Chasing Storm

by Kade, Teagan

  In no time at all we’re into Millertown proper. It looks just as shabby as it did yesterday.

  Storm drives down the main street, waving at the occasional passer-by, and heads out into the residential area.

  He pulls up outside a solid brick home, bringing the bike to the curb and helping me off. The fact he cups my butt to lift me from the seat does not go unnoticed.

  I look around. It’s quiet enough. “Where are we?”

  “Come,” he says, walking towards the house. “There are a few people I want you to meet.”

  A large lady greets us at the door.

  “Storm, my dear!” she beams, embracing him and pulling us both inside.

  He turns to introduce me. “This is Alice, from the Big Apple. She’s here to do a piece on Millertown for one of the big New York papers. Alice, this is Monica.”

  I extend my hand, but Monica pulls me in for an embrace instead. It’s like my lungs are going to pop out of my mouth. “Beautiful Alice. You know, I don’t think Storm’s ever brought a girl here. You must be real special.”

  “Please,” says Storm, cutting between us. “Is Lucy around?”

  “Sure, right down back.”

  I peer into the rooms as we walk. “Is this some kind of halfway house?”

  “You could say that. After the mill closed a lot of the older folks here were left without a home, income, pension… Monica opened her doors and this place was born. She doesn’t make a single dime from it.”

  “That’s really great. I mean, I had no idea. How do you know her?”

  “She’s something of a surrogate mother to me. Found me in town one day going through the bins, gave me a meal. That’s how it all started. She put me through school.” He knocks on a door down the back. “Lucy, it’s Storm.”

  The door opens and an elderly lady’s face lights up. “Oh, Storm, you devil. You’ve come calling, and with a lady friend.”

  He motions me in and we both sit on a small sofa as Lucy goes back to her knitting.

  I take out my recorder and she tells me her story, how she lost everything after the closure of the mill. I listen attentively.

  Halfway through, Monica taps at the doorframe behind us. “Alice, dear, mind if I borrow your man for a moment?”

  “Sure,” I offer, “he’s all yours.”

  She slaps him on the ass as he walks past. “Come on, big boy. ’Bout time you helped out around here.”

  “He came every day.”

  It takes me a second to realize Lucy is talking again, her weathered, tissue-paper face folding over with each word.

  “Sorry?”

  “Storm. When I was alone, when Jerry left me, he came over every night and delivered me meals, cooked, helped me get a room here before the bank took the house.”

  “Cooked?”

  “Oh yes, he’s a marvelous cook, my Storm.”

  My Storm. I love that.

  Cooking? That’s the last thing I would have expected.

  “People get the wrong idea about him, you know,” Lucy continues. “They put him in the same basket as his no-good parents, damn their souls, but he’s different. He’s smart as a whip, that one. Compassionate, too.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Oh I know he’s handsome. If I was 50 years younger, well…” she drifts off and I can’t stifle the smile that’s spanning across my lips.

  “I guess what I’m saying is, give him a chance.”

  “I will.”

  Storm and Monica arrive with tea and I give Storm a warm wink. His face remains blank. He’s got no idea.

  On the way back to the bike, I ask, “How does she fund it all?”

  “Monica?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anonymous donor, I hear.”

  “Really?”

  “Any idea who it is?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Nope. Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “I know just the place.”

  We head off to the outskirts of the town, the poorer residential homes and streets full of weeds and cracked concrete. We pull into a home that looks like it’s on crutches, about to fall over at any second.

  I take my helmet off and shake my hair out with my fingers. Something smells amazing.

  Storm leads us down the side of the house into a small backyard. There, a man tends to what at first looks like the engine of a steam train but on closer observation is a BBQ.

  Storm claps the man on the shoulder. “Alice, meet Texas Pete, the finest barbequer that ever lived.”

  I shake Pete’s hand and try to take in his, uh, contraption. He closes the hood of it and looks me over. “Gosh, you are a pretty one. I hope Storm’s being a gentlemen.”

  “Yes,” I admit, “he is.”

  “Good, good. Two?”

  Storm smiles and rubs his hands together. “You know it.”

  Pete opens the hood and pulls out a rack of ribs, basting them in sauce. He moves behind the grand BBQ and comes back with two plates, standing with our back to us while he works.

  “He never lets me see exactly how he makes them,” Storm whispers.

  “Makes what?”

  “The finest rib sandwiches in the universe.”

  “Rib sandwiches?”

  A terrible look of concern comes over Storm’s face. “Oh hell, you’re a vegetarian, aren’t you?”

  I laugh, “Oh man, now it’s you that’s doing the stereotyping.”

  “Thank god for that.”

  Pete hands over two plates. “Here you go, kids. Two of my finest. Dig in.”

  He watches as I try to lift the sandwich up. It’s a monster.

  “That’s right,” he enthuses. “You’re going to have to get messy. Just go with it.”

  I look to Storm. Indeed.

  I open my jaw wide and shove a corner of the sandwich in.

  Storm was right. This thing is amazing.

  I nod. “Mmmmm,” wiping my mouth, “that’s delicious.”

  Pete smiles and bows before returning to his BBQ.

  “You should start a franchise or something,” I tell him.

  He laughs, turning to point to his house. “As you can see, I’m not exactly swimming in capital here. Besides, I think it’s better this way, keeping it between friends.”

  “I know a guy,” says Storm.

  Pete waves it off. “Yeah, yeah, and I appreciate the offer, but I’m doing just fine.”

  Storm nods.

  When we’re done, I notice that Storm leaves Texas Pete a significant tip as he leads me back to the bike. “I know it looks kind of shabby and dirty from the outside, but the best things in life usually are.”

  I laugh. “Are you referring to yourself?”

  “Maybe, but I take offence to ‘shabby’. Disheveled, maybe, but shabby’s going too far.”

  We take off back into Millertown. It becomes clear throughout the day that Storm plays a large part in this community. Even the street urchins I saw yesterday swarm to his bike, jumping up onto his shoulders as he swings them around and play-boxes with the boys, the girls swooning as he takes off his leathers. I watch from a distance.

  Am I falling for this guy?

  My head almost can’t process it. It seems outrageous, wild.

  We cruise out of Millertown just as the sun sets in a neon ball behind us. I press myself tighter against his body.

  Back at his place he hands me a beer, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “So, what do you think?”

  “About Millertown?”

  “Yeah.” There’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

  “I think there’s a story to tell, for sure, and I’m going to tell it… right.”

  He sinks back the beer. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  I run my fingers over the condensation on the beer bottle, ringing the neck of it with my thumb. “What should we do now?”

  “I have an idea.”

  He comes against me, lips pressing to my own just as there’s comm
otion outside. He pulls the kitchen curtains across. Through the gap he leaves I see a group of bikes pulling up, men in leathers getting off and standing amongst the dust they’ve kicked up.

  “Shit,” says Storm. “Stay right here. Don’t come out no matter what happens.”

  “What’s going on? Who are those guys?”

  “No one you want to meet,” and he’s gone, swinging out of the kitchen.

  I watch the scene behind the curtain as he makes his way out to the men. A large, stockish individual comes forward with hand extended, but Storm swats it away. He looks pissed.

  They start talking in a highly animated way. Storm prods into Stocky Guy’s vest twice and the others close in around him, but Stocky Guy holds up a hand and they move away. He spits at the ground and prods Storm back.

  He turns and they mount back onto their motorcycles, clouds of dust swirling up into the air as they take off at full speed from the property.

  The front door slams as Storm enters the house. He’s furious.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Who were those men?”

  “I said, don’t worry about it!”

  I flinch back and he extends his hands, coming forward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He takes my elbows and guides my hands around his waist, pulling me close. “They’re just old friends of Dad’s, that’s all.”

  “They didn’t look very friendly.”

  “They’re not, but don’t worry, okay? It’s fine, really.”

  I nod and he leans in to kiss me.

  I can’t resist him.

  The kitchen, the laundry – we mark almost every room with our bodies.

  Chapter Eight

  There’s a pervading sense of déjà vu when I wake.

  The shower’s running again, Storm nowhere to be seen.

  Automatically I reach for my cell.

  The screen explodes with missed calls and messages, mostly from Mom and Dad, but the odd one from Dan to mix it up.

  I scroll through them.

  Want to come over?

  Busy?

  And from the parentals:

  Where are you?

  Why aren’t you picking up? Getting worried. Call us.

  From Jemma:

  Call me, hon. Your parents have gone mental.

  I feel like I’m eighteen again sneaking off to be with Tim.

  I place my phone back on the side table. I don’t have the energy to deal with them right now.

  The phone buzzes again, but there are no new messages.

  The same buzz comes once more. I realize it’s coming from the side table on Storm’s side of the bed.

  I lean over and find his phone vibrating its way close to the precipice between the table and mattress.

  “Storm,” I call out, “your cell,” but he can’t hear me over the shower.

  I reach over and take the phone, but my throat tightens when I see ‘Lisa’ on the screen.

  I can’t help it. My finger slides up and the message is revealed.

  Wet and horny. Should I cum over? Xx

  I throw the phone down.

  Lisa. There’s only one I know of in Rosie.

  No. A fucking booty call, with the girl who tormented me all through high school?

  I get up, pulling my jeans on. I get the hell out of there, unable to scrub the image of that stupid bitch spreading herself all over him.

  I hold back tears as I turn the ignition of my car and take off, road blurring before my eyes as I try to shake the thought of her with him from my head.

  Out of all the girls in Rosie, why her?

  I’m halfway back to town when I see him in the rear-view burning up behind me in just his jeans.

  He pulls up beside the car and I press the accelerator harder. It’s useless. He squeezes the throttle and keeps up easily.

  He taps against the window. “Alice!”

  I look ahead, wiping a tear from my eye. Just go the fuck away.

  “Alice, pull over!”

  He pulls away ahead, hammering up the road and then suddenly swerving right in front of me, bringing the bike to a halt.

  I hit the brakes hard, tires squealing as my car slides right up to him in a wash of smoke and burnt rubber.

  I jump out of the car manic. “What the fuck!”

  He stands and I slam him in the chest with both hands. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

  “I knew you’d pull up in time.”

  “I should have run you over.”

  “You saw the text. I get it, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Do you know who she is? The kind of hell she gave me at school?”

  “No, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re really screwing her, of all people?”

  “No, and, like I said, I’m sorry, but honestly, I didn’t know. This is a small town, Alice. I have… needs.”

  “Needs? Is that what you call it? Is that all I am, just another booty call, a wet pussy you can slip your dick into whenever you want?”

  He runs his hand through his hair, his abs still wet from the shower. “It’s different with you. Lisa and I, that was just sex, and a long time ago. I ignore her texts now.” He holds his phone up. “I’ve deleted her, look, but you and me.”

  “What?” I push him. “What are we?”

  He’s flustered. “I don’t know, but not that.”

  “Not good enough,” and I go to get back in the car until his hand comes around my arm and holds me back.

  “You’re the first girl I can see myself being with long term.”

  I pause. “That might not be enough. You’re not my type. You are wrong for me. God, if my parents found out…”

  He laughs. “What are you, twelve?”

  I punch him hard in the shoulder. It’s like granite. “I’m serious. Why should I be with you? Give me one good reason.”

  He steps forward and kisses me, my lips parting to take his tongue and his arms snaking around my back to pull me towards him.

  Good answer.

  It takes everything I have to cleave myself away and get back in the car. “Look, I just need some time to process it all, okay?”

  “Okay,” he nods.

  I watch him walk back to his bike. His face gives nothing away. I’m more confused than ever, blood coursing hot through my body and the juncture between my legs tender with need and desire.

  He starts the bike and hooks around me. I watch him go in the side mirror until he falls over the horizon.

  I turn the key and drive off, mind filled to the brim with conflicting emotions, the ghost of his lips lingering.

  Chapter Nine

  Mom’s on my case as soon as my keys hit the kitchen table. “Where have you been, Alice? We’ve been worried sick.”

  “I’m not a teenager any more, Mom. I don’t have to be in bed by eight, you know.”

  “Were you at Dan’s?”

  I make the mistake of drawing eye contact with her. She’s impossible to lie to. “No, Mom. I was not at Dan’s.”

  I see just a hint of disappointment there. No doubt she’s mapped out our entire lives right down to the lime booties she’s going to knit our babies. “We just worry, that’s all.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom, seriously. I can handle myself.”

  She nods, it’s enough, and totters off.

  Dad’s watching football in the den. He switches it off as soon as I come in, but he isn’t quick enough. The ghost of him still lingers on the blackness of the screen.

  “Sorry, baby, I didn’t know you were home.”

  “It’s fine, Dad. I can’t avoid him my whole life.”

  “If he were here, I’d-”

  “You’d what, Dad? Knock him out with kindness?”

  “You know I’d do anything to protect you.”

  I take a seat on the sofa with him, a little alarmed at the way it instantly morphs to my ass. “I know, Dad. You’re just l
ooking out for me, but like I just told Mom, I can handle myself.”

  He holds my shoulder, looking me right in the feels. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

  *

  Jemma arrives in her cockroach of a car just after morning tea. “Get in.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wait and see.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

  “We like surprises around here, Alice. It’s pretty boring otherwise.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call it boring at all.”

  We pull up at the old skate bowl we used to haunt as semi-alternate teenagers. We’d come out here to the outskirts of town and sit on top of the bowl, watching the clouds and odd boy that wandered down with deck in hand.

  The place hasn’t fared well. Dust coats everything. The playground next door is more jungle than metal.

  We sit together just like we used to right on the edge and dangle our feet down. In the bottom of the bowl a pool of water has collected that could well hold new lifeforms.

  I lift my feet slightly. “Ew.”

  Jemma laughs. “Yeah, not exactly the cool hangout spot I remember, but hey. I still come here, you know.”

  “You do?”

  “To think. It helps.”

  I’ve been so caught up in my own drama I haven’t even stopped to ask Jemma about her life. She does have one, after all. “You want to talk about it?”

  “I envy you,” she says, kicking her heels against a line of graffiti that reads Cocksuck Idaho!.

  “Why in god’s good name would you envy me?”

  “Your life is exciting. You moved away to the city, all Miss Super Writer and crap. I’d see you in the papers and magazines, and be like ‘wow, she has made it’.”

  “That’s the thing about the media. It’s all a lie.”

  “You weren’t happy?”

  “At first. It was crazy, you know? I’d just come out of college and here was this big famous footballer buying me drinks at the bar. We dated. He was fun. It was exciting. Every door was open. It’s how I got the writing gig in the first place.”

  I take a deep breath before I continue. “When I started piecing it together – the other girls, the drugs – it started to fall apart. It was just one lie after another, and when I called him on it…”