Page 16 of Out of the Storm

Jeff’s tone—sarcastic yet playful—made Gary’s heart flutter.

After Jeff was finished inspecting the transmitter, they went back to the studio room. Rocking back and forth on his heels, Gary forced himself not to babble, instead letting Jeff take some time to look over the other pieces of equipment, even though hereallywanted the two of them to chat some more. Once Jeff had flipped through a few of the manuals that Gary had left lying around, he walked over to the broadcasting table, eyeing the setup. He tapped the mic a couple of times with his index finger, and the sight made Gary’s smile broaden. Jeff seemed... impressed, maybe? It was hard to tell.

Running the entire station out of his home was no small feat. Gary knew that compared to much bigger stations in cities like Cleveland or even multimanned stations in rural areas, his little setup wasn’t much—a control board, a microphone, a single cart machine (mostly unused), a reel-to-reel tape recorder, a cassette player, a modulation monitor, an EBS encoder and receiver, and two turntable preamplifiers—but seeing Jeff be maybe a little intrigued by it, boy, was that something. Gary’s chest swelled with pride.

When Jeff took a seat in Gary’s chair, Gary’s smile broadened even more, and a little feeling of fondness pulled at his heart as he watched Jeff spin in a little circle. By the time Jeff slowed and swiveled to face him, Gary couldfeelthat he was absolutely beaming, his cheeks now sore from his incessant smiling.

Smirking, Jeff said, “You look pleased.”

“Pleased as punch, honestly,” Gary replied with a shrug, hoping he could feign even a crumb of nonchalance, though he knew he was probably botching it. “I’ve never brought anyone in here before.”

“No?”

“Nope. No need. I mean, my friend Mel has seen my setup, but no one else. And trust me, she isn’t the least bit impressed.”

“But I seem impressed.”

“Uh, yeah. I thought so, anyway.” Gary’s smile started to falter. “Are you, in fact, impressed?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jeff replied with a half-smile. “How’d you afford everything?”

“Oh, well, I had to purchase most of the equipment used,” Gary explained. “There was a station up near Cleveland that was closing, and I basically stole everything from them. Had they sold each piece individually, they’d have probably made a lot more money, but I think they were happy to unload everything in bulk. And most of my records I bought from yard sales.”

“Huh.”

“Yup.” Gary clapped his hands together. “So... wanna start the interview?”

“Might as well.”

“Alright, I’ll set everything up. Just hold tight for a minute.”

Gary moved to the table, and when he leaned over Jeff to pick up the tape recorder, a rush of nervous excitement flooded his veins, shooting through his circulatory system and causing his heart to race. Jeff had a special something about him. He practicallyradiatedcoolness. Like the Fonz, but one hundred times sexier. Even though Jeff wasn’t tall—the top of his head came to Gary’s brow ridge—he had a larger-than-life kind of presence, and Gary couldn’t help but feel intimidated by it.

After Gary had the recording equipment set up a few minutes later, he left to find a second chair. Wheeling it back into the production room, he tried not to let on how unsettled he was, taking care to keep his expression friendly and neutral. Once he was situated, he started to record.

“Hi, everyone. Gary Graham, a.k.a. Graham Cracker here, interviewing our local severe-weather fanatic, Jeff Russo, who called into our program last week to correct me on a couple ofverylarge misconceptions I’d had regarding tornadoes and tornado safety. You see, Jeff is what he calls a ‘storm chaser,’ and, well, I had never heard of such a person before. I mean, what a fantastic-sounding hobby. I thought it would be fun to interview Jeff for our evening program so that we could learn a bit more about this interesting pastime. Welcome to the program, Jeff.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Tell me, what is storm chasing, exactly?”

“Just... what it sounds like. I try to see storms.”

“So, while everyone else is running away from a storm, you’re running toward it?”

“Not really.”

“Can you elaborate a little?”

“I try to stay far away. But I watch the clouds form. Sometimes I see a funnel.”

“From how far away, exactly?”

“Quarter mile or so.”

“Do you photograph them?”

“Sometimes.”

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