by Amie Denman
“Lease vendors are sticking together and having our own party this year,” Ricardo said. “Sign of solidarity.” He raised his beer can on the last words, making him look as if he was willing to lead a slightly unsteady revolution.
“I didn’t know that,” Gus said.
Tosha snapped the lid down on the cooler. “Like he said, it was a last-minute decision. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
Someone set off firecrackers nearby, piercing the silence between Gus and Jack and the lease vendors, whose numbers were growing as more chairs and coolers appeared by the hot-dog and fry vans.
“I should get over there before somebody sets something on fire,” Jack said. Gus felt his grip on her hand tighten. He was offering her a graceful exit.
She couldn’t take it.
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” she told Jack. As he left the circle of headlights and tension, Gus faced the lease vendors. Her friends, she thought, who’d met at her shop, put her in charge of finding a solution to their contract woes, visited her when she was down, cheered her when she shot the boss in the back of the head with a rubber band...but they weren’t applauding her now. This was a slap in the face.
For them.
She’d shown up hand in hand with Jack Hamilton, the man who’d cheated them on their contracts, offered no explanation or apology and refused to even talk to them.
Oh, she’d talked to him plenty tonight. But it hadn’t done any of the lease vendors or herself a single bit of good. She’d opened a ten-pound can of what the heck was I thinking.
Bernie barreled around the corner of his van. “I was just taking a leak over by the fence and I swear I saw Jack Hamilton talking to you guys. He wasn’t giving you no trouble, was he?”
“Not all of us,” Tosha said, looking directly at Gus.
“Good. Thought maybe he caught wind of last night’s meeting.”
Tosha wheeled on Bernie and gave him a look that said shut up.
“Last night’s meeting?” Gus asked. “I didn’t... Did we... But...” She gave up trying to phrase the question. She could read their faces. They’d had a meeting without her. They’d planned this party without her. She tried to keep her face under control. Her eyes smarted, her lip trembled. She wavered between explaining herself to the group and telling them all to mind their own business. But neither choice would do her any good.
“You’ve been really busy,” Tosha said.
“We’re all busy,” Gus replied.
No one said anything.
“The weather’s been great. The crowds huge. I thought we were all busy.”
More silence.
“And that’s a good thing,” Gus continued. “We’re all doing all right...aren’t we?”
She hated the sound of her own voice. She seemed as if she was pleading her case, but her crime was...well, it was ridiculous. Her crime, in their eyes, was being too friendly with the boss. If they only knew—and they would by this time tomorrow—about her ride on the Star Spiral, they wouldn’t even be talking to her.
“I’m not too busy to come to a vendor meeting,” Gus said.
“You’ve been extra busy with the STRIPE thing for the past ten days,” Tosha said. Her tone had softened, but the party was still on pause. “Those Hamiltons have had you jumping.”
“I’m not jumping,” Gus said.
“And there was the article in today’s paper,” Ricardo said. “All nice about the STRIPE and you helping with it.”
“I haven’t seen today’s paper yet.”
“Nice pictures of you.”
“The article was good for the park and for all of us. I didn’t mind doing it. It’s good PR.”
“I guess so,” Ricardo said.
“And there’s nothing wrong with a lease vendor running the STRIPE, is there? I’m sure you’ve all helped out over the years. Right?”
Tosha shook her head and no one said anything. Bernie opened the cooler and grabbed a few cans. Some of the younger summer employees stopped by when they saw the open cooler.
“Hey, Bernie. No fries tonight?” one of them asked.
“It’s a holiday.”
The guy who ran the Star Spiral, Ben, was in the group and grabbed a beer. Gus froze on sight of him, knowing he could blow her evening the rest of the way to pieces.
“What’s cookin’, baker lady?” He grinned at her. “Where’s your date?”
She stared at him, willing him to fill his mouth with beer and walk away. Not that it would matter. She realized now that people were already talking about her being too cozy with the Hamiltons. As if that was a crime.
Looking around the group, she understood that, in their eyes, she’d committed a serious offense. The summer workers started to walk away. Gus took one last look around the circle, hoping for some sympathy, but she wasn’t going to win this battle tonight. She had to leave before she embarrassed herself or said something she’d regret.
She turned and walked across the dark lot, thinking for a full five seconds the lease vendors might call her back or invite her to stay. They didn’t.
Gus stood in darkness and solitude, loud parties to the left and right. She looked up and there it was. The midnight-blue sky behind the racing white lights of the coasters. The picture she carried from that long, exhilarating day when she was a child. She wished her father could pick her up and carry her home tonight. But he was on the other side of the world and she was grown up now.
She sat on the pavement, still warm from soaking up the day’s midsummer heat. Chin on knees, she watched the Ferris wheel’s lights trace a circle of color and start again. In front of it, the Silver Streak’s crisp white lights chased the length of track and back again. Then it was all gone, blotted out by a tall, dark figure.
“You’re blocking my view, Jack.”
He sat next to her, their sides barely brushing. “This is my favorite perspective of the park,” he said. “When I was little, I’d always stop and look back as my mother hauled me to our house on the Old Road after a long day. I’d make her pause and look just for a second. I tried to take a picture of it when I got my first camera, but since the flash went about ten feet, of course it didn’t work.”
“You could try it again. Cameras have come a long way.”
“I don’t think so. Some things just exist in...just can’t be captured.”
“Tell you a secret, Jack. This is my favorite view of Starlight Point, too.”
“I know. I heard you say that at the STRIPE training. Childhood memory for you, too?”
She nodded. “Long, fun day with my parents and my aunt. My dad carried me to the car, but I’ll never forget looking back over his shoulder all the way out. I tried to stamp it on my memory so I could keep it forever.” She laughed. “And here I am. I guess I didn’t have to do that. It’s still here. I started to think I belonged here, like this was my home. But the people I work with don’t seem to think so.”
Jack put his hand on her knee. “It all looks so perfect from here. You don’t see the sweat, smell the stale food, hear the family disputes about where the beach entrance is or what time they should all meet up. All the magic, none of the problems.”
“Too good to be true.”
“I want to see you again tomorrow.”
“You probably will. You know where I work. Which reminds me, I should go. It’ll be an early morning at the bakery.” She got to her feet.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But we’re on opposing teams.”
“We don’t have to be,” he said.
“Then fix it. You caused this mess, you can fix it.”
“No,” he said decisively.
“No, you can’t fix it?” Anger replaced bittersweet frustration in her voice.
> “No,” he said, “I didn’t cause it.”
Gus crossed her arms and stepped back. “Isn’t your name on those contracts?”
“Yes.”
“So?” she asked.
He turned and looked at Starlight Point. Thousands of people were streaming through its gates, people who’d soon be in a temper-flaring traffic jam. “You make a lot of assumptions,” he finally said. “So has everyone else. You have no idea what—”
“Does this have anything to do with Consolidated Theme Parks?” she asked.
“No,” he roared, drawing attention from all over the parking lot.
She felt as if she’d drilled a hole in the side of an overburdened dam. “Then tell me,” she said, her voice softer. “You can’t claim there’s some big mystery explaining why it’s not your fault and then refuse to talk.”
“I own this place.” His words were cold. “I can do anything I want.”
More amateur fireworks and noisemakers cut the night followed by a chorus of horn honking.
“The hell with it,” he said. “I’m going home. If they burn the place down, it saves me a lot of trouble.”
Gus stared at him. “I don’t understand you.”
When he didn’t answer, she pulled her keys from her pocket and turned toward her van.
“You’re not staying for the party?” he asked.
She sighed and considered her answer. “Which party? Which party should I go to, Jack?”
He didn’t reply, just stood, hands in pockets, staring at his amusement park.
“That’s the whole problem,” she said, stepping back and heading for her van.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“GOT ANYTHING YOU need me to hit with a big hammer?” Jack asked.
Mel shut the toolbox on the side of his truck and leaned against the driver’s door. “Maybe,” he said, “but you’d have to fire yourself for damaging your own property.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad. Being in charge of this circus is a pain in the neck anyway.”
Pulling out his cell phone, Mel glanced at it and slipped it back in the pocket of his navy blue work uniform. “I’m on my way to the Octopus ride in Kiddieland. Sprung a big oily leak a few minutes ago. But I’ve got five minutes to listen while you tell me why you’ve got a firecracker up your rear today. I’m guessing your Fourth of July wasn’t quite as good as rumor would have me believe.”
Jack palmed a bead of sweat off his forehead. Mel had managed to park his truck in the one area of direct sun in the maintenance garage’s lot.
“Can’t do anything around here without people talking.”
“You took an extralong ride on the Star Spiral with the woman who’s had your tongue hanging out all summer—you’re right. Don’t see why anyone would care about that.”
Jack grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler in the bed of Mel’s truck. “You’re really helpful.”
“Just confirming the gossip. I’d only heard it five times in the past two days, and you know I’m too delicate to bring it up directly. Hope it was good, by the way.”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the problem?”
“You haven’t heard that part? She won’t talk to me now. Totally avoiding me.”
“Maybe she didn’t like the ride,” Mel said.
“Nothing wrong with the Spiral.”
“Well, if that isn’t it, why do you think she doesn’t want to see your sorry self?”
“Could be mad at me,” Jack said.
“I think she was already. Aren’t all the vendors ready to march on your office? I heard Dorothea was fending them off with a stapler.”
“Nothing has changed with the vendors.”
“Maybe there’s your problem,” Mel said. “Gus thought going for a ride with you would change things for the better. And it didn’t.”
Jack stared down his friend. He threw the half-empty water bottle thirty feet across the parking lot, hitting the Dumpster with a vicious clang.
“I could be wrong,” Mel observed coolly.
“Darn right you are.”
Mel’s cell phone chirped, but he ignored it. “I’d love to help you, but figuring out why women are mad is like mapping the ocean floor. I’d be in over my head. Maybe you should ask her.”
“Tried. When I stopped to see her yesterday and today, her employees said she was too busy.”
“Send flowers?”
“They’ll be delivered tomorrow. I was too late with my order today.”
“You could ask your sister. Evie’s tight with Gus. She’s got her feet in both camps but still manages to get people to like her. You should try that.”
“I asked Evie. She won’t help me. Either she doesn’t know or she’s not talking.”
“Women,” Mel said. “Wish you luck, boss. I’m off to wrangle a sick octopus, and that’s a piece of cake compared to your problems.”
* * *
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Gus put on dark sunglasses for her walk from the Last Chance to the Midway Bakery.
She couldn’t take back her feelings for Jack—didn’t want to—and didn’t feel like apologizing for it. She also didn’t feel like talking about it, especially to Jack.
He’d stopped by her bakery every day, but she’d managed to be busy. Sending summer employees to the front to dismiss the boss was probably a violation of workplace etiquette, but Gus figured she’d already broken all the usual rules by kissing the big kahuna.
Early in the morning two days ago, she’d heard his bicycle bell ring over and over outside her midway bakery, but she’d refused to roll up the front awning, deliberately sending doughnuts into the fryer instead. Sizzling covered up ringing if you threw in enough grease.
Evie had given her about seventy-five easy segues into a how-about-your-feelings-for-my-brother conversation, but each time Gus put on an obtuse expression and pretended to be consumed by icing cookies.
When flowers arrived, Evie smelled them and exclaimed over their beauty, waiting while Gus read the card. “It’s a thank-you,” Gus said. “For being the STRIPE sergeant.”
Total lie. It really said, “I would give anything just to talk to you.”
Jack had signed the card himself. And it was tempting—so tempting—to talk to him. But she didn’t trust herself. She’d already served him a batch of her feelings and she couldn’t give away much more without risking the whole thing.
And so she hoped—unreasonably—to avoid him until Labor Day.
“Augusta.”
So much for that plan.
He stood framed in the back entrance of her Last Chance bakery, dark suit, white shirt, hungry look in his eyes. Her heart thudded in her ears. It had been almost five days since their ride on the Star Spiral. And she could still feel every whisper of his lips on hers.
Gus glanced at the counter Jack had placed her on the night of the robbery. She shivered, thinking about it. He’d been her hero that night. Could still be. Maybe.
Loud gunfire erupted outside, pierced by a train whistle, and Jack jumped through the door. “Never get used to that, I swear.”
“I was just leaving,” Gus said, wanting and not wanting to be alone with him.
“I can walk with you,” Jack offered, approaching her slowly as if he thought she might run away.
“I was thinking of taking the train.”
“No, you weren’t. I don’t think you’ve had time for any rides this summer.”
“Just one,” she said. There was no need to remind him which one.
“Walk with me. Please.”
She stared at him, tempted to say no. But she couldn’t spend the rest of the season avoiding him. Especially now that she’d seen him again. Up close, he
exuded the same magnetic force that had been getting her in trouble all summer.
“Be prepared to keep up with me, because I’ve got plenty to do before I hit the ferry for downtown,” she said, trying to sound crisp and efficient.
They left the bakery, passed the theater and crossed the bridge onto the trail before Jack spoke.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.
“Maybe you’ve been avoiding me.” Considering the difficult position she was in because of him, Gus felt justified being a pain in the neck.
“Give me a break,” he said.
Gus said nothing, walking at a punishing pace. Every vendor they passed saw them. The dark sunglasses did nothing to disguise her, and Jack was exceptionally obvious with his height and trademark suit. Starlight Point guests gave Jack a second look as he passed them. She knew what they assumed. He owned the place. Had to. A tall, handsome man dressed for business at an amusement park? Who else could he be? Gus risked a glance at him. This was the only thing he could be. Jack belonged to Starlight Point as much as it belonged to him.
“I have the impression you’re being forced to choose sides,” he finally said.
“I try hard to avoid being forced into anything,” she replied. “But it doesn’t always pan out.”
“Point taken.”
The gates for the train crossing swung down, making them stop at the head of the trail and wait with the other guests. The train slowly chugged forward. Jack took Gus’s hand and tugged her under a nearby shade tree in a relatively secluded spot behind a guessing game.
“I don’t regret what happened between us on the Star Spiral, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t want it to happen again.”
“Too many people around right now.”
“You know what I mean,” Jack snapped.
“I do. And I’m not going to say that I disagree,” she said, mimicking his tone.
“So?”
What did he want her to say? Being with him was like giving in and eating a whole pie. Sweet. Satisfying. Wonderful.
But they were on opposite sides of a fight. He was forbidden fruit. Though the other vendors had already rejected her, so maybe she had nothing to lose. Except her sense of responsibility to people who had begun to treat her like family. Until she’d betrayed them.