Wonderland (5 page)

“Sure, Oz.”

He disconnected the call. Feeling the presence of people behind him, he turned.

Their eyes met at exactly the same time, and it only took a second for Oscar to register who it was. Dressed in lightweight slacks and a smart white blouse, her gun holstered to her hip and her gold shield clipped to her pocket, she looked every bit like the deputy chief of Seaside PD that she was, and nothing like the woman who’d crept out of his bed buck naked only a few hours earlier. Minus the beers and dim lighting, she seemed more serious, less animated, and more intimidating. And yet no less attractive, despite her looking as tired as he felt.

She spoke first. Her voice, sweet and husky, was exactly as he remembered it.

“Well,” she said. “This is awkward.”

SEVEN

B
ianca watched the commotion down below through the floor-to-ceiling window in her office. The flashing lights, the cops, the crime scene techs, the ambulance waiting to transport the dead body to the morgue—all of it was unacceptable. She could only hope that Earl Schultz was doing his job and making sure everyone was working as quickly as possible.

Wonderland being closed for a day or two wasn’t the end of the world, but the bad PR very well could be. The worst thing that could happen to any amusement park was to be perceived as unsafe, and a dead, decomposing body on park grounds did not exactly paint a picture of wholesome family fun. Back in 2008, a teenager was decapitated by a roller coaster at Six Flags in Georgia, and the publicity had been terrible.

Bianca’s office was on the fifth floor of the administrative building, which was on the very east side of Wonderland. The building had its own parking lot, which was convenient for the full-time staff who worked solely in the office. Close to two hundred employees worked in the admin building; it took a lot of people to run the park.

Most of Bianca’s time was spent at Wonderland, though she rarely needed to be on park grounds, near the rides, or in the midway.
Please
. She had people for that. People who wore purple uniforms and who were grateful to have jobs. People she paid to create the illusion of fun, which was the whole point of an amusement park in the first place. Wonderland had lost its magic for Bianca a long time ago. That was the problem with peeking behind the magician’s curtain—things were never as you thought they were. Uncle Nick had taught her that.

There was a knock on her open office door, and she turned, expecting to see the receptionist standing there. But it wasn’t Jamie. It was a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen—it was hard to tell their exact ages these days, as some of them matured so rapidly and others so slowly. Tall and lean, he had dark blond hair and the beginnings of a summer tan. Neatly pressed gray slacks complemented a sky blue button-down. Based on his age and the way he was dressed, it was easy to guess why he was here and what he was looking for.

“Sorry to bother you, but I think I’m lost.” His voice was deeper than she was expecting. She mentally upped his age to eighteen. “I’m looking for Scottie Pile. I thought I found the right office on the second floor, but I was waiting for thirty minutes and nobody showed up. I would have asked the receptionist to direct me where to go, but there seems to be nobody here today. Maybe I got mixed up? I’m here for a job interview.”

Scottie Pile was Wonderland’s longtime games manager, the man in charge of all the game booths in the midway. There was an excellent chance that the kid did have the right day, and that Scottie didn’t come in today because Oscar had said not to.

“Scottie might not be in.” Bianca motioned him in. “But I can make a quick call to confirm that. Have a seat.”

He entered her office cautiously, appearing a bit overwhelmed by its size and luxuriousness. Uncle Nick’s office down the hall—unoccupied and unchanged since he’d stepped away from the day-to-day—was Spartan in comparison to the feminine plushness Bianca had opted for. Two cream-colored chairs sat across from her desk, and she pointed to one of them.

Her call to Scottie went to voice mail, where his recorded greeting informed Bianca that he was working from home.

“He’s not here today.” She hung up the phone. “He should be back tomorrow, though.”

“Oh,” the kid said, looking confused. He stood up. “I guess I did get the days mixed up. Sorry to bother you. Hopefully I can reschedule—”

“I’m sure you had the right day.” Bianca took a seat across from him. His eyes were either green or hazel—she couldn’t quite tell, and she suspected she’d have to be very close to him to know. The thought of getting close to him made her tingle, and she smiled. “We’ve had a . . . situation here today. The park’s closed. You would have seen a sign if you had come in through the main gates, but you probably parked in the administrative lot as Scottie instructed you to, am I right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked relieved. “I’m glad it wasn’t my mistake. I’ll give Scottie a call and see if I can book another time.”

“You didn’t hear anything about what happened on the news?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I drove in from Seattle, left the house super early this morning to get here on time. I was listening to the radio the entire way but nothing was said about Wonderland. If I’d heard something I’d have turned around, saved myself the three-hour drive.”

Good
. “It would be silly for you to reschedule,” Bianca said. “You’ve driven all this way, and I’d be happy to do your interview. I’ve done one or two in my time.” She reached across the desk with her hand extended. “Bianca Bishop, CEO.”

“Xander Cameron. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” Eyes wide as he shook her hand, he suddenly seemed a little intimidated. “I’ve seen your picture on the website, and I should have recognized you. If you don’t mind my saying, you look a lot younger in person.”

“I don’t mind you saying,” Bianca said. “I don’t mind at all.”

•   •   •

She already knew she was going to hire him. Why wouldn’t she? He had the Wonderland look—young, clean-cut, enthusiastic. Looking the part was the first and most important step to getting hired at Wonderland; everything else could be taught.

The park did not hire sloppy kids, fat kids, kids who didn’t speak perfect English, kids who looked too “alternative” (i.e., too many tattoos, piercings, or weird hairstyles), or kids who were “emo.” Uncle Nick wanted his Wonder Workers to project an all-American image, and while they couldn’t advertise that (the park was officially an equal opportunity employer), every kid needed to look like someone you could put in a TV commercial.

Xander Cameron was the poster child for the all-American boy. Sitting across from her with his easy grin and that long, lanky body, he was exactly the kind of kid she wanted representing Wonderland.

She asked him all the usual questions and he gave her all the usual answers, and she made sure to smile and nod at everything he said. She liked him. It was important that he like her.

He’d applied for a position on games crew, which almost all the boys his age wanted because it was the best opportunity for a Wonder Worker to make more money. Game runners were paid either their hourly rate, or a commission on their sales, whichever was higher. A good game runner could make upward of thirty dollars an hour on a Saturday in the summer—great money for an eighteen-year-old saving for college.

And college was definitely in the works. He’d already confirmed his place at the University of Miami in the fall, and would be leaving Seaside at the end of high season. Which gave Bianca two months. The perfect time frame.

“So you just graduated from West Seattle High?”

“Yes, ma’am. With honors.”

She’d lost count of how many times he’d “ma’am’d” her so far, and it never failed to aggravate her. She was only thirty-six, for fuck’s sake. Which was twice his age, but still.

“And what made you choose the University of Miami?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, and a lopsided grin spread across his face. “I’ve been in Seattle all my life. I’m looking forward to the warm weather and sunshine.”

And party girls and booze, which is the only reason anyone ever goes to college in Miami.
“And why do you want to work at Wonderland?”

“I have several friends who work here, and they all say great things. I love the idea of working outside, and I love being part of a team.”

It was the standard stock answer, but that was fine. Games crew didn’t require a kid to be articulate, just friendly.

“And if you live in West Seattle, you’ll require housing here in Seaside then?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again, and she mentally slapped him. “I know I’m a late applicant, but my mom got sick back in March and I couldn’t make it to the job fair. I was told there are still spaces in the dorms, though.”

“I’m sure we can find a place for you.”

Truthfully, Bianca had no idea. Wonderland leased dormitory housing at bargain rates from Seaside Technical College from May to September every year, a good deal for both the park and the college as STC didn’t offer summer classes, anyway. It had been a brilliant move by Uncle Nick after he bought the park, allowing Wonderland to widen their applicant pool and attract better-quality employees. Seaside was too small a town to accommodate the housing needs of up to a thousand-plus summer staff, and staying in a dorm room had become part of the Wonder Worker experience. Dorm room assignments, however, were well beneath Bianca’s pay grade.

“I don’t know how much your friends have told you,” she said, “but the hours here tend to be unusual. As you know, the park is open from ten to ten every day, but you’ll often start earlier or finish later. And even if you’re hired for games crew, you could be assigned at any time to another gig, depending on what we need. Are you flexible?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I bet you are.
Bianca gave him another smile. “And I’m sure you also know that Wonderland does the most business on weekends. Rarely will you have a Saturday or Sunday off, or two days off in a row. This means we can’t accommodate family vacations or weekend getaways with your girlfriend. Is that a problem?”

“It’s just me and my mom, and we don’t take vacations. And I don’t have a girlfriend,” Xander said, not realizing that questions about his girlfriend were inappropriate in a job interview.

Oh, you
’ll do just fine.
“Tell me more about yourself,” she said.

She watched his hands as he spoke enthusiastically about school (boring), his volunteer work at the Humane Society (also boring—Bianca had zero interest in animals), and his involvement in his church youth group (which on the surface might have seemed like a red flag, but she had learned over the years that good little church boys often made the most enthusiastic and creative lovers). He had strong hands, with long fingers and clean, clipped nails. She could imagine them touching her all over, and she licked her lips. His words blended together as he went on and on, but she perked up when he mentioned tennis.

“I played on the varsity team,” Xander said. “I was hoping to get a scholarship somewhere, but I wasn’t quite good enough.”

“I played tennis, too,” Bianca said, feeling no need to go into detail about it. “Still do, but not as often as I like as I can’t always find someone to play with who’s as competitive as I am. I’m a member of the Seaside Racquet Club. If you’d ever like guest passes, let me know. I’m on the board of directors.”

His face lit up. She saw then that his eyes were most definitely green. “That would be awesome. And if you ever need someone to hit with, I’m game.”

“I’d like that. Just know that if you play with me, you’re going to sweat.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Another tingle went through her. This part—the opening cat-and-mouse dance, where she was sometimes the cat, and sometimes the mouse—was always her favorite.

“Well, I think that’s everything.” She stood up and offered him a hand.

He stood up, too, and grasped her hand tentatively, giving her a whiff of his cologne. He smelled like the beach and sea spray. She couldn’t wait to taste him.

“Can I ask when you’ll make a decision?”

“I already did. Welcome to Wonderland.”

Xander’s grip tightened and he pumped her arm several times, his grin widening to show pearly, even teeth. God, he was beautiful. Pure and untainted, full of hope and energy and that unshakable belief that life would work out perfectly for him simply because he wanted it to. It was the kind of optimism you could only feel at eighteen, when you were old enough to know what you wanted, but still young enough to believe you would get it.

Bianca loved them at this age.

He left a moment later, and Bianca forwarded her hiring decision to Human Resources. They would take the care of the rest.

She locked her office door, settling into her sofa by the window where she could once again watch the commotion down below. Reaching up, she pulled the pins out of her hair, freeing it from its tight bun. Her hair fell across her shoulders in deep red waves, all the way down to her waist. She massaged her scalp for a few moments, and the headache she’d had all morning finally began to subside. Then she undid the top button of her blouse and kicked off her shoes.

Unzipping her pants, Bianca pulled them all the way down, then reached inside her panties, feeling the wetness she already knew was there. Her hand moved rapidly, her fingers knowing exactly where to touch herself. Relief came a few minutes later, and when she climaxed, she whispered Xander Cameron’s name.