Chasing Storm by Teagan Kade Read Free Book Online Page A

There’s music.
    “Hello?” I offer, but the music’s too loud. I recognize The Ramones’ Blitzkrieg Bop , a song I haven’t heard for years.
    I take my chance and step inside, thankful to be out of the wet but dripping water and accumulated muck.
    ‘Hello?” I try again, louder now but still not enough to be heard over the din.
    I round the corner and at first don’t see anyone. There’s a car on a hoist, another two or three on the ground and a bike, a hog of some sort. That’s when I see a pair of legs poking out from beneath a green Chevy.
    Someone’s working on it, spannering underneath with their overalls pulled down to reveal a dark singlet above.
    I step closer until I’m at their feet.
    “Hello?”
    The stranger sits up. I hear the metallic ring as their head strikes the underside of the car in fright, followed by a vocal “fuck”.
    They slide out on a crawler, and it’s him, Storm, the singer from Dixie’s, rubbing his already cut-up head and looking up at me with squinty, greased-up eyes.
    “You,” he simply says. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    It’s more an exclamation of surprise than accusation.
    I look down at my see-through top and immediately feel completely naked. I stumble for words. “Ah, I’m Alice. My car broke down, I-” I don’t know how to word it. My car broke down and I stupidly decided to walk a couple of miles in the rain, lose my umbrella and shoe, and stumble into a stranger’s home .
    But he has all he needs. He slides out, stands up and wipes his hands on his overalls.
    He’s wearing a stained black singlet, muscular arms, one with a Dia de los Muertos skull over the bicep.
    He heads to the back of the shed, rummaging around in some boxes and bringing back a blanket, slinging it over my shoulders. It has a texture like steel wool and smells like dirt, but it’s warm and I’m thankful for the gesture.
    I smile. “Thanks.”
    He just nods. “You were at the bar, right? The new girl?”
    What are we? Back in middle school? “Yeah. I saw what happened. You didn’t start it.”
    Storm tosses the spanner onto a shelf with a clank. “Try telling that to Deputy Dipshit.”
    “You mean Dan?”
    Genuine curiosity. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
    Oh, my folks tried to hook us up by inviting him over for dinner. We kissed, fucked. Probably settle down and pop out some kids soon. You know. Nothing major. “He’s an old friend.”
    “Oh, sorry, but hey, they’ve got it in for us, all of them.”
    “Who?”
    “Us,” he throws his hands out to encompass an invisible group of people. “Out-of-towners.”
    “Right,” I nod, still trying not to shake. “I’m actually thinking about writing a piece on Millertown.”
    “You’re a writer?”
    “Yes, for one of the New York papers.”
    His mood changes in an instant. “We don’t need any god-damn help, you understand?”
    I pull the blanket tighter. “I know, but-”
    “No, you don’t know. You don’t know anything.”
    “Yes, but–”
    “But nothing.”
    He sees the hurt on my face and steps closer with his hands out. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t get many visitors here. But it’s true. What Millertown needs is more than a fancy paper piece. It needs jobs, education.”
    “I can help. Once people read–”
    “They’ll come running?” he laughs. “I don’t think so. Never have, never will.”
    I’m starting to think this guy is kind of an asshole, but I gravitate towards him all the same, Icarus reaching for the sun. “You live here alone?”
    He picks up another, smaller spanner and flips it over in his hand. “Yeah, folks passed a few years ago.”
    Now it’s me who looks like the asshole. “Shit, sorry.”
    He waves the spanner. “It’s fine. The world is better off without them.”
    How can someone even say that about their own flesh and blood?
    His eyes meet mine and they’re such a striking cerulean that it takes my breath away.
    “You okay?”
    “Yeah, just a little