“Not at all,” he says smoothly, then seems to hesitate. Is he waiting for me to say something else? I wish he’d just move on so I can get myself back together. “If you like, you can have my number too. I’m at your complete disposal.” The smile he gives is a little toothier than before. Fuck, should I be gushing over him like some of the others were? I can’t, I just can’t right now. I need time to prepare so I can look past the Golden Boy aura.
“That’s not necessary,” I tell him. I meant it genuinely, I swear, but somehow it comes out sounding like I don’t want his phone number polluting my phone, and I just want to die. A little silence falls around us, and I’m getting surprised looks from the other performers, who clearly all adore this man. I have to work with them for the next two days, so a little damage control is in order. “I mean, thank you for the offer, but it’s fine.” I look away, take a tiny step back. I’m so uncomfortable right now. I’m sweating like crazy, my heart rate is way up, and I just know my face is red. Why won’t he go away and let us get back to work? I can’t help it; I fold my arms across my chest.
Dimi puts a hand on Golden Boy’s arm, and they turn away for a moment, murmuring to each other. I seize the advantage offered and take a couple of deep breaths. It’s a technique one of my acting coaches taught me—the act of pausing and breathing gives your mind and body the chance to release tension and reset. Could I maybe slip away while they’re distracted, or would that be rude?
By the time they turn back, Golden Boy’s mouth open to say something, I’m ready to end this, and the only way to do that is to seize control.
“I’m sorry.” I jump in before he can speak. “I—I think I mustn’t have gotten enough sleep”—lie—“and I’ve never worked at a theme park before, so I’m a bit… flustered.” Crap, that has to be the lamest excuse ever. I push on. “I’m, uh, going to go get a drink.” Yeah, that’s no better.
He flashes that megawatt smile, and flashback. Disdain curdles in my belly. Fake. I need to get away.
“No problem, Trav,” he says. “We’re all under a lot of strain today. I’ll let you get back to your rehearsal, and I’ll drop in later today to see how things are going.” He makes solid eye contact with me as he says that. “I’m going to take Dimi with me now”—he raises his voice so everyone in the room can hear—“but he can still be reached by phone.”
They leave then, and the supervisor calls a five-minute water break. Kev makes his way across the room to stand by me.
“Dude, what the fuck was that?” he asks incredulously, and I can only shake my head.
Chapter Four
Derek
AS DIMI and I walk out to our cars, I’m completely off my game. What the hell was that? Why did that guy act like I was a leper? I suck in a deep breath, then another. He looked at me like I was about to mug his wheelchair-bound grandmother.
“You okay?” Dimi asks tentatively.
“Fine,” I snap. Then take another deep breath. “Sorry. Feeling a bit sensitive. Did that Trav guy have something against me, or what?” I’m not used to being treated like that. People like me, goddammit! I work hard to make them like me.
Dimi shrugs and stops next to his car. “Don’t know. I can’t imagine what could have made him act that way. He seemed pretty together this morning, and the updates Pete has given me have all been positive—he said Trav was actually helping the more inexperienced dancers. Maybe he’s just having an off day, like he said.”
I grunt, then wish I hadn’t. Attitude adjustment needed right now.
“Okay,” I say after another deep breath, which seems to take better effect than the others. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get moving. I’ll meet you back at the office for the meeting with events and marketing, and then we can have a quick lunch while we work out everything else. I’ll have Gina order something. Sound good?”
“Like a plan,” he affirms, and we split up.
The whole way back to the office, I’m flustered. I try to put that Trav guy’s obvious… what? Dislike? Contempt? Whatever it is, I try to put it behind me, but I just can’t let it go. What the hell? I’ve never met the guy before, but he acted like he knew me and didn’t think I was worth his time. And the worst part is, before he opened his mouth, I was actually perving on him. I mean, he’s seriously my type—only an inch or so shorter than me, lots of muscle but in a lean way, ash-brown hair, green eyes, and skin so fair it’s practically translucent. Plus, he has that air about him, like he doesn’t know how absolutely fucking awesome he is. I was honestly thinking about maybe waiting until he finished working for me and then asking him out—and then he opened his mouth, that full, soft-looking mouth, turned that gaze on me, and that thought went by the wayside.
Which is a real shame, because if I picture him in the moments before we started talking, just the image of him standing there in loose cotton pants and a tank top is enough to get my motor running.
I pull into the office parking lot and park in my spot, right up near the door. Time to turn the motor off, unless I want to face some embarrassing moments in the office.
We have a meeting with events and marketing today to plan out next year’s schedule for entertainment at Planet Joy and the resorts. Yes, I know it’s not even May, but that’s how things roll in entertainment. We actually should have had this meeting a couple months ago, but the two departments—which work so closely together that I tend to think of them as one—got caught up with a huuuuuuge crisis in one of the other parks about planning permits and licensing not being up to date for a couple of the shows and one of the rides. When the dust cleared on that one, the park had to close for three days—the whole park—and both the park manager and the AD for that district were looking for new jobs.
Shit like that doesn’t happen in my district.
I make it through the door into the conference room booked for the meeting with literally seconds to spare, after a lightning-fast pause at Gina’s desk to grab the file I need and request that she organize lunch for Dimi and me. Everyone else is waiting, with varying degrees of interest and sympathy on their faces. By now, all the JU staff will be aware of the shitstorm my morning has been—first a murder, then over a hundred critical staff absences.
They’re not going to see me looking frazzled, though. No fucking way.
I flash a smile and take my seat. “Sorry for the delay, everyone. We’ve had a lot going on today.” I say it sardonically, rolling my eyes, and of course the four people from events and marketing chuckle. Dimi just grins. He knows my policy about faking till I make it—this is a highly competitive industry, where even most of your friends won’t cry too much if you fail. No matter what happens, we always remain cool. Even if we’re sweating buckets.
“No problem, you made it,” Toby says. “And great idea to ask the dancers from the village to help out.”
“Thanks” is all I say. No thanks to you is what I want to add. “Shall we get to it?”
The meeting was originally scheduled for an hour and a half. The idea was for the events and marketing—you know what, I’m just going to start calling them evarketing. It’s so much easier. They really should be one department, anyway—people to give me and Dimi a top-level overview of what they have planned, and then we’d take away a detailed plan to review with the park and resort managers, with another meeting, this one four hours, scheduled for next week to go through every single item in the plan. Except right off the bat, I have a problem with their ideas. They’re just a rehash of everything we’re doing this year, and that’s not good enough. A lot of families come annually, and they expect a magical new experience every visit, not the same old, same old. The last thing we want is for them to stop coming.
Obviously Toby and Elise—the head of marketing—aren’t thrilled when I point this out, and so the meeting drags on as I tear their plan to shreds point by point. “I know you guys can do better than this,” I conclude. “Last year was spectacular, this year even better. And they were comple
tely different from each other.”
“There are only so many new ideas out there,” Elise protests, and I nod sympathetically.
“Right, but Joy Inc. will have twelve new feature films released this year, and I know there are another eleven scheduled for next year. Why aren’t we capitalizing more on those?”
“None of the other ADs had any problem with their plans,” Toby snaps—defensively, because I’ve made a very good point, and he knows it.
“They will have when Ken sees the schedule—and when next year rolls around and the guest feedback rating drops. And anyway, I don’t care what the other ADs thought. This is my district, and that’s just not good enough for my district.”
“Your district has had a murder and a major staffing catastrophe in the space of hours.” From the look on her face, Elise regrets making the bitchy comment, but it’s too late.
“That’s right,” I agree. “Two catastrophic events that are completely outside my control occurred this morning. And yet the disruption to routine and guests has been minimal—which it wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t pushed my staff and the entertainment and events teams just as I’m pushing you now. Find me something fantastic for next year. We have a meeting scheduled for next week, so let’s keep it and plan to get things locked in then. You can send me ideas to discuss at any time between now and then. And just a word of friendly advice—if the plans for the other districts are like this, see if you can spruce them up a bit. Because when these go to Ken for final approval, he’s going to send them back, and then you’ll be starting from square one.”
THANKFULLY, GINA ordered sandwiches from my favorite deli in the village for lunch, because anything else would have been cold by the time Dimi and I retreat to my office to eat, forty-five minutes after that meeting was supposed to end.
“Was I a prick?” I ask him, and then take a huge bite out of my turkey sandwich. I’m absolutely starving—it’s nearly two, and I haven’t had anything, not even coffee, since breakfast, which was before seven. This day has been a complete nightmare.
He shakes his head, mouth full of food, then finally swallows. “No. That meeting was a total waste of our time, especially today. They have to know Ken would never approve the plan—it’s basically this year’s but with the dates changed. Hell, on one of the pages, I saw the old date.”
Yeah, I saw that too. I nod. I know I was right, but it’s nice to have the affirmation. I wasn’t my usual chirpy self going into that meeting, and I don’t want to have taken my bad mood out on people who don’t deserve it.
Lucky we didn’t have that meeting before I had to ask this morning’s favor of Toby, though.
“Right,” I say, putting my sandwich down, then picking it up again immediately and taking another bite. I chew and swallow fast. “The team seems to have managed everything here okay this morning. Have you had a chance to check the memos on the board?” I’m referring to the virtual notice board in the staff app, of course. Anything that the whole team needs to know can be posted there, and each member will get an alert to check it. Those alerts can’t be cleared unless you actually click into the memo on the board and check the box at the bottom to say you’ve read it, which the author of the memo is advised of—a great way to prevent notices from being lost in inboxes.
“Yep. It looks like they’ve got it all covered. My inbox is clear of all red and yellow flags, but I still need to go through the nonpriority stuff.” Dimi shoves some chips in his mouth. He’s got to be just as hungry as me.
I grimace. I don’t even want to think about the state my inbox must be in. My phone alerts if I get anything red or yellow flagged, so I’m on top of those, but last time I had a look, the rest was out of control.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Good. Gina said there have been a few press calls that managed to get past the switchboard, but they’ve just been transferring them through to the media department. They were going to hang up but decided that might lead to some of those stupid ‘Joy Universe could not be reached for comment’ statements.” I can’t help but be proud of my team. They think shit through and act in the best interests of JU and all of us.
Dimi swallows a huge bite of his sandwich and grins. “You’re going to have to promote Gina soon. She’s outgrowing her job.” I agree, and the same can absolutely be said of him. That’s the problem with hiring really great people and training them properly. They get too good for the job you hired them for, and you lose them—and have to start again. “I called Link while you were talking to Gina. The cops seem to be finishing up, or at least most of them have left. They said the area will be closed off as a crime scene until further notice, though, and ask that we have security monitor it to keep guests out.”
“No problem.” It’s not like I’m going to set up an exhibit and charge guests a fee to visit. “I think it’s best if we have Kim and Jeff from legal do all the talking with the cops. When I check in with Link later, I’ll remind him not to promise them anything—they can direct all requests to legal or us.”
Dimi wipes his hand on a napkin and taps on his tablet. “Pete’s been sending me updates all day via the app. He says the shows reopened at noon as planned, and so far everything is going well. No problems.”
Well, that’s a huge relief. I gotta admit, I had some doubts that my plan would work. Not big doubts, but little niggles. It seemed to be going well—except for that Trav guy who dislikes me for no good reason—but you never know, do you?
I smile confidently. “Great. I’ll head down to the park later and check in personally.”
Dimi looks surprised, as well he should. There’s no real reason for me to do that, and I sure as shit don’t have the time. He doesn’t say anything, though, and I rush on in an attempt to distract him. “Have you heard anything else from Don?”
When the park opened this morning, Don and his team were ready with vouchers for a free small popcorn and soda from our snack carts for every guest who entered between opening at nine, and noon, when the shows recommenced. Honestly, the guests who just come for the rides wouldn’t even have noticed the shows weren’t running, but it’s better to just issue a blanket “apology.” It didn’t cost that much, either—concessions are one of the most overpriced things in our world. It does mean that we need to place a huge reorder immediately, though, or we’ll run the risk of running out of popcorn and flavored corn syrup next week. I flick quickly to the supply part of the app and see that Don’s concessions manager has already created the order, and Don’s signed off on it. It’s just waiting for me to approve—that’s not normal procedure, by the way, but because it’s not a regular order, there are hoops to jump through. It helps to prevent theft.
“He left me a message while we were in that meeting. It wasn’t urgent, just letting me know that everything seems to be okay, and that the number of complaints about the shows being canceled this morning were fewer than we expected. I haven’t called him back yet.”
“I’ll call him.” I make a note on my phone. I have a tablet, just like all the other senior staff, but I prefer to work with my phone. It fits in my pocket. My tablet doesn’t, and before I gave up on trying to use it, I used to leave it everywhere. “Or I’ll check in with him when I go down there.” I wince internally. Good one, Derek, remind him of the completely unnecessary visit to the park you’re planning. He’s not going to wonder why at all.
To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’m going. It has nothing to do with that guy who doesn’t like me, even if he is my type and most people like me.
“I’m going to call Maya when we’re done here.” I doggedly move on. “What’s the word from HR and medical?”
Dimi scrunches up the bag his sandwich was in and tosses it in the trash. “Doc Stacey says Maya has a mild case of shock but is otherwise physically fine. She prescribed a low-dose sleeping tablet and arranged for one of the staff counselors to visit Maya this afternoon.” He looks at his watch. “They should be t
here now. Maya will see the counselor for as long as she needs to. HR have flagged in her file that even after the usual five free sessions per year are up, she won’t need to pay the co-pay. They sent her flowers.” He makes a slight face, and so do I. We can do better than just flowers.
“What about food? She’s got a lot on her mind right now, and probably doesn’t want to cook. Can we have catered meals sent to her for the rest of the week? Enough so she can have family and friends eat with her.”
Dimi makes a note. “Easy. I’ll call Tiki and see if any of her coworkers know her favorite restaurant.”
“Good idea.” I really am going to have to find another job for him. It’s days like this that truly make that stand out.
“I’ve also been having HR send me updates on our performers—the staff ones, not the fill-ins.”
I throw my rubbish in the trash can and lean back in my chair. “How are they?”
He grimaces. “As I understand it, in a lot of really disgusting discomfort. Nobody is critically ill, though. Three needed to be admitted to hospital for IV fluids due to dehydration, and from what I’ve been told, that number may increase over the next few hours. Medical are sending some of the EMTs around to everyone’s houses to check on them and make sure they’re getting care if they need it.”
I blink. “Really? That’s not procedure,” I point out. “It’s a great idea, and totally necessary, but it surprises me that medical—or HR—even thought of it.”
He flushes. “They didn’t. Um, I told them it was your request.” There’s an uncertain expression on his face, which makes sense because if “I” requested this, it will be charged back to my cost center—which has already taken a lot of hits today.
A grin spreads across my face. “Spot on, Dimi. Good job.”
He almost sags in relief but catches himself just in time. “Thank you. Er, I think that’s it. Oh, Mandy from entertainment sent a message. We’ll definitely have performers here from Atlanta and Jacksonville by noon tomorrow, and she’s working with Pete to set up training and rehearsals for them in the afternoon. The plan is for them to take over the evening shows, which will mean no need to do split shifts tomorrow.”
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