The Weather Girl

by Amy Vastine

  “I’ll give him a call,” Travis promised. There wasn’t much more he could do to please a man who would never be pleased or proud ever again.

  “Good.” His dad nodded and stood up. “Gotta get going. I need to check on your brother.”

  “Well, thanks for bringing by lunch.” The conversation might have been uncomfortable, but the food was divine.

  His dad told him it was nothing as he ran a hand over his sandy-blond crew cut. He stopped short of the front door. “Your weather girl say it was supposed to rain today?” he asked, tipping his chin in the direction of the red umbrella resting against the wall by the door.

  Summer didn’t live in Alabama. She lived here in Abilene. Why that mattered didn’t make much sense, but it did matter. “No. No rain.”

  The creases in his father’s forehead gave away his confusion, but he didn’t ask any more questions about it. Travis watched him walk to his car and back out of the driveway. Once his dad was long gone, he pulled the business card out of his pocket and stared at the name and number for a moment. Sportscasting wasn’t his dream job, he could admit that, but working at KLVA wasn’t all that bad. Summer made things interesting, to say the least. Could he walk away without ever knowing if there was a chance something could happen between the two of them?

  He tossed the card on his coffee table and returned to his bedroom for his jacket. He stared himself down in his closet mirror. Alabama wanted him. There was little risk in calling the coach up and hearing what he had to say. Summer, on the other hand, was a huge risk. Putting his heart on the line scared him to death—just like the thought of jumping out of a hot-air balloon. Life wasn’t interesting without a little bit of fear. Before he went with a sure thing, Travis knew he had to take a leap.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MONDAYS WERE NO one’s favorite. Monday was likely the most unpopular day of the week. Mondays were bad. This Monday was no exception. It was, however, worse than all those that came before it. This Monday, the world seemed to be working against Summer from the moment she got out of bed.

  Garbage littered the kitchen floor, thanks to a neglected-feeling black Lab who had decided the best revenge was making his owner furious. In an attempt to make up with and tire out said dog, Summer decided to take Storm for a run. It was during this run that she somehow managed to trip over her own two feet, landing on and scraping her knee. This meant she would no longer be able to wear the dress she’d spent twenty minutes ironing earlier that morning. While cursing the concrete for being so hard and rough, she lost her grip on the leash and Storm took off between two neighbors’ houses. Thirty minutes later, Summer cornered the naughty pup in a very unpleasant woman’s backyard, where she was admonished for “letting” the dog trample the woman’s marigolds.

  The fun hadn’t stopped there. Summer backed into the garbage can at the curb on her way to work and cracked a taillight, rode the elevator up with Rachel, who couldn’t wait to tell Summer how frizzy her hair looked today, and bumped her bad knee on the corner of her desk when Richard barreled past her on his way to who knows where. She hadn’t even seen Travis yet.

  Things were bound to be uncomfortable after whatever it was that had happened on Saturday. He assumed her intentions were selfish, and the thought stung. The more she considered it, the more guilty she felt. She could see how he might think that was true. Maybe it was a little true. Maybe she did want him to go, but it wasn’t about the thirty seconds anymore. It was these feelings he was stirring in her. Feelings that threatened to mess up her plans for an easy escape from Abilene when the right time came.

  When he finally arrived at the station, there was no stopping by her desk. No touching her stapler, playing with her paper clips, asking questions about whatever was on her screen. He went straight to his desk and stayed there. His eyes, however, wandered her way almost constantly. She resolved to talk to him as soon as she mustered up the courage.

  “Summer!” Ken stood in his doorway, hand on his hip, not looking the least bit amused. The knot in Summer’s stomach twisted tighter. “Come here, please,” he said with an irritated tone that made the “please” sound anything but polite.

  She eased out of her chair and avoided looking Travis’s way, even though she could feel his eyes on her. Ken’s door rattled as she closed it behind her. Ken wasn’t a small man, but his large desk could dwarf a giant. He leaned back in his black leather chair, twirling a pen in his fingers. He motioned for her to sit down. Summer sat and crossed her legs, curious as to what was going on. Hopefully the red splotches on his neck had nothing to do with why he wanted to talk with her.

  “What’s the emergency, boss?” she asked with a smile, trying to keep things light.

  Ken, not impressed by her flippant attitude, tossed his pen on the desk. “Can you explain to me why I have Alex Hayes from Texas Star Chevrolet, one of our biggest advertisers, calling me up and saying he heard you were making some not-so-flattering comments about their dealership?”

  Summer sat a little straighter and leaned forward. “I’ve never said anything about Texas Star Chevrolet. I don’t know why Mr. Hayes would say that.”

  “Maybe you made a comment while you were eating out or while you were buying your groceries. I don’t know. All I know is that I thought I could count on you to watch what you say in public. You represent this station 24/7.”

  “I understand that. I’m always careful about what I do and say. As a general rule, I try not to talk poorly about anyone, including advertisers.” She tried to remain calm, but it was a blow to have her character called into question.

  “That’s what I told Hayes. But he said he’d heard it from more than one person. He’s not planning on pulling any of their advertising dollars right now, but he asked that I give you a stern warning. Should he hear you’re out bad-mouthing them again, he’ll have to take action.” Ken sat forward, elbows on his desk, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Do not make him take action, Summer.”

  “Ken, I am telling you I have never said anything good, bad or indifferent about Texas Star. Ever. I can’t stop something I’m not doing.”

  “Well, to make sure they know they have your full support, I’m taking ten seconds of the weather report for you to encourage people to buy their next Chevy from Alex Hayes and his team over there.”

  Summer launched out of her chair. “Ten seconds? I didn’t say anything! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Ken shouted back. “All that matters is that Alex Hayes thinks you did. So you will make it better for a couple weeks by talking him up. You’ll also ride on his float in the Rodeo Parade. End of story.”

  Having been properly scolded for something she didn’t do, Summer wanted to spew everything she knew about blizzards in Alaska to anyone who would listen. No one in the newsroom seemed to notice she was on the verge of a breakdown—except for two people. Richard smiled snidely as he shoved a manila folder into his old, battered briefcase.

  “Whatever you’re doing to make him so mad, keep it up, Summer. Keep. It. Up,” he said on his way to the elevators. Summer bit her tongue so hard it hurt. His arrogance was nearly intolerable. His newfound malice was unforgivable.

  She glanced at the only other person paying her any mind. Travis nodded in the direction of the break room and started heading that way. She followed him and slammed the door. Travis perched on the edge of the long dining table. He was the epitome of calm and collected while Summer raged like a storm.

  “Do you know that the temperature of lightning’s return stroke can reach fifty thousand degrees Fahrenheit? That’s hotter than the surface of the sun,” she said, pacing in front of him. Lightning was only half as hot as her temper right now.

  “What happened?” He reached out to stop her pacing. His hold on her arm was firm but gentle, and it made her stand still.

  “Apparently,
I’ve been bad-mouthing one of our biggest advertisers when I go grocery shopping. Apparently, I will be giving up ten seconds of every weather report to tell all of West Central Texas to buy their cars from Texas Star Chevrolet for the next couple weeks. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if I have never even heard of this advertiser before, nor have I ever said a single word about them to anyone I have ever spoken to in my entire life! Apparently, Ken doesn’t care about that. He only cares about the money. Apparently, defending my honor means nothing.”

  “I’m sorry Ken doesn’t have your back.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you on Saturday.”

  Summer put some space between them and worked on regaining her composure. “I’m sorry you think I’m trying to get rid of you.”

  “I think we need to worry more about the person trying to get rid of you.”

  “It’s Richard. My grandmother would say ‘kill him with kindness,’ but the means I’m considering don’t seem very kind.”

  One corner of Travis’s mouth shot up. “I can’t tackle him, but you can kill him?”

  Summer sat down on one of the plastic chairs and rested her head on folded arms. She was tired of these games. If Richard wanted her to quit, he wasn’t going to get his wish. Like a stubborn child, she would dig her heels in and stay to spite him. “All I want to do is talk about the weather. Is that so much to ask?”

  “I don’t think so.” He sat down next to her. She could hear him tapping his fingers on the table. “Who knew there was this much drama behind the scenes? Everyone seems so friendly when you’re watching the news. I never imagined there was a dirty underbelly of local TV news.”

  Summer laughed into her arms. Travis was funny when he wasn’t biting her head off.

  “I like it when you laugh,” he said. “It’s even better than that smile of yours.”

  Summer tried to swallow down the weather fact that begged to be blurted out. His compliment made the blood rush through her veins a little faster. It also made her want to run, for fear she might like it more than she should. Her heart and head were battling it out. Her heart beat for more as her head warned her not to take too much. Travis offered her another reason to stay in Abilene. The trick would be not letting her roots get too deep.

  * * *

  BY NEWS TIME, Summer had gone from angry to relaxed to panicked. Something was off. She couldn’t explain it; it was simply a feeling. Her gut told her something wasn’t right. She tried to push it down, but the feeling confused her. It was as if a deadly storm was on its way. She watched the national radar and found nothing significant, nothing that would stir up this kind of apprehension. She made it through the five o’clock report without a problem, making her think she was perhaps unnecessarily paranoid. Richard was long gone, his day ending just as hers began. There was nothing to worry about, she told herself.

  Travis attempted to distract her in between newscasts by taking her to dinner. He wasn’t up for a chicken-wing challenge, but he dared to try their hottest hot sauce. Summer had to laugh when his ears turned bright red and the sweat began to bead on his forehead. She would never understand why someone would want to eat something that practically burned off taste buds.

  It didn’t take long for her thoughts to turn anxious. As Summer dug through her purse, unable to find her car keys as usual, this strange unease enveloped her.

  “I’m going to buy you a Texas-size key chain so you never have to look for your keys again,” Travis said, waiting patiently by the passenger door. She chuckled, but she was still bothered. “You okay?”

  Summer stopped digging and looked up at the partly cloudy sky. “Maybe my internal radar is off. Based on how I’ve been feeling all day, the storm of the century should be headed our way.”

  Travis’s eyes narrowed. “This is about the weather?”

  “I’m being paranoid,” she said, shaking her head. “Or maybe I need a vacation.” A permanent vacation. One that allowed her to sleep in an igloo or kayak with penguins.

  “A vacation?”

  Summer pushed aside her wallet for the third time and finally uncovered her keys. Unlocking the car, she shook her head. “Ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore.”

  Travis pulled the seat belt across his broad chest. Summer tried to convince herself she didn’t care that he probably had muscles in places she’d never seen muscles on a man before. She started up the car and backed out of the parking space. They’d only driven a block before flashing lights lit up behind them and a siren alerted her to the next bit of bad luck she’d have to deal with today. Summer pulled over and lifted her purse onto her lap so she could find her license.

  Travis turned around and glared at the police car. “There was no way you were speeding.” The officer reached the window as Summer rolled it down. Travis leaned over so far he practically climbed into the driver’s seat. “There is no way she was speeding, sir.”

  “Travis Lockwood?” The officer removed his sunglasses to get a better look. Of course he recognized him. Summer was certain that every man in Abilene either played ball with Travis, had a child who played ball with Travis or watched him play at some point in his career.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer narrowed his eyes and bent down to get a better look at the man in the passenger’s seat. The navy blue uniform looked almost black against the man’s pale skin, and seemed to match the dark hair on his head. “Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. You and all those Sweetwater boys used to think you were such hot stuff.”

  Travis scanned the man’s face, trying to place him. Summer guessed the bushy mustache was throwing him off. His eyes finally settled on the thin brass name tag pinned beneath the officer’s badge. “Scott Rogers? You played QB for Duncanville, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re a cop now, huh?” Travis seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Aren’t you observant?” the officer replied. “Maybe you weren’t as dumb as we thought back in high school.” Both Travis and Summer sat back, mouths agape. “So sorry to hear about your shoulder, Lockwood. That makes you, what? A nobody now?”

  Summer’s shoulders tensed. This was far from the usual response to meeting Travis. She was ready to snatch the booklet out of his hand and write her own ticket so they could get away from this guy. “I have a busted taillight. It happened this morning. I’ll get it fixed as soon as I can, Officer. I promise.”

  Officer Rogers straightened up and slid his sunglasses back on. “I’d usually just give you a warning, but seeing as how you’re friends with the Travis Lockwood, I think I’m going to have to cite you. Wouldn’t want Mr. Big Shot to think he and his friends can get away with breaking the law.”

  This snapped Travis out of the stupor the other insult had put him in. He leaned over Summer again, his jaw tight and his eyes fiery. “So you haven’t changed a bit since high school. Still the same obnoxious jerk you were back then.”

  “Do I need to ask you to step out of the car?” The officer rose to the challenge. “Has either one of you been drinking tonight? Something that would make you think you can speak to an officer of the law like that?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Travis nearly crawled out the window.

  “Travis!” Summer pushed him back into his seat. “It’s fine. Give me the ticket.” She held her license out to the officer. He snatched it from her hand and returned to his car. Travis sank down into his seat. “I’m having a bad enough day as it is. Can you please try not getting me thrown into jail?” she snapped at him.

  “Your bad day doesn’t begin to compete with my bad year.”

  Officer Rogers came back with Summer’s license and ticket and a satisfied grin. Luckily, Travis stared out his own window to avoid any more confrontation, seething but quiet. Putting her blinker on to get back on the road, she wat
ched him sulk out of the corner of her eye. From the beginning, she’d been able to relate to his hatred of the sympathy people expressed whenever they spoke to him about his injury. It was similar to the way people had made her feel when her parents died. They’d say sorry while she imagined they were silently thanking God it wasn’t them or their loved ones. What happened with Officer Rogers was different, though. Travis was the one feeling sorry for Travis, and there was nothing worse than inviting yourself to the pity party.

  “It doesn’t matter what that guy or anyone thinks,” she said as she merged back into traffic. Travis said nothing in reply. “But for the record, I’m not sorry you hurt your shoulder. I’m glad it happened.”

  “Oh yeah?” He spoke to his window, not her. “Why’s that?”

  “Because it wasn’t your dream.” He glanced her way and then back out the window. “You deserve to dream, Travis.”

  He didn’t say anything or even look back at her, but his hand slid across the center console and covered hers as it rested on the gearshift. He gave it a little squeeze before pulling his back into his lap. She took that to mean he knew her words had absolutely nothing to do with her thirty seconds.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE STUDIO, Summer tried to regain some focus. She let go of her worries and prepared for her ten o’clock report. Rachel was in the makeup room when she came in for a touch-up. The row of lights above the eight-foot-wide mirror lit up her beautiful face. Rachel had the face of an angel. Unfortunately, looks could be deceiving.

  “Word around the station is there’s been a world of trouble for the Rain Princess lately. Let’s hope you aren’t distracted like last week. Those sloppy graphics were a disaster,” Rachel said, swiping at the excess lipstick on her bottom lip.

  “I wasn’t distracted. There was a technical glitch.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it? A glitch?” Rachel asked. Summer refused to be provoked, so she continued. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to get the attention of a certain sportscaster, you’d have less trouble.”