by Kate Moseman
“A long tour,” added Laura.
“Should we go look for him?” asked Vanessa.
The door opened and a young man strolled into the room. The Blondes shouted “Marco!” and surrounded him, hustling him out the break room door and down the hallway. Their boisterous noise echoed back to the break room until the door swung completely shut.
Vanessa looked at Thomas. “Wow,” she said.
“Wow is the word,” he agreed.
“Where are they taking him?”
“Best not to ask.”
She flipped open a pizza box. “More for us, then,” she said, and helped herself to a slice of cheese pizza.
“I couldn’t agree more.” He snagged a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and handed a few to her. “Would you like a plate?”
“You are the wizard of paper towels today, aren’t you?” She put her slice on the towel and sat down at the table.
Thomas sat down across from her. I hope Marco and the Blondes decide to go on another tour. A very long tour. He racked his brain for something intelligent to say. “Where did we leave off last time?”
“Last time?”
“As I recall, you claimed mythological origins.”
Vanessa chuckled. “Right.” She put down her pizza. “You already heard about the little family-owned amusement I used to work for. Nothing like this,” she gestured to their surroundings. “We had a coaster, a flume, a couple of carnival rides, that sort of thing. Anyway, after a while, the maintenance of keeping the place up cost more than it was bringing in. They had to close it down.”
“Then you ended up here.”
“Then I ended up here,” she said.
“Why move so far? You got family down here?”
She shook her head. “All in Tennessee. Most of ‘em in the same county, for that matter.”
“You miss it?”
“I miss some things.”
“Like what?” She’s left behind a handsome mountain man who splits logs single-handedly. That would be my luck.
“The mountains. My mom and dad.”
Yes! No mountain man. “That’s not a long list,” he said.
“I suppose not.” She sighed. “You’re from a small town, though—you know what it’s like.”
“Provincial? Suffocating?”
“Unchanging,” she said. “Which isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but … ” She trailed off, then looked him in the eye. “Sometimes you want to know what’s around the river bend. You know what I mean?”
“Yes,” said Thomas. “I know just what you mean.”
The four other crew members crashed through the door again and snatched up the unopened pizza boxes.
Marco discovered the bag of sodas and handed them out to all present, including Thomas and Vanessa, who had gone quiet, and the Blondes, who were singing a mildly inappropriate sea shanty.
Thomas, who had looked away from Vanessa during the commotion, looked back at Vanessa.
She held the soda can in her hand, unopened.
He wanted to say something profound, but he settled on something mundane. “I’ll get the cleaning supplies,” he said. “You go ahead and finish your pizza.”
Vanessa started as if she had been woken from a dream. She smiled slowly. “I’ll be here,” she said, raising her eyebrows to indicate the company into which she’d fallen.
He went out to the hallway and retrieved a small boombox and a caddy of rags and cleaning spray from the supply closet. He carried them to the attraction loading area and set them on top of the ride control cabinet. He plugged in the boombox and fiddled with the dial to tune in the pop station, then cranked up the volume to a sufficient level.
Pleased with his handiwork, he returned to the break room to collect his fellow crew members and Vanessa.
They descended on the loading area in a festive mood. Each person grabbed a rag and went to work wiping down the carriages. When they finished all the carriages in the loading area, Thomas engaged the ride controls to move the ride vehicles forward so that a new set of carriages took their place in the loading area.
Paulina, Laura, and Claudia kept up a happy stream of chatter, carrying Marco along in their wake. Vanessa seemed to half-listen to the conversation as it ebbed and flowed, but she never stopped moving long enough to join in. Thomas fell into sync with her, scrubbing quickly but thoroughly without saying much.
After a while, they stopped for a break. Marco whirled the radio dial in search of a new station. The speakers spit out bits of talk radio and commercials before he landed on a country station.
“Anything but country,” Thomas said. “Those are the rules.”
“Whose rules? Marco, step aside,” Vanessa said. She turned up the volume and bobbed her head to the rhythm.
Laura and Claudia linked arms and skipped in a circle. Paulina grabbed Marco’s arm and joined in.
“No, no, that’s not how it’s done,” Vanessa said. “Watch.”
She moved to an open part of the loading area and began stepping neatly in time with the song, narrating each step: “Rock step, cha-cha-cha, rock step, cha-cha-cha. Half turn, cha-cha-cha, half turn, cha-cha-cha.”
“Wait!” said Thomas.
Vanessa stopped moving.
He reached in the cabinet and pulled out a Gold Rush hat, then placed it on her head. “Perfect.”
She smiled and resumed the dance.
The Blondes and Marco began imitating her steps, occasionally turning in the wrong direction, until they got the hang of the movements.
“You can do it with a partner, too,” she said as another song began. She gestured for Paulina to stand next to her, then danced the steps in tandem with Paulina. Vanessa pivoted and faced Paulina, never missing a step, then pivoted again and danced in parallel with her.
When Paulina retreated, Marco stepped up and put his hands in the proper position to meet Vanessa’s grasp.
Thomas, torn between wanting to take Marco’s place and wanting to run away before he made a fool of himself, hung back and watched the others.
“What do you think, Thomas?” called Vanessa as she and Marco rock-stepped and cha-cha’d around the loading area.
“I think you’ve been holding out on us.”
She laughed and spun away from Marco to face Thomas. Her cheeks were pink. She whipped off the hat and offered it to him.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. He put on the hat.
Here goes nothing.
This time, Marco, Paulina, Laura, and Claudia stepped back to give them room.
Thomas watched Vanessa closely, picking up on her cues as she guided their linked hands through the air, catching the intention of her next movement from the tilt of her head or the lean of her body.
When the song finished, they swayed to a stop facing each other. He didn’t want to look into her eyes, because he knew what she would see in his, but it was too late.
Vanessa
She completed the last turn and stopped, facing Thomas. Her breath came too fast. She knew she should let go of his hands, but the look on his face blotted out all rational thought. Before she could stop herself, she squeezed his hands.
His eyes flared with what looked like pure hope.
Realization crashed down on her.
Oh, no.
She let go and stepped back. “We’d better get these carriages moving,” she said. Her heart raced and her hands trembled as she grabbed the nearest spray bottle and rag.
Thomas crammed the hat back into the cabinet and busied himself setting the carriages in motion. When they stopped, he turned the radio back to the pop station and scrubbed the first carriage like his life depended on it.
She chose the carriage at the opposite end of the loading area, letting Paulina, Laura, Claudia, and Marco take the ones
in the middle. The line of carriages stretched on and on—no matter how many she scrubbed, it seemed like there were always more to come.
How do you know when you’re done? She hadn’t thought to note where they started. Surely Thomas had, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him, not with her feelings still roiling from their impromptu duet.
At long last, after every carriage had cycled through the loading area, Thomas shut down the ride for the night.
Marco and the Blondes disappeared out the side door, leaving Thomas and Vanessa alone inside the attraction.
Vanessa gathered up fallen rags while he unplugged the boombox and loaded the supplies back into the caddy. Neither of them spoke. She picked up the boombox and followed him back to the supply closet.
When everything had been stowed inside the closet, Thomas closed the door and leaned against it, facing her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He regarded her from across the narrow hallway. “Done what?” A smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
She saw it and lost her concentration entirely. “I … ”
Now he was really smiling. “I taught you how to run a roller coaster. You taught me a line dance. It’s been a good week, I’d say.”
“A good week?” Vanessa echoed. She didn’t know what to say to that. Here I am, trying to apologize for grabbing his hands like a schoolgirl, and he’s grinning like a fool. “A good week,” she conceded.
They walked out of the attraction together, the lights in the trees twinkling sedately under a full moon.
He turned to her. “Good night, Vanessa.” His gentle tone acknowledged something new between them.
“Good night, Thomas.”
They went their separate ways into the deserted park.
Chapter 7
Vanessa
Vanessa leaned against the weathered wood fence at the Gold Rush overlook, watching the coaster dip and turn. Once you were strapped in, there was no way to turn back. You rode out the peaks and valleys until it was done with you, whether you liked it or not.
She already felt like she’d been on the ride one too many times.
Once more unto the breach. Stress brought out the Shakespeare quotes she thought she’d long forgotten.
Vanessa turned from the view and hailed the crew member at the attraction entrance. He was a tall man, and his name tag read “Bob.”
She barely managed to stop herself from calling him “Tall Bob.”
“Good morning, Bob. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Vanessa, the new area manager. Can you point me in the direction of the Gold Rush break room?”
“Sure can. Go into the loading area and head to the left, behind the control tower. It’s back in there.”
“Thank you. You have a good day,” she said.
She found it just where he described.
Another union flyer hung on the bulletin board.
Have you been punished unfairly by management?
Wish you had someone in your corner to fight for YOU?
We are stronger together! Vote YES to unionize!
Maribel, the Gold Rush crew member she’d met the other day, sat at a little table with a cup of coffee and a book.
“Hey, Maribel. How’s it going?”
Maribel looked up. “Good, you?”
“Fine, thanks. I know you’re on a break right now, and I hate to interrupt, but I need a little help.”
Maribel put down the book and gave Vanessa her full attention.
“If I can borrow you for five minutes, can you add that five minutes onto your break when we’re done?”
“Sure,” said Maribel.
“Great. I need you to show me around the loading area a little bit. Point out where the neckerchief is in danger of getting caught.”
“Really? We tried to tell them about that before … ”
“But they didn’t listen,” Vanessa said. “I know. I think it’s worth another try.”
“Is this about the union thing?”
“Maribel, I’m officially not allowed to have an opinion on that. Let’s just say that I want to keep you all safe, no matter what.”
Maribel raised one eyebrow. “Whatever you say, boss,” she said.
They went to the loading area and Maribel showed Vanessa exactly how the accessory could snag on the lap bar or the ride vehicle decorations.
It was such an obvious hazard Vanessa couldn’t believe no one had taken the crew’s complaint seriously.
“Thank you for showing me,” Vanessa said. “Don’t forget to take your extra five minutes before you jump back in, okay?”
She left Maribel and went to the Legacy office. “Charlotte, since we get memos from Mr. Destiny, I assume there’s a way to send one to him?”
“You can try,” Charlotte said. “But he doesn’t show up here unless he has to.”
“What else does he have to do?” Vanessa asked. She remembered her old amusement park, where the owners practically lived on-site.
Charlotte shrugged. “Jet around and drink champagne, I guess. Beats working in a cave.”
“Can you call up to the head office?”
“Sure, I can call anyone you like.” Charlotte picked up the handset and dialed an extension. “Hello? Is Mr. Destiny available? The Legacy manager would like to speak with him.” She listened. “Thank you. I’ll tell her.” She hung up. “His secretary said he’ll be in and out today, getting ready for an all-hands meeting.”
“Another one already?” Vanessa said. “Is that normal?”
“Not in my experience. And”—she leaned across the desk and lowered her voice—“you might want to keep an eye on our friend Dirk. He’s been running a lot of ‘errands’ up there.”
“Good to know. I think I’ll pay Mr. Destiny a visit myself, before he jets off again.”
She detoured to the costume department to pick up a neckerchief before returning upstairs to the Mirror Castle. The hidden elevator carried her to the heart of the head office, but this time, there were no voices to follow. She looked up and down the hallway before heading in the opposite direction of the meeting room. The hallway dead-ended at a desk, staffed by an unsmiling woman wearing a headset.
“My secretary called up earlier. I’m Vanessa, the Legacy manager. May I speak to Mr. Destiny?”
The woman eyed her. “Just a moment.” She touched a button on her desk. “Mr. Destiny? The Legacy manager is here to see you.” Her hand went to the headset as she listened. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.” She addressed Vanessa. “He’ll see you now.”
Thomas
Thomas checked the clock on the wall in the underground break room. Early. I’m just early. They’ll show up. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa as the television droned on about the weather.
Maribel sat down next to him. “Hey. How’s the weather?”
“Cloudy with a chance of getting fired.”
“Aren’t you the funny one. Where’s Short Bob?”
“On his way,” Thomas said. “I hope.”
“I saw Paulina in costuming. She should be here in a minute. Guess who I saw this morning?”
“Surprise me,” said Thomas.
“Vanessa.”
Thomas sat up straight. “Where? What did she want?”
“She wanted me to demonstrate that costuming safety issue on Gold Rush,” Maribel said.
“Really?” Thomas drew the word out, long and speculative.
“I like her,” said Maribel.
Thomas struggled to reduce his opinion to an acceptable response, like I do, too, or She seems nice, but ran out of time as Paulina and Bob arrived.
Paulina sat down next to Maribel while Bob sank into the armchair adjacent to the sofa.
“We were just discussing Vanessa,” said Maribel.
“She’s quite the dancer,” said Paulina. “Right, Thomas?”
“Thomas? Is there something you want to share with the class?” Maribel elbowed him.
“She showed us a line dance at the carriage wash,” he said.
Paulina giggled and made tiny kissing sounds.
“Shut up, Paulina,” said Thomas.
“I miss all the fun stuff,” said Bob.
“Well, she must have liked your poster, or she wouldn’t have come down to Gold Rush,” Maribel said.
“True,” said Bob.
“Anyway,” said Thomas, attempting to keep the conversation on track, “how’s it going at your attraction? Maribel?”
Maribel took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and studied it. “It’s pretty good. I’d say we have about fifty percent in favor right now.”
“Bob? How’s American Dream?”
“We don’t have as many crew members as you all do”—he indicated Maribel—“but I think we have about the same split ‘for’ and ‘against.’”
“That leaves Ghost Factory. Paulina, how’s it going with your crowd?” Paulina, as Thomas well knew, had a lighthearted exterior along with a canny knack for observing people.
Right now, she was all business. “It’s a tie between the people who couldn’t care less, and the people who really want a union. Not too many fence-sitters.”
“It’s close everywhere,” he agreed. “Anybody free to do some home visits this weekend?”
“I can,” said Maribel.
“Good,” said Thomas. “I’ll see about getting some more names and addresses. Any ideas for what we can do here at the park? I like the posters, but maybe we can do something new. Keep it fresh.”
The organizing committee sat in silence.
The news station broadcast the weather all over again. This time, the forecaster mentioned the formation of a tropical wave.
“That’s what we need,” said Bob. “A big wave of an idea.”
“I think it’s time to go public,” said Thomas. “Why don’t we do our next poster with testimonials? ‘Why I’m Voting Yes’?”