Dirk flinched back.
Thomas pulled open the door and allowed Dirk to precede him into the office. Charlotte seemed to be making a valiant attempt to look studious, refusing to look up when Thomas and Dirk entered.
Thomas knocked on Vanessa’s door.
“Come in,” she called.
He shut the door behind him. “Dirk is right outside,” he whispered.
She came around the desk to stand face to face with him. “We need to sell this,” she whispered. “In case he talks to Mr. Destiny.”
Thomas raised his voice. “What do you mean, you’re letting me go?”
Vanessa nodded. “That’s it,” she whispered.
“I’m going to miss having a manager like you,” he whispered.
“I’m going to miss having an employee like you,” she said quietly.
He gazed into her eyes. They stood so close to one another that he could feel the warmth radiate from her. He leaned down. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded.
“If—hypothetically speaking, of course—we were no longer in a manager-employee relationship, would it be out of line to request the pleasure of your company on a date?”
Her smile bloomed. “Hypothetically speaking, I think it would not be out of line,” she whispered. Her fingertips brushed against his.
Thomas laced his fingers through hers. “Then fire me,” he murmured.
Vanessa raised her voice for Dirk’s benefit. “I’m sorry, Thomas. There’s nothing I can do.”
Thomas lifted his free hand and slowly brought it to Vanessa’s face, brushing her cheek as softly as if it were a delicate rose. “You are amazing,” he whispered.
His next sentence was loud enough to be heard outside Vanessa’s office. “This is totally unfair!”
Vanessa echoed his movement and placed her hand along his jawline, drawing him forward.
Her lips touched his cheek with the softest kiss.
“Until we meet again,” she whispered.
Chapter 20
Vanessa
The day of the union election dawned with a flurry of activity.
Representatives from the union set up a voting station underground, watched by observers from the Destiny Park management team.
The relentless Voice of Destiny ceased broadcasting music, and instead chirped a looping monologue to encourage crew members to “Vote no!”
Upon arriving in her office, Vanessa found a note left on her desk, marked “To Vanessa from Dirk.”
Meet me this morning at the Comet Lounge.
She refolded the missive and tossed it on her desk.
Why would Dirk want to meet in a lounge in Galaxy?
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.