by Kate Moseman
Vanessa examined the note one more time before carrying it to Charlotte. “Any idea why Dirk would send this?” asked Vanessa.
Charlotte took the note and read it. “He’s running off to Galaxy on election day?” she said. She handed the note back to Vanessa. “That doesn’t seem like Dirk.”
“It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” said Vanessa. She tossed the note in the trash.
“By the way,” said Charlotte, lowering her voice before continuing, “Thomas told me what happened.”
“Did he?” Vanessa smiled softly as she drifted into a recollection of the touch of his hand.
Charlotte eyed her. “Judging from the look on your face, maybe he didn’t tell me everything that happened.”
Vanessa cleared her throat, then patted her hair as if it had gone out of place, which it hadn’t. “Well. I should—I should get back to work.” She turned to go back to her office.
“If you can concentrate,” muttered Charlotte.
“I heard that,” Vanessa said.
Back in her office, Vanessa tried to concentrate.
Charlotte was right.
She couldn’t.
“I’m going to see what Dirk is up to,” she said to Charlotte.
Charlotte snickered. “I knew you couldn’t concentrate,” she said.
“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” said Vanessa, clipping her radio on.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I hope I find somebody who has that kind of effect on me,” said Charlotte, fanning herself.
Vanessa laughed. “I’ll keep an eye out.” She exited the office and went upstairs, crossing through Discovery on her way to Galaxy.
She passed the solar system Ferris wheel before encountering The Black Hole restaurant and realizing she’d overshot her destination.
The entrance to the Comet Lounge hid in a corner behind a group of shrubs trimmed in abstract geometrical shapes.
Vanessa skirted the planter and entered a revolving door. On the other side, the revolving door opened to a lounge with dark red carpet. The polished black bar against the far wall contained rows of bottles and glasses laid out in sparkling order.
A black grand piano dominated the center of the lounge.
Vanessa looked around for Dirk, finding only a bartender and a man dressed in formalwear leaning against the bar, facing away from the door.
She approached the bar and slid onto a stool.
“Can I get a virgin Bloody Mary, please?” she asked the bartender, then glanced down the row to the gentleman in formal clothing.
It was Dirk.
“Hello, Vanessa,” he said, rising from his seat and moving to one next to her. “One for me, too,” he said to the bartender.
“Dirk?” She stared at his outfit.
“I have some news,” he said.
The bartender slid their drinks across the bar.
“I’ll say,” said Vanessa. She lifted her drink and sipped from its salted rim.
“I am officially transferring,” said Dirk.
“Transferring? But you just got here,” said Vanessa. “You’re not going back to Fantasy?”
Dirk shook his head. “Not that kind of transfer. I’m changing roles.” He drummed his fingers along the edge of the bar in a rhythmic pattern.
“You’re drumming your fingers”—she looked from Dirk to the grand piano in the center of the room and back again—“you’re playing the piano?”
“Welcome to my office,” he said.
“No kidding?” Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Congratulations,” she said, and meant it.
“You’ll have to come by for a show sometime,” he said. “Bring friends. Or a date.”
Their gazes met.
He smirked and raised one eyebrow.
“I’ll do that,” she said, wondering what he knew.
He held his glass aloft. “To new beginnings,” he said.
Vanessa clinked her glass with his, sealing their détente.
At the end of the day, Vanessa pulled her union-free binders off the shelf and left for the Mirror Castle.
She passed the voting station outside the underground break room, where observers from both sides counted and recounted the ballots.
Crew members on break gathered around to watch.
The Voice of Destiny droned on above it all.
At the Mirror Castle, she shifted the binders into one arm to allow her to push the elevator buttons with her free hand.
She approached the desk of Mr. Destiny’s secretary.
“I need to return these,” she said.
Voices echoed from Mr. Destiny’s office.
“I paid you all this money and we still didn’t win!” said Mr. Destiny.
Vanessa heard the sound, but not the content, of the consultant’s response.
Mr. Destiny spat a final “Get out!”
The door opened and Amy strode through, head held high.
“I can see he’s busy,” said Vanessa as she handed the binders over to the secretary. “I’ll just leave these with you.”
Vanessa hurried back to the elevator, where she and the consultant waited for the elevator in silence.
They stepped inside.
“So … the crew members got their union?” asked Vanessa.
“You win some, you lose some,” said Amy with a shrug. “I get paid either way.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Vanessa allowed Amy to precede her, then stepped into the sunshine beneath the Mirror Castle.
Though it was time to go home, Vanessa didn’t want to leave.
She scanned the crowd, an automatic habit for a theme park manager, noting the crowd size and movement, picking out the positions of the crew members in the streets, absorbing the energy and reading it like tea leaves.
Something in the air set her path for the manager parking lot, where she retrieved a spare set of street clothes.
She changed in the locker room and emerged in the Fantasy bazaar, inconspicuously attired, with no name tag to be seen.
The scent of caramel corn led her to the stand where she purchased a bag for herself. She continued down the row until she reached the outdoor stage.
Vanessa slid onto a bench and fished around in the bag for the choicest-looking pieces of caramel corn while waiting for the show to begin.
She had just popped too many into her mouth when she heard a familiar voice above her.
“Is this seat taken?”
Thomas stood before her. She shaded her eyes to look up at him. He wore fitted jeans topped with a black turtleneck sweater, sunglasses, and a fedora. On anyone else, it might have looked absurd.
On him, it was charming.
She swallowed hastily. “Have a seat,” she said. “How did you get in here?”
He sat down next to her. “I bought a ticket like everyone else,” he said. “No way I was going to miss my weekly show.”
“We probably shouldn’t be seen together,” she said. She offered him caramel corn.
“Probably not,” he agreed, reaching into the bag.
“I heard you won the election,” she said.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Poor Mr. Destiny,” he said.
“Poor, poor Mr. Destiny,” said Vanessa.
They grinned at each other.
“Wait—you’ve got something—right there,” said Thomas, staring at Vanessa’s face.
Vanessa colored. “What? Where?”
“A little caramel. Right there. Let me—” He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “It’s gone now,” he said.
She leaned back and cast an appraising gaze at him. “Smooth,” she concluded.
“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Maybe not,” said Vanessa. “But I’d like to find ou
t.”
Pomegranate Champagne
Toast someone you love with this ruby-colored sparkler!
Ingredients:
Champagne
Pomegranate juice
Pomegranate arils
All ingredients should be completely chilled.
Instructions:
Pour champagne into a flute, leaving space at the top to add a shot of pomegranate juice.
Pour a shot of pomegranate juice into the flute.
Garnish with a teaspoon of pomegranate arils and serve immediately.
Author’s Note
One of the most enjoyable parts of writing fiction is making up wildly improbable scenarios, like a manager falling in love with a union-organizing employee and secretly taking his side against her boss. Although this story is entirely a work of fiction, many of the union-busting tactics described in Roller Coaster Romance are based on reality. Union-busting tactics are not an artifact of the past; they affect workers around the world to this day.
If you’d like to learn more about the history and methods of union-busting, I recommend reading Confessions of a Union Buster by Martin Jay Levitt with Terry Conrow. It’s currently out of print, but used copies are easily found online.
Pick up “They’re Bankrupting Us!”: And 20 Other Myths About Unions for a highly readable introduction to what unions do, and the origins of common misperceptions about unions.
To learn about workers’ rights and organizing strategies, I suggest reading Labor Law for the Rank & Filer by Staughton Lynd and Daniel Gross, and Win More Union Organizing Drives by Jason Mann.
For a fascinating true story of undercover union organizing, check out Playing Against the House by James D. Walsh.
–K.M.
About the Author
Kate Moseman is a writer, photographer, and recipe developer who lives in Florida with her family.
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