Roller Coaster Romance

by Kate Moseman

  “Doesn’t that put us at risk?” said Maribel.

  “They’re going to find out sooner or later who’s on the committee,” said Thomas. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re already on some list upstairs, but it’s against the law to fire us just for trying to organize.”

  “Maybe so,” said Maribel, “but who’s to say they can’t invent some reason to fire us?”

  “It’s a risk,” Thomas acknowledged. “At least by going public, we give ourselves some protection. It looks fishy if they start firing everyone who’s pro-union.” He looked at each of them. “Are we all agreed? Next flyer with names and testimonials?”

  Maribel, Bob, and Paulina nodded.

  “The more support we show, the more we’ll get.”

  Vanessa

  She pushed open the heavy door. Mr. Destiny’s leather chair faced away from the massive desk, toward a wall made entirely of glass. The park lay before them like an architectural model, tiny trees and little buildings to scale.

  He turned in his chair and stood up, reaching out to shake her hand. “Vanessa. So glad to meet you. Have a seat, won’t you? How are you finding Legacy?”

  She sat down and placed the neckerchief on her lap, temporarily out of sight. “I love it. I’m thrilled to be here. It’s a beautiful park.”

  “Yes, I’m very proud of it. So what brings you up here today? Didn’t I see you at the meeting earlier this week?”

  “Yes, sir. I was there. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m here.” She placed the neckerchief on the edge of his desk, careful not to disturb the knick-knacks along the edge. “There have been some flyers in the crew break rooms about the”—she paused to recall his word for it—“situation.”

  He picked up the neckerchief and began wrapping and unwrapping it around his hand.

  She continued. “One of them was about this costume piece. About how it’s a safety hazard. The way they put it … well, it seemed like it wasn’t a new issue.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember that,” he said, seemingly unconcerned. “What’s the problem?”

  She knew she had to tread carefully. “I was thinking that it might be a simple fix to make it safer. With Velcro or something.”

  He snorted. “Vanessa, how long have you been here?”

  “About a week, sir. But I’ve been in attractions management for over a decade.” Despite the implied threat, she couldn’t help asserting herself just a little.

  “Well, then, you know what it’s like,” he said. “You give in to their every little whim, before you know it, boom!” He flung the neckerchief down. “They think they own the place. Besides, you know what the optics would be if we gave in on something like this while they’re trying to organize?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he answered his own question.

  “Give in on this and they’ll think it’s because of their little organizing drive. It’s a win for them. Makes us look weak.”

  She silently scooped up the abandoned accessory.

  Warming to the subject, he went on. “The key here, Vanessa, is that we are going to be smarter than them. We are going to be stronger than them. And we are going to win this fight no matter what it takes. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I do.” I understand you’re an arrogant ass who deserves a swift kick in the pants.

  “I know this is a lot to walk in on. But don’t worry, we’re going to get you up to speed.” He smiled benevolently and stood up to walk her to the door. “Our next meeting will feature a very special guest who’s going to put an end to this situation once and for all.”

  After exiting Mr. Destiny’s office, Vanessa remained composed all the way to the elevator. As it descended, she leaned her head against the wall, resisting a sudden temptation to bang her forehead against it in frustration.

  By the time the door opened, she straightened up to appear unfazed. It was only a short walk to the underground break room, where she could attempt to drown her sorrows with a soda. She rounded the last corner before the break room with impatient speed and ran right into Thomas.

  Not now. Not now! Her thoughts fell to pieces. It didn’t help that he smelled like Christmas.

  She twisted the neckerchief in her hands.

  The motion caught his eye.

  “You wearing a costume today?” he asked.

  “This?” She held it up and looked at it like she’d never seen it before. “Oh, no. I just—I was just taking this back to the costume department.”

  He seemed to be struggling to find something to say. “Right. Yes,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I ran into you like that. I was in such a hurry,” she said.

  “No! It’s fine. Really. It’s fine.” He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t walk away, either.

  Say something intelligent, Vanessa. “Well, I must be going,” she said with far more cheer than she felt.

  “Of course,” he said. He turned and extended his arm, like an usher, so she could walk past him.

  Could that have gone any worse? Inside the break room, she pushed coins into the vending machine. By the time the soda fell out, she realized she didn’t even want it anymore.

  Maybe Charlotte would like it. Vanessa walked back to the Legacy office and found Charlotte facing the copier, cramming a stack of photocopies into her purse. “Charlotte?”

  Charlotte whirled around and hid her purse behind her back.

  Vanessa held out the can of soda. “You thirsty? I bought it for myself, but I changed my mind.”

  Charlotte came back to her desk and dropped her purse in the drawer. “I would love a soda. Thank you, Vanessa.” She took the proffered can and popped the tab. “How’d it go with the man upstairs?”

  “About as well as you’d expect.”

  “You get shot down?”

  “You could say that.” Vanessa dropped the neckerchief on Charlotte’s desk for emphasis.

  Charlotte sipped her soda and looked at Vanessa over her glasses. “Do tell,” she said, settling back in her chair.

  Vanessa told. It was good to talk to someone.

  She left out the part about running into Thomas.

  “Sounds like he’s bringing some kind of consultant in,” said Charlotte.

  Vanessa, who was still thinking about her run-in with Thomas, became momentarily confused. “Who?”

  “Mr. Destiny.”

  “Oh. Yes, I think so.”

  “And there’s another meeting.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “With the consultant,” Vanessa said. “Whoever they are.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Charlotte.

  “I don’t know. Keep trying, I guess.”

  Charlotte picked up the neckerchief. “You know what? Let me run this back down to costuming for you. You take a load off for a few minutes, at least until the next crisis rolls in.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Vanessa said.

  “I insist. It’s the least I can do,” said Charlotte. And with that, she retrieved her purse and went out the door.

  Thomas

  From his seat in the theater, Thomas spotted Charlotte coming through the back entrance of American Dream.

  He leapt up to meet her. “Did you get it?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  “I got it.” She pulled the papers out of her purse and handed them over.

  “Thank God,” he said, flipping through the pages.

  She shook her head. “There’s a problem, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She saw me,” said Charlotte.

  “Who saw you?”

  “Vanessa. She walked in right as I was putting those in my purse.”

  Damn. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing. She just offered me a soda. Then I got he
r talking about her chat with Mr. Destiny. She tried to talk to him about the costume safety stuff. It didn’t go well.”

  “Surprise, surprise. Still, points for trying. How’d you get free?”

  “I offered to take the neckerchief back,” she said.

  “Nice. Anything else?”

  The show was winding up.

  “She said the next all-hands meeting has a special guest. Some kind of consultant,” said Charlotte.

  “A union buster, no doubt. Things are about to get complicated,” said Thomas. “Let me know if you hear anything else. And watch out for Dirk. I’ve seen him skulking around up here. He’s up to something.”

  Vanessa

  Vanessa waited until she was sure Charlotte was gone. She opened the lid of the copy machine. Charlotte had removed her copies, but in her haste, she’d left one of the original papers in the machine.

  It contained a list of crew member names and home addresses.

  Vanessa studied the list, then carefully placed it back on the glass just as she’d found it.

  Chapter 8

  Vanessa

  Dirk charged into the office and brandished a flyer at Vanessa. “Have you seen this? ‘Why Legacy Crew Members Are Voting Yes.’ Guess who’s on it?”

  Vanessa snatched the paper from his hand.

  He crossed his arms and watched her read it.

  Why Legacy Crew Members Are Voting Yes

  My hours got cut again. –Paulina

  Health care costs so much I can’t afford to go to the doctor. –Bob

  Management doesn’t respect me when I go to them with an issue. –Maribel

  Our wages aren’t high enough to cover basic living expenses. –Thomas

  Vote YES and stand together for better working conditions!

  “I found that one in the Ghost Factory break room,” he said.

  “There’s probably one in Gold Rush and American Dream, too,” Vanessa said as she studied the flyer.

  “I’ll go take them down,” Dirk said.

  “No. Leave them alone. We have other priorities.”

  Vanessa thought fast. These must be the Legacy organizers. Thomas. Maribel from Gold Rush. Bob from American Dream. And Paulina from Ghost Factory. “Mr. Destiny wants to use American Dream for the all-hands meeting this afternoon.”

  “Why not the usual meeting room?”

  “He wants everyone there. Area managers, assistant managers, management interns, you name it. All supervisors.”

  “Must be big,” Dirk said.

  “See what you can do about making sure everything is clean and in good working order for the meeting. I don’t want any surprises,” said Vanessa.

  “On it,” said Dirk. He left.

  Vanessa went into her office and closed the door. She sat down and laid the flyer on her desk.

  Thomas. She remembered his offhand remark about a living wage, and how he refused to admit to an opinion on the union when—unknowingly—she asked him that forbidden question.

  The evidence of his allegiance tangled with the memory of his hands in hers on the night of the carriage wash.

  It was all too much.

  She cradled her head in her hands. What am I going to do?

  She had no good answer.

  Being a manager put her squarely on Mr. Destiny’s side whether she wanted to be or not. She feared what he would ask her to do.

  There must be a way to protect my crew and keep my job. To do that, however, she needed more than information.

  She needed help.

  Charlotte wasn’t on the flyer, but she had to be involved. Her furtive photocopying couldn’t be a coincidence. She had no personal need for employee names and addresses.

  The only possible explanation was that someone needed them for the organizing effort.

  “Charlotte?” she called.

  Charlotte opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Have you seen any of these around?” She held up the flyer and watched Charlotte’s expression.

  Charlotte might have made a good poker player. “Nope. Why?”

  “Just curious. Dirk took this one out of the Ghost Factory break room.”

  “Is he supposed to do that?” asked Charlotte.

  “As a matter of fact, no. He’s not. That’s why I was wondering if any other union flyers had gone AWOL.”

  Charlotte’s expression turned even more unreadable, as if she was reacting on the inside but was determined not to let it show. “Is that all? I was about to take my break.” She gestured to the spiral notebook she held.

  “Of course, go ahead.”

  Charlotte turned away, then stopped in mid-step and turned back to Vanessa. “You want to come upstairs for a minute?”

  “I don’t want to horn in on your break,” said Vanessa, unwilling to impose even though fresh air and friendly company sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world.

  “Nonsense,” Charlotte said. “I have something I want to show you. Put your name tag away; we’re going incognito.”

  They both removed their name tags and made their way upstairs to an area of Discovery that Vanessa had not explored, where a thicket of bamboo surrounded a diminutive stone building.

  The sign above the entrance read “Coffee Garden.” Through the open doorway, they entered a room filled with strange devices made of glass and metal.

  “They’re all coffee machines,” Charlotte said. “I come up here to get the good stuff. You have to take your name tag off, though, since we’re not allowed to eat or drink in view of the visitors.”

  Vanessa studied the menu board. Americano? French press? Flat white? Accustomed to whatever came out of the industrial-size coffee machine in the break room, she was at a loss to choose.

  Charlotte must have noticed her hesitation. “Have you ever had a Vietnamese iced coffee?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Vanessa.

  “You’ll love it. Two Vietnamese iced coffees, please,” she said.

  “Let me,” Vanessa said, reaching into her pocket for cash.

  “You don’t have to—” Charlotte started, but Vanessa had already paid for the coffees.

  “I insist. You’ve been so helpful. It’s the least I can do,” said Vanessa.

  They carried their coffees through the rear of the store and into an enclosed garden, open to the sky but surrounded by bamboo. The bamboo canes knocked against each other, creating the effect of a chorus of wooden wind chimes around the cafe tables and chairs.

  Vanessa dipped a long spoon into the tall glass of coffee. It landed in a thick, cream-colored syrup at the bottom. She withdrew the spoon and tasted it. “It’s sweetened condensed milk!” she said. She stirred the spoon into the condensed milk, sending it swirling through the dark coffee.

  Charlotte opened the notebook she’d brought with her. “See this? I made this last time I was here.” She slid the notebook across the table.

  The notebook lay open to a pencil sketch of the seating area, complete with bamboo and hanging lights, with the shop in the background.

  Vanessa marveled at the intricate details. “Charlotte, this is wonderful. I had no idea you were an artist. May I look at the other drawings?”

  “Be my guest.” Charlotte sat back and sipped her coffee.

  Vanessa paged through the rest of the notebook, passing sketches of the Mirror Castle and Ghost Factory, along with other locations she didn’t recognize.

  “You should do something with this,” said Vanessa. “You have a real gift.”

  “Thank you,” said Charlotte. “I wanted to join the art department here, but it’s hard to get in without a degree. Or some kind of connection in the department.”

  “Are you going to school for art?”

  “A little bit at a time. It’s not
easy to go to school full-time when you’re already working a full-time job,” Charlotte said.

  “I hear that.” She felt the effect of the caffeine take hold. It made her want to jump up and fix something. Anything. To solve all the problems in the world.

  Too bad it’s only coffee, not magic.

  Thomas

  Thomas had just finished the pre-show spiel when Dirk strode into the American Dream lobby.

  “Thomas,” said Dirk, by way of greeting.

  “Dirk.” Thomas acknowledged him with barely concealed loathing. “What can I do for you?” Other than help you take a long walk off a short pier, that is.

  “We need to make sure the theater is ready for a very important meeting this afternoon,” said Dirk.

  “Is that the royal ‘we,’ Dirk, or are you referring to someone other than yourself?” Thomas tread the border between humor and sarcasm.

  “Very funny. Vanessa wants it cleaned up and shipshape. So get some trash grabbers and some brooms and dustpans and get any detritus off the floor. And pass the word to the rest of today’s crew, got it?”

  “Pick up trash. Got it.”

  Dirk squinted at him as if trying to determine if he was being mocked in some way.

  Thomas grabbed the nearest dustpan and broom and swept up invisible bits from the carpet, all the while whistling the American Dream theme song. He continued the charade until Dirk turned on his heel and marched out. Then, he ditched the broom and dustpan, opened the theater door, and loped down to where Bob sat.

  “Bob, it’s on. The meeting is today,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice down while also being heard over the noise of the show.

  “So? What are we gonna do about it?” Bob asked.

  “I want to hear what they say.”

  “You can’t do that. They’ll see you,” said Bob.

  “I’ll be careful,” said Thomas.

  Bob shook his head. “You’ll get yourself fired, is what you’ll do.”

  After the exchange, Thomas counted the minutes until his shift ended. At closing time, he sped down to the locker room to change. Attired in casual clothing, he made his way upstairs and through the park, blending with the remaining visitors who hadn’t found their way to the park exit.