ones to post on social media and hopefully license to media companies, though she doubted any would bite. Rural storms tearing up hayfields might have been pretty, but they didn’t get clicks. The media only wanted the newsworthy ones— the killers with big financial damage to report.
“You planning to stay the night in Carmel or are you heading back west?” Noah asked a few minutes after they crossed over the state line, a big blue arch spanning the interstate thanking them for visiting Ohio. “There’s another system brewing over the plains.”
“Neither,” Haley sighed. “I have to get back to Tulsa.”
“Oklahoma’s not even in the hatched area on this one.” He looked at her accusingly, the setting sun reflecting in his eyes. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, it’s a personal thing.” Haley hadn’t even looked at the forecast to see where the highest likelihood of tornadoes would be. She didn’t want to know what she’d be missing, didn’t want to think about the lost revenue during the hottest part of the hottest tornado season on record. “An interview. I don’t even know why I agreed to it.”
“Like a news interview? Weather Channel?” Noah sounded excited. “That could be huge for you.”
“Not even. It's some reporter from Boston wanting to talk about climate change and storms. Not sure why they wanted me, though. It’s not like I have any qualifications.”
“Every time I’ve done articles like that they’re just fishing for quotes on how to hide from a storm, or what it feels like to be close to a tornado. You’re definitely qualified, and you’re going to kill it.”
“I sure hope so,” Haley mused, trying not to let her apprehension get the better of her. “You know how I feel about the media.”
“Come on, Haley. You chase down tornadoes for a living, live on camera in front of thousands of people. You can’t seriously be scared of some reporter.”
“It’s different. On stream, I control the narrative. I control my image. I can turn it off anytime.” She gripped the steering wheel, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. She shouldn’t have had that last energy drink, her fourth of the day.
“Well, I think it will be good for you. Get your name out there more.”
“We’ll see,” Haley said grimly, as lightning flashed in her rearview mirror. “I mean, obviously that’s why I’m doing it, but…” She trailed off, not wanting to pick at old scabs.
She flipped on the radio. Thankfully, Noah got the message and stopped talking, instead singing along to the twangy Garth Brooks song in a deep baritone that was half a note off key. Haley couldn’t help but laugh and join him on the chorus, her worries about the interview forgotten in the comfort of familiarity.
“Wanna come in for a drink?” Noah asked after he checked into a dingy motel just off the highway in Carmel, Indiana, just like he always did.
“Nope,” Haley said breezily, just like she always did. “I still have ten hours to drive.”
“Catch you back in Tulsa, then?”
“You know it. Stay safe out there tomorrow. Iowa looks like it could get nasty.”
“You, too. And hey, good luck with the interview.”
“I still might cancel it,” Haley called over her shoulder as she turned to leave.
“You better not,” were the last words she heard Noah say before she got in her car and drove off into the night.
Chapter Three
“Flight AQ230 to Tulsa is now boarding.” The gate attendant’s voice crackled through the PA system, barely audible above the hum of the airport and Claire’s headphones.
The people around her began stirring, gathering their belongings and shuffling over to stand in an increasingly long line to scan their tickets. Claire could keep availing herself of the free airport WIFI a little longer. Good thing, too, because she wasn’t sure she could tear her eyes from the screen.
A broad, dark cloud swirled ominously through the view of a dashcam as the woman driving narrated the scene, her voice smooth and steady even as chaos seemed to unfold around her. Claire leaned in with anticipation as Haley Hunter pointed out where the rotation was tightening, and within seconds, Claire saw the funnel begin to drop from the sky. Even though she was watching an archived video of a livestream, Claire felt like she was there. And it was exhilarating.
The line had dwindled to a reasonable length, so she finally hit pause and joined it. Boarding the plane, she stowed her luggage and settled into her cramped middle seat in front of the rear toilets. Okay, maybe the paper was sparing some expense on this series. Not that Claire was complaining; she was just happy to have the opportunity she’d been waiting so long for.
Opportunities. Fuck. She had spent the past forty-eight hours so immersed in trying to learn everything she could about Haley Hunter that she had completely forgotten to email Sacramento back. And now she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to anymore. If this interview went well, maybe Whitney would give her another big assignment, maybe even a spot on the investigative reporting team. It would be foolish to run right when things finally seemed to be going her way.
But it would be equally foolish to let the Sacramento opportunity slip away before she even explored it fully, because what if she failed? She pulled out her phone to write a quick response to their invitation for an interview before the flight attendants ordered electronics to be stowed, letting them know she had been called away on an assignment and would contact them soon to set up the next interview.
She spent the rest of the flight wondering how close Haley Hunter’s online persona was to her real one. In her streams, Haley seemed to be everything: confident, calm, collected and cool. So achingly cool in a way Claire found both intimidating and attractive. Carl had been less charitable, stopping just short of calling Haley a bitch and opting for “difficult” instead, and even with Claire’s bias against him, she would be lying if she said she didn’t see where he was coming from. Over email, Haley came across as indecisive and demanding, but already, Claire was sure there was more to the story than an internet diva who couldn’t make up her mind. There always was, and it was finally hers to uncover.
***
Claire looked at her smartwatch impatiently. Haley was already fifteen minutes late to the diner where she had finally suggested they meet after changing locations three times over email the night before, and Claire was starving, having foregone the stale hotel danishes for the promise of hot breakfast and stronger coffee than the watery brew in the hotel lobby. She fiddled with her straw wrapper, trying not to feel out of place as the lone twenty-something in a sea of retirees, every one of whom the matronly waitress seemed to know by name.
She didn’t know that Tulsa had much of a tourist track to begin with, but if it did, Erma’s Diner & Donuts was certainly off the beaten one. It was one of those places that seemed left behind by time, a relic standing firm in the face of modernization. An old jukebox adorned with a handwritten, yellowed “Out of Order” sign taped to the glass front sat by the entrance and a fluorescent light flickered in the back corner, but overall, the diner had a homey vibe and the menu featured exactly the kind of comfort food Claire was craving. She read through the menu a third time, wondering if it was too early to order a slice of pie and if Haley was ever coming.
Just when she was fully convinced she’d been ghosted, the cowbell on the door clanked and Haley Hunter, the Tornado Whisperer herself, walked in. She was shorter than Claire had expected from watching her streams, and her auburn hair was loose instead of pulled back into the braid she wore for storm chasing, but it was unmistakably her. Haley waved to the waitress and nodded at one of the other patrons before her eyes came to rest on Claire and her whole demeanor changed. A scowl wiped the warm smile from her face, and Claire could almost feel the cold front preceding her.
White tank top, blue jean shorts, silver belt buckle, Claire scribbled on her notepad, trying to look like she knew what she was doing so Haley wouldn’t pick up on how rattled she was. Intimidating as fuck. And beautiful. Objectively, of course. Claire had already known that from her research, but seeing Haley in person was disarming in a whole new way. But that wasn’t something she could write about.
She set down her pen and offered a handshake. “I’m Claire Dawson, with the Boston Daily Times.”
Haley ignored Claire’s outstretched hand and slid into the booth across from her with feline grace. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me; I think this story is really going to interest a lot of people,” Claire began, hating how stilted her voice was from the nerves. Despite Carl’s warnings and her own preview over email, she was still taken aback by how combative Haley seemed.
Haley stared Claire down, amber eyes glinting with hostility and mistrust.
Who hurt you? Claire wanted to ask. “Do you want to order brunch first? I’m starving, and everything on the menu looks amazing,” she said instead. Claire smiled, hoping food would break the tension. Was it too much to hope the internet’s weather sweetheart was just hangry?
“I called my order in already,” Haley said. “So let’s just get started.”
It was a power move so bold, Claire had to respect it. She just wished she knew how things had already gone so horribly wrong. But there was nothing to do but plow ahead.
“I’m going to record this conversation so I can refer back to it later. No one is going to listen to it but me, but if you want me to pause it or erase anything, just let me know.” Claire paused because Haley looked like she wanted to say something, but the other woman just gestured for her to continue. “I might also jot down a few notes. Do you have any questions for me first?”
Haley thought for a moment. “Actually, yeah. Out of all the storm chasers out there, why did the guy want to interview me?”
Claire hit record before answering. First rule of journalism, don’t lose control of the interview. “I don’t know. This assignment was given to me at the last minute, I wasn’t part of the initial research process. But you knew that, you picked me. Why?” She turned the question back on Haley.
“I liked the article you did about Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe.”
“So you’re a sports fan?”
“No.”
“So you’re—” A lesbian. Claire cut herself off before the reflex assumption about Haley’s sexuality could slip out. It wouldn’t be professional to ask, not two questions in. Not without even the slightest hint of a rainbow on Haley’s broad social media presence. Definitely not in Oklahoma. Claire glanced down at the list of questions Carl had prepared. Maybe his journalistic prowess could save her. “What made you want to be an influencer?”
“I’m not an influencer.” Haley crossed her arms.
“You don’t think so? You have almost a million followers.”
“I don’t sell shit. The only thing I want to influence people to do is get to safety when they’re in the path of dangerous storms. That’s what I thought we were here to talk about.”
“Well, we are, but I want to get to know you a bit first. To add some background to the story, for our readers who aren’t familiar with you yet.”
“Did you decide on something to order yet, hon?” The waitress appeared as though she could sense the tension needing to be diffused. She smiled at Haley as she refilled Claire’s coffee mug without looking. “Yours is almost up.”
“Biscuits and gravy, please.” Claire handed over her menu.
“Can you switch mine to ‘for here?’” Haley asked. “Looks like this is going to be longer than I thought.”
“Sure thing, hon,” the waitress said before bustling away.
“You must come here a lot,” Claire said to Haley. “Seems like the waitress knows you pretty well.”
“Her name is Myra,” Haley said defensively. “And I try to stop by whenever I’m in Tulsa.”
“Good food?”
“More like good clientele.” Haley must have been getting frustrated with Claire’s confusion, because she finally broke a little and elaborated further without prompting. “No one here has any idea who I am. I can eat in peace.”
“Do you get recognized often?”
“Depends where I am and who I’m around,” Haley said vaguely.
“And it bothers you?”
She shrugged. “I signed up for it.”
Claire looked back down at Carl’s list of questions. “There are streamers for cooking, gaming, knitting, pretty much everything you can imagine. So what drew you to weather?”
“Nothing drew me to it; I’ve always been interested in it.”
“Tell me more about that. Where did that interest start?”
“I grew up watching the storms roll in over the plains with my grandpa on the front porch of my grandparent’s house. My grandmother would bring us cookies while the hail beat on the tin roof and the lightning lit up the sky. Is that the kind of shit you want to hear?” Haley smiled sweetly, but her eyes remained cold.
“Yes,” Claire said steadily, even though she was dying inside. As much as she hated to admit it, Carl had been right about Haley. She was difficult. “Is any of that true?”
“All of it. But don’t put that in your story.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I don’t like my audience to know too much personal information about me.”
Claire sighed, her patience finally breaking. “Then why did you agree to do this interview?”
Haley frowned. “Because I want more people to be prepared for severe weather. I didn’t know you were going to ambush me about my personal life.”
“According to your channel, you started streaming your storm chasing just over two years ago. Who was Haley Hunter before that?” Claire pressed on, determined to salvage something even as the interview spiraled out of her control.
