Roller Coaster Romance

by Kate Moseman

  “I didn’t know he could play,” said Vanessa.

  “He’s talented,” said Thomas.

  Side by side, they listened to the music for the length of a song.

  “I haven’t forgotten that toast you promised me,” said Vanessa.

  “I would never dream of disappointing you,” said Thomas. “Would you like to catch a little fresh air?”

  Vanessa nodded. “Sounds refreshing,” she said.

  “See that side door over there? Past the dessert table? If you go out that door, there’s a little fire escape that overlooks the park. You can take a breather while I fetch the glasses,” Thomas said.

  They parted. Vanessa found the stairs just as Thomas described. She sat down on the top stair. The view of the border between Discovery and Galaxy contained layers of natural beauty topped with the glowing globes and spokes of a space-themed Ferris wheel.

  The door behind her clicked open.

  Thomas emerged from inside, carrying two champagne flutes filled with ruby red liquid. He handed one to her and sat down on the same stair.

  “It’s a champagne–pomegranate cocktail,” he said. “Specialty of the night. Champagne, or something like it, with pomegranate juice, and some of those little pomegranate seeds floating on top.”

  “Arils,” Vanessa said, holding her glass up to the light and turning it back and forth.

  “Arils, right. I can never remember that.”

  “So what should we toast to?” She glanced over at him and felt little butterflies take wing in her stomach.

  He pondered the question. “How about, ‘To new beginnings,’?”

  “‘To new beginnings.’ I like the sound of that. I feel like we should add something to make it more martial, though.”

  “Martial?”

  “You know. More warlike,” she said.

  “We could toast like Vikings,” he said. “They were very into war.”

  Vanessa laughed. “Okay, to new beginnings, but like the Vikings. How do we do that?”

  “Face me.”

  They scooted around to face each other.

  “Put your glass down for a second. Now we link arms”—he crooked his arm in front of him and she hooked her arm through it—“and you put your glass back into your hand like this.”

  They both giggled as they awkwardly maneuvered their glasses into place.

  “To new beginnings,” he said.

  “To new beginnings.”

  A toast begun in jest turned intimate as they tipped their glasses back simultaneously.

  “I think I drank an aril,” he said as they untangled their arms.

  “I think I did too,” she said.

  They smiled at each other.

  The crowd thinned as the night wound to a close. One by one—or, in some cases, two by two—the crew members departed, leaving behind only the venue staff and the two Legacy managers.

  Vanessa had no idea how to get Dirk to go home.

  He sat at the piano, with a score of empty wine glasses perched on its acrylic ledge, singing softly and accompanying himself with a sad melody. Despite his obvious state, he didn’t miss a note.

  “Dirk … ” Vanessa patted his epauletted shoulder. “Dirk. You should go home now.”

  He stopped singing, at least. The piano melody continued.

  She tried again. “Dirk. Let me call you a cab.”

  He mashed a discordant batch of notes all at once, then crossed his arms on the piano and dropped his head on his arms with a thud.

  Vanessa pulled at his shoulders to make him sit up.

  “All I ever wanted was to work here. But I’ll never be a manager.”

  As he spoke, Vanessa’s eyes widened more and more. “Dirk, I’m sure you—”

  “No, I won’t,” he interrupted. “I’m not stupid. I thought”—he picked up an empty wine glass and studied it—“I thought if I did everything they wanted they would finally see I could be one of them.”

  “What did they want exactly?” asked Vanessa, alarmed, but Dirk didn’t pay any attention.

  “They were just using me,” he said. He threw the plastic wine glass to the floor.

  Vanessa slid onto the piano bench and patted his shoulder again.

  Dirk reeked of alcohol.

  “Mr. Destiny wants me to talk about all the crew members,” he said, wiping his reddened eyes. “I’m supposed to blab on the same people who bought me drinks and made me a tip jar—a tip jar!” He held up another wine glass, this one stuffed with moist dollar bills. “And for what? He’s not ever going to make me a manager. At least the crew thought I was fun. No one ever thinks I’m fun. I know what they think of me.”

  Vanessa held her tongue. Whatever he needed to say, he needed to say it—no matter how confused it came out.

  “I may be Dirk the Jerk, but I’m not his jerk. I’m my own jerk,” he concluded before slumping over the piano again.

  “Dirk?”

  He flopped his head up and down.

  She took it as encouragement. “You can be whatever you want, starting tomorrow. You need—as someone very wise once told me—to fight the good fight.” She hauled him to his feet and steered him toward the door. “It’s time for a new beginning.”

  Chapter 16

  Vanessa

  “Buck up, soldier,” Vanessa said as she handed Dirk a mug of strong coffee. She sat down at her desk with her own mug.

  Dirk drank the scalding hot coffee and winced.

  Vanessa blew on her coffee and observed him. His gelled hair sat askew over his puffy eyes. She pulled a wad of dollars out of her purse and laid it on her desk. It smelled of wine.

  Dirk eyed the pile. “Is that … ?”

  “Your ‘tips’ from last night, yes,” said Vanessa.

  He scooped up the bills and blushed. “I remember playing the piano.”

  “Anything else?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Was there something else?” he asked.

  She had to walk the line between magnanimous and menacing, well enough that he would believe she had something on him but chose not to use it. She let the silence play before she answered. “I don’t think it’s anything we need to address right now.”

  He met her gaze with panic in his eyes.

  Bingo.

  “You performed beautifully, by the way,” she said, letting him off the hook just a little.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Did you know there’s an opening for a piano player at the Galaxy Lounge?” she asked.

  “No kidding?” He laughed nervously.

  Vanessa nodded and sipped her coffee. “You know, we still need to pick someone for the Silver Mirror award.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, checked himself, and subsided.

  “Did you have someone in mind?” she said.

  “I was just thinking about Marco. He’s perfect. He’s so new he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Dirk said.

  Coming from Dirk, it was a shockingly good choice. On paper, Marco fulfilled the union-buster’s requirement—no “troublemakers”—but in reality, it would rile the crew members to have someone so new selected for a special prize.

  The Silver Mirror ploy would backfire on upper management, and they’d never see it coming.

  Now Dirk was watching her with his eyebrows raised as if he were trying to communicate something without saying it.

  Was he intentionally trying to tank the true purpose of the award?

  Did he think she would let his inebriated scene slide if he did?

  There was no way to know.

  Regardless, she couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If he wanted to ally himself with her—even temporarily—she wouldn’t stop him.

  She needed all the help she could get.

&nb
sp; Thomas

  The underground radio blared from the overhead speakers as Thomas dug a handful of leaflets out of his locker.

  “Attention all crew members. You’re listening to The Voice of Destiny … ”

  “I’m trying not to,” Thomas muttered.

  “ … your number one source of information on all things Destiny Park. The park will be open today from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., and the parade will step off promptly at 3:00 p.m. Don’t forget to pick up your free t-shirt in the main corridor during park hours. Park management respectfully requests that you report all unauthorized third-party organization activity immediately to a manager so that we can preserve our workplace harmony.”

  Thomas snorted as he slammed his locker shut.

  “Thank you, and we hope that you’ll continue to find your Destiny today!”

  The radio station blessedly returned to Top 40 programming.

  Thomas glanced down the aisle. Finding no one in sight, he quickly slipped a folded pamphlet into the slot of each locker in the row. Distributing union literature off the clock was completely legal, but it only took one unfriendly observer to go running off to management to stir up trouble.

  He turned a corner and saw Bob head down a row with a handful of pamphlets. Thomas pivoted to the opposite direction and worked his way down another aisle.

  By the time they ran out, they’d leafleted almost every locker in the men’s locker room. Thomas and Bob exchanged a silent nod and headed to separate exits.

  When Thomas emerged, he spotted Maribel coming out of the women’s locker room.

  She, too, nodded at him before striding off.

  Mission accomplished, almost. Thomas patted his pocket as he walked, confirming he’d held on to one of the leaflets.

  In the Ghost Factory break room, he smoothed out the paper. Bob and Maribel, he knew, would pin their last copies in American Dream and Gold Rush. He read it over one more time as he pushed pins through the paper and into the bulletin board.

  The leaflet, written after their desperate meeting in The Black Hole, predicted that Destiny Park management would continue to apply pressure (such as letters, meetings, and radio broadcasts) along with bribery (like parties, prizes, and free t-shirts) in an attempt to sway the crew members to vote against unionizing. Thomas had taken pains to point out that management’s reaction to the fledgling union only proved how powerful a union could be.

  Every attempt to bust the union, positive or negative, would make the point all over again. The letter closed with the usual plea to “Vote yes!”

  Win or lose, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Chapter 17

  Vanessa

  The Mirror Castle loomed over Vanessa. She had received a personal summons to meet with Amy, the consultant, prior to awarding the Silver Mirror.

  Vanessa squared her shoulders and pressed the button of the now-familiar elevator that would carry her to the executive offices.

  Upon entering Mr. Destiny’s office, she found Amy behind the desk.

  Mr. Destiny, as was often the case, had somewhere else to be.

  “Good afternoon,” said Amy.

  “Good afternoon,” said Vanessa.

  Amy picked up one of the awards from the credenza and handed it to Vanessa. “Here you go. We’ll be bringing along a photographer, of course, to record the occasion.”

  “We?” said Vanessa, examining the Silver Mirror. The shiny award, heavy in her hands, was already covered in fingerprints.

  “Oh, yes. I’m coming with you to help out.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” said Vanessa. Her smile showed her teeth.

  “Nonsense. That’s what I’m here for—to make sure things go the way they’re supposed to,” Amy replied.

  “Great!” said Vanessa, which was not how she felt at all.

  “Your secretary said Marco was scheduled to work the parade this afternoon?”

  “That’s right,” said Vanessa. “They should be wrapping up shortly.”

  “Perfect. We’ll have the other parade crew members to witness the award.”

  The door opened, and a man with an elaborate camera rig entered.

  “And there’s our photographer. Let’s get this show on the road,” said Amy.

  The three of them walked to American Dream to intercept the parade crew.

  Vanessa figured that if Amy wanted so badly to be in charge, Amy could take the blame if anything went wrong. She resolved to stay in the background as much as possible.

  “Which one is Marco?” Amy whispered when they arrived.

  “The one with the Marco nametag,” said Vanessa.

  She handed the award to Amy.

  “Congratulations, Marco,” Amy said loudly, as if Marco were hard of hearing. “You’ve been selected to receive the Silver Mirror award for your loyalty, service, and achievement.”

  The other crew members gathered around as the photographer snapped pictures indiscriminately.

  Marco—polite, amiable Marco who had danced with her at the carriage wash—looked to Vanessa with confusion written across his face. He knew as well as she did that he didn’t deserve an award.

  Vanessa felt a surge of guilt for putting him in an uncomfortable position.

  “Why don’t we all take a nice picture?” said Amy.

  Only a few crew members shuffled toward Marco.

  Amy stood back and attempted to herd all the crew members into the shot by waving her arms. “You, get in the back. You, move over. You, move to the front. Not there. There!” When that wasn’t enough to get the effect she was looking for, she charged forward with the Silver Mirror in her hand.

  Vanessa delicately turned one foot out.

  Amy caught her high heel on Vanessa’s shoe and lost her grip on the Silver Mirror. Her forward momentum launched the award end over end, sparkling in the sun, until it fell and exploded in a thousand shards on the concrete.

  The crew members scattered, dodging the broken mirror shards and laughing.

  Amy’s face turned bright red.

  Marco looked relieved.

  Vanessa calmly unclipped her radio and called for help with the cleanup.

  Thomas

  When Thomas heard Vanessa’s voice, he snatched up the radio from its charging station at the Ghost Factory loading area and held it to his ear.

  “Legacy to Janitorial,” she said.

  “Janitorial here.”

  “Janitorial, we need a glass cleanup in front of American

  Dream.”

  “Copy that, Legacy. We’ll send someone up.”

  “A glass cleanup?” Thomas mused aloud. He got Paulina’s attention at the other loading area position. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” said Paulina.

  “A glass cleanup outside American Dream.”

  Paulina made a confused face. “Why would they need to clean up glass outside? Did someone break a window?”

  They continued loading visitors into the carriages.

  A few minutes later, Paulina’s friends Laura and Claudia returned from the parade. They bustled into the loading area clearly brimming with a story to tell.

  “What happened at the parade?” asked Thomas.

  “Well,” said Claudia, swishing her blonde hair over her shoulder, “some lady came down to the parade to give Marco one of those new awards.”

  Laura picked up the thread of the story. “Marco was supposed to have his picture taken with the trophy, but she wanted everyone to get in the picture.”

  “Nobody wanted to get in the picture, though, so she started waving her hands around like crazy to make people move, and somehow she tripped,” said Claudia.

  “And the trophy went flying and smashed into a million pieces!” Laura finished.

  Paulina and Thoma
s exchanged a look.

  “Who else was there?” said Thomas.

  “Oh, Vanessa and some photographer guy,” said Claudia.

  “So nobody got the award,” Thomas said.

  “Not unless they swept it up and put it in a bag to take home,” said Laura. She burst into giggles. “So much for the Silver Mirror!”

  Chapter 18

  Vanessa

  The Legacy office door shot open, and in walked Mr. Destiny.

  Seeing Mr. Destiny in the Legacy office was like spotting a bear in your backyard: fascinating, but also frightening.

  Vanessa took a step backward as he charged into the room.

  “Office. Now,” he said, barely breaking stride as he barreled past her into her office.

  She followed him. “Mr. Destiny, is everything okay?”

  “Shut the door,” he said.

  She complied.

  He seated himself in her chair, forcing her to sit in one of the guest chairs.

  “I’ve come to a conclusion,” he said. “We need to send a message that Destiny Park will not tolerate those who continue to break the rules.”

  “I’m not sure I follow, sir,” said Vanessa. Her heartbeat increased.

  “Take your crew member Paulina, for example.” He pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Did you know that Paulina has been late no less than 4 times in the last month? And—look at this—Maribel has called in sick far more than the average crew member.” He tapped the paper.

  “Then we have Robert,” he said.

  “Robert? You mean Bob?”

  “Yes, Bob, whatever,” said Mr. Destiny.

  “Which one?” said Vanessa. She didn’t dare ask him if he meant Short Bob or Tall Bob.

  “There’s more than one?” Mr. Destiny rolled his eyes. “The one who keeps taking extra breaks to eat yogurt.”

  Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I have it on good information. And then there’s Thomas, your trainer.”