Don't Get It Twisted, page 3
“I did weather forecasting and storm chasing with one of my friends for two seasons on his channel. Shouldn’t you have researched this before flying all the way out here?”
“I did, but I’d rather have quotes directly from you.” And Claire hadn’t been given much time to prepare, which she knew Haley knew. “So you started chasing when you were twenty-two?”
Haley nodded. “Around then.”
“Was that always your plan?”
“No. I was studying to be a meteorologist.”
“But…?”
“I dropped out of college to chase instead.”
“Why?”
“Next question.”
“If you were twenty-two, you must have been pretty close to graduation.”
“Next question.”
Claire glanced down at the list of questions again for guidance, though she was starting to think Carl was trying to sabotage her from afar. There were a half dozen about Haley’s role as an influencer and how she justified monetizing the death and destruction caused by severe weather, but Claire knew those would only make Haley more defensive. The harder Haley pushed her away, the more Claire wanted to earn her trust. She refused to let Carl be right about her.
Fortunately, the waitress arrived with their food, giving Claire a brief glimmer of hope that maybe Haley was just irritable from hunger after all, and the interview would turn around after she ate. The aroma wafting up from Claire’s biscuits and gravy was almost too much to bear, but what was on Haley’s plate was too intriguing to ignore before digging in.
Haley seemed too absorbed in the construction of her breakfast to notice Claire observing her as she broke two crispy slices of bacon into halves and arranged them between two glazed donuts. She covered her home fries in ketchup, then stirred the pile of potatoes until each cube was evenly coated before stabbing one with her fork and taking a bite.
She looked up at Claire while she was chewing, the faintest hint of pink spreading across her cheeks as she noticed Claire scribbling. “You gonna put this in your story, too?”
“Can I?” Claire asked, unable to keep the hint of sarcasm from creeping into her voice.
“If the good readers of—what was it?— the Boston Daily Times want to hear about my dining habits, be my guest.” Haley took another bite, maintaining her intense eye contact while she chewed, though Claire thought she saw the glimmer of a smile lurking somewhere in the amber depths.
Was Haley just fucking with her? Something else to explore, but later. Claire set her notebook down and sunk her fork into her own breakfast. Boston had a world class food scene, but greasy, rich, homestyle country cooking like she grew up with was hard to come by in her neck of the city. Claire raised her fork to Haley in a mock toast, then took a bite. The sausage gravy was thick and bursting with sage and pepper, and the biscuits almost certainly contained enough butter to bring Paula Deen to her knees. The eponymous Erma knew what she was doing and, for a brief second of bliss, Claire forgot how badly she was tanking the interview.
“So is this going to take much longer? I have other places to be.”
Claire was shocked to see half of Haley’s food was gone already; it seemed like the waitress had just set their plates in front of them. And she felt like she knew even less about the surly stormchaser than when she’d sat down. But she was in Tulsa for a whole week, and sometimes it was important just to cut her losses.
“Go ahead,” Claire said, defeated. “I’ll be in touch.”
Haley took one more bite of her weird bacon-donut sandwich, then slid out of the sticky booth and sauntered away, still chewing as she went.
***
Three hours later, Claire was facedown in a pillow of her convention center hotel, starting to question if she was really meant to be a journalist after all. Was she actually that bad at interviewing? She’d always thought she was good at connecting with people, but it was a lot harder when the subject was objectively one of the most beautiful people she’d ever seen. And one of the coldest.
She looked over her scant notes one more time, hoping something of substance would materialize. Any dreams of a Pulitzer, no matter how far-fetched they were, had shattered. Even worse was knowing she would have to tell Whitney she’d failed. Her role model’s words echoed in her head. Don’t fuck it up.
She rolled over, done feeling sorry for herself. It was only her first day in Tulsa; she still had six more to try to break through Haley’s walls somehow. And Claire Dawson didn’t give up that easily. She opened her laptop to find another one of Haley’s old streams. She would watch all of them if she had to, but she was determined to find some clue as to who Haley Hunter was and what she had to hide. Everything depended on it.
Chapter Four
Haley dodged a dog walker standing obliviously in the middle of the path while his dog chased geese on the riverbank, then moved to the right so a family on bikes could pass her. The setting sun’s reflection rippled orange in currents of the Arkansas River, but even the evening breeze offered no relief from the persistent humidity. Noah pulled ahead of her and she glanced down at her watch. A tenth of a mile to go; she wasn’t going to let him win. She lunged forward just as he glanced back, both of them breaking into a dead sprint for the flag pole by the pedestrian bridge that served as their unofficial finish line.
“Not today,” Noah chuckled as he tagged the metal frame first. Fuck him, he barely sounded out of breath. Why did he have to make everything look so easy?
“Unfair advantage, your legs are longer,” Haley panted, raising her arms over her head to stretch out the cramp under her ribcage. Sweat streamed down her temples and under the racerback of her sports bra.
“Try harder next time.” He smirked. “So, how’d the interview go this morning?”
“Terrible,” Haley groaned, grateful her cheeks were already flushed from the run so her embarrassment wouldn’t be obvious. “So awkward. I didn’t know what to say and she probably thinks I’m a complete bitch.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”
“I’m positive it was worse.” Haley sat down on a bench overlooking the river. “She didn’t even ask me anything about tornadoes, just personal shit that’s irrelevant. She called me an influencer,” she spit the last word out, indignant.
“Oh, no.” Noah feigned horror. “Not an influencer.”
“Shut up,” Haley said. “You know I hate that. And I’m worried about what she’s going to write about me now and I don’t know what came over me.” She buried her face in her hands, cringing at how she had acted with the bubbly reporter. “I might have fucked everything up.” She gave him a quick rundown of the interview, glossing over her worst parts, like pre-ordering her food to go. In her defense, she’d just wanted an easy excuse to leave in case the paper went back on their promise and sent that awful original journalist whose social media posts made her skin crawl. “Anyways, it’s over now. Time to focus on tomorrow.”
“You mean tonight. You know you’re allowed to stop thinking about work for a few hours.”
“I’m not sure I’m really in the mood to go out. Plus, now I’m all sweaty and gross.”
“So? Go home and shower. It’ll be fun. Everyone is in town.”
“You know what else sounds like fun? Getting a full night of sleep before the chase tomorrow.”
“One beer.”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you peer pressure is bad?” Haley joked, feeling herself caving to it. “Fine. One beer.”
***
One beer turned into two, then three at the honky-tonk dive on the outskirts of town. Haley had to admit it was nice to get out of her cramped rental filled with generic outlet store trinkets and into an atmosphere that felt much more like home. There were at least fifteen storm chasers scattered around the bar, most of whom she had known for years of crossing paths with them out on the road, all in Tulsa for the storms predicted to roll in the following evening. Noah was in the center of it all, clinging to a mechanical bull for dear life as it whipped him around an inflatable arena. Haley whooped as he was finally thrown from it.
“Light work, light work. No one’s beating that time tonight,” he laughed as he stumbled towards her. “But it’s your turn to try.”
“Finish this.” Haley passed her half-empty beer to him. “And watch how the real pros do it.”
She mosied up to the ring, acutely aware that half the bar had stopped their conversations to watch her and that any move she made could end up broadcast to hundreds of thousands on social media. As the lone woman in a sea of men, the pressure to prove herself in public extended far beyond storm chasing. She had a reputation to uphold. And she had to look good doing it.
She swung one leg over the bull and clung with her thighs, making sure she had a good grip. The replica of the beast began to lurch beneath her, lurching backwards before swinging slowly right. Storm chasers and bar patrons alike cheered as she maintained her hold. Her hips rocked seductively with the bull and she noticed one of the anticipated cameras turned towards her. She gave it a smoldering look, hoping she came off as sexy and confident and that whoever was filming tagged her in the clip. Maybe she could use it later to distract from whatever awful things the journalist was surely writing about her across town.
“Don’t go easy on me,” she called out to the operator just as the fake beast jerked violently forward and flung her to the mat below. She landed on her back and stood up laughing, and Noah offered her a hand out of the ring.
“I think I got you,” Noah said.
“Not a chance. That was at least ten seconds. I think you owe me a beer.”
“Only because I’m a gracious winner.” He nodded towards the bar. “Tell them to put it on my tab.”
Haley wove between tall tables. The bar was becoming increasingly packed as the evening wore on, thrumming pleasantly with conversation. She stumbled slightly, just tipsy enough that the disastrous interview earlier was no longer bothering her, but always sober enough to keep her wits about her. Noah had been right to drag her out in the end, and tomorrow was a new chase. Life was looking pretty good.
“Excuse me, are you Haley Hunter?” A middle-aged woman with bleach blonde hair at one of the tables reached out to grab her arm as she walked past. “My son is a huge fan. Can I take a picture?”
Haley sighed internally, but plastered a smile on her face. She could do without the unwanted touching, but at least the woman had asked for a photo instead of just shoving a camera in her face.
“Thanks!” The woman said brightly after– judging by the burst of flashes– she had taken at least three. “Hold on, if you’re here… should I be worried?”
“Just keep an eye out for National Weather Service alerts, and have a plan in case they issue any tornado warnings,” Haley responded automatically, just like she’d done hundreds of times before. “But if I were in Tulsa, I wouldn’t be too worried. The area with the biggest tornado risk is a few hours west of here.”
“What’s it like, seeing a tor–”
“You see that guy?” Haley cut her off, unwilling to be dragged into an extended conversation about chasing in her rare time off but completely willing to pass the burden on to Noah. “He’s a pretty famous storm chaser, too, I bet your son has heard of him. Why don’t you go get a picture with him, too?”
“Oh, really?” The woman looked elated. “He’s going to be so excited.” She slid off her stool and went off to badger Noah.
“It was really nice meeting y’all, but my beer awaits,” Haley said with another gracious smile to the woman’s companions, slipping away before she could draw any more attention to herself. Once one person wanted a photo a dozen usually followed suit, even if they had no idea who she was.
She ordered two beers, laughing to herself as she watched Noah extricate himself from the situation she had put him into. The bartender delivered the beers just as Noah managed to escape out a side door to the patio. Haley paid both their tabs, then wandered outside to find him. He was leaning on the black railing that fenced the concrete patio in, smoking a cigarette and watching the clouds gather in the distance.
“Since when do you smoke?” She asked, trading him a beer for the cigarette and taking a drag.
“Since I bummed it from Evan as an excuse to escape that cougar you sicced on me. Did you know she was divorced before you sent her over?”
“Did you get her number?” Haley teased. Something about Noah drew older women like flies to honey, and she knew he didn’t mind. She didn’t understand how he did it. Hookup culture sounded exhausting to her, and not worth the time.
“That’s beside the point.” His smirk told her everything she needed to know.
Lightning backlit the distant storm in a purple flash, and the handful of people on the patio oohed appreciatively. Haley pulled out her phone to check the radar, but it buzzed with an incoming call before she could open the weather app.
A Boston area code.
The reporter— what was her name? Claire. She would have to wait; Haley was too tipsy and didn’t want to risk revealing anything she would regret later. She hesitated a second too long, though, because Noah reached over and hit the icon to answer.
“Payback,” he mouthed when she glared at him.
“Hello? Haley? Can you hear me?” Claire’s voice was faint through the speaker. Haley could still hang up.
Instead, she raised the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Haley! Sorry, my cell service is so bad here I had to go outside. Can you hear me now?”
“I can,” Haley said cautiously, making sure her words didn’t slur together. The last thing she needed was the reporter to call her a drunk in addition to everything else.
“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot and I wanted to apologize. This is my first time doing an interview like this for a story this big, and I think my nerves got the best of me. I was hoping we could meet up tomorrow for a do-over? For lunch or whatever you want to do.” Claire’s voice sounded shaky through the speakers, and Haley’s heart softened a little towards her. She had been nothing but professional to Haley, and Haley had acted like a child.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m busy chasing tomorrow,” Haley said carefully, pretending as if she were speaking to a fan to force herself to be nice.
“What if I rode along with you? It might be helpful for me to actually get to see what you do in person.” Claire was persistent, and Haley had to admire it, even if the answer was definitely no.
“I don’t take tourists on chases, it’s too dangerous.” Haley sighed in exasperation because Noah was gesturing to her like he wanted to say something. “Hold on a second.” She muted herself and turned to him. “What?”
“You should take her.”
“No way. She can watch the stream.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t ask for my advice, but I say take the olive branch, don’t piss off the reporter. She’s going to write about you either way. Is the interview this morning how you want the world to see Haley Hunter?” He paused for a second, giving her a chance to respond, then continued more passionately than before. “You may not realize it yet, but you’re going to be famous, Haley. Actually famous. I really believe that.”
She laughed. “You do it, then. You have twice as many followers as I do.”
“For chasing three times as long. But I blend in. You’re the one who gets recognized everywhere you go. You have it all– the looks, the smarts… Look, I get why you’re hesitating, but I think you’re making a mistake. And if you end up half as big as I think you will be, it will all come out anyways.” He held his hands up, gesturing giving in. “But it’s your car, your chase, your choice.” He stubbed the cigarette out and went back inside, letting Haley finish the call in privacy.
“Are you still there?” Haley asked, half-hoping the reporter had gotten tired of waiting and hung up.
“Yes, and before you say no again, my job is really depending on this, maybe even my whole career, and I’m not above begging for it.”
The unsubtle guilt trip, along with Noah’s backing and almost four beers was enough to make Haley give in. “I’ll call my lawyer in the morning and if she says it’s okay, you can ride along. But no personal questions while I’m live.”
“Deal,” Claire said. “Just tell me when and where.”
“I’ll text you the address. Don’t be late, I won’t wait.”
Haley hung up the phone and went back to the bar. Noah was talking to the woman who had asked for pictures again, so she texted him she was going home and slipped out to wait for her rideshare. She checked the radar again, then looked at the Storm Prediction Center’s three day outlook before liking a bunch of new comments on the tornado picture she had posted just before her run with Noah.
Her ride pulled up just as a new notification came in; the twins had tagged her in their story. The messages began to light up her inbox minutes later, but Haley ignored them, choosing to analyze the clip of herself on the bull frame by frame instead. There were a few awkward angles, but for the most part she thought she looked pretty good. She reposted the story, then turned off her phone and watched the Tulsa skyline through the rain droplets rolling down the window.
Chapter Five
“Iguess this is the place,” Claire said apprehensively to the rideshare driver.
Haley hadn’t texted her an exact address, but GPS coordinates to a field across from a gas station on a country highway a few miles west of Tulsa. It was 9:30 sharp and Haley was nowhere to be seen yet. Claire wanted to be early enough that Haley would have no excuse to leave her behind, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Haley pulled another power move and kept her waiting again.
Claire’s phone vibrated with a text message at 9:44, one minute before their scheduled meeting time.
Sorry, running late. That Haley had bothered to text at all seemed to be a good sign.
At 9:57, she heard a sharp whistle from the gas station across the road. Haley was at one of the pumps filling up her white Subaru and waving for Claire to come over. At least she was smiling this morning, a real one that reached her eyes. And Haley seemed bright and cheerful despite the apparent late night she’d had per social media.
