Roller Coaster Romance

by Kate Moseman

  At American Dream, he went in the back way, climbed up on the show stage, and pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside. Looking around one last time to make sure he was unobserved, he stepped through the opening, closing the gap behind him. He picked his way across the platforms that made up the stage until he reached the back wall.

  Surrounded by eerily still mechanical figures and hidden by the thick velvet curtain, all he had left to do was wait.

  Vanessa

  The last lingering edge of caffeine kept Vanessa on her toes as the managers of Destiny Park gathered in the American Dream lobby.

  Vanessa worked her way through the room, making up for lost time at the last meeting, in which the crowded meeting room had put a damper on greetings and conversation. Unlike the Mirror Castle, this was her turf. She could schmooze with the best of them.

  One of the doors to the theater opened. Mr. Destiny stuck his head out and called to Vanessa.

  She hurried over. “Yes, sir?”

  “Vanessa, we’re having trouble bringing the lights up in the front of the house. Can you see if you can find the right switch?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you.” He clapped her on the shoulder, then retreated into the theater.

  She had no idea where to find that particular switch—or any switch other than the ones Thomas had already shown her. Due to the nature of the meeting, there were no crew members in the building to enlighten her. She followed Mr. Destiny into the theater.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, attempting to appear confident. She double-checked the control box to see if there were any extra light controls she hadn’t noticed before.

  There weren’t.

  She traced the edge of the stage and examined the sides of the proscenium arch. No luck. Where else could they be?

  The velvet curtain loomed before her. She climbed onto the edge of the stage and pushed past it.

  The floor beneath her was not like a normal stage. Instead, it was a series of platforms containing the mechanical elements of the show, with dangerous gaps in between. She concentrated on placing her feet squarely on one platform after another.

  A movement in the shadows startled her.

  What was that?

  She turned, but carefully, making sure she didn’t slip.

  It was Thomas.

  With one finger to his lips, and one hand reaching out to implore silence, he straightened to his full height on a platform just a few steps away.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  He stepped quietly across the platforms and onto hers.

  It seemed very small for two people to share.

  “You were waiting for the meeting, weren’t you?” she said, taking care to keep her voice low.

  “I had to know what they were going to do,” he whispered.

  “‘They’? You know I’m one of ‘them,’ right? What am I supposed to do with you? They’re waiting for me to fix the lights right now.” Even in a whisper, she managed to spit the last two words with force.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get you involved.”

  “I should fire you right now.”

  “Please don’t. Not when we’re having this much fun,” he said.

  The absurdity of the situation tipped her panic into an unstoppable rush of hysterics. She pressed her lips together to stifle the laughter that bubbled up from deep inside.

  Thomas looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, which only made it worse.

  When he caught on, and his shoulders began shaking with silent laughter, Vanessa lost it completely.

  They clutched at each other as much for balance as to bury the sound of their mirth, her head on his shoulder, and his on hers.

  When they regained control, they looked at each other with eyes streaming with tears of laughter. “Just tell me where the front of house light switch is, will you?” whispered Vanessa.

  “There isn’t one,” he whispered in her ear.

  “What? Are you kidding? All this for nothing?”

  “I wouldn’t call it nothing,” he said. He winked at her and stepped back into the shadows.

  Vanessa carefully picked her way to the front of the stage, pushed aside the curtain, and closed it hurriedly behind her. She climbed down from the edge of the stage and landed safely on solid ground.

  Only then did she notice that while she’d been behind the curtain, the theater had filled up.

  Mr. Destiny waited just a few feet away, talking to a well-dressed woman Vanessa didn’t recognize.

  “Mr. Destiny,” Vanessa said, a little out of breath. “There isn’t a separate switch for the lights. They’re either all on, or all off.”

  “Fine,” he said, checking his watch. “Let’s get started.”

  Vanessa took a seat.

  Mr. Destiny stepped forward. “Thank you for coming, everyone. You all know the situation we face here at Destiny Park. I want to introduce someone who will be helping us stay union-free.”

  The unknown woman walked to his side.

  “This is Amy Aldrich from Tradimus Labor Consultants. Amy, take it away.” He retreated to the side of the theater.

  The consultant stood before the assembled supervisors. The house lights created strange patterns of light, highlighting the sleek chignon of her chestnut hair while casting shadows under her cheekbones. “Thank you.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, then relieved the tension with one dramatic statement.

  “You are at war,” she said. “You stand on the front line of a conflict for the very soul of Destiny Park. Nothing—absolutely nothing—is more important than your role in keeping Destiny Park union-free.”

  She paced across the front of the theater, deliberately making eye contact with manager after manager. “If you fail, you and your crew will suffer forever after, separated from one another, the precious relationship that bound you together torn to shreds.”

  Good grief. It took a physical effort for Vanessa not to roll her eyes.

  The consultant continued. “What is a union, anyway?”

  Vanessa knew better than to volunteer an answer.

  Others did not.

  The consultant pointed to one of the raised hands.

  The selected manager piped up, “An organization for workers.”

  “Accurate, but not in the truest sense. A union, ladies and gentlemen, is a business. And what does a business need to do?”

  Someone called out “Make money!”

  The consultant smiled for the first time. “Now we are at the core of the apple,” she said. “A union is a business that needs to make money. And how do they make money? Do they make and sell a product? Do they create an amusement park for the enjoyment of all?” She let the last statement hang in the air.

  “No, my friends, they do not. The only way a union can make money is to take it from hard-working employees like yours. And what do your hard-working employees get for their dollar?” She raised empty palms to the crowd. “Nothing but a wall. A wall between them and management. No longer can they work things out with you like the adults that they are. Instead, a union controls how they deal with you. No longer can they be promoted on the basis of merit; instead, lazy employees who have been here longer get promoted ahead of bright and eager employees who turn in the best performance. This is a war against the hard work that you do and the hard work your employees do.”

  Vanessa snuck a covert look around to see how the other managers were reacting.

  Some appeared inspired; others, bored.

  “I can see,” the consultant said, “that some of you are afraid. Afraid you won’t know what to say, or what to do. I’m here to tell you that you don’t need to be afraid. You can’t deliver threats, but I will teach you how to turn up the pressure without breaking the law. Yo
u can’t interrogate, but I’ll teach you how to get information without asking questions. We will supply everything to say, everything to do, to give you the power to save your crew members from the union.”

  Vanessa wondered what Thomas thought about that.

  “You, ultimately, will be the heroes who keep Destiny Park union-free. I will be on-site to help you, and if you have any questions, or feel unsure about your role, please come see me. I would love to speak with you. And now, I’ll turn it back over to Mr. Destiny.”

  “Thank you, Amy,” said Mr. Destiny. “She’ll be meeting with all of you, area by area, over the next few days. Together, we will win. Thank you all for coming, and be sure to see Amy after the meeting if you have any questions.”

  As the host of the meeting, Vanessa had a legitimate reason to linger in the theater until everyone had left. She busied herself with a broom and dustpan for several minutes after the theater had emptied.

  The velvet curtain twitched.

  “All clear,” Vanessa said.

  Thomas clambered down from the stage.

  “You get all that?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did,” he said.

  “You should go,” said Vanessa.

  “I know.” He didn’t move.

  “Someone could come back,” she said. She sat down heavily in one of the seats.

  “They could,” he said. He sat down next to her.

  They sat side by side, not looking at one another, lost in their own thoughts.

  “I should go.” Vanessa sighed. “She called it ‘war,’ you know. I don’t know how much else I can do. I’m afraid I’ve already done too much.” She put her hand out to the armrest to stand up, without noticing that his hand was already there. The contact comforted her for a fraction of a second before she pulled away and stood up.

  He stood up too. “I know. Thank you.”

  Without another word, Thomas went out the back way.

  Vanessa went out the front.

  Chapter 9

  Vanessa

  A new memo awaited her when she arrived at the office the next morning.

  Vanessa Jones

  Legacy Management

  Destiny Park

  Dear Ms. Jones,

  We would like to provide your crew members with an enhanced Halloween party. Your budgetary allowance has been increased to cover the costs. Contact Events Management to reserve your preferred location and arrange for catering.

  Regards,

  Mr. Destiny

  “Charlotte,” said Vanessa, “what do they usually do for a Halloween party here?”

  “What Halloween party?” said Charlotte.

  “Not a usual thing, then?”

  “No.”

  “Thought so.” Vanessa handed Charlotte the memo to read for herself.

  “Why do we get a big party now?” asked Charlotte, after reading the memo.

  “I can’t imagine,” said Vanessa, even though she had her suspicions. “Might as well make the best of it. Can you get on the horn to Events Management and see what the options are?”

  “Can do,” said Charlotte, placing the memo in the inbox on her desk.

  The radio on Vanessa’s hip squawked, interrupting their conversation. “All units please go to channel 2. Repeat: all units please go to channel 2 for an important announcement.”

  “That’s never happened before,” Vanessa said as she fiddled with the channel dial.

  “Must be something important,” said Charlotte.

  Vanessa set the radio on the desk so they could both hear it clearly. “Attention all units. The National Hurricane Center is expected to issue a hurricane watch for the coast of Florida within the next day. All areas should plan to execute hurricane ride-out procedures. Additional weather-related instructions specific to your department will be issued shortly. Please return to channel 1 at this time.”

  “What’s a hurricane ride-out?” asked Vanessa.

  “Some of the crew—and a manager; that’s you—stay at the park for the hurricane. You tie down stuff that could go flying, then you hunker down in one of the attractions and stay there during the storm. After the storm, you go out and clean up so the park can open as soon as possible.”

  “Oh,” said Vanessa, who had never been in a hurricane, let alone ridden one out inside a theme park.

  The thought did not appeal to her.

  “Kind of like a slumber party,” said Charlotte. “With a hurricane outside.”

  “Who would volunteer for that?” Vanessa’s instincts told her to get on a plane and go home before the hurricane arrived.

  “You’d be surprised. Some people think it’s fun. A badge of honor, really.”

  Vanessa felt queasy. “I’m going to go watch the weather. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The familiar drone of the local news reached her before she even entered the underground break room. Once inside, she detoured to the snack machine for an oatmeal creme pie, righteously forgoing an accompanying soda. She settled into one of the chairs facing the TV.

  She waited through the local weather forecast, then through another ten minutes of unrelated news, before they finally started the tropical forecast. Vanessa nibbled her oatmeal creme pie and noted the newscaster used the phrase “hunker down” far too often.

  All in all, the forecast was less than informative. According to the news, a hurricane was indeed headed toward Florida. It might be a Category 1, or possibly a category 5, upon landfall. Landfall, for that matter, could take place anywhere between Key West and the Florida–Georgia line.

  Vanessa nearly threw the remainder of her oatmeal creme pie at the TV, but thought better of it.

  Thomas

  “Scuse us, coming through,” said a man in a workman’s jumpsuit with “Engineering” stitched above his shirt pocket.

  Thomas flattened himself against the wall to let the men pass by with a large dolly bearing a brand new water cooler.

  Curious, he followed them down the hallway to the Gold Rush break room where he had left his current trainee.

  They maneuvered the water cooler off the dolly, twisted it into position, and plugged it in. “Mind giving a hand, mate?” asked one of the men.

  Thomas gamely followed them through the hallway to a cart stacked high with large containers of water.

  It took two men to carry one jug. Together with Thomas and the trainee, they carried two jugs to the break room. The workmen peeled the cap off one jug and tipped it into the water cooler, which made a loud glugging noise as the water and air equalized.

  Thomas popped a cup from the attached dispenser and triggered the tap.

  “It’ll cool down in a bit,” said one of the workmen.

  Thomas sipped from the cup. “Why did we get one?” he asked.

  “Mr. Destiny ordered them. Said every break room gets one. Big pain, though, carting them in.”

  “Why now? We’ve been asking for water coolers for years,” said Thomas.

  The workman gave him a look. “Why do you think? You guys are trying to unionize, right?” He waved his hand at the water cooler. “He’s trying to play nice so you think you don’t need to. That’s the game, isn’t it?” He chuckled as he wheeled the dolly away. His companion followed him out.

  Left alone with his trainee, Thomas crumpled the empty paper cup into a hard ball and hurled it into the trash can.

  “I heard about that,” the trainee said. “The union thing.”

  Thomas turned to him. “Yeah? What did you hear?”

  “They’re giving out free t-shirts underground. They say ‘Vote No.’ Anybody can have one.”

  Thomas felt like he’d just gone down a steep drop on the roller coaster. “Listen, why don’t you go shadow Maribel at the front entrance for a few minutes. I have to run an errand
.”

  Free of his trainee, he moved as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the underground corridor. No sooner had he turned down the main hallway than he saw a table piled high with t-shirts in all sizes. Crew members from a variety of departments stood before the table, holding up one shirt after another to find the right size.

  After all, money is tight for most of us, and a free shirt is a free shirt. Damn it.

  What he wouldn’t do for an unlimited budget. He’d print a thousand “Vote Yes” t-shirts. He’d take out radio and TV ads by the dozen, print a thousand leaflets and hire an army to leave them on every car in the crew member parking lot. He’d hire a plane and write “Vote Yes” across the sky above Destiny Park.

  Instead, he stood helplessly by as one crew member after another collected a free t-shirt and ambled away.

  Vanessa

  After far too many hurricane updates, Vanessa stalked out of the break room.

  Back in the office, she searched her bookshelves for relevant manuals. “Hurricanes,” she said. “Weather? Disasters?” She seized a binder labeled “Disaster Preparedness” and hauled it off the shelf, dropping it on her desk with a thud. “Lovely,” she said, paging through the dire material and promising herself to read it later.

  In the meantime, Charlotte had delivered a packet from Events Management. The packet contained statistics on one of the event spaces available for the Halloween party: occupancy, square footage, catering and bar equipment. It did not, however, contain any photos. The only descriptive information to be found was the name of the space.

  “Aquarium Room,” she read aloud.

  She recalled that Discovery had an aquarium-themed attraction. Could there be a hidden room inside the aquarium?

  She called Events Management and spoke to an event coordinator, who agreed to meet her at the attraction in a few minutes. Vanessa emerged upstairs in Discovery, near the Coffee Garden, and followed the signs through a tunnel filled with green vines and blooming orchids. The tunnel opened to reveal a rock facade glinting with dozens of waterfalls, large and small.